August 7th 1887: Christine
I woke up with a start, and for a moment I had no idea where I was. All I could see was a white ceiling. It was very quiet. Where were the other girls? Had I overslept? In horror I realised that there was someone breathing evenly next to me. Who was lying in my bed? It could only be a certain somebody. "Erik…", I muttered. It took me a lot of courage to pull out a hand from under the blanket and touch the person´s hair. It was silky and longer than the wig Erik had worn.
Then everything fell into place: I had only dreamed about being a chorus girl, and of course the man lying next to me was my husband. Running my fingers through his hair again and again I gave a soundless sigh of relief. Fortunately he was still sleeping soundly and hadn´t heard me. Even though it had only been for a moment, I was shocked by my assumption that Erik could lie in my bed. He and I had never been together in such a sinful way. Raoul had been my first man and he´d be my last.
As one of my fingernails accidentally scratched his ear Raoul stirred. Quickly my hand left his head, but it was too late: I had woken him up. He opened his large blue eyes and smiled at me. "Good morning, love.", he whispered, leaning forwards to place a light kiss on the tip of my nose. "How was the night?"
"Noisy.", I replied, trying to remember how often I had got up because the baby had been screaming on top of his tiny lungs. It had been at last four or five times. The breast-feeding had worked surprisingly well, though; it obviously belonged to the kind of things one didn´t forget. Still it wasn´t exactly astonishing that I had dreamed about odd things in the few hours I had slept.
Kissing his lips briefly I went on: "I hope our child will take a leaf out of your book soon and adopt your sleeping habits. You wouldn´t even have woken up if the house had been on fire.". "I´m sorry.", he muttered, looking at me like a little boy who had broken the milk jug. "But even if I had been awake, how could I have helped you? If the little one is hungry, there isn´t much I can do about it."
I gave him an affectionate smile. Of course he was right. I could be grateful for having a husband who cared for the children at all. Judging by the stories I had heard this wasn´t always the case. "As soon as possible we´ll hire a maid to help you with the child.", Raoul promised. "Jacqueline is busy with Antoinette most of the time. Besides, I don´t think our little princess would be too pleased about sharing her. What´s your opinion? Shall I arrange for an advertisement to be published in the newspaper?"
"That sounds like a very good idea.", I praised him. I was aware that in the first weeks and months my presence at the baby´s side would be necessary day and night. After all, we had to get to know each other, and I didn´t want to miss the first time he´d smile or lift his head. But later some help would be very useful, if only for my daughter´s sake. Another maid would enable me to spend more time with Antoinette.
A little whimper came out of the cradle. It wasn´t quite a screaming yet, but I knew how quickly that could change. So I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I couldn´t help noticing that there had been days when this had looked much more graceful. "I guess that proves I´m no longer a chorus girl.", I remarked dryly, grabbing my rose-coloured dressing gown from a stool. The countless creases showed that Raoul had sat on it last night. Shrugging I wrapped it around my body and stood up.
"That´s true.", my husband said. He used the time I needed to take our little one out of the cradle to get up as well. When I sat down with the baby on the comfortable armchair opposite the window he stood next to us. Watching his son, who was no longer whimpering, but giving small sounds with his rosy lips and tongue, he went on: "You used to be the prettiest girl of all. And now you´re the most beautiful woman. Motherhood… well, it suits you.". He gave me a loving smile, but turned his head into the other direction quickly as I opened my dressing gown to feed the baby. Still I knew what he was referring to. I had often seen him cast glances of longing at my breasts, which had grown larger and fuller.
As I didn´t want to make him embarrassed by going into more detail I simply changed the subject. "What name would you like the little one to have?", I asked. Since I had dreaded giving birth to a boy, I hadn´t thought about names for one either. "What about Philippe?", he suggested instantly. "I´ve always wished for my first son to have the name of my late brother. Can you understand that?"
"Of course I can.", I replied gently. Now that he had mentioned it I remembered him telling me about it some months earlier. "Philippe sounds lovely, just right for a little boy. It´s a pity that he isn´t there anymore to become the baby´s godfather. I´m sure he´d have liked it." Actually I hardly knew more about this man than that he had been Raoul´s older brother and that he had found an early death in the depths of Lake Averne. Yet my husband still missed him dearly. When his birthday or the day of his death came closer Raoul grew very quiet.
It was just the same now: He nodded in response to my words, and I could see the melancholy in his eyes. To distract him I lifted my arms, still holding our baby. "Do you want to have little Philippe for a while?", I asked. He bent down and stretched out his arms, but then his gaze fell on the grandfather clock in the corner. "It´s already past nine!", he exclaimed. "I have to go."
"What?", I muttered. "But Raoul… not today…" Giving me an apologetic smile he explained: "It´s an important meeting with two of my business partners. One of them has come back earlier from Norway, just because he needs to talk to me. You have to understand… I´ll be home for dinner, I promise. And I´ll send Jacques to the newspaper." He kissed my cheek, stroked Philippe´s soft hair and was out of the door before I could utter more than "Goodbye!".
I stared after him for a moment, sighing. Then I pulled myself together. Some thing simply had to be accepted. I knew that Raoul would have preferred staying with me. But what should he do? He was the only male de Chagny left, so everyone had expected him to take over certain duties. For a moment my heart was light with joy as I realised that there was a second male de Chagny now, even though it was still a very small one.
Yet when I remembered the dream I had had my heart grew heavy. For the umpteenth time I had dreamed about the night of my promise. Although the memory was blurred, I could still feel the old admiration. I had actually been proud because someday I´d be able to do my angel, who had helped me that much, a favour as well. How stupid I had been! As I had had this dream so often it was hard to decide which parts had truly happened, but hope as I might I knew that I had made that promise. On Philippe´s fifth birthday he´d come to get him.
Or wouldn´t he? Somehow the danger was far less imminent at daytime. I hadn´t been to the opera myself a single time after Raoul had rescued me, but I was still in touch with both Meg and Mme.Giry, who had even become my first child´s godmother. Neither of them had ever told me about odd disappearings or mysterious accidents. Maybe Erik had left his home and was now haunting another opera house. He could even have… I knew it wasn´t right to assume such a thing, but the last time I had met him he had already been at least as old as my father. Perhaps he wasn´t among the living anymore.
Although I instantly felt guilty for it, this thought made me feel less anxious. When my son had finished his meal I made the necessary arrangements for putting him back into the cradle for a little nap. Yet I had barely closed my dressing gown as there was a knock on the door. "Come in!", I called. Jacqueline entered the room. Of course she couldn´t resist the newborn baby´s charm. "Isn´t he lovely?", she breathed, looking down at him with a dreamy smile. Cautiously she touched his tiny fists. "His name is Philippe.", I informed her. "That´s beautiful.", she commented.
"Have you only come to see him again?", I wanted to know. She shook her head, blushing slightly. "I´m sorry.", she muttered. "The little one almost made me forget everything else. I have a letter for you. A boy just brought it." This wasn´t extraordinary. Many letters were delivered personally at all times of day. Maybe Meg wanted to invite me for a cup of tea. "Could you take him, so that I can open the letter?", I asked.
Moments later Philippe was dozing in Jacqueline´s arms and I held a white envelope in my hand. Dreadful foreboding seized me as I saw that there was no address on it. I pulled out the letter, and my heart nearly stopped beating when I stared at the one sentence written on it. Written in red ink. His middle name will be Charles.