SSS and FleshofMidnight- I'm so glad you're enjoying these! :)
This one got a bit out of hand and is long enough be a one-shot on its own...
"Dad, it's your birthday on Sunday, isn't it?" Allegra asked.
"I believe so. Why the interest?" Erik enquired, glancing up from where he was sitting on the floor with Gigi on his lap, trying to be enthusiastic about the very pink comic she had wanted to share with him. Christine smiled, pretending to concentrate on the knitting she had been wrestling with since before Christmas but instead sneaking covert glances to see how many interested expressions he could produce when faced with the likes of My Little Pony and Angelina Ballerina.
Allegra shrugged. "I was just wondering what you were going to do. You and Mum usually send us over to Nanna Giry's so you can go out."
"That's mainly because your father's birthday is also Valentine's Day," Christine reminded her, and laughed when her elder daughter pulled a disgusted face. "You won't look like that in a few years' time!"
"I will. Ethan Harper gave Lily a Valentine's card last year and tried to kiss her and it was just... yuck. I don't want a boyfriend."
"Good," Erik said, nodding when Gigi pointed out something she found of particular interest. "You're far too young to be bothered about any of that. Enjoy your childhood while you have the chance; it'll be over quickly enough."
No one could argue with that pronouncement and quiet reigned for a few minutes, Christine trying not to keep dropping stitches and Allegra contemplating the ceiling from her position stretched out on the sofa. Eventually she said,
"So, what are you going to do for your birthday?"
"Nothing, I imagine; the current situation will prevent our usual celebrations. Come on, sweetheart, time's up; Daddy's legs have gone to sleep," Erik told a protesting Genevieve, depositing her next to her sister so that he could get to his feet with exaggerated difficulty. When he realised Allegra was staring at him with something akin to horror he just raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? It's just another day, after all."
"No it's not, it's your birthday!" she exclaimed in scandalised tones.
He retreated stiffly to an armchair, reaching for one of the books from the table beside it. "So you keep saying, but I'm afraid it means very little to me."
Wide-eyed, Allegra looked at her mother. "How can you say that? Mum, tell him - !"
"Congratulations, darling, I think you may have finally succeeded in traumatising our daughter," Christine remarked, adding when he just glared, "Dad never really celebrated his birthday when he was younger, Allegra. He doesn't have the same happy associations as you."
"Oh." Allegra frowned, chewing on her lip. She seemed to be carefully considering what next to say, sitting up and shooting an occasional glance towards her father before she ventured, "Did Granny never even give you a birthday party? Not once?"
Erik sighed, and extended a hand to her. Immediately she jumped up and wedged herself into the chair next to him, snuggling up when he slid an arm around her shoulders. "I didn't properly go to school until I was older than you, so I didn't know anyone to invite to a party," he said quietly. "It was just myself and your grandmother for a long time, and she didn't really have any interest in marking important anniversaries. I think I must have been about thirteen before I even knew what a birthday was."
She raised her head, and her expression was appalled. Christine could understand; she had felt exactly the same way herself when Erik eventually opened up to her about his lonely childhood. "Oh, Dad, that's horrible."
"Yes, well, it's all in the past now. Granny was ill for a lot of the time; she had other things to think about."
"Like what? You don't have any brothers and sisters."
"No, I don't," Erik said. "Sometimes I wish I had. But what's done is done; it doesn't really matter to me." It was probably true, or certainly he believed it to be; he was still conflicted in his feelings towards his mother and the chaotic upbringing to which he had been subjected, left to fend for himself for long stretches of time while she battled the demons raised by a post-natal depression that grew into a more serious malaise. When she turned up at one of the Vanbrugh's gala evenings not long after their wedding, Christine didn't think she had ever seen Erik so shocked and angry; he had left home as soon as he was able and there had been no contact between them for nearly thirty years. Even though they were now on civil terms and he had grudgingly allowed her, at Christine's gentle prompting, to take a somewhat active role in the lives of her granddaughters they would never be close, the damage to deep to be easily rectified, especially after so much time had passed.
The explanation, true or not, didn't placate Allegra. With a sniff she kissed his twisted cheek and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "Poor Dad. I wish I could have been there. I would have been your friend."
