Chapter Four – Let My Opera Begin

Paris Opera – Late March 2005

The room goes utterly and completely silent. Christine feels Missy's eyes on her, her expression not very readable. She senses that many people are looking at her, having realized where the girl Madame Garnier has mentioned sits. She manages to stutter, "M-m-me?"

"Don't be shy, Christine," she hears Missy whisper in her ear, pushing her a little in the back. "Go on." Madame offers her a hand, and she takes it, helping herself out of the seat.

"Come along, child," Webber says, beckoning to her. She walks somewhat slowly, still confused. Why would Madame suggest her? She'd never heard her sing before! Nobody had heard her sing besides chorus instructors and, occasionally, her grandmother. But this was much worse. It was the first production she would ever be in! And it was Phantom, nonetheless!

Her feet touch the cool marble in front of the stage. She can tell that André is watching her very intently, but Carla's eyes are elsewhere, not wanting to focus on the fact that the composer suggested that other people audition. Monsieur Webber takes her arm as she reaches him. "Miss Landry," he says, his voice sounding a little concerned, "you seem surprised. If you don't want to audition…" but Christine has made up her mind. She's not one to back down from a challenge such as this. She wants to prove that Madame didn't suggest her for nothing, even if, in all honesty, it was nothing.

"No, Monsieur, I think I'll audition." His smile widens, though Christine isn't sure if it's because she's auditioning or because he could replace Carla. Webber motions to one of the men in the front row who, in turn, goes over to the piano.

"Can you sight-read?" Christine nods, making Webber smile again. "Lovely! I'll have you sing Think of Me, then?" He goes over to his briefcase and pulls out a few pages of music, handing them to her. "Just sing what you see, start to finish. And ignore the part that says Raoul's singing it. I'll just have Monsieur Friar play it for you." Webber nods to the pianist, who starts playing a light, flowing introduction. And Christine starts to sing.

"Think of me! Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye! Remember me once in a while! Please promise me you'll try." She focuses firmly on the lyrics, not looking up, not critiquing herself. "When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me." More piano music. She begins to like the song, its high-pitched but smooth notes enchanting her.

"We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember, stop and think of me. Think of all the things we've shared and seen. Don't think about the way things might have been." The bridge over, she returns to the melody she now knows, the words and notes coming easier. "Think of me! Think of me waking silent and resigned. Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind. Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do! There will never be a day when I won't think of you!" She pauses, catching her breath while the piano begins to play, the now-familiar melody heard above the rest.

Nobody should have been singing, but, suddenly, from the back of the theatre, she hears a simply glorious voice singing the part of Raoul. "Can it be? Can it be Christine?" She looks up and sees Erik Destler descending towards the cast as he shouts to her, "Bravo!" He keeps moving in a direct path to where she stands and sings again. "Long ago, it seems so long ago, how you and innocent we were!" He stops right beside Christine, and she turns to face him. "She may not remember me but I remember her…"

On cue, Christine starts again. "Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade; they have their seasons, so do we, but please promise me that sometimes you will think…" Christine knows she has to start soon, but she's nervous. The notes written are tricky and confusing, but she tries it anyway. Her voice hits the accented notes, every one of them, as they are written. "...of me!"

There is a very pregnant pause in the theatre, but out of the quiet comes a solitary person's applause. "Bravo!" Missy shouts, her face wide with excitement. Her clapping is seconded by a sound beside her; Erik. Then, the whole theatre bursts into fits of uncontrollable applause. Christine sees Richard in the third row, cheering loudly, then looks to her other side. Madame is smiling very proudly. Maybe she was right about me.

The clapping subsides, and Christine feels Webber's presence between herself and Erik. "Bravo, Miss Landry!" He shakes her hand amiably, his eyes alight. "You just must be our Christine! Would you, Miss Landry?" Again, she feels that horrible feeling of being watched.

"Of course, Monsieur. Of course I will be your Christine." The cast breaks into thunderous applause for the second time. Before it even begins to go down, Webber turns on the manager's son.

