The Girl Next Door

It had been a stunning instrument at once time. Now the wood was faded and Christine highly doubted that it was in tune. But, somehow, she knew that she could fix it. A coat of varnish, some new strings, a proper bow and that violin would play beautifully.

If only she could remember how to play. She had learned a little bit as a child, but gazing at that instrument she longed to play again.

She pushed open the shop door and approached the counter. A wizened but cheerful looking man smiled up at her.

"How may I help you?"

"The violin in the window, how much is it?"

"That old thing? £25. It's a bit past it, love, wouldn't you prefer a new one?"

"May I see it?" She interrupted. He scuttled off to fetch it, laying it on the counter. Christine picked it up and ran her fingers over the tarnished wood. It was rough, but not a complete loss.

"Is there a box and case?" She asked.

"Of course." He eyed her doubtfully. "It's very old; you probably won't get much use out of it."

It was a strange world where a shopkeeper tried to prevent you from buying something, Christine thought vaguely. She picked up the violin, remembering how her father had held his. She held it in both hands, examining every inch of it.

"I'll take it." She said decisively.

Sat at the kitchen counter, Christine smoothed the wood and lay it down on a sheet of newspaper to let the varnish dry before applying a second coat. It had been two weeks since she had testified against Buqet, who had been sentenced to eight years in prison.

The phone rang but Christine didn't answer, letting the machine pick it up as she washed her hands from the sticky varnish.

"Hey Christine, its Stuart. If you're not busy tonight, you want to meet up? Call me back. Love you."

She smiles at his voice. Stuart was… well, adorable really. He had been so sweet and loving over the past month, since they had become a couple. He was just such a perfect gentleman. They were happy.

She waited for a half hour before applying the second coat. Once this was dry, she rang Stuart back, saying that she did want to meet up with him and they decided to meet at the pub at seven thirty. In the mean time, Christine set about preparing the bow. She supposed she should take it to an expert, but she felt like this was something she needed to do herself. She had picked up several instruction books on the way home and planned to read them and teach herself how to play. Perhaps it was a little like learning to ride a bike. Once learnt, never truly forgotten. At least, she hoped it would be.

There was a knock at the door and she went to answer, still fiddling with the bow. Erik stood outside, holding a letter.

"This was delivered to my box by accident." He said, handing it to her. She smiled.

"Oh, thanks."

"You play the violin?" He asked, glancing at the bow. She laughed slightly.

"Not yet. I bought one this afternoon, bit of an impulse buy. I learnt a little as a child but I'd love to take it up again."

"May I see it?"

Christine's eyebrows shot up in surprise but she stepped back to let him in, leading him to the kitchen. He examined the instrument, wet varnish still gleaming.

"What condition was it in?" He asked.

"Not great. I mean, it looked like it would play but the wood was scuffed up. Hence the varnish. But I think this bow might be past its prime." Christine said. He nodded.

"It is. I have several spares; you may take one if you wish."

"Really? That's fantastic, thanks!" She beamed at him and he straightened uncomfortably.

"You will need to replace the strings and tune it. But it should play well enough."

"Would you like some coffee or something?" Christine asked quickly.

Erik hesitated.

"…No, thank you. I have work to be getting on with."

"Oh. Another time then?" She asked. Erik blinked and nodded briefly.

"Perhaps. Excuse me." He let himself out. Christine stared at the door and shook her head. He must be one of those misunderstood, artistic types. Still, he was damn good at his job. Mr Khan had sent a CD of one of the pieces from Il Muto to the office and she had fallen in love with it. She should have told him so, she thought regretfully.

"A violin. You bought a violin." Stuart said blankly. Christine smiled at his expression.

"Yes."

"Do you even play the violin?"

"Not yet. But I'm going to teach myself." She said, nudging his foot with hers under the table. "Are you saying than you've never done anything completely off the ball like that? Impulse buy something totally unnecessary?"

"Well, sure. But not a musical instrument."

"What was the last thing you impulse bought?" Christine demanded. Stuart considered.

"A DVD box set."

"…Is that it?"

"It was £150." He said defensively.

Christine snorted with laughter. Stuart joined in and said,

"It was a really good box set! And at least I'll get some use out of it!"

"I'll get use out of my violin." Christine said firmly. "Once the varnish has dried, Mr Destler said I could use one of his spare bows and I'll start teaching myself."

"And I'm sure you'll sound amazing." Stuart smiled. Christine felt the heat rise in her cheeks and inwardly kicked herself for it. Luckily Stuart didn't seem to notice, since he glanced at his watch.