He looked a little startled, as he always was with tears, but drew her closer, ruffling her golden curls. "It's all right, sweetheart, don't get upset. I shouldn't have told you. I prefer to celebrate Valentine's Day; it reminds me that I had the wonderful luck to meet your mother, and that was the best thing that ever happened to me until you two came along."
Allegra wiped at her eyes, managing a watery smile when he produced a handkerchief from inside her ear. Gigi, upset at seeing her sister cry, cuddled up to Christine. "Daddy can have my birthday," she announced quite seriously.
"Thank you for the gesture, petite, but I think you'll need it more than I will," Erik told her, amused.
Both the girls opened their mouths to object but Christine shook her head. "I think it's time we changed the subject," she said firmly. "Allegra, come here. I want to measure this against you."
"I still think it's not fair," her eldest muttered, sliding off Erik's lap and coming to stand in front of the sofa while her mother held what was intended to be the back of a cardigan up for length. "At least on my birthday I got to see some of my friends outside. This stupid virus is ruining everything."
"You're making far too much fuss about it," Christine replied, frowning when she realised she'd not only dropped stitches but somehow gained them as well. "When people get to your father's age they usually stop counting birthdays; the size of the number makes them too depressed."
Erik had evidently heard that because the look he shot her was an absolute picture. She just smiled, and rummaged in her knitting bag for the tape measure.
She had thought the conversation forgotten until a couple of days later. She was getting dinner ready; it was technically Erik's turn to cook but his phone rang in the middle of chopping vegetables and he'd disappeared into the living room, closing the door behind him. The kids were sitting at the kitchen island, Allegra finishing some maths while Gigi coloured in a picture of Cinderella with such concentration that her tongue was poking from the corner of her mouth.
"Mum," Allegra said as Christine shut the oven door, tracing the sum she was working on with her pencil. "Do you think we could have a birthday party for Dad? I really hate thinking he's never had one."
"A party?" Christine blinked in surprise. "With guests? We can't ask anyone to the house, darling, it's not allowed."
"I know that. I meant just us, and maybe Granny, too. She could come, couldn't she, because we're in a bubble?"
"Well, yes, she could, but I'm not sure how he'd feel about it. You know he hates being the centre of attention," Christine reminded her. She'd never thrown a party for Erik herself for that very reason, though she had considered it more than once over the years, especially when he turned fifty. The company at the theatre had wanted to mark the occasion and it had taken some time to make them understand that though they meant well he just wouldn't be comfortable at such a gathering, disliking the small talk and mingling such events always necessitated.
Allegra looked back down at her exercise book and sighed. "OK. It was just a thought."
Surely, though, a small party at home with just his family would be quite different, Christine considered quickly. "Well, maybe he might like it, just this once," she said, and her daughter brightened. "Especially if he were to know it was your idea. What did you have in mind?"
"Balloons and streamers. We can order them online, can't we?" Allegra pulled out a piece of paper and passed it to her mother. On it was scribbled a list of what were apparently party essentials to a nine-year-old. "And we'll need music, proper music, not Dad's opera and Beethoven. Oh! And games, like Pass the Parcel and Pin the Tail on the Donkey."
"And jelly and ice cream," Gigi added, nodding sagely.
"I thought you were too old for those sorts of games?" Christine asked. "You nearly blew a fuse when I suggested we play Musical Statues a couple of years ago. Party games weren't cool, if I recall correctly."
"This is different: Dad won't have played them before. You used to tell us about the parties Grandpa Daae threw when you were our age," said Allegra. "Dad didn't have birthday parties like that when he was younger, so he should have one now to make up for it."
Christine supposed she couldn't really fault the logic of that. Hearing her husband's voice as he emerged from the front room she quickly folded the list and stuffed it into her pocket. He didn't sound happy. "OK, leave it with me. I'll see what I can do," she promised.
"We need a cake, too," Allegra hissed and she nodded just as Erik returned, a scowl on his face. He accepted the glass of wine Christine passed him and leaned against the counter, fingers drumming an agitated rhythm on the marble top.
"Is everything all right?" she enquired, opening the oven door a fraction to check on the chicken.
