The bag of ice the kitchen staff had given Raoul for his eye and lip felt like fire on his skin, turning it bright pink. He pressed it harder into his face as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom, the sounds of the party carrying on behind him.
Raoul was relishing the pain. The pain was grounding. The mild agony broke up the ugly flashes of memory that kept threatening to surface, as pain, icy and burning all at once, demanded the spotlight of his attention. He pressed the ice further into his skin, trying not to think, just to feel this sting, bright and present.
But it was no use. The floodgates had opened now.
Raoul saw himself, shaking and trembling, as he had packed his bags that night, shirts strewn across his four-poster bed haphazardly dumped into a large black trunk. He remembered how he had looked up again at the depiction of Christ on the cross above his bed, beaten and bloody, and for a moment experienced a wave of nausea so severe he thought he might pass out. He remembered Antony pleading with him, on the stairs, in the bedroom, apologising, begging Raoul to look at him, to calm down, insisting that it wasn't all as bad as it seemed. Raoul had been silent. His mouth had snapped shut that night like a spring trap and it felt like it was still snapped shut now. If he didn't talk about it, didn't acknowledge it, maybe he could shift reality with the sheer force of his will, maybe he could force it to not be real.
He had walked out of Toadie's family's house that night, through the iron gates, Antony calling to him from the gravel driveway. As he walked along the highway a kind traveller had offered him a lift to London, where hours later he found himself, still unable to speak, his mother pleading with him to tell her what was wrong, his father suspicious and silent. He stayed for several days, and when the letter from Toadie came and his mother sobbed and his father said the unforgivable, he took the money he had left and got on a train to France.
Raoul could hear shouting now as he approached the top of the stairs, which became clearer as he walked down the long hall towards his bedroom.
"…you have been lying to me for weeks! You and that boy…don't plead ignorance now!"
Raoul approached Christine and Erik's bedroom, which was swung ajar, the light from inside spilling out into the dark hallway.
"Erik, I haveliterally no idea what you're talking about!"
"Liar!"
Raoul grimaced. Erik was right. She had been lying to Erik for months. Christine already knew, what Raoul was. She had known since she was twelve years old. Since she had kissed him, and to avoid breaking his best friend's heart, he'd had no choice but to tell the truth.
Raoul's feet felt like lead as he dragged them towards the shouting couple's door. He was shaking, all over, and everything felt unreal, somehow.
He felt that he should get to the door, though. Explain to Erik that Christine was only trying to help him. She was good, really. Erik shouldn't worry. It was Raoul, broken, disgusting Raoul, who had made her lie to him. Forbidden her from ever telling a soul. Erik should at least yell at the right person.
Raoul appeared at the door, and Erik and Christine's heads both whipped around to face him.
"Well, isn't this marvellous." Erik laughed humourlessly. "The man of the bloody hour."
They were standing on opposite sides of the bedroom. Erik looked furious and distraught. Christine's face was tear-streaked and angry, black makeup running down her cheeks. Her carefully styled hair had unravelled and fell wildly around her face.
"Raoul are you alright?" She gasped, seeing his bloody lip and black eye.
"That's deeply unsatisfying." Erik said, tilting his head to look at Raoul. "I rather wish I had been able to give you that shiner myself."
"I tripped." Raoul said and Erik laughed harshly.
"It appears you share my wife's aversion to truth, de Chagny."
"I'm not lying to you!" Christine said through gritted teeth.
"Do you think I'm an imbecile, Christine?" Erik seethed, glaring at his wife. "This whole damn time you've been sneaking around behind my back with that boy. You told me I was paranoid, but I wasdamnright."
"That's bullshit, Erik!"
"I knew." He said again, his teeth bared. "I knew you were in love with him. I could see it. This whole summer, you've been trying, testing, seeing if you still had a chance with your childhood sweetheart, trying desperately to find a way outof this marriage. A marriage which apparently makes you so unhappy!"
"What?" Raoul said in confusion.
"Oh, don't play innocent, de Chagny." Erik said, the pain evident now in his angry eyes as he turned his head around to face Raoul. "Your dear friends from Cambridge told me all about what you're like. Running around behind your poor fiancé's back with another woman. Or was it multiple women, de Chagny? Is my wife just once of many? You're quite the lothario indeed!"
"That's not – " Raoul started.
"Erik, stop!" Christine snapped. "Just stop. You've completely got the wrong end of the stick, and the things you're saying – they're awful. I don't know what Toadie told you but he's lying."