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No. Why don't you come to my place? I can make us something." Christine offered.

"Sounds great."

A stir-fry was decided upon. Quick and filling, Christine sliced peppers to go into the mix whilst chattering away to Stuart and slapping his fingers as they inched closer to the vegetables.

"Stop that, or there won't be enough!" She scolded him. He grinned.

"You sound just like my mum."

"She must be a very sensible woman." Christine said haughtily. Stuart nodded and eyed her as he munched on a pepper.

"Do you want to meet her?" He asked.

"Who?" Christine said vaguely.

"My mum. And Dad. And sister and grandparents."

"What, all in one go?" She seemed positively alarmed by the idea. Stuart laughed.

"Yeah. Lunch on Sunday, she told me to invite you. I've told them all about you."

Christine didn't know whether to smile or smack him.

"Well… yes. OK." She said.

"Excellent! I'll call her tomorrow." Stuart smiled. "They're going to love you."

"Stop grovelling, I already said that I'd go."

"But you're so amazing, and smart and beautiful and funny and-" Christine handed him a piece of pepper.

"Eat this and shut up."

"Yes ma'am."

"Erik, you have to stop this!" She said, her face burning in anger. She was beautiful when she was angry, the passion causing her eyes to glitter ferociously. But Erik didn't even notice. He slammed his hands down on the table.

"I CAN'T!"

"You have to." She hissed. "If you carry on like this you'll make yourself sick and I won't be here to clear up after you, not again!"

"Don't you understand how important this?" Erik demanded. "Don't you even realise what this means?"

"Yes, Erik, I know how important that bloody opera is." She spat. "But your health is important too! I swear to God, if I didn't love you as much as I do, I'd have torn that opera up months ago!"

Erik stared at her. She was fuming, her hair flowing around her face like a river of black silk and her eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath.

"Fine. I will leave it for one night. Just one."

"…That's a start." She said quietly, recognising exactly how much of a sacrifice this was for him. Erik slipped the manuscript into the folder and put it away. A pair of slender arms wound around his waist and he felt her head resting against his back.

"Thank you, Erik."

"Chrissie?" She frowned slightly, not opening her eyes. Who called her Chrissie? "C'mon, I need to go to the bathroom."

"Wha?" She opened her eyes blearily and saw Stuart grinning down at her. They had been watching a movie. She must have fallen asleep with her head in his lap.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. Not that I don't enjoy this, but your head is pressing onto my bladder and I had quite a lot of wine at dinner."

"OK, I don't need to know the details of your urination habits." Christine said, sitting up hastily.

Stuart hastily made his way to the bathroom and Christine turned the television off. Looking at the clock, she realised that it was nearly eleven at night. Stuart emerged, wiping his damp hands on his jeans. He whistled, looking at the clock.

"I'd better get going." He moved around, collecting his things whilst Christine tided up their mess. Once he was bundled up in his coat, gloves and scarf, she walked him to the elevator.

"I'll call you tomorrow and then I'll pick you up on Sunday for lunch, OK?" He smiled. Christine nodded and kissed him.

"Sounds good."

"Great."

He opened the elevator and it carried him away. Christine moved back down the corridor to her apartment and closed the door behind her. Looking around the empty rooms, she sighed and went to her bedroom to sleep.

It was finished. Christine smiled with pleasure as she examined the violin from top to end. The varnish had dried perfectly leaving a beautiful sheen to the dark wood. She had read the first chapter of one of the books and was now ready to try playing again.

All she needed was a bow. She crossed the hallway to apartment 5a and knocked. A few moments later the door opened and Erik Destler appeared, immaculately dressed as always. Christine smiled.

"Good morning Mr Destler. I was just wondering if I could hold you to that bow."

"Ah, of course. Come in." He stepped back and Christine moved inside, giving her a proper chance to look around the apartment.

The layout was the same as hers. She had entered straight into the living room, although Mr Destler's was painted dark red, rather than the bland beige of her own apartment. It was decorated so stylishly that Christine was extremely impressed. Mahogany furniture, the three-piece suite in the same burgundy colour as the walls and several classical pieces of art hung on the walls. What made Christine smile was the sight of a piano in the corner of the room.

"Please come through." Mr Destler said and she followed him to where she had made the study in her apartment. His, however, was filled with musical instruments, including a second piano and cabinets filled with other instruments from every group.

He went to one cabinet and removed a bow.