He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, as though trying to bring his emotions under control. "That was James," he said, tension quivering in his voice. "The backers want a meeting tomorrow about the future of the Vanburgh."
"Ah."
Allegra started clearing away her schoolwork. "Does that mean the theatre's going to close for good?"
"I don't know, sweetheart," he admitted. "Maybe. Maybe not. It all depends on what happens over the next couple of months, and whether we can find the money to keep going until the summer."
"You can have what's in my piggy bank if it will help," she offered, and he bent down to kiss the top of her head as she passed him. "I think I've got about thirty pounds."
"Thank you, my darling, but I wouldn't take that from you. You've worked too hard to save it."
Christine put the dish of vegetables in the microwave and started it up. "Did Jimmy give you any idea what the outcome might be?" she asked, wiping her hands on a tea towel. "If the backers are going to pull out - "
"Then we will be sunk, yes, I know. I hate the thought of having to put people out of work when we've managed to keep things together so far, but the ones putting the money in want some kind of return and you can't blame them, I suppose." Erik took a swig of Sauvignon. "We lost too much when the Christmas concert was cancelled at the last minute."
"That wasn't your fault."
"No, but I'm in overall charge and the buck stops here." He sighed heavily. "I expect I'm going to be tied up with this all day tomorrow; I won't be able to help with the French lessons."
"Oh, that's all right, I'm sure we'll manage." Christine exchanged a glance with Allegra, who grinned. "I had something a bit more practical planned anyway."
"Well, that hasn't come out too badly," she said, regarding the results of their morning's baking as they cooled on a wire rack. The kids had insisted on chocolate, claiming it was the only flavour for a birthday cake, and she had bowed to their apparently superior knowledge upon the subject even though she had a sneaking suspicion Erik might have preferred a Victoria sponge or lemon drizzle. "I'll freeze them and we'll put it all together on Saturday; I'm sure I can find some way to distract your father long enough."
Allegra was still clearing out the remains of the mixture from its bowl. "Do we have any candles?" she asked, licking the spoon.
"I ordered some new ones with the other things," Christine assured her. "They should be here tomorrow. I've already got cards and wrapping paper; we might as well sort out the presents while he's still on that conference call."
"He's been in there for ages. I don't think it's going very well."
The island needed a wipe down; flour seemed to have got everywhere. Christine looked around for the dishcloth. "How can you tell?"
"It's on speakerphone and there was a lot of shouting when I came downstairs," Allegra said. "It's never good when Dad yells like that."
Her mother's heart sank. "Oh, dear." The last thing the Vanburgh needed was Erik letting his temper get the better of him and saying something he would regret.
They spent some time wrapping his birthday presents, Christine trying - and failing - to keep her mind off what was happening in the study. It wasn't easy to think of a gift so soon after Christmas, especially when there were no shops open to browse for inspiration. Emboldened by his claim to actually like the burgundy sweater she had ordered an identical one in forest green and some moleskin trousers in a dark camel shade that she thought might make a change from his usual muted colour palette; for the kids to give him she'd chosen socks and a glossy coffee table book about Parisian architecture which had a big section that focussed on the Palais Garnier. Gigi, wanting to do everything herself, gamely placed sellotape and signed her own name in the card with more enthusiasm than finesse, laughing when Allegra complained that she'd made the wrapping paper look like a dog had chewed it.
"It doesn't matter," Christine told her. "I'm sure Dad won't mind in the least."
The gifts were hidden in the back of a cupboard and the kettle was boiling when Allegra tiptoed into the hall and put an ear to the study door. "It's all gone quiet," she reported. "Do you think it's over? Shall I - "
"No. I'll go." Christine poured hot water into a mug. It was instant coffee and he would doubtless complain about the taste but she really didn't feel like grappling with the espresso machine just at the moment. "I have a feeling your father is going to need careful handling right now."
It took him several moments to respond to her knock.
When she poked her head into the study she found him sitting in his big leather chair, elbows resting on the desk and his head in his hands. His shoulders were hunched, his mask lying near the telephone; she was surprised to find he'd been wearing it indoors, but then reasoned he must have kept it to hand just in case someone demanded a video call. She put down the coffee within reach and rested a hand on his arm.
