A/N: With what's happening with the new variant here in England, for a while over the weekend I thought I might have to completely rewrite this chapter. Thankfully that didn't end up being necessary, though it did prompt the final scene.

"It's been so long since I last went to someone else's house I think I've forgotten what to do," Christine remarked as she fastened her earrings. In the mirror she could see Erik behind her, reaching for the midnight blue shirt that was lying on the bed. She'd persuaded him that it would in fact go with the camel-coloured moleskin trousers she'd bought him for his birthday and it was nice to see him back in something different; since he'd returned to work he'd habitually stuck to black or grey enlivened with an occasional splash of red.

"You'll remember," he assured her, nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons. "As long as you say please and thank you and don't dance on the dining table you'll be fine."

"We're going over to Teddy's," she pointed out, amused. "Table dancing will probably be compulsory."

"I sincerely hope not. The walls in that place are ludicrously thin; their downstairs neighbours even complained that time we played Trivial Pursuit."

She glanced at his reflection. "That was because you were arguing with her over who won the 1998 World Cup. Jimmy and I had to separate you, and after all that you both got it wrong."

"Americans know nothing about football," he groused. "They can't even get the name right."

"Neither do you! You've never taken an interest as long as I've known you; I shouldn't think you watched one of the matches."

A smile lurked around his lips. "Maybe not," he conceded. Shirt fastened, he tucked in the tails and sat down to put on his shoes. His face clouded. "By the way, that journalist friend of yours called me earlier. She seemed pleasant enough."

Christine patted her hair, looking around for her handbag. She hadn't used the one she reserved for evenings for over a year. "Jennifer Wagstaff? She's not my friend, but yes, she is very pleasant, very easy to talk to."

"We arranged to meet on Thursday evening."

"Here?" Her bag was sitting on the chair in the corner; she snatched it up, checking that purse, keys and phone were all present and correct. "You do remember I'm having my first jab on Wednesday, don't you? There's every chance you'll be on solo kid-wrangling duty if I get side-effects."

"Yes, I remember, and she's coming to the theatre, after rehearsals. My mother will keep the girls until we get back. I draw the line at inviting reporters into my home," Erik told her firmly. He went to the wardrobe to look through his collection of jackets and after some consideration decided on a navy wool blazer, shrugging it on and performing the same ritual, taking a quick glance at his mobile before sliding it into an inside pocket. "She..." He hesitated. "She wants to bring a photographer."

Christine just watched him for a moment. His mask was on the bedside cabinet; he picked it up and slipped it into place, the wire that supported it virtually invisible against his hair. He ran a careful hand over the slicked back strands, making sure none had been disturbed. Given his shortcomings, control over his appearance had always been important to him and he hated to look anything less than immaculate. "What did you tell her?"

"My first instinct was to call the whole thing off, but I just managed to restrain myself and asked if I could consider it. She did sound a little surprised; I assume pictures are usually obligatory with these things."

"Well, yes, but if you're not going to be comfortable - "

He grimaced. "I daresay if I've come this far I can push myself through it."

A car pulled up outside; she peeped through the slats of the blind to see a familiar figure getting out of a sporty red Mazda. "Madame's here," she reported, adding as she turned back to her husband, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"Perhaps you could take the photos," he suggested, only half-joking. "The Duchess of Cambridge seems to get away with being her family's official photographer."

"I don't have the same expensive kit as the Duchess of Cambridge," she reminded him, "Or the same cachet."

"Pity," Erik mused, heading for the bedroom door.

"I could always ask Raoul to do it," Christine suggested just as he reached it, not realising exactly what she'd said until the words had left her mouth. He stopped dead, spine stiffening, and she scrabbled to catch up with herself. "He's actually a really good photographer, and you know he wouldn't make you look bad. I'm sure it would be the reverse, in fact; he knows how sensitive you are about your appearance."

"Does he really have to be involved any further? This situation is fast becoming humiliating."

"Wouldn't you prefer to have someone you know behind the camera?" she asked, flicking off the lamps and leaving him in silhouette against the bright yellow light on the landing.

"You know that's no choice at all."

Downstairs the doorbell rang. "It's only Nana; I'll get it!" Allegra shouted; her feet could be heard racing down the hall, followed by a stream of breathless excited chatter as she let Antoinette in.

"Shall I call Jen tomorrow and see what she thinks?" Christine rested a hand on Erik's sleeve, trying to gauge his expression; the good side of his face was in shadow, leaving her with just the sculpted frown of the mask.

"I..." His fists clenched for a moment before his shoulders drooped in defeat. "I suppose so."

"Good." She stood on tiptoes to peck him on the cheek and slung her bag over her arm. "Come on; we'll be late if we hang around up here much longer."

"Will you do something for me?" he asked as he followed her down the stairs.

