September 18th 1892: Meg
Neither my mother nor I knew an answer to the question. We all looked at each other, and I sensed that Jean and she were feeling the same hopelessness I felt. We had tried both a lie and the truth, and nothing had had any success. Slowly we started walking. The direction didn't matter. It was just too hard to stand in front of the room that had been our last hope, knowing that we had indeed found the Opera Ghost, only to ruin everything. I could have kicked myself. Why had we spoken so little about what we'd tell him?
"At least we managed to find him, thanks to you, Jean," my mother said, breaking the silence. She gave him a small smile.
He didn't return it.
"What was the use of finding him if we couldn't make him listen to us?" he wanted to know. "And he didn't listen to us because we had infuriated him. It's all my fault. If I hadn't leaned against the door, he wouldn't have noticed Meg and me. I'm sure that he'd have eventually listened to you, Antoinette, if you had been alone with him."
"It's not your fault, but mine," my mother corrected him. "If I had come up with a better excuse why I had come to see him, instead of stammering like a little chorus girl on her first day at the opera, he wouldn't have looked at the door at all. Perhaps I shouldn't have told him the truth either. I should have known he wouldn't believe me. I just talked too much because I felt that he wasn't listening properly. You did it correctly, Meg. You only said what was necessary…"
"…because I was too much of a coward to say more," I finished her sentence bitterly. "Maybe he'd have believed us if I had supported you more. Maybe – "
"How can you call yourself a coward?" my husband interrupted me. "You were so brave. You saved my life… and so did you!" he added, nodding at my mother. "This proves that you've done at least one thing right: You saved me."
"And you did one thing right by finding the Opera Ghost in the first place," I reminded him. "Without you, we'd have probably wandered through the opera for hours without as much as seeing him."
Silence followed my words as we all took in what he had told each other. In a strange way, it was comforting to know that the others felt just as guilty as I did, for it took some of the weight from my shoulders. Yet the hopelessness remained. What was there left for us to do? At least we had had a plan before, even though if hadn't been a very good plan. But now… even if we found the Opera Ghost a second time, I couldn't think of anything that would make him believe us.
"I think – " I started, only to be interrupted by a scream. We stopped dead, looking into the direction it had come from. A girl was running towards us, followed by another girl.
"Give it back!" the second girl yelled, trying to grab the first one her by her long hair. "That's my comb, and I need it. You can have it later!"
"But I need it first! I – "
At this point, the girls reached us. The first one, who had been looking over her shoulder at her friend, nearly collided with Jean, who had been walking at the front of our little group.
"Oooh," the girl said, taking in his handsome appearance and batting her eyelashes stupidly. "I'm so sorry, Monsieur. I didn't realise someone was here, or I'd have never run that quickly… although I certainly wouldn't mind being caught in your strong arms." She beamed at him, and I felt the sudden wish to strangle her. "I'm Janelle. What's your name?"
"His name is Jean Tavoire, and he is my son-in-law," my mother stated coldly. Once more, she had been faster than me. "If you had spent the two weeks since you've come here listening to what people tell you instead of looking after every more or less handsome man you see, you'd know that."
"Mme.Giry!" the girl exclaimed, staring at my mother as if she had just appeared out of thin air. "I… I didn't see you…"
"Undoubtedly," my mother said.
I walked up to Jean and took his hand. He looked at me in gratitude. He was a successful business man, but in the face of such an amount of female charms, he just didn't know what to do. He had been just the same when I had fist met him.
"Why don't you go to your dressing room now?" I suggested sweetly, seeing that the girl still hadn't moved. "And do give that comb back. If you need one, there's always the possibility of buying one. They're not that expensive. Believe it or not, even without a rich husband, you'll be able to afford one." Jean's shoulders shook suspiciously, and I knew that he was holding back laughter.
"O-of course," Janelle muttered, turning around. "Marie! Here's – " But her friend had already left, after taking one look at my mother. Janelle shrugged and hurried away.