"Lies!" Erik roared, and Christine and Raoul both flinched. "I can't believe I was so blind. Even today, you were jealous of Megan Giry, following your loveraround! Of course you want handsome de Chagny. Of course you would regret this marriage to a broken, ugly – "
"Erik, stop!"
" – disgusting excuse for a man. Well, don't blame me for your bad decisions, Christine. You walked down that aisle, you made those vows, youswore to forsake all others. You can ask Godto forgive you, because Christ knows I never will – "
Christine walked towards Erik now, entreating him to listen, the anger in her seemed to have broken, replaced with naked horror at his venomous words, her eyes wide and pleading. Her small hands clasped onto his shirt front but he seemed determined to avoid touching her, or looking at her, his own hands were held high in the air, out of her reach.
"I knew it." He repeated. "I knew it, I knew it."
"Erik, look at me. Toadie and Graham are liars, terrible liars."
Erik's looked at his wife. His pained eyes wavered for a minute, uncertain, as he searched her expression, before he looked away again, his face hardening again.
"Did you even really want a child with me, Christine?" Erik said coldly. "Or was that just a seed – an idea to plant – so that you could justify leaving with de Chagny."
Christine's hands fell limp to her sides.
"Erik, that was unforgivable."
"Sir."
All three stunned inhabitants of the room jumped as the butler appeared at the door.
"Not now, Williamson." Erik barked. "Get out."
"My apologies sir, but it is rather urgent."
"Get out!" Erik cried again.
The Butler's face roamed the three tear stained and trembling inhabitants of the room.
"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you, sir, but two members of the party are causing a disturbance downstairs." Said Williamson, bowing slightly. "They are drunk and disorderly, breaking furniture and threatening guests."
"So kick them out." Erik said with gritted teeth.
"I have tried. They won't leave." Williamson's shrewd eyes landed on Raoul. "They are… demanding money. From Mr de Chagny."
Erik glowered at Raoul for a moment, accusing.
Then with a cry of frustration, Erik pushed past Williamson and stormed out of the room.
Christine exploded into sobs in front of Raoul.
Raoul knew he should comfort her. Knew he should say something reassuring. But he was empty. He had no words of assurance left to give. He couldn't even look at her.
Numbly, as if in a dream, he turned and walked back out of the room and down the stairs, then moved through twirling couples who continued to dance in the entrance hall, all the way to the drawing room.
It was enough, now. Whatever was going to happen to him tonight, let it happen. Raoul was done. Toadie and Graham could do to him whatever the hell they wanted.
Inside the drawing room, upturned furniture was strewn across the south side of the room, books were splattered across the floor and someone had dragged down the soft blue curtains.
Toadie was brawling with the producer, Ian, and several other men Raoul didn't recognise, who were yelling at him to calm down. Nadir was attempting to break up the fight without success. Graham stood to the side, by the piano, watching, and laughing, clicking a cigarette lighter on and off in one hand.
"Get the hell off me!" Toadie roared, pushing the smaller man to the ground, and throwing several punches that landed on nothing. A couple of guests gasped and came to his assistance. "It's de Chagny I want."
"Calm down, man!" Ian yelled, as he was helped up by Camilla and his wife. "You're drunk!"
Drunk was an understatement. There was more red than white in Toadie's bloodshot eyes, his entire face an ugly red smudge. He was clutching a half-consumed bottle of scotch in his left hand. Raoul was fairy sure he had nicked it from the kitchen.
"Andrew Toadman." Erik barked as he entered the room. "Get the hell out of my house."
"Go to hell." Toadie spat at Erik. Then his eyes flickered to Raoul, standing slightly behind Erik.
"De Chagny." Toadie boomed. "Showing your face at last. It's past midnight, my old friend, time to cough up or I'll tell these gentle people about all about you."
"Toadie – stop." Christine cried, running into the room. "Just go, please go."
"Last chance, de Chagny." Toadie taunted, pointing a finger at Raoul. Raoul tried to open his mouth to speak, but his tongue was heavy and useless in his mouth.
"The lady said go, my friend." Nadir said gravely to Toadie, his voice a warning.
"Shut up. No one asked you." Toadie spat. Graham sniggered, but a few people raised their voices in protest, including Peter. Camilla stood beside him, looking angry and wary.
"You'll want to hear what I have to say, Christine." Toadie growled. "If your husband hasn't told you already."
