Gift from an Angel
The theatre was an odd mix of full and empty. The auditorium was vacant and silent as a winter morning; but backstage hummed like cicadas during an August day. Madame Giry pushed through the horde of people, muttering several foul oaths beneath her breath.
"Maman!"
Madame Giry recognized the high voice instantly and rose on her toes to see over the mass of humanity, glimpsing Meg and Christine only a few yards away. Getting to them seemed to take an eternity, but eventually, she reached the two girls and immediately began herding them toward the dressing room Christine had used before the show.
They had almost reached their destination when Meg suddenly grabbed her mother's arm and gestured to several men of various ages, all holding flowers. "If you want to avoid being pestered by Christine's new beaus, Maman, then you and Christine must hurry. I'll hold them off."
Madame Giry hesitated only a moment before nodding and sending a meaningful glance at Meg. Christine had remained silent, and the ballet mistress sensed that the newly debuted singer needed some quiet solitude to organize her thoughts.
With renewed determination, Madame Giry shoved her way through the crowd. She and Christine entered the dressing room in a whoosh. Somehow, a few admirers had gotten past Meg, and tried to follow them in. Madame Giry growled in a most unladylike way. "Non!" she said fiercely, and shut the door with as much control as she could muster, which was, in fact, very little.
Still breathing heavily from the whole ordeal, she smoothed her skirts and started to turn to Christine. Something, though, drew her gaze to the table by the door.
There, on the little stand, lay a single red rose. A glossy silk ribbon, black as the night itself, was tied around the rose's thornless stem. Its simplicity was welcome amongst the grandiose flower arrangements admirers had had delivered. In one swift movement, Madame Giry collected the rose from the stand. She held it tenderly, almost reverently, knowing exactly who it was from and what it meant.
She approached Christine and held out the rose. "You did very well, my dear," she said, pride making her voice husky. "He is pleased with you."
Christine hesitantly took the rose, but before she could ask any questions, Madame Giry swept up her heavy skirts and left the girl fingering the black ribbon.