If nothing else, this little scene had shown us one thing: The lunch break was over, and everyone was returning to the opera. We couldn't go on with our search, even if we had known whom or what to look for.
"Well, that was… interesting," Jean remarked with a chuckle. "But how do we go on?"
"We have to go now," my mother replied. "The last rehearsal starts at three o'clock."
"Couldn't we just… not go?" I suggested hesitantly, already guessing what the answer would be.
Predictably, she looked at me as if I had gone mad.
"Of course not," she answered, shaking her head about such an absurd idea. "People would notice it at once. A rehearsal without the ballet mistress and the most important dancer… impossible. Besides, what would you do if you were free to go?"
"I… I don't know," I admitted. "But there has to be something we can do. We cannot just go on as if nothing had happened."
"I know what you mean," my mother assured me gently. "But going on with our usual duties is exactly what we've got to do now. There is no other possibility for us."
"She's right," Jean added. "And there are so many stories about the Opera Ghost disturbing rehearsals or attending performances. Maybe he'll show up later and – "
"And what?" I asked miserably. "You're forgetting that this is no longer about finding him, but about waking him up from that dreadful state of mind. We still have no idea how to do that."
Instead of giving a verbal reply, my husband leaned down to me and kissed my forehead softly.
"We'll find a way," he whispered. "Somehow, we'll find a way."
In that moment I was inclined to believe him. I looked up into his eyes, which were shining with affection, and felt my heart leap in my chest. If there was one thing that could drive all negative thoughts out of my head, it was love.
Love…
"I think only Christine can make him wake up," I said pensively. "Perhaps she'll meet him in the cellars. I could imagine that he went down there after he was finished laughing at us. And if he sees her, and she looks at him like this…"
"…he'd be a fool not to wake up," Jean declared. "A beautiful woman – though not as beautiful as you, of course – looking at him with eyes full of love… yes, I also think it could work. But you do realise what this means, don't you?"
"I hope it means that Erik will become normal again," I replied. "What else are we doing this for?"
"Of course, but I was talking about what it means for us, in this very moment," Jean explained. "It means that we don't have to continue our search, that we don't have to try and find a solution."
"So you want to give up?" I asked slowly. I couldn't believe he was suggesting that, after all we had done.
"I wouldn't call it ´giving up´," he corrected me gently. "We're handing over the task to the person who can do it best."
"Jean's right," my mother said. "We've done all we can. Apparently the Opera Ghost isn't able to listen to reason at the moment, and that's the only approach I can try. Christine has many more things she can do. Perhaps he'll be more… responsive to them…" She turned her head away from us quickly, but I could have sworn that I had seen her blush slightly. My cheeks grew rosy as well, for the thought of Christine applying those methods was rather strange, as if I were intruding on her privacy.
Looking up at Jean, I saw that he had blushed as well, but I also noticed that our embrace had become rather tighter than before. There was a certain sparkle in his eyes which I only knew too well.
"How far is it to your dressing room?" he asked conversationally, but he couldn't fool me. I knew what he was up to.
"Down this corridor and round the corner," I replied. The strange feeling in my belly had turned into something far more pleasant. "It's not far."
"Then I suggest you go there," my mother remarked, making both of us jump. I had almost forgotten that she was there. "It's only a matter of time till the next group of chorus girls will march through this corridor, and although I'm sure that finding you in such a situation would be an excellent reminder of who Jean belongs to, it would be a little… inappropriate."
By now, our faces had turned scarlet. We weren't used to discussing such things.
"Of course," Jean and I muttered like two obedient children and hurried away, giggling uncontrollably. We truly deserved a little pleasure after all the worries we had had.
"I'm certain that Christine and Erik are already celebrating their reunion," Jean whispered. "So why shouldn't we have a little celebration ourselves?"
I nodded.
"We're celebrating our love," I told him.