Homecoming

Jennifer Hinds and Heather Sullivan

Chapter 4

            "Elaine!  Come down from there!"  Meg cried out.  "Jacques, please, bring her here!"

            "I don't want to come down!"  Elaine replied stubbornly.  "I like it up here!"

            "Why did you even let her follow you up there?"  Meg admonished the young stagehand, who had let Elaine shadow him during Meg's rehearsal.  "She is too young to be up in the flies."

            "I beg your pardon, mademoiselle … I meant no harm ... she begged to come up."  Jacques looked suitably embarrassed.

            "Just bring her down, please,"  Meg sighed.  This was not the first of the young girl's escapades.  She seemed bound and determined to explore all of the Opera in detail, irregardless of any adult protestations.  She had been seen on the roof, leaning over the railing in quite a precarious position; the elder stablemen had found her in the stall with the most temperamental horse that the opera owned.  The only thing she hadn't done was go into the cellars; and Meg had told her as much as she could about spiders, rats, and slimy creatures, hoping Elaine would not be foolish enough to venture down below.  It had been years since the Phantom of the Opera had been heard from, but many of the cast still believed he lurked there; Meg suspected otherwise, but nevertheless did not relish the idea of having to chase the child down into the dark.

            "But, Aunt Meg!  Jacques was going to show me how they change the scenes!"  Elaine argued even as the stagehand carried her down..

            "You are too little to be up there yet, cheri.  The flies are dangerous even for the stagehands who have been here for years."  Meg briefly remembered seeing Joseph Buquet swinging above the stage, and she tried to repress her revulsion at the image.

             "What are you two doing on the stage?" came the voice of the outraged leading lady, Lucia Trevezant.  "Don't you know that the ballet rehearsal is over?  Go away and let me practice without the benefit of your presence."

            "I beg your pardon, Madame Trevezant," Meg said, bowing her head respectfully.  "We did not mean to interrupt your session.  Pray continue and we will leave."

            The irate diva was distracted momentarily by the arrival of the managers.  "We have come to see if you need anything, Madame," Andre wheeled; they were bowing and scraping, as always.  Meg wondered if they slept in that position.

            "I need you to remove these ... children … from the stage," Madame Trevezant scoffed.  "How can an artist perform with such distractions?  Messieurs, if you wish me to continue with you here at this theatre - " she spit out this last word with particular venom - "you will insure for me an environment conducive to practicing and performing!  Wherever else I have been, the management has taken great pains to ascertain my comfort."

            "I doubt anything could achieve that," Meg muttered as she tried to hurry Elaine off of the stage.

            "What was that!" the diva shrieked.  "How dare you!  I have been insulted!"  Lucia fairly flew at Meg in a rage, but at the last moment thought better of it and turned instead to the management.  "Fire her!  Discharge her at once!"

            Firmin shot Meg a disapproving look as Andre continued his daily job of inflating the diva's ego.  "My dear madam, you must of course understand and expect jealous behavior in lesser members of the cast," he said.  "For who would not be moved to pettiness out of sheer envy of your talents?

            "Yes, Madame," Firmin corroborated his partner, although somewhat halfheartedly.  "You must pay her no mind ..."

            Meg finally managed to drag Elaine off of the stage, and gave a sigh of relief.  "Do you see, Elaine, what trouble misbehavior can cause?  Next time, will you please do as I ask you?"

            Elaine looked at her with wide eyes and nodded. "But, Aunt Meg – will they really fire you?"

            "No, they won't."  Meg managed a weak smile.  "Madame Trevezant calls for someone to be discharged almost every day of the week.  If they always did as she told them, she would be the only one left on the stage." 

            "But why may she do whatever she likes, and I must always do as I am told?" Elaine pouted.

            Meg suppressed the urge to laugh.  "Because she is the diva, cheri.  That's life at the opera house."

            Though she had been careful not to shield Elaine from the stories of him, Meg suddenly found herself missing the Phantom of the Opera; the managers had certainly not profited from his bullying, but many others among the opera-folk had appreciated it.  At least the quality of singing, if not the diva's temper, had been better during his reign.

            Miles away from the escapades in Paris, Christine took a break from rehearsal.  She had managed to obtain a position with a small troupe of actors and singers out of _______, and though the salary was not as large as that she had enjoyed at the Opera Garnier, she was encouraged.  Already she had been recognized for her tremendous ability, and had been singled out to prepare solo pieces to round out the troupe's operatic repertoire.  Recently she had even been approached by a patron, asking if she had ever considered singing at soirees or wedding parties …

            She was far from having established a home for herself and her daughter, for she was still boarding with several other members of the troupe; but Christine felt confident that it was only a matter of time before luck would turn her way again.  She kept one ear to the ground constantly for any permanent musical theatres holding auditions for soloists, for though she herself was able and content to travel, she knew this life would never suit Elaine. 