"Of course. What?"

When she glanced back at him his gaze was absolutely serious. "If I ever say yes to something like this again, shoot me."

"You've agreed to talk to Stage Magic?" Teddy exclaimed as she set down a tray that held cups and a caffetiere on the coffee table. Around them Ella Fitzgerald crooned from concealed speakers, and through the open curtains, beyond the flat's windows twinkled the myriad lights of London. If you squinted you could just about make out the illuminated dome of St Paul's across the river. "Good for you, maestro! You deserve some proper recognition after all this time."

Jimmy raised his glass; he always preferred to end a meal with brandy. "Hear, hear. And this will finally stop that Wagstaff woman badgering my secretary every few months. It's happened so often Shirley's had to draft a standard reply, something along the lines of: 'Thank you for your query, unfortunately Mr Claudin is not conducting interviews at the present time'."

"Sorry about that," Christine said sheepishly. When Erik shot her a confused look she explained, "I may have mentioned you once or twice during our chats. She promised to keep any info off the record but it obviously piqued her interest."

"Well, now she'll finally get to meet the mystery man in person." Theodora grinned. "I bet she's bursting with excitement; I know I would be."

"I can't think why. I'm sure she'll be horribly disappointed," Erik said sourly, taking a mouthful of Côtes de Rhône. "Most people are."

Teddy sank into the armchair next to the new leather sofa that was currently occupied by the Claudins and kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet underneath her. "Depends what she's expecting, doesn't it?" she asked with a wink, and he rolled his eyes. Undeterred as always, she just turned to Christine, declaring, "A video star and now darling of the press! Who would have thought it?"

"Will you please just stop?" Erik asked, sounding annoyed. Normally he tolerated Theodora's flirting, even occasionally encouraged it when he was amused enough, and she looked surprised at his tone. "It's nothing important and I am not the next matinee idol. Far from it. All this focus on publicity is getting everyone completely sidetracked from the job at hand."

The other soprano raised her eyebrows at Christine, who just sighed. "It's true that some people have got a bit over-excited," she said now, and her husband nodded. "Meg was the worst: I think she might have screamed when we told her."

"She did," Erik confirmed, and rubbed at his ear, wincing. "I had no idea she could even reach a C6."

"I think we all just need to calm down a bit; it's not making it any easier for him. He's been horribly tetchy all week."

He stared at her in consternation. "I have not!"

"You have. You snapped at me when I forgot my lines to Burlington Bertie yesterday," she retorted. "Poor Marie was nearly in tears when you told her she was flat. Twice."

"That had nothing to do with this ridiculous interview. And she was flat," Erik added defensively. "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't draw it to her attention."

Christine snorted. "You could have been a bit less brusque about it."

"I think that everyone is forgetting we are supposed to be putting on a new production in a few weeks' time. What's the point in selling tickets if the audience has nothing to watch?"

"Good point," Jimmy agreed, shooting Theodora a pointed glare when she opened her mouth to object. "We should just focus on the fact that Erik is finally coming out properly into the world; that takes courage, and he deserves our support, not a load of wisecracks."

"Thank you, James," Erik said, looking visibly relieved. He swirled the wine in his glass. "If we could change the subject I would be extremely grateful."

Fortunately, Christine's phone took that moment as its cue to ping. "It's Meg," she announced. "The new Divas video is up and she thinks it's better than the first."

"You don't sound as though you agree with her," Teddy remarked. "I thought it went pretty well; we've ironed out a few kinks, and it showed. The whole thing flowed much better."

Christine shrugged. "Maybe. I just wasn't completely happy with my performance. It needed more work."

"Nonsense!" Erik told her. "You sang it beautifully."

"Oh, you always say that. I know I made a complete hash of it. The lyrics tripped me up; I'm not used to tongue twisters." They had decided that as the first week had been slightly weighted in her favour that Theodora would choose the next piece and she had picked I Have Confidence in Me from The Sound of Music. Despite being fond of the film and having seen it many times Christine never considered herself a Maria, and it wasn't a song she'd ever really attempted before; though she spent what spare time she could find rehearsing the words were still tricky when she came to perform and she was sure she'd got quite a few wrong. It was frustrating, especially as she was able to manage complicated lyrics in Italian or German without a problem, but as she had been on home turf for the initial heat she supposed it was only fair. "I think it's going to be one-all this week."

"I don't know; I didn't clock any major errors," Theodora said, reaching for her coffee. "I think you underestimate yourself, sweetie."

"Not this time. I'm not exactly sure what some of the words I sang were, but I'm sure they had nothing to do with Rodgers and Hammerstein."

"I didn't notice," Erik assured her.

Christine laughed. "You wouldn't; you hate The Sound of Music," she reminded him. "Whenever I put it on you start rooting for the Germans."