"This one is good, almost new. I barely use it though." He said. But Christine was staring at the instruments that surrounded her. He watched her as she peered into a cabinet of wind instruments.

"Mr Destler, these are beautiful." She breathed. He gave a miniscule smile.

"Yes. I'm rather proud of all of these instruments. I hand chose them."

"They must have cost a fortune! And that is gorgeous." She looked at the piano. Erik scratched his chin.

"I am fortunate that money is not an issue. And that piano is very nearly unique, a very rare make."

Christine smiled.

"It must be wonderful to have such an amazing job. Doing something you love and getting paid for it."

"You don't enjoy advertising?"

"Of course, it's brilliant. But it'll always be a job; it couldn't be something that I do for enjoyment as well." She pointed out.

"What do you do for enjoyment?"

"Not much. I don't really have that much spare time." Christine sighed. "I play a little music, obviously. But I stopped playing after I left school, I just didn't have time for it once I started university."

Erik watched as she glanced at the music on the piano.

"Another opera?"

"One I have been working on for many years. And one that will probably never be performed." He said quietly. Christine frowned slightly.

"Why not? I've heard your music, it's amazing."

"That particular piece is… different." He said. Christine nodded, not understanding in the least but recognising that he did not want to speak about it.

Erik handed the bow to her.

"Here."

"Thanks." She replied, taking it carefully. "Well, I'm going to go and see whether or not I sound like a cat in a blender." He looked rather amused by the simile and showed her to the door.

"How goes the violin practise?" Stuart asked over the phone. Christine laughed dryly.

"Oh God, don't ask. It's going to take a lot of work."

"What fun would it be if it wasn't?" He reminded her and she had to admit that that was true.

"By the way, Mum and Dad can't wait to see you. Gran and Grandad are coming too and Kerry's come home for the weekend too."

"What should I wear?" Christine asked quickly. "Is it dress-up or casual?"

"Definitely casual."

"But not too casual. I don't want to look like a slob."

"Christine, you always look gorgeous." Stuart laughed. "Just dress comfortably and don't worry."

It was all very well him saying that, Christine though crossly as she put the phone down. He'd never have to meet her parents.

Stuart picked her up the next day. He was waiting in the car and rang her up to let her know he was there.

"Better bring a coat, its freezing out here." He warned. Christine slipped a coat on over her smart, dark jeans and comfortable green jumper before heading downstairs. She climbed into the car and he leaned over to kiss her.

"Good morning."

"Hi." She smiled and then rubbed her hands together. "I hope it doesn't snow. It's so cold already."

"I like snow." Stuart replied, pulling out of the car park and making a left turn.

"It's too cold. It looks pretty at first but then everyone walks all over it and it turns to slush." Christine said.

"It's romantic and it looks very seasonal. After all, it's nearly December."

"Not for another week." Christine replied firmly. "It can snow all it likes then. But I reserve November for the non-snowing kind of weather."

Stuart's parents lived in a detached, red-brick house with a white car on the driveway. Christine climbed out the car, nervously clutching the bottle of wine they had picked up on the way. Stuart smiled at her.

"Don't be scared. They don't bite."

"I'm not scared." She insisted. He wrapped an arm around her waist.

"They'll adore you. How could they not?"

"I think you're a little biased."

"Quite probably." He said, marching her to the front door and pressing the doorbell. It sounded with a cheerful ding and it flew open to reveal a young woman with the same dark blonde hair as Stuart. It fell to her shoulders, framing a pretty, intelligent face with piercing eyes behind thin wire spectacles.

"Hey Kerry." Stuart grinned, pulling his sister into a one-armed hug. She grimaced but relented.

"Hi Stuart."

"Christine, this is my little sis, Kerry. Christine Daae." Stuart said, his hand reaching for Christine's. Kerry smiled warmly at her.

"Hi Christine. Come in, it's seriously cold out there."

They went into the warm, cosy house and entered a sitting room. Two men were sat inside, Stuart's father and Grandad. His father stood up.

"Stuart!"

"Hi Dad. Grandad." He hugged both of them briefly before pulling Christine forward. "This is Christine Daae."

"It's nice to meet you." Christine said with a nervous smile, offering a hand. Stuart's father laughed and shook it.

"And you, Christine. I'm Roy and that's my father, Edmund." He turned to Edmund, who was peering at them over the top of the Sunday newspaper. "Dad, this is Stuart's friend, Christine."

Edmund eyed her.

"Pretty one." He mumbled, before returning to his reading. Christine flushed and Stuart grinned.

