I own nothing (still)

Chapter 7 – A New Soprano

Christine

How can I write of what has happened over the past few days.

It is all so strange.

So much has changed.

I should start from the morning of the Hannibal premier.

Yes that is what I will do.

The whole Opera was alive and buzzing just as it always is before the opening of a new production.

The stage hands were all busy assembling the scenery and painting the backdrops while the company began a full dress rehearsal – well as full as is possible since all the costumes were not even finished yet (it is so funny when some of the men have to sacrifice their pride and parade around the stage in half finished costumes with their long-johns showing).

Meg and I were running late so we ran crazily through the corridors dodging the swarms of workers, moving scenery and the laundresses bubbling vats – the smell of soap and starch hung heavy in the air.

We rushed towards the others, hoping that Madame Giry had not noticed our late arrival – she pinned us both with a glare banishing the hope of being unnoticed. We threw ourselves into warming up and stretching – hoping to make up for being late.

Carlotta arrived on stage in her full costume, insisting that it had been made too long – despite having demanded that the seamstresses let it down to that length only the day before. Her shrill voice cut through the bustling atmosphere as she hurled insults at the cowering women – her tall frame and flaming hair clearly intimidating the seamstresses. I could not help but feel sorry for them. I for one would never want to be on the receiving end of the diva's temper.

The rehearsals progressed without a hitch for an hour or so (with only the occasional complaint from Carlotta about her costume, wig, stage directions and the list goes on) until Monsieur Lefevre arrived with two other men.

He walked onto the stage bringing the music to an abrupt halt.

Monsieur Reyer the conductor of the orchestra, who can be very temperamental at the best of times, took it upon himself to inform the manager that we were rehearsing, like it was not obvious to anyone but himself.

He apologised for the interruption and asked for everyone's attention.

Our curiosity peaked as we all gathered around the visitors.

He told us that the rumours we had been hearing were true. He was retiring and the Opera had been sold. He introduced the two gentlemen with him as the new owners who would also be acting as managers.

Some of the girls began to whisper about them being rich as they threw flirtatious, coy glances at the two men.

Meg and I began to talk between ourselves - as long as the Opera was still our home let the management do as they wished.

Suddenly someone caught my eye.

It could not be.

Could it?

One of the new managers spoke up.

"May we introduce our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny,"

I gasped.

Memories from my childhood came flooding through my mind as scenes that only I could see danced behind my eyes.

My father and I walking by the sea, a boy rescuing my scarf from the waves.

"It is Raoul," I whispered to Meg "We knew each other as children. He used to call me Little Lotte."

Meg of course pointed out his looks.

"Oh Christine he is so handsome,"

I continued to watch him – he truly was handsome, with his shoulder length fair hair and laughing blue eyes.

I felt a smile spread across my face as he excused himself from the managers and headed towards us as he left.

He brushed passed me.

He had not even acknowledged me.

I looked at Meg sadly as my smile wavered.

"He would not have recognised me," I mumbled

"He did not even see you," Meg smiled back, seeing my disappointment.

I told her of how we had first met and getting lost in my memories of the past.

Suddenly Carlotta shrieked.

I stopped speaking to Meg and spun around just in time to see a back drop fall from the ceiling above her and send her to the floor where she lay in a heap of red and gold fabric.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera," said Meg excitedly.

I sighed in irritation – any incident was blamed upon the Phantom no matter how big or small, more often than not being used as an excuse for the others not doing their jobs correctly...Though a lot of incidents have befallen Carlotta since she began at the Opera.

She screeched angrily as the managers flustered about her, checking for injury and assuring her that accidents do happen.

She snapped.

Her voice rose abruptly and her gestures turned choppy.

She was leaving and not returning until the 'accidents' stopped.

She stomped angrily from the stage, her hairdressers and husband in tow, followed closely by a very agitated Monsieur Lefevre.

Meg drew me back into conversation, mumbling something about finally having some piece. I replied with a comment about feeling sorry for her husband, who always seems to be in his wife's shadow.

I heard one of the manager cry sounding very exasperated "you are all obsessed" and started to laugh, Meg gripping my shoulders as we both struggled to stay on our feet as we doubled over, both of us being more than aware that to outsiders the residents of the Opera would seem very eccentric.

We pulled ourselves together, wiping the tears of laughter from our eyes and standing up straight.

"Christine Daae could sing it sir."

What?

My head jerked up – sing what?

"A chorus girl? Don't be silly." returned one of the managers.

My pride stirred at this comment, what did me being a chorus girl have to do with anything?

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher," continued Madame Giry, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it in encouragement.

My mind screamed at me and I immediately regretted ever telling the ballet mistress of my singing lessons. What was she doing?

"Who?" questioned the same manager – a short portly gentleman. I could see his perfectly trimmed moustache twitch with agitation and under any other circumstances would have found it very funny.

Who?

What could I possibly answer to that?

"I do not know his name Monsieur." I faltered, my answer sounding stupid, weak and unbelievable even to my own ears.

Madame Giry assured them of my abilities.

I was ushered forward and instructed by Monsieur Reyer to begin singing the aria.

I breathed deeply; I had never before performed for anyone other than my angel before. I let the music seep into me and I began.

I was singing for him, my angel, for surely he would hear me wherever he was.

The song consumed me as I flowed through the words as they came effortlessly to me.

I cannot recall in detail what followed.

It all happened so quickly.

After being applauded by those present I was shoved towards the dressing rooms to be poked, prodded and stabbed with needles as Carlotta's costumes were altered to fit my slight frame.

I was in a daze.

