Christine sat in the circle of girls in the middle of singing practice. Some of the more trained singers where taking a more advanced lesson at one end of the room, so the others were left to their quiet talking. They were all gathered in a gossip circle, where each of them were talking about different stories. Older girls were bragging about their rich courtiers who had taken a fancy to them, while others slandered the new Prima, Carlotta. Yet, it wasn't long till Meg had piped up about the ordeal with Christine in the dancing foyer a few days back. Many had heard the story a few times over, yet others listened attentively, hanging on her every word.
"…there was defiantly someone there! We ran around to see who it was, and they had disappeared! We defiantly heard like a clock moving and heavy breathing, didn't we Christine?"
No, not really. "Yes, something like that."
For the past few nights, Christine had not slept. Her mind had been overtaken by the voice she had heard in the Chapel that night. It had haunted her thoughts and made her a very quiet girl in the days. Not that anyone noticed. Everyone had now heard of Christine's loss by now, so they all took it for mourning, too embarrassed to comfort her about it. They would rather talk on other matters. Christine had debated whether she should tell Meg or not, one afternoon, almost blabbing all as Meg told her of props boy who had heard laughing coming from one of the lower floors of the Opera. But her curious side had held her back. She had been terrified of what she heard, yet actually craved it again. She had spilt all of her emotions out to the mysterious presence, and it had listened comfortingly. Could it have been the Angel her father had promised her?
These thought had consumed her all day, to the arrival of night, when all where in bed. She slipped quietly out of the dorms into the corridor, and made her way silently down the staircases. She held a small candle in her tiny cold fingers for the weakest of light that it cast, just a few yards in front of her. She tried to ignore the flickering shadows that chased her cruelly down the corridor. Her heart was beating in her mouth, and one tiny creak of a noise made her leap from the floor in fright.
On descending down the last flight of stairs, she came to the corridor, where the Chapel lay ahead of her. Its archway beckoned to her, and she found herself quickly at the top of the small set of stairs leading to the belly of the dark room. Christine tiptoed down the cold stone stairs, and placed the candle in one of the candelabra holders. She then stood in the centre, pulling her hands over her arms to keep herself warm, and for comfort.
"Angel of Music…" She whispered. She waited for a time, and then repeated. Nothing. She stood, turning around slowly, her eyes scanning the dark room. Still nothing.
See, Christine. It was just your silly imagination. There was no voice.
Christine became angrily upset with herself, and let hot tears fall down her cheeks. How could she have been so stupid? There was no Angel of Music, or at least, not one for her.
She began to move in defeat towards the exit.
…Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance…
The sweet song travelled to Christine's ears so welcomingly, she spun round, and to her surprise, was beaming.
"I knew it!" She whispered loudly. "I knew you would come back!"
The voice spoke to her softly and kindly, almost a total reflection on how Christine wanted to be spoken to at that moment. It had to be an Angel.
…And I knew you would return to me…tell me, why do you wish my presence this night?...
Christine wasn't sure. It was really for confirmation that the voice had not been a product of her tormented imagination, but now she was here, all she wanted to do was talk and listen. She talked about how she did not enjoy the first few days of ballet training, and how much ahead the other girls were to her. The voice had been re-assuring in telling her she would improve, until it suggested a new idea…
…Maybe your talent does not lie in dancing, young one. Have you considered any of the other arts?...
She hadn't really. What else could she do but dance and…sing?
"Well, I don't know really. I cannot sing to well…"
The deep voice, for the first time, laughed. Christine felt a shiver cascaded up her spine. The laugher was amused, yet held a dark sense of something Christine could not put her finger or mind on. It scared her.
…my dear, you can sing a great deal better than you think. Let me hear you once more…
Christine was quite a taken back. She did not know what to sing, and all her memory had abandoned her. She rushed through the songs they had tried to teach her that day, but none of them held any deal of relevance. She didn't, after all, want to let the Angel hear her sing badly…
"The rain has moved on and left a new day.
Hidden violets grow splashed with summer spray.
The shadows and light, that moves with the wind,
Nothing seems to move everything is still.
It's just a perfect day."
The song had been one which her father sang to her before she slumbered of to sleep. It had made her feel calm and serene, and had the desired effect on her now. She felt so at ease with herself when she sang, like she had been lifted to another world.
But her embarrassment had now give way, and she cringed at what the 'Angel' thought of her.
…you sing like an Angel.
Her heart floated to the sky, and she let a smile frame her face, the first one in a long time.
"Do you really think so? Oh how wonderful it would be to sing to a proper audience, like the Prima Donna! Oh, do you think I could?"
…No. Not yet. Your voice needs training, but with time and patience, your voice could be the one all flock to hear from all over the world...
Christine gasped slightly. She had never considered singing before, could she really become a great Opera singer like La Carlotta? Even though she had missed out very crucial years of training?
…Christine…If you are prepared to work hard…then I could help you develop your voice…
Her mind swam, and she took no time at all in agreeing to her new offer. All thoughts of hesitation had vanished from her mind, and all that she could think of was her new ambition. Fear had still not left her, and some part of her wanted to turn and run screaming. Yet it had been ignored to totally submission. She gave her time, voice and soul to this strange mentor, who patiently had begun her lessons.
--
What was it about this small girl that he found so appealing? Her voice was a very strong voice for such a young girl, and he had been passionate about training it the moment he had heard her haunting melody. Yet, he found himself enjoying the times when she would sit and talk for hours in the Chapel, where he would sit in a dark passage way behind the alter, to listen to her. His patience never faltered with her, and he was always prepared to give words of comfort to her. It seemed that he related to her loss in life, and was a kindred soul with its equal share of pain.
Training her had become nothing but the norm for the next few weeks. Erik would spend his time improving her posture, her expression, her projection, the different kinds of voice techniques, and mostly, her passion behind the song. But that was the least of his worries, as the little Christine would always sing with every ounce of emotion she had in her tiny frame for him, and he had to admit, she worked very hard. He often had to turn her away from rehearsal as she didn't want to stop.
One day, he had finished listening to a song she had been working on for him, a song he had wrote him self. Her voice was still very childlike and high, yet Erik knew that would fade with her age. She finished, smiling slightly. He left the praise to constructive criticism, and she drank in every word.
"Yes, I understand…ok…of course."
She had completely gave in him, hanging on every word. She sat down for a while, crossing her legs and pulling her skirts over her knees.
"I would love to hear you sing again. Please…could you?"
Erik was quite a taken back. He never sang for a request before, and he felt himself falter. Luckily she couldn't see him, and so did not see the frowning expression on his face. But yet, the song he chose to sing to her came so naturally, he surprised himself.
It was not a song of English. The foreign words tumbled out of his mouth like magic, enchanting all who could hear, that being Christine. She sat on the floor, eyes closed lightly, with her arms tingling from the raised hairs on her arms. She had never heard anything so beautiful in all her life! Only a creature of heaven could produce such divine emotions and splendour. She felt her heart breaking at his intoxicating voice.
" Promise me…" She had whispered at the end of his song. "Promise me you will never leave my side. I want you near always!"
Erik felt suddenly scared. Why was this girl creating such an effect on him? She was not like any of the others performing girls, who classed gossip and courting as an important aspect of life. This girl seemed older and wiser beyond her years. And what's more…she was asking him the one thing her would never had expected from anyone. She wanted him to watch over her. Not once had she ran from his presence, and not once had she seemed suspicious of him. He found himself giving in to her himself.
"I promise."