"The kitchen's through there. Mum and Gran are probably cooking."

"What?" Christine said in alarm. Stuart smiled and pushed her to the door. She gave him a look that quite clearly said you will pay and went through into the kitchen. Two women were bustling about, chattering cheerfully over the song playing on the radio. Christine hesitated in the doorway until the younger of the pair spotted her, a women in her late forties with short, light brown hair, a couple of grey strands poking through.

"Oh, you must be Christine!" She said, wiping her hands on a towel and tossing it to one side. She was wearing a long denim skirt and a plain white t-shirt. Christine nodded.

"Yes, Christine Daae."

"Marsha, Stuart's mother. And this is Hilly, his grandmother. Short for Hillary, but she can't stand being called that."

Hilly was one of those women who clearly revelled in old age. The sort of woman you would see emerging from the library one morning and the gym the next. She was clad in dark trousers and a classy lavender blouse with a string of fake pearls hanging around her neck, her white hair curled lavishly. She smiled.

"I'll say one thing for my grandson; he's got good taste in women." Christine smiled, embarrassed and held out the wine.

"Stuart and I picked this up."

"Wonderful, that'll go perfectly with dinner. I hope you like roast chicken?" Marsha asked.

"I love it."

"Excellent. A drink?"

And the ice was broken. Kerry joined them soon enough and they sat around talking until a timer rang, signalling that everything was ready to be put on the table. Christine helped eagerly and Stuart laughed as he came in from the living room.

"They've got you running errands already? That must be some kind of record."

"I'm just naturally helpful." Christine said haughtily as they sat down. She was seated between Stuart and Kerry. As they helped themselves to food, Hilly asked,

"What is it that you do, Christine? We've been nagging Stuart for details about you but he wouldn't budge."

"I'm in advertising." She replied, passing a basket of bread rolls along the table. "Graphics designing, mostly. But it varies from project to project."

"What are you working on at the moment?" Kerry asked.

"An opera at the Hawthorn Theatre. Il Muto, I'm on poster designing and after this I think I'm doing a novel cover." Christine replied, trying to remember what Firmin had said at the meeting.

"Another Piangi novel?" Stuart asked.

"No, I think it's a thriller from Noel Lefevre." Christine said. Roy looked up in interest.

"Lefevre? He's an excellent writer; I just bought a book of his."

"That's a pretty cool job." Kerry said approvingly. Christine smiled.

"It's hard, but I love it."

Dinner went comfortably and Christine was surprised at just how at ease she was with these people. But about halfway through dinner came an extremely tense moment, just as they were discussing occupations when Roy said,

"So what do your parents do, Christine?" Stuart looked rather uncomfortable but Christine put a hand on his.

"It's OK." She said quietly before saying to Roy, "I'm afraid my parents are both dead now."

Roy looked horrified and Marsha glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Christine."

"No, it's fine. It was quite a long time ago." Christine insisted. But, just to make sure than moment was past, she looked over at Marsha. "Stuart mentioned that you do some gardening?"

The conversation turned to gardening. Second safest conversation topic only to the weather.

"Didn't I tell you that it would be fine?" Stuart said as they drove home that evening. Christine smiled.

"Yes, you did."

"And I was right. Huh." He was silent for a moment. "That doesn't usually happen. Something must be wrong."

"Oh, give over. Stop milking it." Christine said, nudging his arm as he drew up outside the apartment building.

Stuart put the handbrake on and looked over at her, marvelling at how even in the fake yellow light of the car's illumination she still looked stunning. She unclipped her seatbelt and looked sideways at him.

"Thank you. I really enjoyed meeting them." She said softly. Stuart leant over and caught her in a kiss, his hand resting on her cheek. She responded warmly to the kiss, one hand playing gently with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. After a few moments they drew apart and Stuart whispered,

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"The café at 8:15, same as always." Christine replied, rather reluctantly moving from his warm embrace. She said goodbye and hurried into the warmth of the building. As she moved along to her apartment, she paused, hoping to catch the strains of music from 5a. But all was silent so she entered her apartment and went straight to bed, physically and emotionally drained.

A/N: Not sure about this chapter. But never mind, it's up and done. And with considerably more Erik than the previous chapter. He will be making more appearances in future chapters, I promise!

I had some great news today. I've been applying to universities for next year and found out today that all six universities are giving me conditional offers! I am overjoyed, I was terrified that my first place wouldn't accept me! It's nice to have something to smile about again.

Lotsa luv 'n' huggles

Katie