            That morning Christine had received one of Meg's regular letters; and now she settled down with a cool drink to read her friend's latest report.

"Dear Christine,

            I hope that this letter finds you well and happy.  We are all well, though missing you of course; and we have been so delighted with your successful engagements in ____.  A few notices have managed to travel the great distance to Paris, and they all have been wonderful!

            "Elaine is having a marvelous time exploring the theatre, and the entire cast dotes on her.  Mama and I took her to the last showing of  "La Juive," and she made quite a sensation; enclosed is a bit about her that was in l'Epoque.  She talks about you every day, and hangs on every word of your letters.

            My mother has resumed Elaine's piano lessons, although her progress is almost too quick for what small training Mama has had.  In reading, writing and arithmetic, however, Mama still has the upper hand.  She tells me that she is finding Elaine an apt pupil, and I can attest to the improvement in her reading; each evening she reads to us from the Bible.  I am sure the sight of her bent over her slate, working sums, would make you very proud; she is as bright as she is lovely, and a credit to her Mama.

            Thank you for asking about my rehearsals; they are going very well, and the company as a whole has been enjoying quite a bit of success of late.  The leading lady is still behaving like royalty, but we are all used to that by now.  I am sure, of course, that none of us would be adverse to throwing her over in favor of a less self-absorbed prima donna; but in my opinion, the best candidate for that position is at this moment rather far from Paris.

            We are all missing you, dearest, and wishing you continued success.  Mama and myself send our love, and Elaine her tightest hugs and sweetest kisses; you are ever in our thoughts and prayers.

                                                Yours very truly,

                                                                                    Meg."

            Christine closed the letter and her eyes for a moment, letting bittersweet emotions wash over her.  "I never knew how hard it would be to leave Elaine," she thought.  The engagements had indeed been going well, but Christine knew it might be some time yet before she would see her little girl again.  She would have to be quite well-established, and possess a good amount of savings, in order to reclaim her daughter; for performing full-time would be difficult once she resumed her foremost role of mother.

            But the cost of living was too high in some cities, and there was a lack of adequate housing in others.  In some places, where there were few theatres to apply to for employment, she would have to depend upon employment as a soloist; this of course meant depending on the whims of the nobility, which she knew would be dangerous.  The story of her husband's rather scandalous behavior and death certainly might count against her; to those petty socialites, her past could be more important than her voice. 

            Christine sighed and brushed aside a tear; she still nursed a painful anger mingled with the grief she felt for Raoul.  She did not wish to blame him for the situation in which she now found herself, but occasionally frustration and homesickness for her daughter made her resent her now-departed husband for the indiscretions which had ultimately led to his own demise.  That he should find peace while they reaped the degradation his extravagance had sowed …!  But steeling herself against these destructive thoughts, she turned her mind to pleasanter things: she began a letter to Elaine and Meg, enclosing money for the little girl's upkeep.

            Elaine was bored.  She had explored all of the opera house, had listened to every story that Meg and Madame Giry could tell her –  and had even heard a few that they hadn't been willing to tell.  It was amazing what the ballet girls knew, especially about the Phantom of the Opera.  They told her many stories about him, including some that mentioned a girl named Christine.  Elaine loved these the best because the heroine was named after her mother.

            So one day when the younger ballet girls proclaimed their intention of going down into the cellars – "just to see how it really is," they said – Elaine decided to go with them.  She knew that Aunt Meg would be displeased; but the plans were just for a quick trip, only a few flights down and then straight back up again.  Besides, wouldn't Meg be proud if Elaine happened to discover something new and interesting?

            The girls hurried off after rehearsal towards the dressing room belonging to some of the older girls, giggling all the way.  "Are you ready?" Agnes asked the rest.  She was the acknowledged leader due to the fact that she was the bossiest, and the whole thing had been her idea in the first place.

            "Yes!" the others said in unison.  A few of the chosen ones grabbed some candles to light the way.

            "All right, follow me!" Agnes cried.  The girls clasped hands and scampered towards the backstage area, taking care to avoid any of the stage-crew.  Soon they reached the stairs and gingerly began their descent.  The air became noticeably colder as they reached the first cellar, though from damp or from fear it was impossible to tell; Elaine began to wish that she had brought a shawl with her.

            Slowly the girls' eyes became accustomed to the dimness, and they spread out to explore the area minutely.  There were occasional shrieks as someone ran into a cobweb or another girl in the darkness, but on the whole this cellar had very little to offer the adventurers except a few old props and pieces of scenery.

