Christine felt like she was going to explode from fury.

To start, she did not receive a single letter for nearly two weeks. Not from anyone. Why are there four people walking around in England if ONE of them can't hold a pen and write a letter? What are they doing day by day, the soulless things? They leave her in utter shock and worry, not even writing a single line to her. Can it be they did not get to England…? Maybe they suffered a shipwreck? Maybe bandits attacked them…? Are they robbed and now they have no money to come home, or… maybe they are dead…?

- Christine, please. – Raoul tried to calm her, as he and Yvette often visited the family to give support for the poor single mother with two young children. – I think the bandits have more to be afraid of Erik…

- It was true when he was younger… but now… - Christine sobbed.

- I am sure he is still capable of protecting his loved ones and himself. And don't forget there is Mahtab, who was strong enough to push me even at the age of… five I think. And you told me Erik taught him how to use a gun.

- I am still worried. – Christine added softly. – As it is a wife and mother's job.

Noel and small Philippe became friends. Yet Noel was five years older than Philippe de Chagny Jr., it did not ruin their friendship. Noel was surprisingly easygoing with the small boy, and acted like a wise older brother to him, just as he saw the pattern from Mahtab. Partly he was happy that he was the only boy in the house mostly, but he had to admit, he missed his father and also his older siblings a lot. Other times he would claim he wanted to be an only child, especially after a bigger fight with Flo, but now that he did not have them, he wished them to be home as soon as possible again. The saying is really true – you don't know what you have until you lose it. He even stopped doing mischief at home, and turned his mind to reading books, or playing with Philippe. At least there was another boy in the house. Belle wasn't a possible options- Noel did not understand girls, and did not get what was so cute about Belle. They constantly wanted to play something else, and the girl only liked stupid games like carrying dolls and stuffed bears to have tea. It was boring. And not much more interesting was when she was just dancing around, imitating the ballerina in the music box. Thankfully Belle had a playmate too – Sophie loved younger children, and she enjoyed to take care of Belle, and even though she could not see her dancing, she was sure that the tiny girl was amazing.

Noel was the one who taught Philippe how to climb on a tree and he started entertaining his "small brother" with card and magic tricks. Of course, Philippe was fascinated by Noel's skills, and he started to believe that other than his father, Noel was the smartest person on Earth. He started to pray for a brother to Mama and Papa – maybe he will finally receive a boy in the family too!

Finally, the first sign of life arrived in another three- liner from the oldest member of the group. At least she was sure they were alive in England, as the letter was dated from already London, which fact meant good. Yet the letter did not tell too much:

London, on 9th September, '900

My beloved Christine,

We arrived here. The journey was pleasantly uneventful. Everyone is in good health, including the Persian and myself. Do not worry. I hope you and the children are well. I send my best wishes and love to Noel and Belle and my deep love and endless kisses to you.

Your loving and devoted husband,

Erik Amadé Spöke

Christine was partly relieved that Erik was alive at least, but she wasn't too delighted with the length of the letter. Oh would your wrist break if you took a bit more effort? Erik did not do it intentionally though. He did not like to write anyway, and with his nearly unreadable cursive, he thought no one else liked to read his letters, and it caused just as much trouble for the recipient as for him, so he did not write too much. But even in speech, he did not like to use too much words, if not necessary. He thought he just wrote as much as needed – the plain news. Anyway, what on Earth to write? Nothing has happened, nothing mentionable. He was truly afraid that the journey would be a lot more unpleasant, like in his younger years… he often had to sleep in a stable with the horses, and he suffered through some attacks by bandits, whom he had to… end by himself… but he did not wish to do that right now. Yet if it was needed, he would not have had a second thought. Thankfully it wasn't needed, as since his seasickness, nothing bad had happened, hence he described the journey as "pleasantly uneventful". They did not suffer lack of anything, as Erik was stubbornly not making compromises about luxury during the travel and staying at hotels. He spent a lot more on the journey than he would have in his younger years, but now he simply found himself too old for the circumstances he was used to. He did not wish to resign of comfortable beds, compartments in a train, or water closets. The Daroga was actually thankful for it. He also found it much more comfortable.

