Chapter Four – Show Time

Again the next day, Christine was in a trance. She was so occupied with tonight's Gala, the songs replaying in her head. She was most worried about forgetting her lines! After all, she was the lead female role. But Christine still had a niggling thought in her mind. Her Angel had not sung to her last night in Paris. Would he be there tonight? Excitement brewed in her heart. She couldn't wait.

Again, she had made her excuses to Louisa, and vanished to her room. She planned to stay a whole day in Paris, but make out to Louisa she was ill so she could stay another day, or night in Paris. Christine slipped the necklace over her head, and laid in darkness. Her mind was suddenly filled with her Angel's voice. The darkness reminded her of the way he never appeared to her, and the fact he was mysterious. Her soul soared at his voice, her heart longing to meet him. Christine stroked the mask on her necklace. Instantly, she was soothed, partly by the coldness of her mask, partly because of her Angel's song. Within moments, Christine was asleep.

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She awoke and was back in Paris. Christine sighed happily. The smell of the oil paint and the sounds and sights of the theatre. A slight smile spread across her face. She sat back at her dressing table and began to tie up her hair.

"Christine...Christine..." Whispered a voice. Christine spun around.

"Angel...?" She whispered back.

After a moments pause came a reply, "Christine..." the voice whispered again. Christine's spine tingled. The voice died and the feeling of her being watched faded. She resumed pinning up her hair. Once she had finished that, she changed into her costume, ready for last rehearsals. Christine left the dormitory, and walked silently to the stage. So many visits, and Meg as her guide, had let her learn quickly the routes around the theatre, and knew most my heart.

When she arrived, the rest of the cast was there waiting. At the moment, it was the Ballet girls turn on stage. Meg was playing the lead slave girl and she was extremely good at it. She moved with so much emotion and every willing fibre of her body. A true dancer, like her mother. All too soon, their turn was over and it was Christine's cue to sing. She was rehearsing the aria in act 3. Christine took center stage and the scenery was arranged behind her. She waited till all was set, and at a tap from Monsieur Reyer, she began to sing. The old feeling of being watched came over her, and she looked to Box 5. There was, of course, no one there. Christine smiled to herself. Once rehearsals were over, Meg and Christine went back to the dormitory.

"I simply can't wait Christine!" Meg was saying, "I'm positively jumping with excitement!" Meg ran round the room in joy. Christine sat on her bed.

"Meg?" Christine ventured. "Meg, can I tell you something?" Christine bit her lip again and fiddled with the edging on her gown. Meg sensed the seriousness of the matter and came and sat next to Christine.

"What is it?" Meg asked, concerned.

"Well," Christine began, "You know about the Phantom? I think he is watching over me, like a guardian Angel." It felt a little silly to be saying it. Why would he be interested in her? What had she done? Still she went on,

"He sings to me when I'm sleeping… his voice is so, so soft..."She trailed off dreamily. Meg took hold of Christine's hand.

"Christine, are you sure he's this, Angel? Are you sure he's not dangerous? He has dropped a backdrop on someone!" She told Christine, looking worried.

"Don't worry Meg. If he is dangerous, I'll make sure he doesn't hurt me or you" She let go of Meg's hand and took her in a friendly embrace. The worry lines faded from Meg's face and her warm smile returned.

"That's ok then!" Meg chattered. "Come on, I can smell lunch!" She dragged Christine off her bed and into a large hall where they sat and ate their lunches of baguettes and light wine.

After lunch they went through the whole production of Hannibal, from beginning to end. At the end, all the other theatre staff applauded and the cast took mock bows. Then rehearsals were over and the cast were banished to their dressing rooms. Christine had been given the room for the leading lady, which was dominated be a huge gilt mirror at one end of the room. There was also a dresser, a dressing screen, another table and a bed. Madame Giry had warned of the sudden flood of flowers she may get once the show was over. She'd shaken this all off with a wave of the hand. She wasn't that good.

