"Places, everybody, places! Quiet down back there! Ready? And…"
Reyer shouted unaffectedly at the rehearsals. Some of the company listened attentively, swinging straight into practise, and hitting their cues straight away. But there was the bedlam of noise behind them, and the disarray of attention that brought rehearsals of 'I Due Foscari' to a halt. The composer sighed into his music table, and gave up trying. He would wait for Madame Giry to return. Only she could put her foot down in times like this. Some singers went into a rant at the others who were not concentrating on the task at hand, and an argument broke out on stage. Reyer dragged himself in the middle, trying to calm the situation down and try to make everyone focused.
Stage hands had gathered with the older dancers, usually to flirt with the pretty women of the corps, and costume and make up women usually chatted close to the strong male dancers. But today, the crowds mixed widely, and gossip raged loudly and in whispers about the night before. Some had large bags under their eyes as a sign of lack of sleep due to the excitement, others where fresh faced and intrigued; the ones who had ignored or slept through the chaos. Never the less, no matter who you were at that time, you were likely to hear one version of the story or another, each as outrageous as the last.
"I heard a skeleton-like figure grabbed her and threatened to kill us all!" A terribly skinny girl squeaked. "I know, I was in the room next to hers!"
"That's nonsense!" A props boy shouted back. "It was one of the rigging crew playing a practical joke! You're all being stupid."
"I am not!" The sickly girl frowned back. "Ask Marie, she was there!"
Marie had tried to stay out of conversations that morning. She was tired after a wakeful night, and she was still anxious about the young girl, Jeanette, who she had left to stay in bed that morning. Marie had waited for morning desperately that night, finding herself as afraid as the others. Yet, she refused to admit this to anyone. It had to be imagination running away with her. Ghosts were not real!
"Marie! Marie! Tell them, you were there last night! What did Jean see?"
Faces all had turned to her now and a silence filled the auditorium. She frowned slightly at her own silly thoughts. Her eyes fluttered around the seating area, as if in defiance to anything that lurked out there. She tried not to look at the dark boxes above them.
"Jean had a nightmare, that's all." She raised her voice, much to the disappointment of others, who craved a good story. "It was just her imagination."
Some nodded in agreement, hastily ready to banish all ideas of a ghost. Others looked to the floor, abashed at their dented excitement. But one voice spoke up for them.
"Well, how does that explain old Percy Jennings? Was his ordeal just imagination?"
Everyone cast their gaze up towards the rafters above them, where the backdrops and scene changes took places. There, a red faced man leered down at them. Joseph Bucket, a lecherous man who little would claim to like, yet the man had a quality of story telling, which a lot of the members found enthralling, while others would be terrified out there wits by his voice. He smirked down at them from the shadows. Marie frowned and pointed a finger upwards.
"That was an accident, Bucket, and you know it." Her voice quivered with uncertainty, which many did not fail to hear. They all cast nervous glances at each other. Old Percy Jennings was one of many caretakers at the Opera House, and he had been a liked member of the Opera for many years. His good nose for direction and trouble had always caught a Ballet dancer trying to play hooky, or a singer and stage hand in a situation that they shouldn't have been. But one day, his sense of direction seemed to have failed him, and one morning he was found sprawled at the bottom of a winding staircase. His death was not what had caused sparking rumours; it was the nature of it. He had been found with a look of pure terror imprinted on his once gentle features, and he had curious angry red and blue marks around his neck. A death by accident was beginning to be questioned, and Joseph Bucket had taken full advantage of the story into scaring the young girls, who would wake at night, fully convinced the Opera Ghost had tried to kill them in the night.
Marie, being one of the eldest dancers, had taken responsibility for looking after the younger members of the Corps, and was trusted by Madame Giry with conduct while she was away. It seems though, it light of the trouble, she was failing at her task. She became quite angry, and raised her voice for all to hear.
"Listen, all of you! There is no Opera Ghost, and there will soon be no Opera if you all don't start working soon! Please, can we get back to rehearsals?"
A few singers snorted in her direction, unimpressed at a dancer trying to tell them what to do. Their leading soprano, the new Carlotta Giudicelli, had not arrived for rehearsals that morning. Nor did she plan to make an early start, as she seemed to plan her own rehearsal times for her own schedule. It had become quite a tedious task waiting for her to arrive, and with the absence of the manager and Ballet Mistress, it was close to pure chaos. But that was about to change with the clear ringing of a stern voice from across the other side of the auditorium.
"What, may I ask, is going on?"
