Several hours after falling asleep beside the lake Raoul awoke to find that it was now late afternoon. His skin felt taught and dry from being under the sun's harsh rays, and his dreams, he hazily recalled, had consisted of sandstone walls, student parties and libraries. Something from another life.
Rising now, his stiff joints twinging where they had been at an awkward angle, Raoul realised that someone had kindly lain a towel over his bare chest and arms so that he didn't get sunburnt. Christine was no longer lying beside him on the grass.
Yawning, and somewhat unenthusiastic, Raoul made his way back to the house, which was completely in shadow now, buttoning his shirt up as he walked.
As he entered the house from the back courtyard, Raoul could hear someone playing a complicated piece on the piano, leaping cadenzas and 7th chords in seven-eight time, which was wafting out of the open windows. He could also hear the engine of a motor car being turned off, and the voices of servants greeting someone as they arrived in the hall.
Raoul walked into the hall to see the blonde curls on the back of Christine's head as she welcomed inside a man with black hair and dark skin. She leant up to give the man a kiss on his cheek. He looked vaguely familiar to Raoul and was about an inch or so taller than him, though nowhere near as tall as Erik, and his friendly, youthful face paired with the first streaks of grey starting to appear in his dark hair placed his age somewhere between the two.
Smiling, she turned around at the sound of his bare feet on the stone floor.
"Oh Raoul! You're awake." She said, then turning back to the new arrival added, "Nadir, you remember Raoul."
"Yes, we met at the wedding, I believe." Nadir said, holding out a hand for Raoul to shake with a friendly smile. "It's nice to see you again."
"Oh yes, I remember. Likewise." Raoul said, taking his hand, and suddenly recalling why Nadir's face looked so familiar. He had been the best man.
"I don't know if you remember, Raoul, but Nadir is Erik's agent." Christine explained. "Erik has been commissioned to compose a piece for the opening of a new concert hall in London. That's what you can hear him working on now." Christine smiled vaguely, gesturing in the direction of the drawing room, just as the complicated piano piece came to a halt.
"But are you here on business today, Nadir, or socially?" Christine asked, turning back to the man. "Peter and Camilla are coming over for dinner – I'd love for you to stay as well."
"A bit of both, then." Nadir said as the door to the drawing room opened. "There are a few things I need to discuss with – "
"Christine, there's something I need to hear you sing." Erik called loudly, striding out of the drawing room, clasping a wad of handwritten musical score.
"Oh, Nadir, you're here." Erik said as he noticed the assembly in the hall. "And you, de Chagny." He added with significantly less warmth.
Raoul noticed Nadir glance between Erik and himself with his eyebrows raised.
"Can't it wait, Erik?" Christine said. "Nadir is here to see you."
"What use was marrying this soprano if I can't utilise her when required?" Erik said, raising his visible eyebrow in Nadir's direction.
Christine rolled her eyes, scoffing as Nadir chuckled softly.
"I certainly did not marry her for her pretty manners…"
"Erik, Nadir needs to speak with you."
"Don't tell me this is about the deadline again." Erik said to Nadir.
"Erik, the client is concerned – "
Erik groaned and raised his free hand, waving it dismissively.
"You need to stop fretting Nadir." Erik said. "I told you this morning, the piece is working very well, it will be ready with time to spare."
Christine sighed loudly at Nadir. "Allow me to apologise on behalf of my husband, Nadir. I think he has become arrogant in his success."
"As someone who knew your husband before he was a prominent composer," Nadir said in the voice of the long-suffering. "I can assure you that your husband was just as arrogant before his success."
Raoul's eyes widened in slight alarm at this, but the masked man merely scowled as his wife and Nadir laughed at his expense. It appeared Nadir was able to take liberties with the man that other were not, and Raoul suddenly had the sense that he was intruding on the very close friends.
"Don't be too long, Erik." Christine said, as the two men disappeared into the study. "Camilla and Peter will be here soon. Oh, and Nadir's staying for dinner."
"If I had realised our home was going to be so frequented by guests," Erik said to his wife pointedly, as he closed the concertina doors to the drawing room, "I'd have suggested we take up residence somewhere far more remote. The fjords of northern Greenland, perhaps?"
Christine shook her head as she turned away from the door, but the faint outlines of her dimples suggested she was trying not to smile.
Christine went into the kitchen then, to instruct the servants on the evening meal, and Raoul read a novel on a deck chair in the garden without taking much of it in. He was still drowsy from the afternoon sun, and his thoughts kept flittering away from the present.
Cambridge University
January 1922
Raoul checked his appearance again in the floor length mirror in his dormitory. He was still slightly gaunt and pale from the sickness that had kept him bedbound for the last month, but tonight he was satisfied that other than his thinness, his brand new suit and tails looked very well on him. A birthday gift from his father, designed and sewn in Paris, it was a beautiful suit.
He made his way out of his room, past chattering students, and down into the college dining hall. It was a formal evening at the college, an excuse for residents to dress up and enjoy a three-course meal with their fellow students and dates.