"André, your son's got quite the voice." André smiles. "'tis a pity he isn't in the opera. He'd be a wonderful leading man." At those words, nobody claps any more. Eyes are lifted from Christine and settle on Erik. "You wouldn't consider being our Phantom, now, would you?" Christine shudders. Erik as the Phantom? How could they possibly do that to her? He scares her out of her wits just in the costume, but singing the part too?

"No, Monsieur. My duties lie with my studies, not in a production."

"But Erik, see reason," his father says. "You've got an astounding voice, one perfectly suited to the role! Why not give it a shot? You know the music by heart…"

"I said no!" he shouts at his father, taking a seat in the front row and pulling out his novel again.

"Andy, look at him! He looks the part, he's reading the goddamn book, and he doesn't want to be your Phantom. What a pity." André catches his breath from the argument and turns to his cast. "Let's get this over with now, shall we? Let's have a little Music of the Night! Anybody interested in being our Phantom?" A few of the men present stand up and Christine moves to return to her seat when Madame puts an arm out to stop her.

"No, Christine. You must stay. They need to see how you look with your Phantom." She smiles brightly at Christine. "My dear, you looked beautiful up there."

"Thank you, Madame."

"I had a feeling you'd do well," she says, her smile growing ever-wider as the first Phantom wannabe started his scales. Webber shooed him away almost instantly ("Your voice is too immature!"), followed by countless others. Richard was the last to audition.

"André, you may be the Phantom yet." He turns back to the man before him, asking his name and age, et cetera. Finally, after many scales, he allows him to sing. "One verse and one bridge, if you please."

"Andy," André says, "here in France, it's s'il vous plait!"

"Bull crap," Webber says, turning back to Richard. "Go on." Friar the pianist offers him a small introduction, and the song, one Christine has yet to hear, plays from Richard's lips.

"Softly, deftly, music shall caress you. Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you. Open up your mind! Let your fantasies unwind in this darkness that you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night." Christine sits down in one of the vacated seats listening intently, captured by his vocals. "Close your eyes, start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Close your eyes, let the music set you free!" He holds the high note for a long time, and Christine feels his eyes on her. "Only then can you belong to me…"

"Bravo, Monsieur! Bravo!" André shouts joyously! "Andy, I think we've found ourselves a Phantom?"

"Indeed! Congratulations, Richard." He looks at the managers. "Now all we need is a Raoul." The search for the perfect lover takes a much shorter time, and Webber finally settles on a man a little older than Christine or Richard, a man by the name of Pierre Whiting. Webber has Friar take out his camera and get a picture of their three vocal leads together for publicity purposes, and then runs off to work with the orchestra.

Missy finally comes over to Christine and, though they've only just met, throws her arms around her. "Christine, congratulations!" She jumps up and down excitedly, then pulls her back to their seats. "Did you hear André's son's voice? And his looks? He's to die for!"

"I don't think so," Christine replies dryly, pulling out her iPod.

"What? Are you crazy? He's amazing!"

"Carla says he's really introverted and not much fun to be around. Quite honestly, from what I know, I'd agree with her."

"Oh, fuck Carla! She couldn't tell someone's personality if it bit her in the ass. She's so shallow; at least Mama says she is."

"Christine, mon chéri! Come down here!"

"Yes, Madame!" she shouts back, stowing her iPod in her bag again. She hurries down to the front of the stage where she is greeted warmly by André.

"Christine, your voice is lovely, truly lovely. You're one of the best sopranos I've heard in years. However, you do need to clean it up a bit, if you know what I mean." Christine nods. "My son, Erik, has been trained in piano and vocals. If he is willing, I see no reason why you should pay for a private tutor. He could coach you just as well. Erik!" He stands and walks over to his father and Christine. She's very aware of how much he towers over her. "Would you be willing to privately coach Mademoiselle Landry in her vocals?"

Erik looks from Christine to his father and back again. His eyes on Christine, he responds, "Of course, Father. It would be my pleasure."

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