The old adage 'it's not what you know, it's who you know' had finally paid off for Erik. Not long after recording the TV soundtrack with Christine and Raoul, one of his employers had recommended him to a colleague, who had spoken to a friend, who had persuaded a relative to hear some of Erik's work. They had liked it enough to listen to his Don Juan Triumphant, and had agreed to produce it. Thus, through a wonderful coming together of talent, connections and luck, he now sat in the theatre that was to stage his work for a season. It was a wonderful opportunity, still far from the Broadway and West End shows he dreamed of, but a remarkable start on a path to success.

Instead of feeling proud or smug, however, Erik was tapping his fingers nervously against his pad of paper, trying not to make his anxiety too obvious to those around him. He had looked forward to carrying out auditions, excited to optimise every performer and finally bring his work to life. Yet now discomfort piled upon discomfort until it was almost too much to bear - the theatre was hot and crowded, chatter was drowning out his thoughts, and people kept walking far too close to him. Sat waiting for casting to begin for Aminta, his leading lady, he just wanted this day to be over.

Once the parade of young women began, he relaxed a little. The music was a reassuring blanket, and he could focus on their singing instead of the world around him. Stepping into the role of a director was a helpful mask too, as it allowed him to project the authority and confidence he was yet to feel.

After the first half dozen candidates passed, Erik began to realise the power he held in his hands. He wasn't arrogant or deluded enough to presume this show would take the world by storm, but it could be the start to any performer's career. The confidence to try another audition, the experience of being in front of a real audience, the possibility of being spotted by someone looking for talent; it all started with whether they were chosen by Erik to walk this stage. Many would have more opportunities, of course, but he would select a few here and now to raise up to the view of the world. The prospect was rather electrifying.

The next few hopefuls began to bring his nerves back, however - they were all incredibly good. To any other director this would certainly not be a worry, but he had spotted Christine near the back of the queue. What if one of the other girls was somehow better than her? He didn't want to believe the notion, but it was always possible. He had wanted this to be the start of a long period working with Christine, improving both her voice and their relationship. He almost dared hope he might impress her by showing his responsibility and musical talent…

But what if she wasn't the best for the part? Nepotism was no good way to begin a career, but this was his only real excuse to see her. After all, she was only here because he had coaxed her so often, saying she would blow all competition out of the water, insisting this could be her big break. Could he go back on his word, seem like he had deceived her, led her on with empty encouragement? He simply didn't know what he would do if he had to choose between Christine and his work, between his heart and his art.

When her turn finally came, Erik could barely breathe. The sight of her here on his stage, at his request, smiling nervously at him, was enough to make his heart falter in his chest for a moment. Then his pulse came back with a vengeance, thumping so loudly he was afraid he wouldn't be able to hear her performance.

Then Christine began to sing for him, and his every fear was allayed. She was truly spectacular, so clear and full, her voice gracefully soaring through every note and phrase.

Knowing he had to retain a professional appearance and at least make the others believe they would get a fair try, Erik restrained his excited delight and gave Christine a polite but warm smile when she finished. "Thank you very much," he said, trying not to dance in his seat at the thought that she was truly going to make his dreams real. "I'll be in touch."

Every other girl had been put to shame within the first few lines of her song, and by the end of the auditions even they all knew it. Glancing over their faces as they left the theatre, he could see mixtures of jealousy, anxiety and resignation. They would all have to bow before his queen of music.

Auditions for the leading lady had turned into a joy, but Erik's tension returned when it came time for the men. Christine had beaten all others by a landslide, and now he had to choose who would play her lover. So many scenes had been wonderful in his head, yet were now terrible when he had to think of someone else singing his words of love to her.

The notion of performing the role himself had crossed his mind several times, yet he could not bring himself to. He had meant it every time he refused to sing with Christine, no matter how tempting the idea was - his voice was only for him; a hidden treasure to compensate for the hidden horror of his face. Besides, the thought of performing again, of parading himself before an audience, was enough to send a shiver down his spine. The attention, the hostility, the vulnerability… not something he ever wanted to return to. There would also be risks in getting too close to other people, of opening himself up to the possibility that someone else would find out about his deformity, that anyone could discover his past. No, it was far better to remain distant.

His major regret of it all, however, was that he knew Raoul was here somewhere, auditioning at Christine's encouragement. Erik had the opposite dilemma than he had held with Christine, of what he would do if Raoul was the best man to audition.

Erik did not want him in his show, did not want him near Christine, yet surely the musical had to come first? He had to be fair and impartial, and he was reluctant to ruin his music with a poor voice simply out of spite. Still…

As the new procession started, he fought fruitlessly to keep his mind on the quality of performance given and not how they compared to Raoul. Yet, for every thought related to pitch or power, another irrelevant one appeared.

He's almost uglier than I am.

Christine could hardly want to go near him with all the sweat dripping down his face.

Given how he's looking at the other hopefuls, he definitely won't be interested in her.

When it was Raoul's turn, Erik had to watch with his face expressionless, or else he would have scowled and gritted his teeth. The boy had an irrefutably good voice. His good looks wouldn't hurt either, both to match the character's luck with women and to draw positive attention to the show. There was confidence to his performance too, without unnecessary swagger - an undeniable presence that captured the whole stage.

Erik knew before the auditions had finished, even before the song ended, that Raoul would have to be a star. It was his turn to be jealous, angry and resigned. Though it pained him, Erik was a musician first and foremost. This was his life's work, his masterpiece, and he couldn't bring himself to ruin it. Raoul and Christine were also already visibly comfortable with each other; they had a chemistry that was wonderful for the show and terrible for Erik's emotions.

It could not be helped, though. He had to choose what was best for the performance: there was no point sabotaging his whole career by destroying this chance. Raoul would get his time with Christine, yes, but so would Erik.

And Erik never gave up.