Me. Play the lead.

Impossible.

But my angel would be so proud of me.

He had wanted me to be in the opera as a singer and now I was. But not just any singer, I was the lead soprano; I had succeeded with what he had wished of me.

Thoughts of my angel filled my mind as the seamstresses continued to fit Carlotta's gowns to me.

All too soon the doors of the Opera opened and the curtains were raised.

I went through the entire performance in a sort of trance – how could this be happening? That morning I had been a dancer, only a chorus girl and now I was standing in front of a transfixed audience, singing as I had only done before my angel.

The end finally came as I stood before the applauding audience and smiled as I bowed deeply.

I looked to the side and saw Meg standing just out of sight of the audience. I smiled at her resisting the urge to run towards her and jump with excitement. No, I must stay composed, I bowed again and the curtains were dropped.

Before I knew what had hit me Meg had flung herself at me and hugged me tightly screeching in excitement as she told me how proud she was of me. I hugged her back as I drew the first proper breath of the evening.

I had done it.

I had actually sung in front of an audience and had not messed up.

I found myself being approached on all sides by the cast as they congratulated me. I smiled and thanked them all and as soon as I was able sneaked away to the chapel.

I needed my angel.

I entered the dark chapel and sighed as I sat before the unlit candles surrounding my father's picture. I had fulfilled his dream for me.

I lit one of the candles and sat quietly with my hands in my lap, not thinking of the effect that the damps stone floor would be having on the glittering white costume I was wearing.

Then I heard him.

My angel's words of praise came drifting to me.

I smiled.

I felt my heart swell. I had pleased him.

I was about to speak when I heard someone calling my name, it was Meg.

She entered the chapel quickly sitting on the floor beside me and taking my hand as she began speaking of the performance.

Then she asked the question.

"Who is this teacher?"

I thought for a second.

Should I tell her or not? Her mother already knew so why should she not. She was my best friend so surely she would accept my word.

So I told her. Beginning from my father's death and his promise and progressing to my lessons through the years from when I had first arrived at the Opera.

She looked at me gravely as I completed my story and sighed, she was trying to think of what to say. I could see her mind working as she fought for the right words.

"Christine to you believe...? Do you think that an angel is coaching you?"

But who else could it possibly be I answered her and I began to tell her again of the events down the years. She lead me from the chapel, from my angel ,as she told me that I was not acting like myself, where had my practicality and seriousness vanished too, to suddenly believe in angels?

She led me through the corridors towards the brightly lit foyer and left me in the care of her mother.

Madame Giry quickly took charge and I was marshalled to Carlotta's dressing room. She slammed the door decisively in the faces of the questioning critics and excited audience members.

Her serious expression broke momentarily as she spun to face me and smiled.

"You did very well my dear," she praised "he is pleased with you," she added, handing me a flower and leaving, gently closing the heavy door behind her.

I examined the flower.

It was a rose. A deep red colour and wrapped around the stem was a fine black ribbon.

I sat down at Carlotta's dressing table, feeling suddenly exhausted.

I continued to stare at the rose.

Who was pleased with me?

My angel?

No, how would Madame Giry know if he was pleased with me or not, she only knew of him, she did not actually know him.

But who?

I played thoughtfully with the rose, twirling it between my fingers.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander,"

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

"Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?"

My head jerked up from the rose as I let it slip from my fingers. I looked towards the door to see a tall fair figure standing there.

I smiled.

"Raoul."

He came up to me and embraced me as he praised my performance.

"It has happened Raoul," I told him smiling broadly, he would understand of what I was speaking after all father had told him the stories too "Papa sent me the Angel of Music,"

"He most surely did," Raoul replied, all too lightly for my liking.

"Now I will take you to supper," he announced rising from his crouched position by my chair.

"No Raoul," I answered. I was happy to see him but my angel's regulations still needed to be obeyed – no men.

"The Angel of Music is very strict," I told him seriously.

He laughed heartily at this as he made his way to the door.

"I will order my carriage, two minutes little Lotte," and he was gone.

I sat starring at the door for a few minute not knowing what to do.

I was happy to see Raoul, we had been children together and he was a link to my father, but I felt a little angry at him for just brushing my wishes aside the way he had. I nodded my head, making up my mind. I had no wish to displease my angel, I was going nowhere, and Raoul would just have to understand that.

I stood up slowly from the dressing table and made my way toward the changing screen. Lighting the candles in the candelabra I slipped behind the screen and began the task of unhooking the dress, it really was beautiful, but heavy and cumbersome with its collection of petticoats.

Ten minutes or so later I emerged from behind the screen feeling somewhat liberated now that I was free from the heavy gown. I was still in my thigh high stockings and corset but I had managed to find a lace dressing gown small enough to fit me from among Carlotta's vast collection of clothes. I waited for Madame Giry to return with my own nightwear.

Suddenly all the candles went out and I was left in darkness.

I stopped moving and listened.

Nothing.

I went to move towards the door when a voice filled the room.

My angel.

He was angry.

His voice vibrated with anger as he spoke of Raoul and his offer to take me to dinner. But I had refused. Why was he angry? Had he seen me waver and nearly agree to attend; it was a moment of weakness, the desire to spend some time with an old friend. I apologised.

His voice became gentler, he was not angry with me, a weight lifted from my chest.

I turned toward the mirror as I let his voice fill me; my vision took on a dream like quality as the room became hazy.

I focused on the mirror.

There was a figure there.

A man.

My mind froze.

A man with the voice of an angel.

My angel.

Hope you like and this isn't a disappointment.