Chapter 4

I turned around, my heart pounding.

"Mr Lavonne… you scared me." I said. He continued to gaze at me. OK, this was uncomfortable. I stared back at him and then asked politely,

"Did you… can I help you?"

"You sing." He said. It wasn't a question. More of a statement. I shook my head and turned away, polishing the mirror.

"I used to. Not anymore."

"Why not anymore?" He asked. I looked at his reflection in the mirror. He walked towards me.

"Because things changed."

"There is no reason to ignore music." He said quietly. I concentrated on the mirror.

"Music belongs to a part of me that doesn't exist anymore. It disappeared last year."

"With your mother?"

I looked down and then turned to look him in the face.

"Yes. With my mother. I can't play music anymore because I can't bear to see the look on my father's face when he sees that it's me instead of her." I said coldly. It would have sounded far more effective if my voice had choked at the end of the sentence.

"You gave up music?" I nodded silently. Mr Lavonne looked down at me thoughtfully.

"But you finished my song. The one on the piano. Where I could not figure out the end, you did."

"I didn't mean to… I saw it and-"

"Don't make excuses." He interrupted me. I looked up at him and he said,

"Miss Daae, with talent such as yours, you should embrace music, not reject it."

"How can I embrace it? I can't play music at home or at college." I pointed out.

"Then play it here."

I stared at him.

"Here?"

"I am a musician, Miss Daae. I can teach you." He said, looking perfectly solemn. I swallowed hard.

"Can… can I think about it? And let you know tomorrow?"

"Of course." He said graciously. I turned back to the mirror to finish cleaning it. Mr Lavonne was leaving the room but he glanced back over his shoulder before he closed the door.

I can't say I wasn't tempted by the offer. Music had been such a huge part of my life and I had been repressing it for months now. I truly loved singing. But I would think about it first. Did I want to go back to singing only to have to give it up again?

I went down to the kitchen and started to prepare soup. It wasn't exactly challenging. Open a tin, pour it into a pan and leave it for ten minutes. I buttered some bread and put it on a plate. The whole time my mind was fixed on the thought of singing.

Mr Lavonne was seated in the dining room, reading a newspaper. The sun glinted off the white mask as I placed the meal in front of him. He thanked me absentmindedly and I nodded before returning to the kitchen. I had a sandwich. I'm not a big meal person. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at my sandwich before realizing I was starving and eating it. I heard Mr Lavonne go back to the writing room and went upstairs to fetch the dirty cutlery. I washed the dishes quickly and left them to dry before returning to the living room.

I waited until after Mr Lavonne had finished dinner and I had cleared the kitchen before heading home. I knocked on the writing room door and looked in.

"I'm heading off now. Is there anything you need doing before I go?"

"No… no, I'll see you tomorrow." He said absently.

I drove home. It was still light and the journey was easy. Dad was out when I got in. I changed into some clean clothes and went into the back room where the piano was. I considered it for a moment and then sat down. I put my hands on the keys and started to play a song Mum had written. I knew the tune but struggled for the title. I stood and reached for the box on top of the piano, where Mum used to keep her music. I found the one I wanted. Angel of Music.

People once spoke of an angel
I used to dream he'd appear
Now as I sing I can sense him
And I know he's here

Here in this room
He calls me softly
Somewhere inside hiding

Somehow I know
He's always with me
He - the unseen genius

Angel of Music
Guide and guardian
Grant to me your glory

Angel of Music
Hide no longer
Secret and strange angel

I stopped playing and stared at the music. I bit my lip. Maybe I needed an Angel of Music. Maybe Erik Lavonne was my Angel of Music.

I started to play again, singing the words softly as I did. The song caught hold of me and I started to sing louder. As I came to the end of the song I heard something and turned.

Dad stood in the doorway, a sad smile on his face. I got up.

"Dad, I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. That was… that was beautiful. You haven't sung in so long." He said. I looked down at the music.

"I was afraid to."

"Don't be afraid. You have a talent. Use it, Christine. Why were you afraid?" He sat next to me on the piano stool. I looked at him.

"Because of Mum. Because of what you would think." His smile faded and he held me. I closed my eyes, fighting back tears.

"Christine, I think that you are wonderful musician. Just like your mother. If you want to sing, then sing. If your mother thought you had stopped because of me… well, she would have beaten me a pulp, frankly. So sing. Sing for her."

I looked up at him. Tears glinted in his eyes and I smiled weakly.

"Thanks Dad."

"It's… it's strange. For a moment you were exactly like your mother." He said sadly. I frowned.

