Gustave was not much impressed with Meg's accommodations, which was to be expected. She tried showing him her mother's ring and brooch, explaining that his own mother had known the late Madam Giry, as well, but he only glanced at the impersonal jewelry. When Meg began regaling him with tales of his mother from when she was younger, she was finally able to hold some of his interest.
They hadn't been in the room long, before there was a rapping on the door.
"Come in!" Meg called out.
Gangle burst through, looking more annoyed than usual, with an equally-upset Fleck behind him. Squelch was nowhere to be seen.
"We're taking Gustave back to Squelch, now, Addie," he ordered.
The lanky emcee was an original player of Phantasma, and he had always treated Meg with disdain. Every time he looked at her, Meg had the distinct feeling that he knew more about her than he let on. Maybe he did. She had no idea what Erik had shared over the years…or how observant Gangle was.
Fleck was less hostile. She had enough on her plate, with people treating her poorly due to her short stature. Mostly, she only sought to be taken seriously. She did her best, on her end, to always maintain an air of professionalism and indifference. Unless she was around Squelch. Fleck had a soft spot for the childlike man.
Meg narrowed her eyes at the man in front of her.
"Shall we ask Gustave what he wants to do?"
Fleck addressed the boy, wishing to have the standoff ended.
"Hello, Gustave! Squelch is waiting for you! Are you ready to play a game of checkers?"
The boy quickly jumped up from his seated position, no longer interested in hearing stories of his mother's past. He nodded, and Fleck took his hand and led him out the door. Neither said goodbye or looked over their shoulders as they left.
"You have your instructions, Addie?"
Meg looked back toward Gangle, rolling her eyes at his attempt to manage her.
"Yes," she answered, this time with superiority. She was confident that, as observant as he was, Gangle did not know as much about Erik's plans as she did.
"Did Mr. Y not tell you that Gustave must stay with Squelch and I as much as possible?"
"Um," she hesitated. No, I don't recall that being said… "I was told to bring Gustave to him during the third show."
"And," he supplemented, "you are to let us keep him occupied during the first two." Gangle gave her a probing look. "You really have no idea what we've been asked to do, do you?"
She felt her face flinch. "Would I approve, if I knew?"
"Hmm…" Gangle allowed for a dramatic pause. "I doubt it," he smirked condescendingly. "Not that I care about your approval…" He exited swiftly, his last statement barely reaching Meg's ears.
The room was now quiet.
Meg walked back to the dressing room, but Christine was no longer there. She heard her voice lightly ringing through the corridor and went to watch her friend from the side.
"Try to deny it
And try to protest.
But love won't let you go,
Once you've been possessed…"
Christine was resplendent, onstage. The hush that fell upon the crowd during her aria was incredible. There were few performers that had that talent: to demand complete attention. Offstage, most of the performers and crew members were watching her, too, with adoring looks.
A movement from the corner of her eye split Meg's attention, as she focused on Gustave and Squelch playing a very serious game of checkers in dim candlelight. Still in the back corner of the wing. With no Gangle or Fleck to be seen.
When the song concluded, Christine gave a dignified bow to her grateful audience. She even acknowledged Mr. Bailey and his band of musicians. As she exited, her full white gown trailing behind her, she smiled humbly to those who had been watching in the wings. She found Meg and headed straight for her friend.
"Beautiful, Christine," Meg complimented.
The songstress embraced her friend, then pulled away and scanned for her son. As soon as she saw Gustave, she exhaled any previous worry that had gathered within her.
There was no time to talk, as the curtain call came right after the final act: Christine's solo. Meg took her place amidst the other dancing girls, in the center of their line. Christine was far upstage, awaiting the moment the chorus would part to reveal her. They eventually did so, and Christine gracefully walked down the aisle they created, bowing once more to the enthusiastic, if smaller, crowd.
She looked to offstage left, expecting to see the emcee trio bring the unwanted bouquets of red roses.
But it was only Gustave who entered, teetering a bit, under the weight of the large bouquet, and heading straight to his mother. Christine had an artificial smile plastered on her face, and she took the flowers obediently. Gustave beamed, then looked offstage to where Gangle, Fleck, and Squelch were waiting. Gangle looked amused by the famous woman's reaction, sporting a half smirk, while Fleck encouraged the boy with applause directed only to him. Squelch took Fleck's cue and clapped for his young friend, too.
Christine took her son's hand, holding the bouquet on the other side of her body, and gave a slight curtsey to finalize the curtain call. The first show was officially concluded, and the main curtain was lowered in front of the players. Everyone dispersed, offstage and in the audience hall, eager to continue the day.
Meg looked for Christine and Gustave in the mild chaos, as the stage manager called out half an hour to places for the second show time. The ladies found each other, as Christine frowned in thought.