Although Cambridge had allowed female students since the late 1800s, and 1920 was the first year in which women could take their degrees, men still vastly outnumbered women. Several young women in their formal dresses stood out, pinpricks of colour against the sea of black and white suits.
As one of the very few women in the college, and easily the most beautiful, Christine was often monopolised by men, but tonight she had promised to catch up with her best friend, and Raoul looked for her eagerly in the crowd. He spotted her quickly – she was wearing a long, pale - pink gown and looking radiant.
"De Chagny," Came a booming voice from behind Raoul, who pulled his eyes away from Christine, "I see you've thrown off that godawful flu at last!"
"Yes, thanks Toadie. I'm feeling much better." Raoul said.
"Jolly good news. Be a good lad and join us tonight." The speaker was Andrew Toadman, a beefy red-haired male, known by the nickname 'Toadie' to his friends. Raoul and Toadie had become friends because they had shared a dormitory in first year. It wasn't a natural friendship. Raoul privately suspected that if they hadn't shared a room, they would be indifferent to one another.
"Can't sorry Toadie. I promised to sit with Chris tonight."
Toadie exchanged an amused glance with the blonde, long-faced boy with a hooked nose sitting to his right, another college student named Graham.
"She looks pretty otherwise engaged, mate." Graham said, gesturing to where Christine was in animated conversation with a young man who looked almost comically delighted to be taking up her attention.
"It's a bit pathetic the way you pine after her, old chap." Toadie said. "Take my advice, and back off a little. Women can't stand too much eagerness. You're too nice to her, that's why she's not interested."
Raoul laughed patiently and shook his head. It was no use explaining to Toadie or Graham that his friendship with Christine was platonic. He had attempted that, many times, without apparently putting a dent in Toadie's iron belief that Raoul had pined after Christine ever since they were children.
Eventually Christine peeled off from her admirer and found Raoul. They sat next to each other and started to talk while the first course was served by servants in black dress. They discussed the pleasant end to Raoul's sickness, and some of the college gossip Raoul had heard cooped up in the college sick room for hours on end, before Raoul suddenly remembered their last significant discussion.
"I completely forgot to ask how your new vocal teacher is!" Raoul said, cutting into his lamb chop with gusto. He had lost weight while sick and was eager to return to full health.
"New?" Christine asked.
Raoul's portion of meat didn't make it into his mouth. "Yes – you said you were going to ask for a transfer to another teacher? Since Professor Destler was such a doozy."
"Oh." Christine laughed. "I never ended up transferring."
"Really?" Raoul asked in surprise, putting down his fork. "You hated him! You were in tears after that first lesson."
"I know! I never filled you in on what happened."
Christine started to speak, quietly, while Raoul ate his meal, stopping every so often to exclaim at something.
"Well, as you remember, our first lesson was a disaster. So, I end up going to the head of music – have ever met Professor Frick? He's a lovely man. Anyway, I go along to our meeting with a whole speech prepared to convince him to let me transfer. And I sit down across his big wooden fancy desk, and just burst into tears. And he gives me a knowing smile, pushes a handkerchief towards me and says, 'This is about Professor Destler'. Not a question, a statement. And I say yes, and he nods knowingly, and I ask him if this has happened before and he says, 'You have no idea,' and we both laugh."
"Then I launch into my reasons for why I should be allowed to transfer – that I think Professor Destler is rude, that I don't work well under that harsh teaching style, and so on – and Frick listens politely but then halfway through my monologue, he holds up a hand and says, 'Miss Daae, if I may interrupt you'. And I say go ahead. And he says, 'Professor Destler only takes a limited selection of students each year. Under his contract, he doesn't actually have to teach any private students at all. We have tried to push him to change this but he won't, he hand selects the students he teaches, and each year it is has only ever been three or less. This year it is only you.'"
"And I say, 'He chose me?' And Frick says, 'Yes, and I'd very much advise you to stay. Almost all of the college's most successful alumni in recent years were personally taught by Professor Destler.' And he starts rattling off a list of names, famous performers, people I didn't even realise went here, and my eyes are getting as big as saucers by this point."
"Then he explains that yes, he knows Professor Destler is acerbic, and he can come across as cruel. And studying with him can be brutal at first, and it only gets slightly easier, and that I'm certainly not the first student to request a transfer. But he says that he would advise me, from a professional standpoint, to stay. That if I really want to transfer, I can. But I should really just try just a few more lessons with Professor Destler."
"So, I agree to stay, at least for one more lesson. And so off I go to our next lesson, like a dog with its tail between its legs… because I told this man in no uncertain terms that I never wanted to see him again! And I walk into the room, ready to swallow my pride and grovel, ready for him to gloat, but he just looks up from writing at his desk and says, 'Ah, Miss Daae. Where were we?' So, I pull out my sheet music, and then we're off again. Same as last time, doing the same exercises over and over, and by the end of the hour I'm exhausted and he still hasn't said a single nice thing to me, but I feel better about it somehow, knowing that he chose me."