Madame Giry was standing in the large door way where the audience would enter. She was still dressed in her travelling robes and bonnet, and she marched over to the stage confidently. Most of the ballet girls stood up straight and stood quietly, not wanting to have a telling off by the infamous ballet mistress.
"Mamon!"
The little golden haired girl ran to her mother, jumping from the stage, and out round the orchestra stalls. She ran right up to her mother, yet despite her excitement, held back in respect. "Was your trip ok, Mamon?"
"Oui, Mon cher, merci. Now get back on stage, I want to here what has been going on. Where is Monsieur Reyer?"
"Here, Madame Giry." He called back wearily. He waved from the crowd of arguers. She frowned in his direction, and cast an angry glance at the crowd on stage.
"Why are you not rehearsing? Has something caught your attention more than the Opera we are trying to perform for opening night next week?"
Reyer cast a shameful glance to his feet, then an accusing one at the crowd who shifted slightly in embarrassment to their silly outcries and squabbles. Madame Giry was not impressed.
"I suggest that you restart immediately! I do not want to hear any of your excuses. The manager will be hearing of your slack this morning!"
She marched her way on to the stage. She seemed to be clutching on to something behind her, and dragging its form quickly and roughly. When rehearsals began again, and when the dancers were not needed for a scene, she pulled them to the side. Marie was the one she addressed, while a few others gathered round attentively. The form had been a small girl. She was cowering behind Madame Giry's skirts, and she had to pull the girl quite forcefully to come into view of the large group of dancers. The girl dropped her head low in shyness. Her dark ringlets where tucked into a black bonnet, and the face that they could see was printed with visible sadness. Marie felt a deep sympathy go out for girl before hearing her story. Her face held such innocence, yet her eyes glowed with a pain which made her seem older beyond her years.
"This is Miss Christine Daae. She will be joining us in the Ballet Corps; I hope you will make her feel comfortable here. Megan?"
Meg ran up eagerly, and took the suitcase from her mother. Meg and Christine had met briefly on a few occasions, Madame Giry being a friend to Christine's father. Meg had travelled to Sweden a few times with her mother to visit the Daae family. But on this occasion, she had not let her accompany her. But Meg's disappointment had been dulled by the sudden arrival of Christine. She smiled happily, and led Christine to her own room, where she would be staying. Christine, however, did not seem as enthusiastic as the young Meg. She trooped after her sadly, as if in surrender.
Madame Giry pulled Marie aside as the dancers went back to their rehearsals.
"The girl has just lost her father." She whispered to her. Marie frowned. She had lost her father too, but only when she was very young, and could hardly remember. Her mother had become very overprotective of her, so she had decided to leave the suffocating life to live in the Opera. Her heart sank for the little Christine, and she gave a serious look to Madame Giry.
"I will keep an eye on her. I promise."
Madame Giry patted the girls shoulder gratefully, and retired to her dressing room. Marie watched the woman leave down the dark passage behind the stage. She seemed undaunted by the dark and shadows, and Marie envied her sensibility. She turned back to the stage, and joined in rehearsal.
---
Christine wanted to burst into tears with every second. One wrong thought and she would blub over into a mass of sobs. But now she was at the Opera House, she felt singled out, and very much on her own. She had talked with her father before on living and training in the Opera before his death, and she had become quiet accustom to it. She had always enjoyed watching the Operas in Sweden and the music her father would compose for them. But being here suddenly made her realize how singled out she was, knowing little of dancing and performing. All these girls were way ahead of her, and even with the guidance of her friend Meg, she would never feel a part of this Opera House.
Meg had pulled her all the way to the top floors of the Opera were the dancing quarter dorms where. She took her into a room which was quite draughty, and heaved her suitcase onto a bed.
"This is your bed Christine! Isn't it nice?"
It didn't look nice to Christine. She focused on it for a few seconds before dropping her eyes once more to the ground. The bed was next to a round window, with a fantastic view of the rooftops of Paris from it. You could also see the tip of a statue that littered the roof of the Opera House if you leaned slightly to look. The bed was surrounded with soft cloth drapes for privacy. It was quite quaint, but Christine failed to see the appeal
"Yes. It's nice." She replied in monotone.
Megs face fell slightly, and she put a comforting hand on the girls shoulder.
"Is there something wrong?"
Christine raised her head to her friend. I've just lost the one meaning to my life. I just lost the most amazing best friend in the world. I have nothing left in my life but the promise I made to my father to let him live through the music I perform with.
"Nothing, Megan. I'm fine, really. I like the bed!" She tried to force a small smile. This seemed to perk the oblivious Meg up, and she started off once more.