"Toadie – stop! I know Agatha's your cousin, I know you're upset that Raoul broke it off with her – but this is beyond ridiculous!"
"And do you know whyhe broke it off with my cousin, innocent Miss Daae?"
"Mrs Destler." Christine said through gritted teeth.
"You're a sneaky bastard, de Chagny." Graham sneered from beside the piano, looking at Raoul. "You have the gall to come and stay in her house, and she doesn't even know. What you are."
"What the hell is going on?" Erik said through gritted teeth.
Christine looked at Raoul with eyes gone round with horror. Finally, the penny appeared to drop for her.
"Raoul, does Toadie …know?"
"He's a filthy fag." Toadie spat.
Raoul's entire body had gone numb. He gripped the back of one of the lounge chairs, fearful that he might collapse. There was a ringing in his ears that had nothing to do with the alcohol or the punches he had sustained to the face. He felt he was almost floating somewhere outside of his body, an observer of the nightmarish scene taking place in front of him, a scene that surely, must be happening to someone else.
The room was very quiet, for a moment.
"Don't you dare say that word again." Christine said very softly.
"It's true." Toadie said, looking from Christine's face to Erik's then to Raoul's, not bothering to disguise his obvious glee. "Poor Agatha caught him kissing a man, another freak we thought was our friend, shirt off, naked, disgusting."
Erik seemed to be experiencing several conflicting emotions at once. His eyes were wide and horrified, his mouth open and slack. He looked at his wife, who was staring at the ground.
"Dear God. Christine." Erik choked out. "I'm so sorry."
"I think you should go, boy." Nadir said softly to Toadie in the very quiet room.
"Did you not hear me?" Toadie said loudly, glancing around the room. "Raoul de Chagny is a filthy, disgusting – "
Erik's turned away from his wife and back to Toadie.
"And you're a drunk imbecile." He snapped. "Get out of my house. I'd warn you against making me say it again."
"What?" Toadie said, dumbfounded.
"He's a sympathiser." Graham sneered. "Like to surround yourselves with freaks, do you, Destler? Does it make you feel better about your ugly fucking face? I heard one of your students saw it once, what's under there, just a glimpse. It was so bad she was in an institution for a month. Should've just let that fire get the rest of you."
Erik's fist collided with Graham's nose before Raoul had even comprehended that he had stepped close enough to land the punch. Several women screamed, and Toadie immediately launched at Erik, swiftly intercepted by Nadir's and Peter, against whom he struggled, cursing.
"You've had a degenerate living with you, under your roof, eating your food, hanging around your wife, and you didn't even know." Toadie screamed, his face contorted with rage. "You should be grateful to me."
"Grateful?" Erik seethed, taking a step closer, and Raoul found himself bracing for Erik to land another punch. "You come into our home, insult and batter our guests, disobey the explicit demands of my wife that you leave, and you think we should be grateful? Youshould be grateful that we haven't yet called the fuckingpolice, which we will, immediately, if you don't get out."
Toadie flinched as the swearword left Erik's mouth, but otherwise remained silent. Slowly, he shook off Nadir and Peter, angry.
As Erik gestured to the door with a pointed finger which was shaking with anger, Toadie and Graham exchanged a glance, and finally, complied. Graham pushed a platter of empty champagne glasses resting on a cabinet over as he walked by, shards of glass shattering and splintering on the ground.
"You'll be sorry about this." Toadie seethed as he walked out of the front door. "All of you – you're all disgusting sympathisers. God is watching. You're going to burn in hell! I guarantee it! I guarantee it!"
When they were gone, the room was very quiet. Christine turned to Raoul.
"Oh God, Raoul." She choked out. She held out a hand which clasped one of his.
Raoul couldn't look at anyone's face. He couldn't bear to be here a second longer. Not really knowing where he was going or why, he dropped Christine's hand, turned around, and walked out of the room.
In the entrance hall the band was just starting up a song again, a little unsettled and out of sync, after the interruption. Previously dancing couples regarded him curiously as he walked past.
Outside, the partygoers appeared impervious to Toadie's disruption, but the party was clearly winding down. Couples were leaving, drunk women in high heels tripping over discarded platters of food on the floor, giggling as they made their way to their motor cars to drive off into the night.