"Thirty minutes until the next call? That certainly doesn't give us enough time to do anything, does it?"
Meg nodded, but explained further. "These first two shows of the day are in rapid succession, but we will break longer after the next. Enough time to have a decent lunch."
"And what does everyone do for these thirty minutes?"
"Most relax in the dressing rooms, visiting and making sure their makeup, hair, and costumes are ready before places," Meg shrugged. "Some go to the kitchen to snack and chat. Depending on the weather, some like to smoke or take the air outside."
Christine looked down to her son. "Was Miss Addie's room awfully interesting?"
Gustave shook his head apologetically, glancing shyly at his mother's old friend.
"Well, thank you for that!" Meg answered the boy's wordless response with obvious mirth and affection. She hesitated, knowing that Christine was polite enough to require an invitation to see the room Meg occupied. "I…think we have enough time to take a quick tour of my room, as uninteresting as you might find it," she joked.
She led them there, with Gustave telling his mother of the fun he had with Squelch in a continuous stream of words and sounds. Once inside, Christine circled the room slowly, her curiosity on display. Her eyes landed on the picture on the vanity.
"I remember when your mother called you over to take this," she remarked quietly. "We finished all the promotional pictures, and she called you back over to take one more."
"Do you remember, at first, how I balked?" Meg sadly reminisced. "We were so tired, holding those poses for hours!"
"True," Christine smiled. "But you were a dutiful daughter, and you ran right over. I think that last picture took almost half an hour, with Madam Giry posing you like a doll before taking her place and allowing the photographer to take it."
Meg just nodded.
"How did you come across that? You didn't have it with you when he abducted you, did you?"
"Um, no. I – um, it was in the package. From my mother."
"Ah, of course," Christine whispered. Her voice rose to ask a politely restrained question. "Was the picture the only thing she sent you?"
"There was more. My mother's ring – remember the black cameo she always wore? And a brooch of hers that she knew I admired. And a letter."
Christine did not probe further, knowing that Meg might be protective over her mother's final words. Although the ballet matron had been a mother figure to her, too, Christine would never presume to equate their relationship with her friend's blood bond. Besides, Christine had many years of communication with Madam Giry. Precious years that Meg was robbed of. That her poor friend would never have on this earth.
Gustave was bored with his second trip to Miss Addie's room. He walked to the vanity and opened the different drawers with the kind of naïve boldness only possessed by young children. Christine stopped his exploration quickly, and he walked over to sit sourly on the bed. His mother, meanwhile, made light conversation with the pretty blonde lady, until both decided to return to the stage area.
The second show was better in every way, from the first. After the opening number, Gustave was once again approached by Squelch. Once again, Christine gave permission for her son to go with the kind performer. A new board game was ready and waiting for the two at the back corner of the backstage wing. Meg finished the number with the chorus girls, then rushed to the dressing room to change into her white tutu. At the end of the short song with Christine, the soprano hurried to do her own costume change, from white to lilac.
Meg waited offstage, watching act following act, still in her pure white tutu. Christine appeared beside her, awaiting her solo, wearing the less voluminous dress. A quick glance to Gustave and Squelch, at the outskirts of the two ladies' visions. Silhouettes of a large, round man and a small, well-dressed boy. Both energetically reacting to the different stages of their game.
"My offer still stands, Meg," she whispered, worried that, despite speaking French, someone might be able to pick out the name. "Come with us, come with me. I'll take you to London, visit your mother's gravesite. If you'd like, I can have her moved back to France. We can do another service, have her placed to rest wherever you want. Please?"
Meg smiled, but didn't look over. Both women stared out onto the stage.
"Thank you, but my answer is still no. This is my life, now."
"And how much longer will this last?" The diva in lilac innocently asked.
That made Meg look over at her friend. "What do you mean?"
"How long can you perform this insane schedule? How much longer will your body be able to handle the demands of your craft? And, once you're forced to retire from performing, will you still be able to choreograph? Even if you do, why couldn't you do so somewhere in France? In Europe? You are the daughter of an esteemed figure, a shining talent, in your own right, and you now have the experience needed to take up your mother's mantle anywhere you wish. The Paris Opéra House was rebuilt to its former glory. Raoul and I aren't currently patrons, but we would happily use our influence to place you in a position, there."
"Christine," Meg whispered emphatically to halt the barrage. "I thank you, but no. I cannot leave."
"Your reasons make no sense," Christine countered. "You claim these people are your family, but I've hardly seen you speak with any of them. And none of them truly know you. Not all of you. Your choreography is limited, by what I assume is a dance troupe made up of women of minimal training. Nothing, really, compared to what you and I were doing in the Paris Opéra. Your crowds are small and uncultured. Your mother-"
"I am NOT my mother," Meg finally hissed back, unable to withstand the verbal assault on Phantasma. "I was a different person, eight years ago. I'm no longer the classical prima ballerina of the Paris Opéra. I can't go back…because I don't want to."