"Come on then! I'll give you a tour of the Opera!"
Christine was really not feeling up to it, but the girl was bouncing about so much, and tugging at her arm, that she didn't protest. In fact, she was quite glad that she didn't in the end, for the Opera was an amazing experience.
Meg led her from the top floors of the dorms, pointing out where the male and female dancers were split, and then pointing out staircases that led to the upper tiers and rooftops, which she didn't take her too, as it was forbidden. She led her down more stairs to the singing and personnel quarters, where the manager, Madame Giry and La Carlotta held residence in their own rooms. The corridors on this floor were a lot more grand, and full of gold baroque décor. The walls where of a deep red colour, and where there were no windows, there were large candelabras, which cast eerie shadows on the walls and in corners.
She then led her to the level of boxes, where the grandeur of the Opera really came into play. The boxes, which Meg took Christine, were full of velvet red curtains and cushions, looking down grandly at the magnificent stage where the rehearsals were still underway.
Christine noticed a corridor leading around the corner, which would take them to the front of the stage boxes.
"Why can't we look down there? We will get a better view." Asked Christine. Meg shook her head.
"No, Mamon says they are private. No one has been down there for quite a while now, and Mamon would be angry if she found out we where even this close!"
She led Christine to the next level, and to the front of the Opera House. The magnificent entrance took Christine's breath away once, as she had done when she first arrived with Madame Giry. The grand staircase curved gracefully up to where they stood on one side of the regal entrance. The heavily decorated banisters and archways were awe inspiring and Christine didn't want to leave.
"If you think this is good, wait till you see the 'The foyer de la danse'!"
Christine now followed Meg willingly, and they raced down the marble staircase quickly. Meg led her through some amazing rooms and doors, up flights of small stairs, until they reached just beyond back stage. Huge doors sat in front of them, as if warning them what they were doing was not really allowed. But Meg ignored their silent protest, and pushed against them. Her eyes glinted as she turned back to Christine.
"Ready?"
When she swung open the large doors, she dragged Christine inside. Christine dropped her jaw. The room stretched as far as the length of the Opera, glittering in the sun which poured through the huge glass windows. The gold décor caught the light fantastically, heightening any somber mood. Christine had never seen such grandeur! It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen! The chandeliers graced the heavily decorated ceiling, and rails of red velvet stretched along the walls, a more luxurious ballet bar for balance.
"Amazing isn't it." Meg whispered, as if scared to break the beautiful room with the volume of her voice. "It's were the audience can come and meet the dancers of the Opera. There is a singer's foyer too, but it's no as grand as this. The singers are stuck up; they never leave their rooms until the performance!"
Christine hadn't heard her. She was completely in awe of the foyer, and she tiptoed along the slanted floor. The floor had its design to be like the slanted floor of the stage, so training in here would be like a reflection of the stage.
The two small girls must have been in the room for at least half an hour, until they heard something outside the doors next to them on the other side of the room, when they got there. It was distance, and shuffling, as if someone advancing or retreating towards them.
Megs face fell with dread.
"Mamon!" She whispered hysterically. The both bolted back to the other door which they had left slightly ajar, and ran through the adjacent rooms. They fell back to the corridor, were they were safe to be seen. They both panted, out of breath, and giggling slightly.
"Well….that was…fun!" Meg gasped, laughing. Christine smiled back. Yes, her mood had been heightened a lot, and her enjoyment of the tour had certainly lifted her spirits. She guessed she wouldn't feel so bad here after all, not in a home as grand as this.
"I wonder who it was?"
Meg had started to retreat down the corridor, to the other end of the foyer, where they had heard the footsteps. Christine jogged to catch up, and then they both walked carefully to the rooms where the shuffling had been heard. "They can't have gone very far. We have only been out the room for a few seconds."
The edged there way to the door, to peek around the frame to see who was waiting there for them, or trying to sneak about. Meg tried to suppress giggles at the thought of her mother pressing an ear to the door, trying to listen out for the culprits she had spotted walking into the foyer. Christine, on the other hand was feeling quite afraid. She didn't want to be shouted at on her first day here, and she knew that Madame Giry would not hold back of favoritism. Madame Giry was a kind, but very strict woman. She would have no trouble making an example out of her daughter and newcomer. She braced herself for the angry face awaiting them.
Meg backed herself against the open door, and peeped her head around the side. Christine waited for the giggles to come from Meg, and the angry tone of Madame Giry, yet Christine jumped as Meg gasped suddenly…