"How did it go?"
Erik leaned back in the chair, dragging his hands down his face. When he glanced up at her she was struck by how tired he looked. "We have a stay of execution, for a few weeks, at least. There have been murmurings in the press that things may start to reopen in April, the information supposedly coming from the government, but who can tell? De Chagny at least is willing to wait and see, and the others look to him for their cues."
"That must have been Raoul's influence," Christine mused. "Philip might be an obnoxious prat but he does listen to his brother when it comes to investments; Raoul has the experience, after all, plus I know he doesn't want to see us go under."
"Even so, I don't exactly feel happy knowing that your ex is responsible for my theatre remaining afloat a while longer."
"One of these days, my dear, you are going to have to accept the fact that though Raoul and I were once engaged, it has been over between us for a very long time," she told him lightly, and he just grunted. She perched on the desk, pushing the coffee mug towards him. "If I was still in love with him I would hardly have stayed married to you for ten years and had two children, would I?"
"Wouldn't you?" he asked, the question sounding half serious.
"Perhaps if I was a heartless, duplicitous woman who only cared about herself. You are an idiot sometimes," Christine said, grasping his fingers and giving them a sharp squeeze. "I thought we'd got past all that. Raoul is a friend, but it's you I love. I wouldn't put up with your moods if I didn't, believe me."
Erik sighed. "Yes, I know. I'm being a fool; take no notice. I don't deserve you."
"You might change your mind when you drink that coffee."
He sipped at the drink and grimaced. "I really need to show you how to work that machine."
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked. "Apart from learning how to make proper coffee, that is."
"Find me half a million pounds to be going on with?" he suggested, arching an eyebrow.
Christine smiled slightly. "I'll check down the back of the sofa."
It was incredible how quickly Sunday came round.
"I just don't see the point of dressing up to sit round the kitchen table, that's all," Erik said when she pushed him towards the stairs. "You did say we were going to eat later today, didn't you?"
He'd been sitting in the living room listening to something through headphones while Allegra helped Gigi to put some Lego together when Christine entered wearing what she knew was one of his favourites of her dresses, a black shift that made her feel like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's, with heels and extravagant earrings. Erik's eyes had widened in surprise at the sight of her; she hadn't felt the need to wear make-up for weeks, and after so long in flats or trainers the shoes pulled on her calf muscles, but it was nice to feel a bit glam for a change and the smile on her face was a genuine one. There was a very good reason for all this of course; she had agreed with the girls that if they were going to make this party special they wouldn't just sit around in any old clothes, and there was already a change of outfit laid out on their beds. They'd spent some time the previous day blowing up balloons and hid them in the dining room; now all she had to do was get rid of her husband so that the rest of their plan could swing into action.
"Yes, and we will, but I just thought it would be nice to make an effort, that's all," she said. "Go and have a nice long shower; I put out something for you to wear."
He shot her a suspicious glance. "If I didn't know better, I would swear you were up to something."
"And why would you think that?" Christine asked innocently, and he shook his head.
"You, my dear, have always been a terrible liar."
"There's nothing going on," she insisted, crossing her fingers behind her back. "I just wanted to make things nice for you, that's all. Now go on, and take your time; I'm going to start looking at dinner."
Erik didn't look even remotely convinced but he went, and she waited to hear the bedroom door close before hurrying back to the lounge where her daughters were already starting to tidy things away, clearing the coffee table so they could lay out the plates of cakes and sandwiches they had already prepared. Christine supposed she was lucky that she had a husband with very little interest in food; an infrequent snacker, he hadn't been near the fridge or the larder all day, allowing them to keep their efforts secret. Harking back to the birthday parties of her youth, she had cooked cocktail sausages and put them on sticks, doing the same with the once-popular combination of cheese and pineapple. It was something of a mad scramble to hang the balloons, and a banner proclaiming Happy Birthday! over the fireplace; Allegra had drawn a rather impressive donkey and stuck it to the back of the door, a tail made from some of Christine's knitting wool carefully pinned up alongside it. The chocolate cake sat in pride of place, decorated with as many candles as Gigi could fit onto its surface.