Raoul walked through broken champagne bottles, past the huge birthday cake which was still sitting out, melting, uneaten, past decorations lying forlornly on the ground, out into the cool night. The grass was dewy and wet, Raoul could feel water seep through his shoes as he wandered down towards the lake. The sound of chatter and music grew fainter as the lake's cool black water grew larger.
At the lake's edge Raoul sat down. The dew seeped through his trousers. He didn't know how long he sat there, his mind was strangely blank. He couldn't see much of the party from here, but he did watch as Camilla and Peter, hand in hand, slowly walked the short distance across the Destler's lawn to their nearby property, going home. What must they think of him? Raoul's face burned in shame.
He heard Christine approach before he saw her blue dress reflected behind his own image in the water.
"I'll go – if you want me to." She said hesitantly. "I just came to see if you're ok."
"You don't have to go." Raoul said. "It might be the last time I see you, for a while."
Christine sat down beside him. They both watched the lapping black water move in the darkness.
"What do you mean?" Christine said hesitantly.
"Well – Erik will want me gone."
"What? Erik is very remorseful." She said. "Very remorseful." She said again, with some bitterness.
Raoul looked at her curiously.
"But surely he wants me gone now that he knows?"
Christine looked at Raoul with a furrowed brow. "Oh Raoul, not everyone thinks like Toadie and Graham. You really think I'd marry someone who would hate you for that?"
Raoul looked back at the lake, distressed.
"All through that argument – you just let him say those awful things to you. You could have just told him."
"I promised you not to."
Raoul's face crumpled, tears escaping his bloodied eye.
"I don't deserve you."
"Me! I created this awful mess. Oh God, Raoul, I wish you had just told me. I never would have invited them…"
Raoul shook his head slowly. "I just wanted to forget. I just feel so…ashamed."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of. Toadie and Graham are monsters."
Christine and Raoul both stared at the lake for some time. She didn't ask any further questions, just held his hand, tightly, but Raoul found with surprise his mouth starting to move, tentatively, stiffly, like a muscle that hadn't been exercised in a very long time.
He told her about the weekend away with Agatha. The big glistening wedding ring on her finger, the ring Christine had reluctantly helped him choose, erstwhile urging him to be honest with himself and his feelings. How he had tried to want Agatha, but just couldn't. How he hadn't been able to take his eyes off Antony, to his shame, the whole weekend. About how her voice was there, singing, as Raoul had kissed Antony, how the music had obscured the sound of the door opening, how Agatha had came home early and seen.
"Did Toadie tell your father?"
"Yes. He said … some terrible things."
Christine squeezed his hand.
"But it was harder to see mother." Raoul said, aware suddenly that tears were rolling down his face. "She was just numb. Horrified. Toadie might as well have told her I'd died."
Christine shook her head sadly. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry I created such conflict between you and Erik."
"Oh God, Raoul. Erikcreated the conflict between me and Erik. I can't tell you how immensely insulting it is, that he would believe Toadie over me."
"If I'd just let you tell him…there wouldn't have been so much suspicion."
"He should just trust me. I've never given him any reason not to."
Raoul considered this for a while.
"It can be hard to believe, sometimes. That someone so wonderful loves you. God knows I feel that way about you."
Christine regarded him curiously, a half-smile on her lips. "You sound almost on hisside."
"I think Erik and I are both rather well versed in self-hatred." Raoul said drily. "Can you ever forgive him?"
"I don't know." Christine said, her expression darkening. "I feel so angry with him tonight. I'm doubting it for the first time."
Raoul and Christine sat for a long while, embracing, looking into the dark lake. They watched as some of the last few stragglers from the party drove away from the Chateau des Lavandes and into the night.
After a while, Raoul became aware of the faint sounds of the dog barking.
Christine looked up at the house, her eyebrows furrowing together.
"That's strange. I asked Williamson to make sure Della was out of the way."
A booming crash came from the house. Raoul and Christine looked at each other in alarm and scrambled to their feet.
"Do you smell that?" Christine said. Raoul sniffed the air.
"Smoke."
"What on Earth..?"
Christine and Raoul looked up at the chateau in horror as the entire west wing erupted into flames, orange and yellow bursts of colour lighting up the night and illuminating the nearby forest, ghostly and grey.
"You don't think Toadie and Graham…when they told us to burn in hell…?" Christine's eyes grew wide. "Surely they wouldn't."