Some days later, however, another letter came, which gave Christine much more idea of what her family were going through in a foreign country. It was a nice handwriting, bit of too much like an eminent child's at school, and the letters were perfectly formed, so it was clearly not written by Flo. As she checked the signature, she smiled. It was Mahtab.

12th September, 1900, London,

Dearest Mama,

I apologize we did not write too much before. Papa did want to write a lot more for the last time but he had to close the letter earlier to catch the post, as he did not want you to wait more for news. Now I send my more detailed letter to know what is happening.

London is a beautiful city, and we enjoyed the journey very much. Nothing bad had happened, save for Papa being seasick on the ship. Now that we arrived, we were mostly getting ready for the happenings which are to come. We were sightseeing some, as Papa told us, if we got to be so lucky to get here, we must see the architectural masterpieces of the city, which we enjoyed very much. We had to take Flo to a tailor shop to make a gala suit for him, as it will be needed for him on his concert. He looked like a gentleman with his tailcoat when he tried it on. He also received new shoes and a conductor's wand. He would like to march around in his new clothes proudly, but Papa does not allow him.

Also, I have a job. I work as a translator for Flo, as I know English, while he doesn't. Papa and I try to teach him to express himself, he now knows a few sentences, yet he said he'd rather communicate in music. Papa seemed to agree a lot. Flo has a terrible French accent, while Papa and I don't. About accents and pronunciations: No one can pronounce our last name. We are everything in writing and speech from Spoke to Spiker, but mostly they call us "Spooky". Papa calls himself "the Spooky Erik" and bursts out in laughter. I am a bit of annoyed that English people can't pronounce a Swedish surname properly. And not even my given name as I am mostly "Mateb". I start to go by any name starting by M, really.

I have also good news: Flo's publisher took our appointment earlier, hearing that we are in the city. We went there to meet them yesterday, but I got a bit of disappointed upon arriving to their office. I imagined it to be much bigger and luxurious – our study at home is bigger and we have more expensive furniture I think- yet the two gentlemen were kind to us. They talked to Papa mostly, as they were told that the composer himself is still struggling with the language, and he only speaks French. They were kind, but they also looked a bit of suspicious while looking at Florian, and one of them quietly stated he doesn't look twelve years old. They gave him some exercises for improvisation, as I think, they did not believe it was him who wrote the symphony. He had to stay alone in a room with only a piano and some sheet music paper and he got an hour to write a song for S-A-T-B and piano, which he did wonderfully. I read that once Mozart had to go through something similar exam, so I am the proudest big brother on Earth that my brother faced the same challenge as Mozart. I really feel like he is on a concert tour. He received many congratulations, and a term Papa had to sign, as Flo is still a child- now it is sure we are going to have the symphony performed. We have to start the rehearsals tomorrow as the date of the concert is 12th December. I am afraid we are not going to be home until next year's beginning.

I am sorry if these news disappoint you – Papa was kind of prepared of it. It takes long to stage a concert, but you also know it well. Don't worry, we are doing well. Papa seems to be totally changed, health way. He had problems climbing stairs in Paris and he is running upstairs like a young man here. I am not sure what caused it. Flo is begging him to play the violin solo in his symphony as he claims he thought of Papa the whole time he wrote it. Papa said it wasn't that simple, and we can't just rearrange a full orchestra for his wishes, but Flo now seems to be determined about his wants.

Tonton Mohammed is doing well too, he mostly takes care of our emotional stability which is not an easy job for poor him. He does not really speak English either, so he tries to practice with Florian, yet he says he is too old for this.

Well, I close my letter now and promise to write again when there is something new.

I send my kisses for Belle and my brotherly love to Noel, and I do hope all of you are doing well. Please tell Sophie I am going to write her in the following days in Braille. Hug M. LeChat instead of me, and greet Tonton Raoul and Tatie Yvette and Philippe in my name. I miss all of you and love you so much. Don't worry about us, we are fine and happy.