All the time the clock was ticking; she sent the girls up to get changed but hadn't realised how late it was getting until the doorbell rang.
"Do you want me to get that?" Erik called; Christine ran into the hall to find him already halfway down the stairs, wrapped in his dressing gown, mask in place.
"No, I'll do it!" she shouted, waving her hands to shoo him away. "Go and get dressed!"
"Christine, please tell me you haven't invited anyone round," he said, forehead creasing in concern. "I really don't want a visit from the police as a birthday present."
She just gave him a hard stare. "Do you really think I'm that daft?" she enquired archly. When he admitted that he didn't she just pointed up the stairs; he gave her a very strange look but went anyway. She didn't breathe out until he was safely back in the bedroom; after counting slowly to ten she went to the door to let her mother-in-law in.
"Am I too early?" Angelique asked as Christine took her coat, stowing it safely away from sight in the hall cupboard. "I thought I heard Erik's voice..?"
"He's upstairs. Oh, thank you; he's very fond of Chateau Neuf," Christine said, accepting the proffered bottle of wine.
"Yes, I remember. I must say this is a lovely idea; I was very surprised when Allegra asked me to come. It's always nice to get out of the house for a while; I think the only place I've been since Christmas Day was the vaccination centre," the older woman remarked once the usual ritual of hand-washing and sanitising had been performed, keeping her voice low as they made their way to the living room. "Since Erik arranged for everything to be delivered for me I've no need to go out, not even to pick up a prescription."
"It's safer that way; we're still staying home as much as possible."
"Yes. It's safe, but rather lonely," Angelique sighed. "You'll have to show me how to use Skype again, then I can help out with the school work. I'd love to see more of the girls and I'm sure you would welcome a break."
A slightly hysterical laugh escaped Christine as she hunted through the CD collection for the party album she knew she had somewhere. "I'll be glad to," she replied. "Any and all help is gratefully received."
The door opened and Allegra appeared. "I think I just heard Dad coming down the landing," she announced breathlessly.
"Blast! I'll have to go and catch him. Where's your sister?"
"Just behind me; she lost her shoe on the stairs. Do you want me to set up the laptop?" Allegra asked.
"Yes; it's all ready, you know how to connect it to the TV, don't you?" Christine wished she'd decided against stilettos when she nearly turned her ankle trying to run from the room. Behind her she could hear her mother-in-law professing her astonishment that children today could know so much about technology as Allegra explained what she was doing with the cables. Gigi was sitting on the bottom stair, the fluffy skirts of her party dress bunching up around her as she tried to put her sparkly buckled pump back on; quickly Christine did it for her, and had just hurried her off to join the others when she heard a familiar tread above.
Erik was coming down, wearing the suit she'd put out for him: black wool with a brocade waistcoat and deep red tie. He'd dressed in much the same way on the night of their first official date and looking at him still gave her a frisson even now. The faintly suspicious expression hadn't completely left his face, but he had obviously sussed that something was amiss as he was still wearing his mask. "Well?" he asked as he reached her side. "Will I do?"
"Always," she told him, and knew why she'd chosen the shoes when she didn't have to reach so far to kiss him. He smelt of shower gel and aftershave, with a background of something spicy that always seemed to hang around him. "I'm afraid I have a confession. I wasn't... entirely truthful earlier."
He chuckled. "Somehow, I'd worked that one out for myself. What have you done?"
"It's a surprise. Bend down."
"Christine, I really don't - " he began, eyes widening when she reached into the pocket of the coat hanging on the banister and pulled out a silk scarf. "The girls are still up!"
"I wonder about the way your mind works sometimes," Christine scolded, trying the scarf over his eyes. She grabbed hold of his hand but he held back. "What's the matter?"
"I'm not entirely sure I like surprises," he said. "Can't you just tell me what's going on?"
"Humour me."
A long-suffering sigh. "Oh, very well, if I must."
She smiled. "Come on, you big baby. I promise I won't hurt you." As she led him towards the door her phone chimed; it was a message from Meg: Everyone's online. Are we ready to go?
"What was that?" Erik asked, visibly irked at being blindfolded.
