This chapter features lyrics from "Ten Long Years," from the Australian production of LND. I have changed some of the words in order to make it a duet. There are also (unaltered) lyrics from "Angel of Music." Credit where it is due: Glenn Slater, Charles Hart, and Richard Stilgoe.
Meg, predictably, was unable to fall asleep, after the Phantom left her room in the middle of the night. The intercourse was comforting, if a little intimidating, but she had welcomed him into her bed. He acted desperate for her, fervent in his desire for her body. But, when it was over, he had removed himself from her room faster than she had thought possible. She was still staring up into darkness, seeing only his shadow against the wall when he had opened the door to leave.
Although his roughness surprised her, she had also been pleased when his pace had suddenly slowed to a more familiar and satisfying rhythm. She didn't know why he wanted her silent, but she played along.
When he took his own pleasure, he had called out Christine's name.
The last time he did that, she recalled, was our first time together. He was apologetic, afterward. But now, he's done it, again. After all we've been through together…Christine reappears into our lives and he uses me, again.
Bitter tears welled up in her eyes, as the shock of what happened ebbed away.
I will never let him use me like that again. I will never settle for being a poor man's Christine.
Lying in the dark, she cried hot tears and curled her naked body on her side. She rose, when she had no more tears to shed, and maneuvered to her wardrobe. She pulled a thicker robe out from behind the doors and wrapped it around her like a heavy blanket. The added warmth gave her a small sense of security. She had enough sanity left to make one final, redeeming choice before dawn.
Finding one of her lamps in the dark, she illuminated enough of her room to locate and reread her mother's letter to her.
"He has never felt love in his life. Nothing real. He will always be infatuated with Christine…he knows nothing of giving or receiving love."
She read and reread the words over and over, seated at the vanity. It was nothing she wanted to hear. It was everything she needed to hear. And her heart continued to shatter.
Meg awoke to a knock at her door. She groggily lifted her head from her forearms. Apparently, sometime after reading her mother's letter, she had fallen asleep sitting up, hunched over her crossed arms on the vanity's table. Her eyes focused on herself in the mirror, and frowned at how disturbing the reflected image was. A thick reddish line went across her forehead, where the blood had pooled from the pressure of her arm. Under her bloodshot eyes, she had baggy skin that hung limply. Tired was an understatement. She needed the cold ocean water to invigorate her…
Another knock sounded out, followed by the familiar voice of Fleck.
"Addie! ADDIE!"
"What, Fleck?" She called out to the demanding woman.
"Do you need any costume repairs? You didn't sign the costumer's sheet!"
Oh, no, Meg inwardly groaned. Missed my window, again. If Fleck and the costume ladies were already working, the theatre was already populated. Four days, now.
"No!" Meg responded loudly enough to make her voice carry past the closed door.
"Then let Greta know that, next time, by SIGNING THE SHEET!"
Meg heard Fleck storm off, before waiting for an apology. Not that Meg was awake or inclined enough to apologize to the rude response.
She took some perfumed cream from a jar in a drawer and applied some of it to her face gently, smoothing out the lines that normally did not crease her young face. Looking at the clock in her room, she saw that it was well into the morning. She had less than an hour to make herself presentable and meet with the cast and orchestra to go over corrections and notes. The first of the four Friday shows would start a few hours after that, with time for a proper warm-up and lunch.
Meg sighed and slowly began to dress. The letter had fallen to the floor, sliding almost completely underneath the vanity. Christine's arrival had completely upended Meg's simple, happy life. It wasn't the poor woman's fault that Erik was infatuated with her. But Meg had so little to cling to, and everything was slipping through her fingers. Her professional career, her swimming, her sleep…Erik.
When she arrived at the call, she was greeted with smiles and nods from her castmates. The musical director acknowledged her entry but then immediately looked past her to watch the door. It was then that Meg realized that Christine was not yet there.
Minutes passed, and still no opera diva. Everyone was getting antsy, eager to start the process so that they could be done with it and off to rest before the longer performing day.
"Addie, dear?" the musical director finally spoke up. Meg looked over, respectfully ready to help out in any way she was needed. "Would you mind checking on our star? Remind her of our schedule?"
Meg winced, but she nodded and left the stage hall. As she arrived to the side of the theater that housed guests and Erik himself, she saw that all doors were closed. No noise filtered into the long corridor. She knocked on Christine's door and waited patiently.
The door opened and Gustave appeared. "Oh, hi Miss Addie!"
"Good morning, Gustave," she smiled warmly at the adorable boy. "Where's your mother?"
"Shhh!" he cautioned. Meg's demeanor stiffened, remembering how often she had been shushed by the Phantom during their last encounter. "She's sleeping."
He opened the door, and Meg immediately saw her friend leaning against the arm of the sofa and napping. She was fully dressed for the day, with her hair done. She looked as though she had sat down to rest, but sleep had overtaken her. Meg walked over and lightly approached her.
"Christine?"
The brunette's eyes slowly fluttered open. When she saw Meg, she pulled up sharply and placed a gloved hand above her brow.
"Oh, I'm sorry…I must've fallen asleep. What time is it?"
