Chapter 11- Show Must Go On

It had been nearly a month since the last time Christine had heard the sounds at night when she was in her room. Coincidently, it had been nearly a month since she had spoken to the voice also. It was fairly obvious the noises and the voice came from the same origin and since their conversation, in which he told her he was not a ghost, they had not spoken.

She had slept a lot better though.

She hated to admit it to herself, but she had been longing for the voice's company since that night. Or at least, she had been desperate to hear him sing again. There was barely a night past by that she did not think about his voice, about how it had soothed and relaxed her, made her fall to sleep.

He truly was an angel of music, and somehow the thought that her father had sent him was breaking through her usually solid scepticism. But what a beautiful voice he had.

Early on, after they had spoken, she would sit awake in the night waiting for him to come. He didn't, not now, he never did. Christine wondered if she had said something to offend him, or make him feel he must not return. It was true that he had frightened her, especially the revelation that he could see her, but she thought of him now constantly.

When he had sung, she had felt safe, and it had been a long time since she had felt that way. There was just something about him, something about the texture of his voice, something about the authority in his tone when he spoke... something about the purity in his voice when he sang.

She knew it was ridiculous, which is why she had not told anyone about it, not ever Meg but the more she tried to banish the thoughts of him from her mind the more he came back into it. Oddly, she barely ever wondered what he looked like. It was strange that she could see him as only a voice, and to her it did not matter if he was the tall handsome stranger most women would like.

For now, the voice was enough.

She pulled on her ballet show and tied it carefully around her ankle. She took a quick glance through the curtain and saw the packed theatre, audience members waiting to see the show. For the first time since rehearsals began she felt truly nervous.

Madame Giry had told her that since the murders in the Opera Populair business had been fairly good, regardless of what Opera they were putting on. The plan was for this show to run almost the entire year whilst the manager, Monsieur Lefevre, and the various producers got their heads together about a new direction for the following year.

According to the ballet mistress, the only sell out nights for this opera so far, were the first few nights. She said that this was unusual but with there being no recent events and that the shows lately hadn't been of a particularly high standard, no one wanted to come.

It didn't appear that she had high hopes for this show either, though she at least seemed pleased with the chorus. Christine could see her point, with the main characters being played by people who were becoming too old or too weak to carry a show. In some instances it was blatantly obvious that the singer no longer wanted to be there.

Christine could not understand this at all.

It had been her dream for many years to some day perform at the biggest theatres in the world. She was sure that her mother had had these dreams too. She did think it strange that the biggest bit of luck she ever had was also the saddest day of her life. Had her father not passed away and her home been taken from her then she would never have met Madame Giry, and never moved to the Opera Populair. Her father had looked out for her even in his death.

She looked at the clock behind her, it was nearly ten minutes before she and the rest of the dancers were due on stage for the first time. She decided to take a walk to calm her nerves.

The exit from backstage was just behind her, it led into the back corridors of the opera house and she walked out, slowly pacing back and forth. It was darker than she had expected it to be and there was absolutely no one around at all.

It was just her and the silence until she felt the gloved hand curl around and cover her mouth. She tried to scream but the hand muffled her cries for help.

As she was about to sink her teeth into the attacker he said, 'Shh...' and she recognised the voice immediately. Instantly, she felt her body relax, her heart slow and her mind rest slightly.

'Don't shout,' he whispered into her ear and she felt the warmth of his breath tickle her skin. She shook her head and as she did he lowered his hand from her mouth to her waist. 'Don't try to turn either,'

She nodded. 'Alright,'

His other hand reached around and held a rose out in front of her, blood red, tied in a black ribbon. She took it from him.

'Good luck tonight,' he whispered, and she felt his grip on her loosen. She stood still for a moment but was unable to control her curiosity and spun around to see him.

The only problem was... he was not there.

Antoinette paced back and forth, back and forth, behind the curtain of the stage. She could hear the music coming to an end and knew that it was nearly time for her girls to go on stage.

She was missing one girl, though.

'Where is Christine?' she asked, the girls looked at her blankly. Even Meg shrugged her shoulders as she was checking that her shoes were tied tightly.

She was about to ask Joseph Buquet when Christine walked in through the back door holding a rose.

She walked to her. 'Where have you been, child?'

Christine looked at her, eyes wide, hands on the rose.

'You're on in less than a minute,' She said.

