Chapter 3

"Erik, will you stop fidgeting?"

"I can't help it!"

"You could try." Christine said crossly, pulling a tray of mince pies from the oven. Erik looked nervously around the cellar again. If he was going to be perfectly honest, he had never seen it look better. But what would his mother, Madeline, think?

"Could you pass me the flowery plate?" Christine asked. Erik blinked at her.

"We have a flowery plate?"

"It was a wedding gift from Carlotta."

"And you haven't accidentally-on-purpose broken it?"

"Well, I was going to but it came in useful. It's in the dresser." Christine said, moving the steaming pies onto a wire cooling rack.

Nadir was, as they spoke (argued) collecting Madeline from the airport. Erik had pointed out that even if they gave her the address, she would probably think that it was a practical joke by directing her towards the fifth cellar of the Opera Populaire.

"Why don't you put the kettle on for tea instead of just standing there?" Christine suggested, placing Christmas-y looking biscuits onto the flowery plate.

"I think I'll just check her room again."

"Erik, her room is fine. Make the tea."

"Did you get that soap she likes?"

"Yes. Tea, Erik!"

Scowling, he began to throw teabags into the pot, waiting for the kettle to boil. Christine hummed along to some obnoxious song on the radio, a teenybopper band that was inevitably trying to cash in on the goodwill season. He made a mental note to Punjab all teenyboppers. Especially Christmas ones.

The telephone rang and Erik picked it up.

"What do you want?"

"Erik!" Christine snapped. He glared at her and said,

"Hello, The Phantom of the Opera speaking. How may I assist you?"

"Hello Erik, its Raoul." Said the fop's cheerful tone.

Erik pushed the phone at Christine, feeling worse by the minute.

"Hello? Oh, hi Raoul! No, of course you're not interrupting anything. Oh, just ignore him, he's always grumpy."

"I am not!"

"Be quiet Erik. The party? Of course, please do. No, we've got that covered. I must run, Raoul, Erik's mother is coming to stay. I'll see you soon. Byeeee!"

She ended the call and looked at her husband flatly.

"It wouldn't kill you to be nice."

"No, but it might kill him." Erik said, grinning at his own marvellous sense of humour. Christine rolled her eyes and said,

"Have you made that tea yet?"

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Erik jumped to his feet, smoothing his hair nervously and adjusting his mask. Christine smiled at him and said,

"Relax. It'll be fine."

"You won't be saying that in five minutes."

"Come on, let's go and see her."

The door opened and Nadir came in, laden under three suitcases and looking thoroughly disgruntled. He was soon followed by a woman in her sixties, with short curly grey hair, a kind face and dressed in a tweed suit.

Christine sighed. The woman was wearing tweed. How scary could she be?

"Erik! Sweetie!" She dropped her handbag and pulled Erik into a hug, kissing him and leaving large lipstick marks on his cheek.

"Hello… Mother." Erik said weakly. She pinched his cheek in the way only a mother can.

"Erik, darling, you're looking terribly thin! Have you been eating properly?"

"Mother, I'd like to introduce you to my wife. Can we leave my diet for a few minutes?" Erik said wearily. Madeline smiled sweetly.

"Of course, dear! Where is she?"

Christine moved forward, smiling nervously. Madeline smiled brightly.

"Christine! Darling, how lovely to meet you at last!"

"Hello Madeline." Christine was also treated to heavy lipstick marks. Erik was distracted by Nadir tapping his shoulder.

"I've put her luggage in her room. Can I go now?"

"If you want. But Christine's been baking." Nadir decided to stay after all.

"Where have you been hiding her, Erik? She's just adorable!" Madeline cooed.

Erik cleared his throat.

"Would you like some tea, Mother?"

"I'd love some, Erik."

"I'll fetch it, so you two can catch up. Help me, Nadir?" Christine said. The two left the room and Erik sat down with his mother who was looking around the cellar dubiously.

"I must say, Erik, this is a very… unusual place to live in. Does the bank approve?"

"Well… actually, Mother, I've been meaning to talk to you." Erik began, somewhat awkwardly.

Christine winced as the shrieks that permeated the cellar failed to cease after fifteen minutes. Nadir sighed.

"This is going well."

"Should we take the tea out? Perhaps that would calm her down." Christine suggested.

"You first." Nadir muttered. Christine picked up the tray, took a deep breath and went into the living room.

Madeline and Erik looked at her. She smiled weakly.

"Tea?"

"Oh, aren't you a dear?" Madeline cooed, the squawks that she had been emitting only moments before gone. Erik looked gratefully at Christine and reached over to take a cookie but Madeline slapped his hand.

"Erik! Use a plate!"

"Mother, it's my cellar, I don't care about crumbs."

"Plate, Erik!"

Pouting, Erik took a plate. Christine poured them all tea, including Nadir, who had finally ventured fearfully out of the kitchen.

"So, Nadir, how long have you known that my son isn't a banker?" Madeline asked in a perfectly calm tone. Nadir swallowed nervously.

"Um… quite a while."

"How long?"

"…The whole time."

"Really? How interesting." Madeline said serenely. "Christine, these biscuits are divine, you must share your recipe!"

"I'll write it down for you." Christine promised. "By the way, we'll be hosting a little party on Christmas Eve, just a few friends for drinks really."

"How lovely! I'm so eager to meet Erik's friends." Madeline said cheerfully.

"Who exactly is coming to the party?" Nadir asked. Erik, too, was curious about this since he knew nothing about the party.

Christine began to list people on her fingers.

"Raoul and Dennis, Meg and Madame Giry, Firmin, Andre, Carlotta, Piangi and you, of course, Nadir."

"Christine, have you failed to notice that I loathe four people on that list, intensely dislike one and am only civil to the other three because you make me?" Erik demanded. Nadir cleared his throat pointedly. Erik glared at him. "I pay you, you don't count."

"Erik, we work with them. It's only polite."

"What exactly do you do, Christine?" Madeline asked.

"Oh, I used to be a singer in the opera house. But then I got married and stopped."

"But Erik loves music, why on earth did you stop?"

Well, this was awkward. Christine glanced at Erik, who was making a 'don't tell her' motion with his hands. But Madeline was watching her with piercing eyes.

"Well… I wasn't… I was married to someone else."

"Really?" Madeline said in surprise. "Who?"

"Raoul de Chagny. But then it wasn't really working and I wanted to be with Erik, so we got a divorce." Christine hurried to explain.

Madeline simply looked at them both. Erik swallowed.

"Uh… Mother, it's not as bad as it seems."

"I didn't say anything." Madeline said calmly. "Now then… I've got a few questions I wanted to ask the two of you."

She took out a roll of parchment. It began to unroll. And then carried on unrolling. For quite a long time. Until the end was halfway across the room.

Erik and Christine looked at each other in despair.

A/N: Glad you're enjoying it! I promise that 'The Girl Next Door' will be updated eventually. I get out of school at lunch tomorrow but then I have to go and yell at my bank for taking my money and I'm going out in the evening and then I'm working all weekend. So... yeah, I'm not giving up but I am uber-busy at this current point in time. Plus I still have a few chapters of this to finish off.

Love

Katie