August 7th 1887: Meg
It was Antoinette who opened the door when I came to visit Christine in the afternoon. "Bonjour, Mademoiselle.", she greeted me with a polite curtsey. I couldn´t help chuckling softly about the very serious expression on her face. "Why are you that formal?", I wanted to know. "Don´t you recognise me?" "Of course I do.", she assured me hastily. "But Jacqueline taught me to curtsey every time I open the door for a visitor. Otherwise I should better leave it to the servants." My smile grew wider; the little thing was much too curious not to check who was coming.
"I hereby allow you to make an exception with me.", I told her solemnly as I entered the house. "After all, I´ve known you for all your life." My permission made the girl relax visibly. "Do you like my dress?", she asked, gesturing proudly at the short pale blue dress she was wearing. "Yes, I like it very much.", I replied. It was indeed pretty; it went well with her long dark curls. Sometimes I found it almost eerie how much she looked like her mother. I could only hope that their next child would inherit a little more of Raoul´s features.
Suddenly Antoinette began to whirl around wildly in the corridor. I watched her in amusement. She was such a lively girl, always jumping or running. When she stopped, a bit out of breath and holding onto the banister of the stairs leading to the first floor, she called: "Do you know what those were? Pirouettes! I´ve been practicing them for days, so that I could show you.". "They were very good.", I said, walking over to her and giving her a reassuring pat on the back.
Looking up at me with her large brown eyes she whispered: "One day I´ll become a dancer, just like you. But Maman mustn´t know it. She´d never allow it. I can´t even talk about dancing without her scolding me. Once I found an article from a newspaper. I knew it was about her because I can already read her first name. But she didn´t tell me what it was about. She took it from me and hid it in her dressing table.".
Obviously exhausted from her long speech she leaned against me, and I put an arm around her shoulders. "Why doesn´t Maman like the opera?", the girl muttered. "I´ve once heard the cook say that singers and dancers are bad people. But that can´t be true because you are a dancer and Aunt Antoinette used to be one as well, and you´re not bad at all…" I didn´t know what to say against this four-year old child´s logic.
Stroking Antoinette´s hair I promised: "I´ll talk to your mother. Maybe she´ll let me take you to the opera, so that you can watch a rehearsal.". She lifted her head and threw me a hopeful glance. "And if she doesn´t agree, I´ll just sneak out of the house.", she suggested. "Maman won´t notice it. She´s busy with the baby all the time anyway."
I couldn´t believe my ears. "The baby is already born?", I asked. "Why didn´t you tell me earlier?" She gave a small sigh. "I didn´t want you to run away.", she explained. "Everyone is running to the baby and no one stays here with me. That´s so boring." "I can understand you.", I told her. "Still I have to go and have a look at it. But I´ll also talk to Christine about the opera. Do you want to accompany me?" Antoinette shook her head. "I´ve already seen it. I´ll play in the garden." Then she left, and I made my way upstairs.
It wasn´t hard to find out where I had to search for them. I heard a soft singing come from Christine´s and Raoul´s bedroom. Although I didn´t recognise the song, I knew it was part of one of the Italian operas my best friend had once loved so much. Hearing her sing made my heart contract. Even without training Christine still sounded wonderful, and it was a pity that she flatly refused to enter a stage again.
When I reached the slightly open door I was seriously tempted to stay there for a moment or two and keep listening. Yet my wish to see the baby was stronger. So I entered the room, a cheerful "That´s quite an unusual lullaby." on my lips. Christine´s mouth shut at once, and her face turned scarlet. It was as if I had caught her doing something forbidden. I threw her a brief glance and knew we wouldn´t talk about it. There were so many things we didn´t talk about these days.
"Hello Meg.", she said with a much too friendly smile. Now she seemed to pretend that nothing had happened. "Have you come to meet our little Philippe?" I nodded, and she pointed at a beautiful light brown cradle. "He has fallen asleep just a minute ago.", she informed me as I leaned over the cradle to peer inside. "Oh…", I made. He was so cute that I hardly found another word to describe him. The rosy skin, the blond hair, the tiny body – he looked like a precious porcelain doll.
"Congratulations!", I whispered, cautious not to wake up the child. Christine made a gesture towards the table and the two chairs in the other corner of the room. As we took our seats I continued: "You have such a beautiful son. I´m almost a little jealous.". "Well, you remember how it is done, don´t you?", she said teasingly. When she smiled like this she suddenly resembled a young girl again. It were rare moments that passed quickly. "I´m sure you have many suitors at the… everywhere." At once the expression on her face grew serious again. She even avoided uttering the word ´opera´.
I tried to pretend I hadn´t noticed anything. Over the years we had both become quite good at hiding our feelings. "There are certain men who are interested in me.", I admitted. "But none of them has ever talked about marriage. You know what most men think of girls who work at the opera." Maybe it was childish to do so, yet sometimes I simply had to use the word, so that Christine didn´t forget what it sounded like.
"How are things going there?", she asked so casually that I looked at her in alarm. Even her daughter knew that she usually avoided this topic. "Oh… well… everything´s normal.", I replied, blushing slightly. I hated lying. But I had promised Raoul on the day of their wedding that I´d never tell her of any incidents that could be related to the Phantom. Actually there wouldn´t have been much to tell anyway. The Ghost kept remarkably quiet as long as the managers paid. Of course he dismissed singers and suggested new ones, but apart from that nothing extraordinary happened. Still I had secretly felt much better when Christine had stopped asking about the opera.
Now she threw me a suspicious glance. "Are you tell me the truth, Meg?", she whispered, almost as if she feared we could be overheard. What had given away my lies? Had it been the expression on my face or was I simply tired of lying and hadn´t bothered to do it properly? "Is that really true?", she repeated urgently, seizing my hand and squeezing it tightly.
Author´s note: I know there´s not much Erik yet, but that´ll change soon. Two or three more chapters are yet to come, then we´ll skip till Philippe´s fifth birthday.