"That night, Satine was expecting another interview. A wealthy Parisian duke. He was planning to invest in the Moulin rouge so they could turn it into a theatre. But for him to be convinced, he needed Satine. She needed to, ummm, 'convince' him that his investments were worthwhile. He was awkward, spoilt, a man always used to getting his way, if not a tantrum occurred. He was neither smart nor attractive. His only fine point was his wealth and status. If Satine was to marry him she would be a duchess, an actress, a star-showered in riches and fine clothes. All the moulin rouge and its peoples fate rested with her and that one 'interview'."
"As she was dancing and doing her nights entertainment Zidler pointed out the duke to her. Through some lack of communication and the pure coincidence that I was sitting near the duke she mistook me for him. As she finished her dance she approached me and announced it was ladies choice, she excited the crowd and began a frenzied Spanish dance in a pink-feathered outfit, with a sparkling pink corset and her long, curled red hair out and free. It contrasted so beautifully with her previous costume-the first being elegant, restrained and captivating, now this one being free, light and airy. She jumped and danced with me and the pace fastened on the dance floor."
"She went back up on her trapeze, just after telling me to meet her in the elephant. I thought this was for my poetry reading-presenting my work to her to convince Zidler of the new musical and me being the writer. But she obviously still thought I was the duke and had other plans in mind. As she went back up on the trapeze, still in her pink-feathered costume, twinkling like a star in the sky, something happened. She stopped singing on the second last note. She gasped and choked, as we all wondered down below what was wrong. As she struggled for breath and panted she passed out, falling ten feet from the trapeze. We all screamed but luckily she was caught by Chocolate-one of the male dancers. He ran out with her, the men desperate to see if she was all right. Zidler diverted their attention onto the other dancers and ran to see if Satine was okay-all was lost if she was not."
"Backstage she came to and claimed that it was the tightness of her costume, that there was nothing to worry about. But the old lady who took care of the dancers saw Satine cough into her handkerchief and she saw the bloodstains."
Marie gazed up at him, she wished him to go on, to tell her more, and she knew this was only page two of a very long story.
"Go on, what happened next?"
Christian looked away. He seemed uncomfortable. He let her too far into the world he'd spent years burying, the world that contained Satine. The world that contained Love.
"Christian? What's wrong?" Marie asked curiously.
"Nothing, it's just that…nothing" Christian replied hesitantly, unsure of himself.
"Then would you like to continue?" she asked, staring at him.
"No" Christian replied. "Would you like something to eat?"
"You have food?" Marie asked, taken aback. All she thought he had was drink, absinth.
He laughed.
"Of course-how else have I lived over these years?" he asked, laughing at her idea of him being a lazy, famished drunk with bare cupboards. He opened these cupboards and revealed a loaf of bread, some cheese, biscuits and a few apples. He took down the loaf of bread and the cheese and placed them on the tabletop. He opened another cupboard where there was a leg of ham and some sausages; he took two sausages and placed them also on the tabletop. He closed the cupboards and then picked up the sausages and put them on the stove, which he then lit. Warmth filled the room with the stove fired up, and Marie moved closer to it. Christian continued to cut up the cheese and the bread, and then proceeded to find some grimy dishes, which he then washed and placed on the table with a small piece of cheese and bread on each.
"The sausage wont be long," he said, sitting down. Marie breathed in the warm smell of meat cooking and sighed. It wasn't much, he was clearly poor, but it was enough.
Marie picked up her bread and began to eat and talk with Christian.
Marie arrived home late from Christians, not talking to either Catherine or Jean, reminded of her fight, and then blushed at her embarrassment of jumping on Christian in passion. She couldn't understand it-what was it about this man, nearly old enough to be her father, that she couldn't resist? She blushed again at the thought of his surprise, and smiled as she remembered-he had kissed her back
"Marie? Where have you been?" Jean asked firmly, still angered from that morning.
She didn't answer, no matter how shameful, how sinful and how badly thought her actions were, she couldn't help but swoon at the thought of Christian kissing her back.
"Marie!" jean yelled
"Marie, answer your father!" Catherine yelled, anger amounting in her then realising what she had just said, waited for the blow.
But nothing happened, Marie did not yell about how Jean wasn't her father, or anything of the sort. She just swooned by, not a care in the world and closed her bedroom door behind her.
Yvonne was lying on their bed, braiding her hair while reading a book. She looked up as Marie came in.
"Marie? Why are mum and dad yelling?" Yvonne said, trying to catch Maries eye, but Marie was off in another world, no cares for the one she inhabited.
"Marie? Are you there?" Yvonne asked.
Marie turned and smiled.
"Yes"