3) The hat

Erik had seen and heard many horrible things in his life, probably much more than the average human being. He had been sure nothing could surprise or scare him in the slightest. But at this moment he was in a state of advanced shock. "Well, this was … erm … very nice, Meg!", he stammered. ´You have to be friendly to her.´, he told himself. ´Otherwise she´ll leave before you have even started your plan.´

Meg examined him suspiciously. "How can you know that? You had your fingers in your ears all the time!" "That was only because …" He searched for an excuse, but his brain was still damaged from having listened to what she euphemistically called ´singing´. Meg let herself fall on a chair. "Was it that bad?", she wanted to know. For a second he thought about whether ´yes´ would be such a terribly impolite answer.

"Well, it´s your first lesson, and I´m sure we can improve your singing when we work on it.", he said. "But we have done enough for today. You must be very exhausted." "We begun 10 minutes ago …", she reminded him, wondering whether he wanted to get rid of her. "Really?" He tried to sound surprised. "It seemed to be so much longer… Unfortunately there is this extremely important business which cannot wait. We´ll have our next lesson …" "Tomorrow?", Meg suggested. "N… all right!", Erik agreed.

He stood up and was on the way to the door when he realised that something was missing. "Do you see my fedora anywhere?" The girl shrugged. "I took it off when I entered the room and lay it on …" He stared at her. "Could it be possible that you´re sitting on my hat?", he asked through gritted teeth. Blushing deeply Meg pulled it out from under her and handed it to Erik. It didn´t exactly resemble a hat anymore. "I´m sorry!", she muttered.

Erik´s hand had automatically seized his Punjab lasso, but he managed to pull himself together. How was he supposed to make Christine jealous when he killed his other student? "It … it wasn´t your fault. Next time I´ll put it somewhere else." Probably on top of the wardrobe!

He left the room, cursing his great idea. If Meg kept singing like that he wouldn´t be able to stand more than a few lessons before going insane. And he had suspected Carlotta of having the worst voice in Paris! Longingly he thought of his angelic Christine. Listening to her filled his heart with love and – well, other desires, in contrast to Meg, who caused him to wish he would become deaf. But he had to endure her as long as Christine needed to discover her true feelings. He only hoped she´d hurry up a little.

After then end of the lesson Meg stayed in the small room with the piano her mother had found for them. So far nothing remotely interesting had happened. The closest she had come to him had been the time when she had squeezed his hat. She needed something much better to tell Christine, something … provocative. A plan formed in her head. After all, the Opera Ghost was just a man.