"They had that bottle of Scotch." Raoul said "And Graham's lighter. Some of those storerooms are packed with the wooden furniture we cleared for the party…"
Another eruption sounded from the house, and Raoul and Christine watched as the remaining few guests started to flood out of the various doors, screaming, panicking, making their way towards the lake. There was an unmistakable whoosh as another large section of the house burst into flames.
"Oh my God, Raoul." Christine said, her eyes widening. "The children are asleep upstairs."
"Christine! Don't!" Raoul cried but she was already running towards the house, barefoot across the wet grass, her blue dress tumbling behind her as she ran.
Raoul followed her towards the house, pushed back several times by frightened guests running in the opposite direction. He caught sight of Erik's black hair.
"Christine!" Erik roared, stopping Christine in her tracks by her shoulders. "What are you doing?"
"Erik!" She yelped. "The children!"
"Juliette is with Nadir. Antoine – he's not in his room. He may have already got out."
"The sleepwalking." Christine gasped. "Erik – he could be anywhere! He could still be in there!"
Christine took off towards the house, her slender form slipping past Erik, and through the flow of guests exiting the house, before either Erik or Raoul had time to react.
"Christine!" Erik and Raoul yelled together.
Too many people were exiting the back door at once, heading directly for the lake. Raoul fought against the flow with no avail, thwacked several times by the elbows of frightened escapees, yelled at for being in the way. The smoke was overpowering now, flowing out of the doors like a dense fog.
Raoul ran around the house to the front entrance hall. With difficulty, he managed to pry open the heavy wooden door.
The entrance hall was filled with more of the white hazy smoke, Raoul could barely see ten feet in front of him clearly. Through the haze he could make out the chairs and music stands where the band had been playing earlier, eerily abandoned, sheet music strewn across the floor, a few of the musicians had even left their instruments behind, gold shimmering splashes of metal in the smoky haze.
"Christine? Christine?" Someone was yelling, but the sound was muffled. In another moment Raoul collided with a large form, it was Erik.
"Where is she?" Erik roared, grabbing Raoul's shoulder roughly with one arm, his other was pressing a white cloth over his mouth. His eyes were giant orbs, wide with fear.
"I can't find her!" Raoul tried to say, succumbing to another coughing fit.
Erik ripped his handkerchief in half in a wrenching movement and thrust half into Raoul's hands. Raoul gratefully accepted, pushing the white cloth over his mouth, though it had little effect on the beating heat. He ran to the stairs, thinking she must have tried to go upstairs to find Antoine, just as a beam of wood from the ceiling cracked above him and started to fall. It crashed to the ground beside Raoul and burst into flames just as Raoul dived to the side and collided with something soft.
"Erik!" Raoul roared. "She's here!"
Erik was at his side in an instant, and the two men bent down next to Christine who was lying draped across the first step of the entrance hall staircase in the dark. Her closed eyes flickered open.
"Something…hit me." Christine said, and Raoul noticed the blood seeping out of a gash on the crown of her head.
"We have to get out of here." Erik said, and Raoul helped him pull Christine's limp form to her feet. "The ceiling is caving in."
"Mummy?" Came a scream from upstairs, just as another beam, licked with fire, toppled down from the ceiling and crashed over the staircase, preventing any passage past it. Raoul and Erik dragged Christine by her arms out of the way.
"Antoine?" Christine cried, trying to pry off Erik and Raoul's fingers. "Let me go!"
"Mummy?" Antoine screamed again.
Erik and Raoul looked at each other in horror.
"Take her." Raoul said. "I'll get the little boy."
"Mummy!" Antoine screamed again.
Erik's eyes darted several times between Christine and the voice coming from the top of the stairs, agonised and undecided.
"No." Erik said at last, passing Raoul Christine's weight. "The house could collapse at any moment. I'll go. Get her out of here!"
Erik climbed over the burning beam across the staircase, roaring in pain as fire licked at his bare hands. Raoul winced as Erik disappeared over the beam into a haze of smoke.
Raoul supported Christine's weight as she hobbled alongside him until they found the front door exit, blocked now, by thick flames. With a cry of despair Raoul felt his way back the way he had come through the smoke and the dark, unable to see anything now but the flames, which were thrashing at the back door too now, and the windows.
"There's no way out!" Raoul cried helplessly, casting around the room. Everything was starting to spin. Christine's head lolled against Raoul's shoulder and her body went slack. Raoul struggled to hold her.
It was dark and so hot. So unbelievably hot. Raoul didn't know how much longer his body would be able to survive in this heat. He took a breath through the handkerchief, even that was doing nothing now, he was choking, spluttering on the fumes.