Teddy snorted and he shrugged. "It's just too twee for me. Nuns and kids skipping about in dirndls made from curtains...it so saccharin it rots the teeth."

"What would you prefer, Erik?" Jimmy enquired with a smile. "Sweeny Todd?"

"If it means I don't drown in hideous, cloying niceness, yes."

"You really are a grouch tonight, maestro," Teddy teased. "If you carry on like this we'll have to rent you a trash can. You'll be gunning down the orphans in Oliver! next."

"I just can't stand treacle, that's all," Erik insisted. "Why the hell Captain von Trapp needed seven children I'll never know. Two is quite enough for anyone."

"That's a shame," Christine commented, hiding the smile that had crept onto her face behind her cup as an idea to shake him out of the grumps came to her. "I'd been waiting for the right moment to tell you but I suppose you may as well know now." Like Meghan Markle she cradled her stomach meaningfully with her free hand, giving it a fond little pat for good measure. Erik just stared at her for several seconds, mouth slightly open as he processed what she'd just said, and it took all her acting experience to keep a straight face. "We're going to have a new addition to our family."

"Do you - " He swallowed, hard. "Do you mean - ?"

She nodded, managing to school her features into a creditable semblance of seriousness. "You're going to be a daddy again, my darling. Isn't it wonderful?"

"I... um..." His eyes were like saucers, unblinking for a worrying length of time. "You can't be - ! It's not possible!" he blurted at last. "I've... we've... we haven't even been trying to..."

She smiled beatifically and gave a rueful shrug. "Sometimes these things just... happen."

"You're on the pill!" The words emerged as a squeak and it took every little bit of her self-control not to laugh and immediately give the game away.

"Even so."

Hesitantly his fingers crept towards her belly and the gentle swell of far too many lockdown biscuits that was visible through her dress, stopping a couple of inches away. "You... you're absolutely sure? You're really... pregnant?"

From the corner of her eye she could see Jimmy and Teddy exchanging a puzzled glance but neither of them said a word. Biting her lip, Christine let the moment drag on for just long enough before she reached out and captured Erik's hand, pressing it to her stomach. Leaning in close, she looked him straight in the eye and told him in a stage whisper, "No, not really. But the kids want to get a puppy."

There was a very long pause, and then Jimmy broke the silence with an enormous guffaw. Theodora turned away, one hand over her mouth to cover her very unladylike sniggers.

"You..." Erik glared at her, and then at his wife; Christine met his narrowed gaze with an even stare of her own. Stalemate reigned for a beat before relief flooded his features and he slumped against the sofa cushions. "Oh, thank God."

"Got you going there, didn't I?" she asked with a grin.

"You certainly did." A chuckle rumbled in his chest and he looped a long arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "If you want me to die of a heart attack you're going the right way about it."

"At least it's made you laugh," Christine pointed out, and he nodded with a sigh.

"Have I really been that bad?"

"Completely. I seriously considered filing for divorce twice. It was only the thought that Madame probably wouldn't appreciate me turning up on her doorstep with the kids in tow that stopped me," she told him. "Their flat only has two bedrooms."

"My apologies, angel." he murmured, kissing her hair. "I promise I'll try not to be so... so..." He grappled for a suitable word.

"Impossible? Unbearable? Even Alfie was walking on eggshells, and you know how laid-back he always is."

"It's true," Theodora agreed, nodding sagely. "They were readying fire buckets in case of a sudden explosion."

Christine glanced up at Erik and he arched an eyebrow. "Now you're surely exaggerating."

"Well, maybe just a little," she conceded, and he laughed.

"So, have you found replacements for Julian's part in the show?" Jimmy asked when another round of coffee had been poured and the after dinner mints broken out. "Poor guy; Teddy told me everything was thrown up in the air."

Erik leaned back, one ankle resting on the opposite knee as his fingers drummed thoughtfully on the dark brown leather of his shoe. Christine slipped from his embrace, reaching for the nearest box of Bendicks. "Against my better judgement, I agreed to let Meg do her threatened tap routine. She's coming up with something based around a couple of folk tunes, and Serge will apparently be partnering her. I've not seen it yet - the ballet corps is Annie's domain – but it gives me one less thing to worry about."

"Meg's over the moon," Christine added. "She's had plenty of solos, naturally, but this will be her first time presenting her own choreography."

Jimmy looked impressed. "Excellent. Won't be long before she's snapping at her mom's heels."

"I can't see Annie standing for that," Erik mused. "She'd defend Meg to the death but I can only see her relinquishing control when – and if – she retires."

"Which will be never," Christine said, and he blinked, surprised. "She's as bad as you: I swear you'll both only be removed from that theatre in a wooden box."