            "Does anyone want to turn back?" Agnes asked in a taunting voice that implied that anyone who did would forever be labeled a coward.  Her followers looked at each other for a moment, then burst out into a chorus of negative replies.  The stairs to the second cellar were soon located and the girls plunged down once more into the darkness below.

            The second cellar was much like the first and Elaine began to get tired of wandering about aimlessly.  The rest of the girls were looking nervous and pale.  "Agnes, when are we going back?" Elaine asked.

            "Why do you want to know?" Agnes sneered.  "Are you getting scared?  I didn't ask you to come anyway.   Wasn't that your doing, Belinda?"

            "I ..." Belinda stammered, shrinking in the face of Agnes' disapproval.

            "I am not scared," Elaine insisted forcefully.

            "Well, then ..." Agnes cast about for some impossible task to prove the younger girl's cowardice.  "Why don't you go down to the next cellar?  You do know that the Phantom's domain begins there ..."

            Elaine swallowed hard.  If she didn't go, Agnes would never let her live it down; but if she did, and the Phantom was real ...  She wanted to sob, but instead squared her proud little shoulders.  "All right, I will."

            "Good!" snapped Agnes, feeling put out at the failure of her little dare.  But she was still the victor – Elaine would lead the way where Agnes herself was afraid to go.  All the rest of the petite rats were whispering among themselves and backing slowly towards the steps that led back to first cellar, and to safety.  Agnes continued her taunting:

             "But we have to have proof that you made it all the way down ...  I know!"  Reaching out,  Agnes snapped the chain of Elaine's necklace, and removed the charm.  She tested its weight and in a second she had thrown it into the abyss below.  A slight metallic clink was all that returned to their listening ears.

            Elaine stood in stunned silence and then whirled on Agnes with all of her six-year-old fury.  "How could you?" she cried, balling her little hands into fists.  "My mother gave me that locket!"

            The older girl just laughed.  "Here's the chain.  Now let's see if you can get the rest of it back!"

            Never had fifteen steps seemed like such a task to Elaine.  The first few were not so hard, but by the fifth one, Elaine's imagination had begun to run away with her.  What if the Phantom really did live down there, in the dark caves below the Opera?  What if he really did lay in wait for little children who came too far down?  She raised the stub of a candle that had been pressed into her hand by Belinda, but its small light revealed nothing but more steps descending far into the dark.

            Suddenly, a haughty voice rang out from behind.  "I knew she couldn't do it.  She's just a silly little girl!"  But the taunt had quite the opposite effect Agnes had intended; Elaine's anger rose like a sail and she marched down six more steps without any more thought of the Phantom.

            By this time, the shadows had completely engulfed her small frame, and all that the girls above could see of her was the tiny flame of her candle.  "Are you sure that is fair, Agnes?" one asked worriedly.  "She's just little."

            "Do you want to hold her hand, Yvonne?  Go right ahead," Agnes said unconcernedly.

            Yvonne's glance darted back and forth between their cruel ringleader and the blackness below; finally she took a few steps toward the edge of the precipice, clutching the little cross she wore as if to ward off any evils that might come rushing up.  "Elaine?  Are you all right?"

            "Yes, Yvonne – I'm on the thirteenth step."  Having said that unlucky number aloud did not help matters any, but Elaine just tightened her grip on her ruined chain and gritted her teeth.  The butterflies in her stomach felt like they were incredibly anxious to get back up the stairs and her heart hammered in agreement with them, but bravely she fought back against her fear.  Gathering all of her courage, she took another step.  "Fourteen!"

            Two more steps and she had gained the third cellar.  "I made it!" she cried triumphantly, and from the top of the steps she could hear her captive audience's sigh of relief.  Then, gathering back her golden hair, Elaine began searching for her missing trinket.  Vague disembodied voices surrounded her at this depth, and the sound of many shoes on the floor above her head echoed like hoofbeats through the dark emptiness of the third cellar.  The little girl ignored them, preferring to focus all of her attention upon achieving her goal.  She was rewarded by a small glint of reflected light which drew her very close to a flight of stairs descending downward into gloom.

            Elaine hurried over to the little bit of light and found her locket, but her little fingers could not retrieve it; it seemed to be wedged between two tiles.  "I've found it, but it is stuck!"  she cried up the stairs, but there was no audible reply.  "Perhaps they can't hear me," she thought to herself – "or perhaps they've left me down here by myself!"  Elaine's bravery disintegrated and she began to cry, tugging at the piece of stubborn jewelry.  It came loose all of a sudden, and the unexpected force was enough to send the tiny girl rolling down the stairs with a scream.  She had fainted well before her little body struck the bottom.