Raoul felt himself sink to the floor. The flames were inches from him and Christine on all sides now. The doorway leading to the back exit was in front of him. He was just going to have to jump through the fire. There was no way to go but through. If he could just get his feet to take another step, then another, he'd be in grasping's length from the door handle.
The door flew open and Nadir appeared, throwing an enormous bucket of water across the room in a splash that did little to subdue to flames, but momentarily created an exit route. He rushed to Raoul's side and picked up Christine's limp body.
"Get up!" He screamed to Raoul.
"I don't think I can." Raoul tried to say, but his words were smoke, his lungs were smoke. His one good eye was swimming. He couldn't see.
"Get up!"
Raoul pushed his legs to move again and then somehow, he was off the ground. There was a brief moment of intense heat, and then they were outside. Someone threw a bucket of water over Raoul, and he was gasping, choking, spluttering, at the fresh air.
Nadir was shaking Christine, who's eyes flickered open again. She too coughed and gasped.
"Run!" Nadir was shouting. "We have to run! Before the whole thing collapses."
"Erik's in there!" Christine cried. "I have to go back!"
Somewhere, Raoul could hear a dog barking hysterically.
Nadir's eyes widened as he looked up at the burning house, then crumpled. "There's nothing we can do. His fate is with God now."
Nadir wrenched Christine away from the house, dragging her, and they were running then, towards the small assembly of people next to the lake, watching, open-mouthed, mute, and horrified as the Chateau des Lavandes burnt before their eyes.
"My babies!" A woman was screeching behind them, and Raoul turned around to see Camilla and Peter, running over the hill from their house, towards the group.
"Juliette! Antoine!"
Della's barking continued, frantic and distressed.
Camilla found her daughter in the crowd, launching her towards her chest in a hug.
"Antoine!" Peter yelled. "Where is my son?"
Nadir looked grave. "Erik is retrieving him, inside."
"Did someone call for a doctor?"
"I did." Meg said. "And the fire brigade."
"A little late for that now, I think." Nadir said softly.
The assembly gasped as a horrid crunching noise sounded from inside the building and an enormous section of the roof caved in, pulling wood and tile down on itself.
Raoul was dimly aware of Christine crying out for Erik, her voice coming in gasping sobs. Camilla was screaming. Raoul's heart twisted in agony, for the man still inside, and for the little boy.
A car arrived then, racing, skidding on the lawn, and Raoul watched as a very young auburn-haired man carrying a medical kit arrived. "Medic!" He was calling. "Medic! Is anyone hurt?"
"There's a man and child still inside." Nadir said grimly to the doctor.
Another bang sounded from the house and what was left of the roof fell to the ground, the structure of the house crumpling in on itself.
Raoul flinched as it made contact with the Earth, letting off an enormous boom.
Christine cried out, an animal howl of pain that Raoul felt, reverberating, deep inside in his chest cavity.
The night was quieter then, with nothing but the crackling of flames, and the sobs of dismayed onlookers. Raoul felt himself collapse on the damp grass.
Nadir bent down next to Christine and tried to console her gently. He had little effect.
Raoul looked over at Camilla, who was inconsolable. Her mouth was open in a scream, but no noise was emerging from her. Her child was dead. No one could do anything to bring him back. She would live in agony for the rest of her life. Unable to bear the sight of her, Raoul turned his head away.
"Doctor! Someone call for a doctor."
Raoul glanced up at the noise. It was coming from the direction of the north side of the lake, the side closer to the house. Raoul stood up to better see who had shouted.
Walking up from the other side of the lake, drenched, his formerly white shirt ripped, singed and ashen, was a man with burns on his face. Burns so horrific and deep Raoul didn't know how he was upright, let alone walking. He had no hair, only burns, in parallel jagged red lines, running across his skull. His entire right cheek bone was exposed, mottled veins and arteries pulsating over naked bone in the open air. Half of his nose had melted away, and the better part of his lip.
He was carrying a limp child.
It took about thirty seconds for the strange image to click together in Raoul's brain.
"Oh my God." He said. "Erik's alive."
Christine scrambled to her feet.
"Oh, Erik! Thank God you're unharmed."
Raoul looked at her, the words were nonsensical, ridiculous. The man's facial features were melting off as they spoke. He wondered exactly how hard she had hit her head.