"How do you know part of me won't hang around to haunt the place?" he joked, and she just gave him a look. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he turned back to Jimmy. "We're filling the other vacant slot with sea shanties: Haul Away and Blow the Winds Hi-Ho. Meg is also making an appearance in the latter."

"There's a character with her name in the lyrics," Christine explained when her friends looked blank. "It's a little in-joke."

Teddy bit a mint in half. "How about the duet? Everyone's tied up with other things, so I guess you've now got the slot to yourself..?"

The words were even but Christine caught the implication, though she knew Theodora wasn't trying to be malicious; it wasn't in the other soprano's nature, unlike Carlotta, who would have jumped upon any suggestion of favouritism loudly and with gusto, but she could understand if Teddy had concerns. They might be friends but they were also professionals, and Erik had always been careful not to prioritise his wife over the other members of his company. "Well, no, that would hardly be fair - " she began, glancing at him.

Erik shook his head. "I'm working on it, but she certainly won't be singing alone," he promised, and refused to be drawn further.

"Of course," he said later when they were on their way home, "We could be doing all this for nothing. There's a good chance we may end up with a show rehearsed and ready to go in an empty theatre."

Christine shivered, pulling her coat closer around her shoulders; it might be the middle of May, but the nights were still cold. Erik noticed and turned up the Merc's heater. The soft strings of Mantovani that whispered from the state of the art sound system, accompanied by the rhythmic swish of the windscreen wipers cocooned the car in a comforting embrace. "It seems as though every time we make some progress the virus just jumps up to bite us on the backside," she sighed, watching the lights flashing past the rain-splashed passenger window.

"That's nature of the beast, unfortunately."

"Maybe we should have stayed at home tonight. Be cautious, that's what the experts are saying."

"We've hardly jumped back into a mad whirl of nightlife; we see Theodora every day at the theatre," he said reasonably. "We're still distancing and all three of us take regular tests. James is still working from home. We're more at risk amongst the rest of the cast and crew than we are with them."

She nibbled on her thumb nail, a nervous tic Madame Giry had tried and failed to drum out of her years ago. "Do you think we'll be able to reopen? Really and truly?"

He shrugged as he changed gear. "Without a crystal ball, I have no idea. All we can do is hope things improve, that this new variant doesn't cause as much chaos as they think it might."

"And pray?" she asked.

"If you like. We can probably use any divine intervention that might be on offer." She looked over at him; his fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly and his mouth was set in a grim line that had nothing to do with the traffic. "There's no way we can open at fifty percent capacity and make it pay. If we can't mount Untitled at the end of June with a full audience, then..."

"Phil will pull the plug."

Erik exhaled slowly. "Yes."

"I thought you'd say that." Christine closed her eyes in frustration. Though she'd not said anything it had been worrying her ever since the announcement on Friday that the final stage of lockdown easing might be delayed, that all their hard work over the last couple of months might be wasted, but to hear it now, so baldly stated... "We're screwed, aren't we?"

"Quite possibly."

She dashed an angry fist against the door. "It's not fair! Just when we thought things were going to get back to normal..! How can we be going backwards again?"

"We're not." He leaned over, resting a hand on her knee. Reflected streetlights skittered across the surface of his mask as he turned his head towards her, just slightly. "They have to prepare people, just in case, but it doesn't mean we're going to end up right back where we started. Think about this time last year, and what a different position we're in now. Back then we had no defence at all and the idea of unlocking was terrifying; now we've got the vaccines, and they're working far better than anyone ever expected."

"I know, but every time it seems things are looking up, something else happens. There are pockets of this new variant all around London; what if it spreads?"

"We can't second guess what might happen," Erik said firmly. "All we can do is take one day at a time."

"I don't know how you can be so calm," Christine told him honestly. He'd always been the one to go crazy when he felt circumstances slipping from of his grasp - only last week he'd confessed he was finding it hard to handle what was happening with the management of the theatre – but somehow, with this, he managed to be the voice of reason, able to step back and look at it objectively. She had no idea how he did it. "You hate to lose control."

"Some things are just too big to fight. I've had plenty of practise at bowing to the inevitable."

"And the Vanburgh?"

"I think I've run through every conceivable circumstance in my head since we had to close last March," he admitted. "And Philip de Chagny has thrown in a few more since then. I've worried, and stressed and panicked... I'm not sure anything could take me by surprise now. It's always been in the back of my mind that we might not be able to reopen on schedule; the idea of throwing all social distancing out of the window next month always did seem to be rather ambitious."

She found his hand when it rested on the gear lever again and squeezed it. "What will we do? If worst comes to the worst?"

"We'll make the best of things." Erik glanced at her as he turned the wheel; despite the words his expression, washed out by the bright lights beyond the car, was bleak. "That's all we can do."