Your loving oldest child,

Mahtab Geneviéve Spöke

Christine was relieved to hear more news as she could not imagine how they lived and what happened from Erik's letters. She was excited for her son, and was sad she can't be there for him to cheer for him on his special day. And… half a year would be too much without them… Yes she knew they were going to stay for months… but still it was too much to bear! She missed Erik and the children so much. She felt like half of her heart was ripped out… they won't even come back for Christmas… they never spent Christmas separated… and still, though Erik was better according to Mahtab, Christine was still afraid her husband's health could suddenly turn to the worse, as it had happened before.

In London, Erik got more and more busy.

He did not have much time to write letters anyways, and he had no time to feel pain or be ill. Surprisingly, English weather did not do any harm to his joints. He felt emotionally refreshed, and useful. He suddenly had so much tasks to do! Within time they moved out from the hotel to a flat they rent, as it was cheaper on the long run, and Erik did not really like to live among so many people anyway. The flat was more peaceful, and it also had a grand piano, which Erik needed more than a piece of bread. Mahtab informed Christine about their moving, but she found it strange that they did not receive a letter to the new address. Erik was partly worried about this fact and he wrote a short letter to Christine to ask if she got the other letter with their new address, but he simply had no more time to worry and think about the issue.

He had to accompany Florian to each of the rehearsals and be his manager and translator, and much, his emotional support. The orchestra had trouble suddenly obeying to a child who did not even speak their language and was too much determined and serious compared to a twelve year old. The symphony was hard enough, and they did not like when such a child corrected them. Flo had to face the hard part of being a child prodigy, and that was why Erik always was afraid: he knew Flo wasn't that emotionally stable and manipulative as it would be needed for this job. Yet in a few weeks' time, as Flo spoke better and better in English, and the musicians did not only see a spoiled little alien on the conductor's place, they started to get to like him. Florian was really easy to accept and like if people got to talk to him a bit more, as he truly had a heart of gold, and a lot of passion for music. All of the musicians showed him the instruments they were playing, and he got to try out some of them himself. Erik was so proud that he did not constantly have to protect him, and he found his place finally. It was much easier for Florian to give the violin solo to his father than he thought. The organizers were utterly fascinated by the thought that the concert will be even more miraculous with a violin virtuoso as they heard Erik playing. He simply had to. He did not like the fact he had to play in front of an audience at the age of nearly 70, but he knew it would mean so much to the child… and to tell the truth, it was something he would be very proud of as well. Before ending his life, he wished to perform something heartwarming in front of people, just like in older times when he had his show as a teen and young adult in Russia and Persia… a strange nostalgic feeling took him over when he lifted up his violin on a rehearsal to show the musicians what he was capable of.

He did not worry about the mask any more, which was his main fear. As he started playing, he did not mind any more if his mask got too loose after the performance, but at least ONCE he had to show his art. Florian's touching notes which were demanding all of Erik's technical skills, were making the string section turning lemon yellow with jealousy, and touched at the same time. Half of the orchestra was weeping after the first measures and Erik really knew how to make people feel all kinds of emotions while playing. Whispers started about that thin man, who looked nothing special, was better than Paganini himself.

When the solo ended they needed to interrupt the symphony, as Erik received endless clap and the infamous stamping of the string section as a clapping gesture. There was no audience, but Erik was beaming with pride both for his and his son's achievements. He knew now that Flo will be an excellent composer, he will be able to live on his own from composing and concerts, if he was able to make the orchestra cry, what will he do to the audience…? Erik felt now he could die as a happy man, yet he hoped and thought it was still far away. He felt so full of energy that he thought he was going to live for 100 years. Musicians were cheering for them, and Erik climbed up next to Flo and hugged him in front of everyone.

- I am proud of you, my dear son. – He stated softly but happily, looking at his child.

- I am proud of you too, Papa. I learned everything from you. – Flo hugged Erik's neck.

As the rehearsal finished, and they were about to leave, suddenly Erik heard a voice behind his back and he nearly dropped his precious violin.

- You made me cry with your song again… my Angel of Music.

He turned back, and saw the most precious human being standing behind their back. She was smiling happily, but was wiping her eyes of tears of being touched. Erik's jaw dropped and Flo was happily running towards the woman and leapt into her arms:

- Mama!