September 17th 1892: Christine
Jut one or two minutes after he had left the room, Erik returned. He was accompanied by a tall man in his thirties. Even though Erik wasn't as much as touching him, it was clear that he was in complete control of the situation. The expression on his face was grim.
The other man was peering at him anxiously, his eyes lingering on the mask. The moment he spotted Meg at the table he called:
"Mme.Tavoire! He just wouldn't believe me. Could you tell him I'm your coachman, please?".
"Yes, he is," Meg said quickly.
Erik went back to his seat, muttering something that sounded like "One can never be too cautious.".
I gave him a smile. I could understand him very well. He was under a lot of pressure at the moment. Many seemingly harmless situations could turn out to be very dangerous, and he couldn't know anyone who was knocking at our door. Asking first was definitely better than regretting not having done it later.
Yet apparently the coachman didn't have that much understanding.
"Do I look so suspicious?" he wanted to know, glaring at Erik. "First I have to wait and wait on the doorstep because no one's willing to let me in, and then this… man treats me like a criminal. As if he'd be the right person to judge others! With face like that – "
I watched Erik grip the edge of the table more and more firmly with every word the coachman uttered. It was only a matter of time till he'd explode. Yet surprisingly it was Meg who spoke first.
"Be quiet!" she snarled. "Erik is a very close friend of the de Chagny family as well as of mine. If I hear you say one more unfriendly word about him, you'll soon be knocking at a door again – ours. And this time, no one will let you in."
It was slightly unnerving to see my friend this angry. Normally she was a person who only rarely grew furious, and not for a very long time either. Suddenly she strangely reminded me of her mother, whose authority was still unquestioned by everyone at the opera. I'd have never thought Meg could be like that as well.
A moment of stunned silence followed her words. Then the coachmen cleared his throat and muttered:
"Whatever. I'll be in the stable and see what the horse is doing then. Tell me when it'll be time to leave.".
"I'll come with you," Erik said. "There's something I have to talk to you about, concerning the journey… now that you seem to be willing to talk to me like a normal person."
Judging by the expression on his face, the coachman would rather have had a conversation with the devil himself that with Erik, but he knew better than to refuse. They left the room together.
"Why were you so unfriendly to the man?" The question seemed to be on both children's minds, but, just as usual, it was Antoinette who uttered it.
Meg gulped, looking at me nervously. Apparently she wanted me to provide an answer, figuring that as a mother I was more qualified that her.
"The man said very rude things about Uncle Erik," I replied after a moment's thinking. "So Meg told him he couldn't treat Uncle Erik like that. She only had to speak more loudly because she wanted to make him pay attention." I didn't add that if Meg hadn't said something, Erik himself would probably have taken more drastic actions. The coachman had no idea how lucky he had been only to be scolded.
"But what has all that to do with his face?" Philippe suddenly asked. "I heard the man say something about Uncle Erik's face, but I don't know why he said that. What did he mean - ´With a face like that…´? Uncle Erik never wanted to tell me why he's wearing a mask, but I really want to know it now. What's wrong with his face?"
The silence that followed those questions was even more absolute than the one after Meg's shouting.
I was speechless, completely and utterly speechless. At the back of my mind I had known that sooner or later the children would have such questions. Yet somehow I had hoped I wouldn't be around then. And now that the situation was there, I didn't have a plan how to react. Should I tell them the truth? ´The right side of Uncle Erik's face is so horribly disfigured that no one, not even he himself, can bear to look at it. That's why he's wearing a mask. When I first saw his face, I nearly passed out in shock.´ No. That sounded awful. The children would have nightmares if I told them such things. They'd never look at Erik again with that love in their eyes I saw there now.
Should I try a less drastic approach? ´Uncle Erik's face looks different from what people are used to. So he wears a mask in order not to startle them.´ That sounded marginally better, but it wasn't possible either. If I started like that, the children would ask countless questions, and before I'd have even realised it, I'd have told them the whole story, which surely wasn't suitable for them.
What I needed was… Erik. Yes, exactly. It was all about him, after all. He had to decide how much or how little to tell them. Given the fact that he always like to be well-prepared, it was even possible the he already had a plan how to approach the subject in a sensible way and how to address the children's fears and worries. Just like me, he was bound to know that such questions would come up eventually.
As soon as that thought had established itself in my head, I grew calm again. The moment of blind panic was over.
"Well, Philippe," I started. "It's a very long and complicated story, and I couldn't tell you as well as Uncle Erik himself. That's why you'll have to wait a little… till tomorrow."
"And what about me?" Antoinette interjected, obviously angry because for once I had only spoken to Philippe. "Why will only he hear the story? It's his uncle, yes, he had him first, but now he lives here, and want to know about his face, too." It was always amazing how much she could talk without pause.
I gave a little sigh.
"He'll answer your questions as well," I assured her. I wasn't certain whether Erik would prefer talking to them together or separately, so I had to be careful what I said.
If I had assumed my daughter would be content now, I had been wrong.
"Why can we only talk to him tomorrow?" she asked. "He could tell us later today."
"No," I replied, trying to sound gentle, despite the fact that I was slowly growing a little annoyed. "Uncle Erik will take Meg home after dinner, and by the time he'll come back you'll be in bed." Frankly I was very glad it was like that. If Erik had returned sooner, Antoinette wouldn't have left him in peace till she'd have heard the entire story, and I wanted to give him time to prepare himself.
"That reminds me… If you still want to play a little before going to bed, you have to go to your rooms now," I went on.
Knowing our evening routine, the children didn't object. They got up from their chairs, bade Meg and me goodnight and left the dining room, followed by Jacqueline.
"As soon as Uncle Erik comes to pick up Meg, I'll send him to say goodnight to you," I called after them.
"That was very good," Meg remarked when we were alone. "They seemed to be content, even though strictly speaking you didn't tell them anything."
"I couldn't have," I said defiantly. "It's up to Erik and – "
"You don't have to justify yourself," she interrupted me. "I meant what I said. You did it very well. I don't know what I'd have told them."
"It was difficult," I admitted openly. "Especially with Philippe…"
My friend threw me a surprised glance.
"I always thought Antoinette was the more exhausting child," she muttered. "All those questions she has…"
"In general that's true," I acknowledged with an affectionate smile. I loved my daughter, even though she could be a little tiresome. Or maybe because of it. "But when it comes to Erik, Philippe's opinion is the one that matters most. You know how much Erik loves him. If the child started being afraid of him… it would break his heart."
"I see," she said slowly. "So let's hope everything will be fine then."
Having said all we could about the subject, we stood up as well and made our way to the entrance door. We knew the coaches would be ready any minute. And indeed we only had to wait a few moments before the door was opened and Erik came in.
"Oh, you're already here," he commented. "Well, we can leave. I just want to say goodbye to the children first. Are they already in their rooms?"
I nodded, but before he had made two steps into the direction of the stairs, I caught him by the arm.
"Don't you want to say goodbye to me first?" I whispered. I cupped his face and gave him a long, sensual kiss. There would be a time when we'd have to have a serious discussion about the topic of his face and the children, but it was not now. I didn't want to send him away while he was worried. "Come back soon," I added, letting my hand wander over his chest.
"I will," he promised, looking deep into my eyes.