The doctor hurried down to Erik, who lay Antoine on the grass. His parents, Nadir, Christine, and Raoul followed hurriedly.
"He's been burnt." Erik said, indicating Antoine's neck and jaw, which were red and charred. "His face, and some of his chest and back."
"My boy!" Camilla was weeping. "My poor boy…"
"As have you, sir, much worse than the boy, but since you're somehow conscious, I'll tend to the child first." Said the doctor. He examined Antoine. "He's alive." He said.
Erik's hand felt his face in surprise. Feeling the naked wounds, he recoiled, horrified. His eyes glanced up at the small crowd in distress. Several people looked away, gasping, unable to bear the sight.
"Nadir." He choked out. "Your hat – please."
Nadir wordlessly passed Erik his hat, which Erik pulled down over his face, concealing what he could.
"Sir – no! The skin is still melting." The doctor said, aghast, moving to snatch away the hat.
"I'm fine." Erik snapped, turning away. "My hands are mildly singed, otherwise I am unharmed. Tend to the boy."
"You're in shock." The doctor said. "You have fourth degree burns on your face. Once the nerves are destroyed, often one cannot even feel that they are injured."
"No." Erik said again. "You wouldn't be the first, but you are mistaken."
The doctor glanced at him in surprise, peering closer at his face. Erik flinched and avoided his gaze. "My apologies sir, I am new to the profession." The doctor said weakly.
"Well, that fills us with confidence." Peter said hysterically. "Are you sure my son is alive?"
"Peter." Nadir said. "He's doing his best."
"Your son is stable, sir." The doctor said. "He will live. But these burns are extensive. I'm sorry. He needs a hospital. Urgent surgery to save what is left of the skin. Probably skin grafts…"
Camilla wept quietly. Peter's hands shook as he embraced her.
"How did you get away, Erik?" Nadir asked. "We thought you were gone, when the house collapsed. Christine was distraught – we all were."
Erik looked for the first time at his wife, his eyes pained. Raoul expected them to embrace, but Erik looked away from Christine, unable to hold her gaze, ducking his head down to avoid exposing any more of his horrific burns.
"We were trapped. The staircase was blocked by a ceiling beam on fire, our only option was a window. I managed to get us down via de Chagny's balcony. There's a lattice I was able to climb half way down, from there it was a reasonable jump. But my shirt caught fire, and a gas lamp in the room exploded on the boy." Erik said grimly. "Still, we were lucky. The house collapsed about thirty seconds after we made it out."
Christine shivered at how close death had been.
Peter gently kneeled beside his son on the ground, and turning over his face, gasped. Lacerations and burns travelled up his chest, to his neck, to the bottom half of his face.
"Oh, my boy, my poor boy." Peter wept.
"We need to get him into my vehicle." The doctor said grimly.
Several men gingerly lifted Antoine, and transferred him into the makeshift bed that took up the back half of the car.
"There's only room for one more in this car." The doctor said.
"I'm going." Camilla said. No one argued with her.
"The rest of you can follow in convoy." Said the doctor. Turning to Erik, he added, "Sir, I really think you should come to the hospital too, for examination."
"I told you, I'm fine." Erik said. "Go. Quickly!"
"Very well." The doctor said reluctantly, as Camilla got into the vehicle to accompany her child to the hospital.
"Williamson, organise another car for Peter, please." Erik said to the servant. The butler bowed and disappeared.
"I can't believe your luck, Erik." Nadir said, shaking his head, as they watched the doctor drive away. "For such a horrific accident to occur. For it to be fire – again!"
"This wasn't an accident." Raoul said grimly.
"What do you mean?" Peter said sharply.
"We think…" Christine started. "We have no proof. But Graham and Toadie may have started the fire. Deliberately."
"They wanted to punish me." Raoul grimaced.
"They wanted to punish all of us." Erik said, shaking his head. "For embarrassing them. What was it they said? 'Burn in hell'."
"I'm sorry." Raoul said. "If I'd just been honest with you, all of this could have been avoided."
"This is not your fault." Christine said sharply.
"Has someone called for the police?"
"I did." Nadir said grimly. "I hope they are quick."
"They can't have got far." Christine said. "Two English boys who can't even speak French. The police will find them soon enough."
Williamson arrived then, in Erik and Christine's black car, and Peter made to get in.
He hesitated before he did, his hand frozen on the door handle.
"Is he going to be alright?" Peter said gruffly. "Antoine."