"Well," Meg calmly spoke, "it's time to go to the stage. We're receiving notes and corrections, today." Christine pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. "It shouldn't be long. But we all need to be present."
Christine slowly stood, looking immensely tired, especially compared to her energetic son.
"You'll have a few hours, after we're done," Meg continued, trying to give Christine some good news. "Did you…not sleep well?"
"No," the songbird replied. "I did not."
"Did you and Gustave have breakfast?"
"Yes, a tray and cart was left outside our room, earlier," Christine casually waved her hand in the direction of where the cart and what was left of its contents stood. "I'm sorry you had to come for me. I'm ready."
The three made their way to the stage in silence. Christine's eyes darted around the hall fearfully, while Gustave skipped happily toward his new friends. Meg watched them both; she took her friend's hand in her own, to steady and comfort her.
It reminded Meg of another time she had held Christine's hand to lead her from her fears.
"Christine, you must have been dreaming.
Stories like this can't come true.
Christine, you're talking in riddles,
And it's not like you…"
They arrived to their destination, with Christine making humbled apologies for her tardiness. The musical director nodded in acceptance and began the process of giving notes. Some were from himself, some were from Mr. Y. Gustave ran around, greeting and playing with the performers, occasionally receiving a gentle shushing to control his more boisterous outbursts.
"And, finally," the musical director included, "I would like to see both Addie and the Victomtess for a new number that will be previewing tomorrow night."
Christine and Meg looked at each other in shock. Most of the actors on stage looked equally surprised, except for Gangle, who had a knowing smirk on his long face.
Some of the performers left the stage, but most strategically sat in the audience.
The two women walked closer to the orchestra pit, beckoned to do so by the director.
"I realize this is all a bit overwhelming, but I have been assured by Mr. Y that you will both be able to sing and choreograph this short number by tomorrow. As I understand it, Mr. Y only wrote this number in the early hours of this morning." He handed them sheet music with familiar-looking scrawlings. "Can we try to read through it, together?"
There were no musicians in the pit, as they had been dismissed earlier in the day. He sat at the piano with his own musical score, and played the piece at the legato tempo it called for.
Christine began.
"It seems a hundred years ago,
Since you and I were both on show
Dancing side by side…
Shy and starry-eyed."
"The waves now bring you back to me," Meg sang softly, letting her voice fade into silence. Christine's voice rose to respond to Meg's short line.
"And any day we soon will be
Side by side, again.
Just like way back then.
"You seem a thousand miles away,
And yet, my ship sets out today.
Sails across the sea
Bringing you to me!
And will you show me all the sights?"
It was Meg's turn for another brief line of song.
"Manhattan's noise and Coney's lights!"
Christine chimed in.
"Friends, at last, again!
Just the same as then!"
Meg joined the songstress for the last line, to be a fitting conclusion for their duet.
"Just…like…way…back…then…"
There was light applause, as the other performers complimented the natural ability of the two talented ladies' sight-reading. Christine and Meg smiled at each other, then they turned their attention back to the director.
"It's…quite nice," Christine whispered. Meg nodded in agreement.
"We'll run through it a few more times, and then we'll have to rehearse it with the orchestra tomorrow morning," the older man instructed. "I'm sorry to say that it will be an early day for you both, tomorrow. And, Addie, Mr. Y wants you to be dancing whenever you aren't singing, so, most of the number. And he mentioned that he would like your choreography to be in the style of classical ballet, but not on pointe. Does that make sense to you?"
"Yes, I think I know what he's asking," Meg said with a strained smile.
"Your costumes for the number are simple, from my understanding, but Greta still needs to see the both of you before the third show call time. I still need to find an appropriate slot in the show to place this song, taking into account both of your costume changes. Now, let's run through the music, again. Try, if you feel ready, to infuse some of that sentimental and wistful emotion that obviously courses through the lyrics. If you please?"
Christine looked over at her son. Gustave was playing pat-a-cake in the wings with Squelch, with Fleck watching them out of boredom. Gangle was nearby, too, with his arms folded and staring back at the young mother.
They finished the impromptu rehearsal and returned separately to their rooms. The new musical number had eaten into their spare time before the show. Now, they had less than two hours until their call time for the first of the four shows. Meg ate in the kitchen, along with some of the other performers, choosing food that would not sit heavy within their stomachs, then rushed to get ready for the show.
Once she was in costume, she found a secluded spot in the wings to work on the choreography for the duet with Christine. Traditional ballet, she recalled. But not en pointe? Not that I could go en pointe, on such short notice… She lamented, again, the fact that she had not kept her feet conditioned to do so, as she had been trained.
She thought about the new lyrics and hummed the melody to herself, closing her eyes to search her imagination. Inspiration washed over her, and she slowly pieced together her mother's choreography from both "Hannibal" and "Il Muto," sometimes halving the beats to fit the tempo of the song. She marked the turns, staying in place and only showing the faintest signs of the movements.
"That will be perfect," a voice whispered down from the rafters.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, hearing the Phantom calling down to her. But Meg did not look up or give him any visible acknowledgment. She continued to mark the dance routine, wondering what Christine would think of the familiar choreography.