Silence lay between them. There was plenty of ambient noise surrounding them: the band's music, footfalls of stage hands, audience responses… But nothing could bridge the awkward space between the two women.
It was Christine's turn to enter for her song. She did so with a vacant look in her eye, but when she turned to face the crowd, her expression was serene and demure. Ever the professional.
"Love never dies!
Love never falters!
Once it has spoken,
Love is yours.
Love never fades!
Love never alters!
Hearts may get broken,
Love endures.
Hearts may get broken,
Love endures…"
Meg looked up to the top of the theater. She wondered if Erik was there, or if his plans with Gustave meant he was attending to business elsewhere. After the opening number, next show…she recalled. She wasn't honestly sure how to bring the boy to Erik. But she would need assurances of Gustave's safety. She would not deliver her friend's child into any hint of danger. To tell the truth, Meg had grown fond of the exuberant young lad, herself.
Another show concluded, another curtain call.
Gustave running onto the stage, this time with more confidence, as he strode to his mother with the same bouquet from the first show. The same thin black ribbons swaying with his movements. Christine took the flowers and did not pay them the slightest glance. Her eyes were on her son, holding his hand and letting him enjoy the shared limelight. When the bows were over, after the main curtain fell, she again exited and discarded the unwanted roses.
Luckily, Gustave took no offense. The bouquet was a prop. Similar to the many items kept by the various performers. Juggling balls, pins, swords, a wagon, cymbals, hoops…all for show.
Afterward, Christine made her way back to the women's dressing room, discarding the lilac gown on a nearby dress form, and putting on a robe that she used between performances. Meg watched Gustave outside, as his mother changed, then turned him back over with a promise to meet mother and son in the larger guest quarters. She then put her opening costume back on, as uncomfortable as it was.
Meg, Christine, and Gustave took lunch in Christine's parlor. The tray was waiting outside the door, placed there sometime during the latter half of the second performance. It was a late meal, and all three were famished from their early morning and shows. Christine smartly decided to keep the conversation light, unhappy that the second offer she made to Meg was so quickly stomped down. There wasn't much time to rest, as the third showtime quickly approached the performers scattered throughout the theater.
The call for places came; the stage manager's voice rang, throughout the backstage. Christine was still in her robe, with a panicked look on her face.
"Oh, I'm behind schedule," she lamented. "Me- Um, Addie, would you mind talking Gustave for me, so that I can get dressed? I know I have time before our duet, but I can't go traipsing about backstage in my robe until Gustave is done!"
The innocent boy looked up at his mother, wondering what her lateness had to do with him.
"Of course," Meg nodded. She held a hand out to Gustave, who readily took it. "Let's go, handsome! We need to get back to the carousel before your favorite animal is taken!"
Christine parted company, heading straight for the effulgent gown that Greta and her assistants would help her don. Meg and Gustave went straight to the fantastical-looking purple dragon upstage. He was the only boy present, but as he climbed onto the faux carousel piece, more children were ushered in, pleased as punch to be picked for the exclusive honor of being on the small stage.
Meg went to the side, patiently watching for the hullabaloo to be over and for Gustave to be returned.
"We will take it from here," a voice spoke up behind her.
She stared straight ahead, not caring to acknowledge Gangle with a glance. "You should be onstage. Places was called."
"I know!" he snapped.
Meg was watching the activity with a lazy eye, but now she saw that Fleck and Squelch were in position, with no Gangle.
"Mr. Y wanted me to clarify your part," he stated. "When you are through with your duet, I will bring Gustave to you as you exit stage right. From there, you can use the spiral staircase to meet Mr. Y."
He didn't wait for any kind of confirmation on Meg's part, but sprinted to his opening pose in the center of the stage, just as the main curtain rose. Still shrouded in darkness, the single large spotlight shone brightly down onto the trio of emcees.
That was too close to being a disaster, Meg thought. I doubt Erik would approve of Gangle compromising the quality of his show for the sake of delivering me a message that could have been relayed in a more efficient way.
But that was Gangle. He never crossed the line, when it came to orders, but he tauntingly tiptoed up to whatever boundary he was given.
Christine barely arrived before the end of the opening song. She lifted her skirts and quickly found her way to Meg, who was ready to take her place behind the scrim.
When her jovial number concluded, Meg was surprised to find that Christine had already granted permission for Squelch to take Gustave to their favorite corner. The diva stood alone, watching her son playing jacks on the ground with the lumbering man. She stayed behind, awaiting her entrance onstage for their duet, while Meg changed from one costume into another.