'I'm sorry,' Christine whispered. 'I got held up,'

'That's not good enough, Christine,' she said but could not take her eyes away from the rose.

'It won't happen again,'

Antoinette sighed and nodded, pointing her in the direction of the other girls who were all already in position. She noticed a few of them give Christine a hard look, and felt immediately sorry for her God daughter... she could not show any favouritism though. Not for Meg and certainly not for Christine.

Antoinette walked up behind Christine. 'Give me the rose, I will put it in your room,' she whispered.

Christine handed her the rose.

'Where did you get this one?' she asked.

'Someone gave it to me,' Christine replied.

'When?'

Christine glanced up at her. 'Just this minute, in the corridor out the back,'

'Actually... handed it to you?' Antoinette asked.

Christine nodded.

'So you saw your admirer?' she said, choosing her words as carefully as she
could.

'No,'

'Then how did he give it to you?'

Christine blushed crimson. 'He snuck up behind me and handed it to me,'

'I see,' Antoinette said as she glanced down at the rose now in her possession. Nadir's talk with Erik did not seem to have done the trick and she stood there watching her dancers go on stage, she felt an ache in her heart.

Was she so sure that she was not still in love with Erik?

When the final curtain fell on the whole cast Christine released sigh of relief. Her first performance in front of an audience and she had succeeded in not making a fool of herself. In fact, she thought she had done quite well. Of course, Meg was absolutely brilliant, as she usually was and the other girls all did their parts well, but Christine was happy with her performance.

Even Madame Giry had seemed pleased when they all came pouring off the stage and into the dressing areas. She smiled and patted Christine on the shoulder, telling all the girls how well they had done and because of this could take the day off rehearsals tomorrow.

Christine was excited at having an extra day off. She would probably spend it at the market or walking, she was not going to practice at all tomorrow.

She opened the door to her room and locked it behind her, feeling the need for a relaxing evening. When she lit the lamps she saw the rose she had been given in the middle of her dressing table and smiled. Slowly she began to take her clothes off, and put her night gown on... it had been a long night and she wanted to go straight to bed.

She walked to her dresser and lifted the rose from the top. Carefully, she held it to her nose and breathed in the scent. So the voice was her admirer? She felt herself blush at the thought but she felt warm to the idea.

He was definitely her admirer.

Then she did something she had not done in all the years since her mother had passed away, she began to sing. The lightness she felt in her heart, came out in her voice, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the freedom music gave her.

It wasn't until she heard the clunk in the walls that she stopped singing and looked around her.

'Hello?' she said but was greeted with only the quiet hiss of the gas lamp.

She waited for a few seconds to hear if there were more sounds from the walls, but there were none.

'Angel?' she asked. 'Is that you?'

'You have a beautiful voice,' he said, finally.

Christine blushed at the thought that someone had heard her, particularly her admirer, who literally had the voice of an angel. She felt nervous, at once, knowing that he was there.

'Not like your voice,' she said softly, embarrassed.

'You have a very raw talent,' he said, not fishing for more compliments, not dwelling on the one she had already given him. She liked this, his modesty.

'Thank you,' she managed to say, feeling her heart swell with pride.

'It's not perfect,' he said and she felt deflated. 'But I can teach you,' 'Teach me?'

'Train your voice,' he said confidently. 'To help you to control it,'

'I'd like you to teach me...' she said softly, thinking of how much she wanted to hear him sing, how much she wanted to spend time in his company. Perhaps she was being foolish, she had the feeling that she probably was, but she found it hard to get him from her thoughts.

She wanted to know him, to listen to him, to learn from him.

She wanted to spend time with him.

'When would you like your first lesson?' he asked, and she could tell he was pleased. The depth of his voice had become slightly lighter.

'I don't have to rehearse tomorrow,' she said, 'Dancing... I mean...'

'Tomorrow then?' he asked.

'Anytime...'

'I will speak to you tomorrow then,'

Christine stood. 'Will you come out?'

He laughed. 'No,'

For some reason Christine knew not to push this. In the very few encounters they had, had with each other she had come to realise that he was not a man to be taken for granted nor pushed on any subject. Even to her, now, it was obvious that he was completely in control and the worrying thing was that she did not care. She was more than happy to be under his control.

'What time tomorrow?' she asked. 'What time will you be here?'

There was silence for a moment, before he answered; 'I'll be here when you are,' he said. 'Don't worry, I will find you,'