"So, I go back for another lesson. And another. And he's so strict, Raoul. One afternoon I arrive to our lesson, tired and a little worse for wear after a party the previous night… it had been a busy week, and I hadn't practised enough. Anyway, I open my mouth to sing, and I don't get through a single bar before he immediately stops me, and in a terrible, cold voice says, 'Clearly you've had priorities other than your voice this week, Miss Daae. There's no point teaching you in this state. I don't expect perfection yet, but I do expect hard work. Come back to me when you've decided what's more important, your voice or going to silly parties with vapid men.' And I'm so hurt and angry I almost lose it at him, but Professor Frick's words are ringing in my ears, so I bite my tongue. And I decide to listen to him, and work hard."
"So, this goes on. And though my lessons are only meant to be an hour, at some point I realise that we're regularly working for three hours, four hours, more! That he's just giving me the extra time, for free! I miss dinners, I miss dates, I miss social events… it's gruelling, Raoul. It's why I haven't been able to visit you more. And then one day, as we're packing up after the lesson he says to me, 'That was very lovely singing Christine, I can see how hard you are working.' And oh, I can't tell you what that meant to me, Raoul. I was practically glowing all week."
"And then my performance assessment comes up – I'm so sad you missed it Raoul. I think I'll remember it for the rest of my life. Anyway, the student before me finishes, some pretty little aria, I can't remember. There's some light applause, and I walk onto the stage. I'm singing Le spectre de la rose. You know, the Berlioz. My mouth is dry, and I'm shaking a little. Professor Destler is in the audience tonight, on the panel, and all I can think is that I can't disappoint him. I walk up to the front of the stage, and all too soon the accompanist is playing my opening bars and it's time – I open my mouth and start to sing."
"And a couple of bars in, a strange feeling comes over me. This performance feels different somehow. Then I realise – it's the audience. Usually I'll see people zoned out, fidgeting, coughing… but not tonight. Everyone's eyes are on me. Even the panel aren't looking at my assessment sheet. They're looking at me."
"And I glance at my accompanist for some reassurance, but she also keeps looking up from her music to look at me strangely. Her eyes are wide, and I wonder for a horrible moment whether I'm out of time, and if that's the reason everyone is staring. But then, suddenly, I hear it. My own voice. Perhaps that sounds silly to you Raoul, but let me try to explain."
"It was like I had been hearing myself through a glass door for weeks, hearing but unhearing, unaware of the miniscule, incremental changes Professor Destler had been slowly, methodically working into and drawing out of my voice, all this time. And then, all of a sudden, that door was flung open, and I could really hear it, this new voice of mine. The steady progress of changes culminating tonight in this performance."
"And then it's over, and I realise a few people have stood up. Then a few more. And eventually, even the panel is standing! Then I finally have the courage to raise my eyes to Professor Destler's. He has a strange expression on his face, one I can't read. So, I raise my eyebrows a tiny bit, trying to silently ask him, well? How did I do? And Raoul I can't describe the feeling that went through me then, when he nodded at me, just once, and smiled."
"I couldn't wait for our next lesson. So, right after the performance, I walk across campus to his office, it's nearly dinner time now, but I know he works late, so I knock, my hands shaking. And he opens the door and says in surprise, 'Miss Daae?' But then after a moment he hesitantly asks if I'd like to come in, and I do."
"So, we go through some awkward, stunted pleasantries…But then I just come out and say it: I thank him. I tell him that I can see now that he was right, I had grown arrogant, from being told how good my voice was, I had grown complacent. I thought I had mastered the fundamentals when I had hardly scratched the surface. I just wanted to perform, not work on silly exercises. But I tell him that I see now that the fundamentals are all there is, and that I must return to them over my life. And I tell him that I could hear the change in my voice tonight, and that it's so much better than I ever could have imagined."
"And he doesn't say anything, so suddenly I'm embarrassed that I've said too much, and rambled on, so I stare at my hands in my lap, blushing, like an idiot, and tell him quietly that I know I've taken up too much of his time, and I'll leave."
"But then he says my name, ever so softly. 'Christine…' And I look up at him, and he's smiling. Oh Raoul, I thought he was so nasty before … and he can be …but this smile, it seemed to change his whole demeanour. I may as well have been looking at a different man. He says, 'I'm so pleased with how you sang tonight. You have exceeded all of my expectations.' I could have melted into his praise then, Raoul."
"And he goes on. He tells me that when he first heard me sing, at one of the student showcases, he knew that I could become great, if I worked on my talent. He said he had a way of spotting these things in students, some would never have it, no matter how hard they tried, no matter what he taught them. So, he only spent his time on those who did. But I had it. And tonight, I had confirmed that to him for sure. I didn't only have the talent; I had the drive. "That's why I've been so strict with you", he says. "You have talent, but you need spirit too, perhaps more so. You cannot become great without both."
"So I say to him, 'I want to sing on the West End. I have to make it. My whole life, it's all I've ever wanted. Tell me what I have to do, I'll do anything you tell me to.' And he looks at me, right into my eyes, and he says, 'Put music above everything else, and I will get you to the West End. That's a promise'."