"Nothing," Christine told him as she swiftly responded: Just give me one more minute.
"Christine - " There was a slightly menacing tone when he said her name now; she knew he hated not knowing what was happening and was almost vibrating with impatience.
Without another word she drew him towards the living room, and threw open the door; there was a brief pause and then a great chorus of "Happy Birthday!" broke forth, the sound of many more voices than there should have been present. Christine hadn't been completely sure about Meg's idea when her friend suggested it, not knowing how Erik might react, but as she glanced towards the television to see that Allegra had set it up perfectly she knew it had been the right thing to do: a Zoom chat was open on the screen and there waving from a grid of little boxes were Meg and Antoinette, James and Theodora, as well as most of the singers and orchestra from the Vanburgh, Marie and Mike and Alfie, even Eugene Reyer the conductor, all the people they hadn't been able to see for so long. Erik's expression was horrified for a moment before she removed the blindfold and he blinked in amazement, realising that the noise came from an online coterie of friends and his house wasn't about to be raided by the Met investigating an illegal house party.
"Another year older, maestro! You must be a premium vintage by now," Teddy called cheekily. He shot her a glare and she just winked, raising the glass of wine in her hand.
"What on earth is going on?" Erik demanded. He looked quite shocked, running a shaky hand through his hair and gazing around at the decorations, his daughters standing by the food-laden table, both wearing huge grins, and his mother, who moved forward slightly as though to offer a kiss but thought better of it, whether because of the situation with the virus or she thought it might not be welcomed Christine couldn't be sure.
"It's your birthday party, Daddy!" Gigi exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on her toes.
"My – Good God." He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. "I really never expected - "
On the TV screen Meg lifted a hand as a signal to her colleagues. "One, two, three..."
It almost brought a tear to Christine's eye when the company of the Vanburgh Theatre struck up the familiar refrain of Happy Birthday to You, embellished by some close harmonies courtesy of the Theodora and the chorus. It was the first time they had all performed together in months. Despite still apparently being slightly overwhelmed, Erik's lips twitched mischievously.
"Shouldn't I be washing my hands to this?" he asked and she slapped his arm.
"Ungrateful wretch."
"Far from it. Thank you, everyone," he said, raising his voice so they could all hear him. "This has been a complete surprise to me." He glanced at Christine. "I will admit that while I had guessed she was up to something I wasn't aware my wife could be quite so deceitful."
"Go on, Christine!" Meg shouted, and her mother, sitting at her side, shushed her.
Erik considered for a moment before he continued, "I wish I could tell you something definite about the reopening of our theatre, but unfortunately at present I can't say any more than that we will have to continue as we are for a little while longer. I am very pleased to hear that you are all still in fine voice, and I look forward to the day when I can see you back on the stage. It can't come quickly enough!"
"Amen to that!" declared Alfie, raising his pint glass in a toast, and counting them in for a rendition of For He's a Jolly Good Fellow.
"Are you angry with me?" Christine asked quietly.
Her husband glanced down at her. "For the briefest second, possibly, especially if all those candles on the cake are meant to represent my age. But even so I could never be cross with you for long. What made you think to do all this?"
"Our daughters. They wanted to give you a proper birthday," she said, gaze moving to the two girls. Angelique was pouring glasses of champagne and Allegra looked covetously at the alcohol before her grandmother noticed and she quickly reached for the cola instead. Beside her Gigi solemnly doled out sausages and sandwiches onto individual plates; she tried a piece of the cheese and pineapple and grimaced at the taste. Christine laughed. "I think we've done well with them."
Erik's arm snaked around her waist. "I think you may be right," he agreed, kissing the top of her head. "I have a confession of my own: I'm afraid that with everything that's been going on I quite forgot to get you a Valentine's Day gift."
"Oh, that's all right. I didn't get you one, either. However," she added, turning in his embrace and sliding a hand up his chest to toy with his silk tie, "Your mother has volunteered to occupy the kids and put them to bed when the party's over. Just in case you fancy unwrapping me instead..."
His eyes were dark and he dipped his head towards hers as he whispered, "I think that can be arranged..."
Christine smiled. "Happy Birthday, darling."