Their duet was smoother, more like clockwork, on this third performance. The audience responded with cheers and hollers to the two lovely ladies. Meg exited and waited on the opposite side of the stage from Christine.
Most likely, the young mother was already making her way to the dressing room, confident that her old friend would watch her precious child as Meg had so faithfully done during every performance.
Gangle brought the boy to Meg within moments. Poor Gustave looked confused, but not uncomfortable. When he saw Miss Addie, he smiled with the added trust he had in her. Meg's heart dropped a little, at that, but she reminded herself that Erik would never harm Gustave.
Gangle didn't say a word, for once. He merely looked up to the rafters above, before giving Meg a hard glare. She ignored him and bent down to the boy.
"Hello, Gustave! Shall we do a little exploring?"
Gustave looked behind him, toward the opposite side of the stage, where Meg assumed Squelch was still stationed. The young boy nodded politely, and Meg took his hand to lead him to the metal grate spiral staircase.
They ascended slowly, carefully, with Meg leading the way. Gustave began to tense, once they were halfway up.
"Keep your eyes on me and on the staircase, Gustave," Meg whispered down to him. She hadn't taken this staircase often…maybe a handful of times since Erik had purchased the theater. She felt fortunate that the height did not intimidate her.
At the very top, it was almost pitch black. There was a maze of catwalks that led around the fly tower, allowing for stage hands to tend to the spotlights, add flying backdrops to the rigging, as well as other menial but important duties. The planks that would lead to the Phantom were mostly unused, as they did not lead to the front or sides of the stage below. He liked to watch behind the performers, mostly. Not seeing them as the audience did, with their expressions and choreography on display, but as a fellow performer, being amongst the action.
Meg and Gustave passed Fleck, who gave a nod of acknowledgement but did not speak.
Erik was waiting on the catwalk, dressed as formally as ever, complete with his black gloves and cape. The white mask was a welcome sight, for once, as it was bright enough to cue anyone in that darkness to see where to meet his eyes. Meg set her hands lightly on Gustave's shoulders, as he stood in front of her. Only a few feet from the mysterious Mr. Y.
"Hello, again, young man," Mr. Y cordial greeted Gustave. "Are you still enjoying the show?"
"Yes!" Gustave answered, a little too loudly. Meg quickly shushed him, gently.
"What do you like about it?" the Phantom asked pointedly.
"Um," the boy whispered. "I like riding on the purple dragon, and I named him Louis. And I like playing games with Squelch-"
"I meant," Erik interrupted, "what do you like about all of the acts onstage?"
"Oh. Um, I like…um, the sword man. And I like Bruno, and his tattoos are amazing! He's so strong! I want to be that strong, when I grow up, too!"
Erik looked up to Meg, then. "You may go back down. Fleck will bring the boy back down to his mother."
"I-" Meg started, unsure of what to say to his dismissal. "I can stay up here and bring him back down, myself."
He narrowed her eyes at her rebuttal. "No, you cannot. Christine will be expecting you. Go be with your little friend."
Meg stayed rooted to her position. Erik took a step toward her, to meet her gaze directly.
"I said go," he hissed menacingly.
Gustave tensed under her, but he didn't move.
"Erik," she mouthed the name, confident that he would see it on her lips. "Please," she whispered. "Promise me, promise me that you will not do anything to make me hate you."
He looked amused with her words. "I'm surprised you don't, already," he whispered back, returning to his original position.
"No, I don't," she shook her head in emphasis. "You've hurt me, more in these past days than ever, but I don't hate you. Please don't make me hate you."
The Phantom studied her for a minute, noting the sincerity and desperation in her eyes. He nodded slowly, seriously. Meg breathed a sigh of relief, but she did not smile or nod in kind.
She bent down to Gustave, who seemed calmer, now that the adults were no longer sparring.
"I'll see you soon, okay?"
The boy smiled and nodded trustingly.
Meg had done her part. She walked back through the paths of catwalks, past an appraising Fleck, down the spiral staircase, and through the crossover to the stage left wing.
Squelch was playing with a well-dressed little boy. It was a game of dominoes, this time. The boy looked enough like Gustave, from afar. Where Gangle and Fleck had found a child matching Gustave's stature and coloring was discombobulating, as was the idea of them waiting to see what the real Gustave would be wearing to make sure they purchased similar items, but now their roles were clear. Squelch played happily, not the least bit disturbed that his playdate had been switched.
Meg walked to the same spot she usually occupied offstage. She looked up to the high ceiling, but she couldn't see anything…or anyone.
Christine appeared beside her, a vision in lilac once more. She turned to Meg, still in her white tutu, and addressed the former prima ballerina.
"Three more shows today," she shared. It was information both of them already knew. It was more for Christine's encouragement than anything else. "Three today, three tomorrow, and then I will never see the Phantom of the Opera, again."