Eventually, everyone arrived for vocal and physical warm-up before the start of their performances. Meg wandered out from the wings, meeting up with her fellow dancers. The six girls surrounded her excitedly, bombarding her with questions about the duet.
"Have you thought of any steps, yet?"
"Are you happy you get to do ballet? I know you're always inserting your signature style into every one of our routines!"
"Do you know the Vicomte's wife?"
"The song's words make it sound like you two know each other! How do you know her? Is it true, like the song says, that you used to dance together?"
"You said you didn't know her, Addie!" Ellie admonished. "Now you have to tell us everything!"
"No wonder you rushed out of the theatre on Wednesday!" Suzanne added.
"I-I-I wasn't sure it was her. Christine is a common enough name. And I knew her before she was married," Meg explained hastily. "We were in the ballet corps for the Opera Populaire in Paris. My mother was our ballet mistress."
"You lived in Paris? Your mother was in charge of the corps for the Paris Opera? Wow!"
"How could you withhold all of this from your friends?"
"Were you not invited to their wedding, then?"
"Christine and I, we were parted. We-we lost contact, and then my mother died. I didn't know how to find my friend. Her coming to New York was a complete surprise, to me," Meg finished. The emotion welling up inside her made her tense and uncomfortable. "Please," she begged. "Let's just get back to our stretching, ladies. None of us want to be sore, going into our longest day tomorrow."
Luckily for Meg, the dancers were satisfied with the answers they received. The seven of them superstitiously formed a circle and lengthened their limbs, flexing and relaxing the muscles they would using.
"Does this mean you both know Mr. Y, too?" Suzanne whispered to Meg, who sat next to her.
"No one has seen this 'Mr. Y,'" Ellie hissed.
"Gangle, Fleck, and Squelch have! And Mr. Bailey!" Suzanne hissed back.
"They say they have. If you want my opinion," Ellie leaned conspiratorially in. Suzanne rolled her eyes. "I think Mr. Bailey is Mr. Y!"
"That's ridiculous, even for you, Ellie," another dancer, Claire spoke up. "Mr. Bailey's only the musical director. He's paid to do a job. He doesn't compose anything original."
"And," Suzanne interjected, "you're too new to remember, Ellie, but Mr. Bailey was only hired two years ago. Before that, we had new musical directors every month!"
"I was here from the beginning, too," Mary, a quieter woman added. "Do you remember when Delia saw that shadowed man above us?" Her question was directed at Meg and Suzanne, the only dancers left from the original troupe. "She said he looked menacing and wore a mask. I think that was Mr. Y. Who else could it be? Delia left without saying goodbye, soon after that."
"Enough of this talk!" Meg snapped. "Stretch!"
All six pairs of eyes widened at their lead dancer. Addie usually never lost her composure.
Places were called for the first show, and Meg once again helped Gustave onto his carousel animal for the opening number. Then she returned to Christine's side. Both looked straight ahead, out toward the stage.
"I think it's nice that you named him after your father," Meg whispered to Christine. When she looked over, her friend had a smile on her lovely face.
"You remember that my father's name was Gustave?"
"Yes, of course," Meg affirmed. "You went down to the theater chapel frequently. Do you remember the time I found you down there, after your debut in 'Hannibal'?"
"Yes," Christine breathed out and met her blonde friend's gaze.
"I was thinking of that, earlier today, when I took your hand in the hall."
Christine's smile widened and she let out a small snicker. "A bit of déjà vu?"
"You could say that."
The conversation dropped, and both ladies watched the performers eerily move across the stage.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you," Meg continued.
"You weren't the only one," Christine admitted. "And, if I'm honest, I didn't know what to believe, either. Until the masquerade."
The song concluded, and Meg hurried to get Gustave and bring him back to his mother. Then she ran to her spot to pose for her welcoming number. Her six companions rushed to their opening positions, as well.
Above the lights, up in the fly tower, the Phantom stood and looked down upon his protégés. He couldn't hear their hushed conversation, but he gathered that they were on friendlier terms.
When Meg moved away from Christine, his eyes followed her. She looked around herself to where the other dancers stood prepared. They exchanged smiles of encouragement, and Erik found himself wondering what the show would have been like, without Meg's presence. She seemed to be the heart of the company.
Watching her choreograph earlier, he had been dismayed when she didn't look up. She always looked up to the rafters to find him. Even after alerting her to his presence with his compliment, she had ignored him. It almost made him want to jump down from his lofty position to confront her coldness.
But he didn't.
He wrote the duet as an apology. He gave her another number, one with Christine. He hoped it would soften both of their hearts toward him. Each of them in their strengths: Christine carrying the melody and Meg adding motion. And their master's composing genius tying everything together.
Meg began her number, exuberant and playful, captivating her audience. She was wonderfully consistent in her talent, Erik credited. A perfect partner in creating Phantasma. He couldn't be prouder of her.
He would leave her alone, tonight. Let her rest, unburdened by his presence.
But Christine… His eyes found the brunette beauty standing regally in the wings.
We will speak again, tonight, and you will succumb to me…Angel.