Christine sat before her dressing table and looked at her reflection. Her hair had been tied loosely so her soft waves of hair hung down her back. She felt like the Princess she had imagined herself being when she first bought her silver necklace. Her dresses in 1870's Paris were silk and full bodied. Low, sweeping necklines and lace were all the rage, so when she was not rehearsing, she wore these. But when rehearsals were on, it was her wide skirted ball gown, or her Hannibal's Mistress's frock. She loved both of her costumes. So colourful and such lush material. She imagined herself again as her Princess fantasy. She snapped back to earth and decided to catch up on some sleep; she'd missed a lot with her regular visits to Paris. She curled up on the bed and let her eyes close.

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All too soon it seemed, Christine was woken by Meg shaking her. She groaned and sat up.

"C'mon! We've got to get going, it's nearly time for the opening!" Meg squealed. Christine was rapidly not sleepy, Meg's excitement was infectious.

She hurried along the many corridors to the costume workshop, and slipped into her opening costume.

Suddenly it was time. Adrenaline flooded through Christine's veins. She shook from the excitement, her cheeks flushed. Christine took up her place center stage and accepted the prop that was the severed head. Meg crossed her fingers in the wings. She gestured at Christine,

"Break a leg!" She mouthed to her. "Thanks!" Christine whispered back, "Same to you!" Meg nodded her thanks and Christine turned back to the front. She took a deep breath and tried to get control over her excitement. She never got nervous before going on stage; it was all excitement till it was over. Christine gulped, and straightened her self as she heard the first notes from the orchestra. The curtains swept open, and she began to sing the opening number.

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"We never said,

Our love was evergreen,

Or as unchanging as the sea -

But please promise me,

That sometimes

You will think...

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah...

Ah-a, ah-a, ah-a, ah...

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah...

Ah-ah-ah...

Ah...AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

Of me!"

Christine finished with a flourish. The audience erupted into applause, rising from their seats and throwing roses and other flowers to her. Christine grinned from ear to ear. Meg and the other ballet girls cheered and whooped in the wings. Christine looked at Box 5. No one was there, of course, but she could feel someone unseen watching her still. In her heart, she knew it was her Angel. She took a deep curtsy, and rose with a smile. She curtsied again and the curtains swept to a close. Christine was swept up in a flurry of congratulations and hugs and kisses from everyone. Madame Giry came to her.

"Come," was all she said.

Christine obediently followed her, having roses and flowers thrown at her from all sides. Madame Giry weaved them between the corridors and the other members of the cast and into the quiet of the ballet dormitories.

Madame Giry said, "Now you are a leading lady, you don't sleep here tonight. Gather your things and came quickly. The gentlemen often come backstage after a production." Christine nodded and began to gather her things. Once she was ready, Madame Giry led her into the Leading Ladies quarters, where Christine had prepared for the show earlier. Madame Giry unlocked the door and let them both in.

"You did very well, my dear," She said. She picked up a blood red rose tied with a black ribbon from the dresser. "He is pleased with you," She handed the rose to Christine, and Christine looked at Madame Giry. How did she know about her Angel? She looked back at the rose and slid her finger along the ribbon. When she looked back up, Madame Giry had gone. She looked around, but Madame Giry was no-where in sight. Christine sighed and laid the rose down on her dressing table. She took out some night clothes from her wardrobe and slipped behind her dressing screen. Madame Giry had assured her that it was safe to spend the night in Paris; she said Parisian nights stopped time in Christine's time. She slid on a lacy robe over her night clothes and stepped out from the screen.

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The Phantom was astounded with his new pupil. He had stood in almost shock as she had brought forth all emotion, right from her soul, and sang. She had sung like an angel tonight. He must have her to help him make his music. She was his music. He realized he had fallen in love with her, just from two meetings. It wasn't just from her beauty, as that is what she was. He wasn't quite sure what it was he needed from her. It was almost tearing him apart with the desire for her. He sighed and ran a hand through his ebony hair, his emerald eyes worried.

"Who could ever love me?" He asked himself, quietly. "She will learn to see the man behind this monster…" He muttered, touching the white mask that covered half his face. He shook it off a feeling that had crept over him, and stood up. He swept his cloak about him, and set off for his Lair. He would go to her tonight. He must have Christine!

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