"Dad, I'll carry on playing. But not around you. Not yet. I think you need time. When you're ready I'll play for you again."

"Thank you." He said, hugging me again. "Now, what do you say to dinner and then we can watch a film?"

"Sounds great." I smiled.

I had class the next day. I had originally considered taking music but had decided not to after Mum's death. I rather regretted that now. But I was taking Literature and loving every minute. Meg was taking dance and Raoul had signed up for Business Management.

I sat in literature, taking notes but not really paying attention. My thoughts were fixed on what I would tell Mr Lavonne that evening. Would I say yes? I thought so. I wanted to, so badly.

"Miss Daae?" I glanced up. The lecturer was looking at me. I blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked if you wanted to read from page fifty-seven."

"Oh. Yes, of course." I said, fumbling for my book. There were a few titters from around the class. I willed my skin not to flush and started to read clearly.

When I got to the Manor that evening Mr Lavonne was sat in the writing room with a piece of sheet music. He looked up and said,

"Good evening. Have you come to a decision?"

"I have. I… I want you to teach me. I want to sing again." I said nervously. He nodded.

"Very well. We'll begin after dinner."

I went down to the kitchens and started to prepare the food. A smile was fixed on my face. I couldn't wait to start! I'd been thinking about it all day and now I was impatient to start. I cooked a recipe Mum had taught me. She insisted that I learn to cook.

"When you go into the world I'm not going to let you come running back every night for dinner!" she had said. Now I was glad she had taught me. Steak in red wine sauce. It smelt good. I put some aside for my own meal and took the rest upstairs. Mr Lavonne was already seated at the table. There was some classical music coming from the gramophone. A gramophone. This place was so old fashioned. He looked down at the meal.

"What is it?"

"Steak in red wine sauce. Is that OK?"

"Fine. It smells good." He delivered the compliment awkwardly. I supposed that being locked in this old place for so long had made him lose his people skills. If he'd had any in the first place, that is.

After I had cleaned the dinner things I went upstairs. He was waiting for me and led me into the music room. He sat at the piano and I stood nearby. He played something for a few moments and then looked up at me.

"Miss Daae, I have-"

"Christine." I interrupted. He looked at me blankly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Could you just call me Christine? The only person who calls me Miss Daae, other than my teachers, is my Dad. And then only when I'm in trouble." I explained. He blinked.

"Fine. Christine. I have played music my entire life. I have had very little else to look forward to and certainly never had a student before. This is a new experience to both of us but I know music better than anything. I have written more pieces of music then I can count. I assume you have had music lessons?"

"Piano, violin and singing."

"We shall focus on singing for now. You know how to do scales?"

"Yes."

He began to play. I looked at him as I sang. His eyes fixed on mine but he stopped abruptly.

"Stop. You are too tense." He examined me for a moment and then stood. He took my hand and guided me to the large windows. The sun was beginning to set over the hills in the distance.

"Sing out to those hills. Imagine you are on those hills. No one else is present. Sing." He said, seating himself back at the piano.

I stared out at the hills. The setting sun was sending golden streaks out over them, staining the land a beautiful shade of orange. I told myself to relax. I stared out at the hills as the music began again. And then I started to sing.

And it was good. Really good. I was singing better than I had for a long time. Even with just scales, I sounded better. I could feel his eyes on me but I ignored them, focusing on the view.

And you know what? It actually worked. I could imagine myself on those hills. I imagined myself standing alone on the grass, the warmth of the sun on my face. The song rose from my throat like it had wings and wanted to fly as high as I could, up past the clouds and into the heavens.

The music stopped and jolted me back to earth. I blinked and turned. Mr Lavonne was looking at me with a satisfied smile.

"Good. Much better than your first attempt." I couldn't help smiling. He held out a piece of paper.

"Here. We shall begin with this."

I took it and stared.

"But this is your song."

"It is our song. I cannot take all the credit if you finished it." He said dryly. I looked down at Think of Me. He started to play it and I followed the music, getting the feel of the song. When it was finished he said,

"Sing this time."

"Yes." I said. I stood next to the piano this time, keeping my eyes on the music. I sang that song far from perfectly the first time. But I carried on. Because I wanted to sing so badly. And there was another reason. One that I'm not sure I should admit.

I wanted to please him. I wasn't sure why. But as I sang I felt his eyes on me the whole time and my only thought and desire was to sing perfectly. Dad told me to sing for Mum. And I meant to. But instead I sang for him, and only him.