"Of course he is, Peter." Christine said with feeling. "He's in good hands."
"I'm asking Erik." Peter said, not looking the man in question in the eye. The little group was silent for a moment. As the first flickers of dawn broke on the horizon, the intricate red lacerations and exposed flesh that comprised of Erik's injury were becoming even more starkly visible. Erik seemed aware of this. He pulled Nadir's hat down over more of his head.
"I know it's not the same." Peter said gruffly. "I know you had 20 years of a normal life before your injury. My son … is five years old." His voice broke. "His whole life, he will be different. His face is ruined. He will know the stares and taunts of other children. But I just want to know from you, that eventually he will be ok."
Erik looked slowly at Peter, then away again, his scarred brow furrowing.
"Peter." He said, after a long pause, the words appearing wrenched from somewhere deep within him. "As ghastly as this face of mine is, it has caused me far less pain than the mother who hated me for it. Antoine has parents who love him." Erik's eyes met the distressed father's. "He is going to be just fine."
Peter looked confused. "Your mother? But…"
"The story you know is a lie." Erik said, his voice trembling. "This is no injury. It is a birth deformity."
Raoul's eyes widened.
"But why – why lie?" Peter asked in confusion.
Erik looked at him with eyes round with emotion. "I know it was wrong. And the lie has punished me in ways my twenty-year-old self could never have foreseen." Erik looked at Christine briefly, his expression pained, before turning away.
"Since birth I was hated for this face. My father left me, my mother beat me. She was highly religious. She thought the devil had cursed me. She sold me to a circus when I was eight. I though I was going to learn to be an acrobat." Erik laughed hollowly. "I was locked in a cage and presented as an oddity for circus goers to laugh at. All through my early life, the scorn and the hatred, it followed me. When I walked out of that burning schoolhouse on the Somme, my mask had slipped off. The adhesive I use breaks down in heat. The medic who arrived at the scene assumed it was a fresh burn, just as the doctor did tonight. He congratulated me for my 'heroism'" Erik laughed hollowly. "He nominated me for the bloody Victoria Cross. I couldn't believe it. For the first time, this face was a mark of bravery…of sacrifice. I was a bloody hero." Erik said bitterly. "How can someone hate you for your face when it saved a child?"
"As fate would have it, my entire squad had been killed." Erik continued. "There was no one to say that it wasn't true. No one but Nadir, who I knew, would cover for me. It felt, perversely, like a gift from God. A second chance so perfect, I couldn't resist. So I took it."
Peter put his hand on Erik's shoulder, looking past the deformity and into his eyes. "You saved my son. I owe you my life. I'll never tell a soul, if that's what you want."
Peter climbed into the vehicle, and was driven away.
People started to disperse then, promising to return in the morning to give statements to the police, and then finally the fire brigade arrived, useless and too late for the smoking ashes. Raoul stood with Nadir, gratefully drinking bottles of water passed around by the brigade. He hadn't realised how parched and dry his throat was until the cool water was in his mouth.
Erik and Christine had found each other, and were sitting together on the dewy lawn, watching the burning ashes of their former home rise, smoking, into the breaking dawn.
"You're still here." Raoul heard Erik say softly to Christine.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I've been lying to you. To everyone."
Christine remained silent.
"You knew." Erik said after a while, wonder in his voice wonder.
"I guessed." Christine said. "When the medic assumed you'd been burnt, I knew for sure. A few things fell into place, in my mind. You're worried you'll pass the deformity on to your children."
"Yes." Erik said simply.
"Were you ever going to tell me?"
"I can't tell you how many times I tried." Erik said, dropping his head. "I am a coward, Christine."
"You risked your life for a child tonight, Erik. You're no coward."
"Losing my life is nothing compared to losing you."
"You really thought it would change anything?"
"I can't give you what you want. It changes everything. I'm well aware I've just been playing for time."
"Oh, Erik…"
"The great irony is," Erik said wretchedly, "There's nothing I'd love to give you more. I would love to be a parent with you."
"You don't even know if it's something that can be passed on."
"Would you take that risk? On an innocent child? I couldn't."
Christine lay her head on Erik's shoulder.
"Why tell us tonight?" She asked softly. "You could have just lied to Peter."
"I'm not sure." Erik said slowly. "I don't think I was conscious of making the decision to do so. The words just...came out."
Erik's long bony hands, red from the burns they had sustained, found Christine's blonde curls, bedraggled and tangled from the awful events of the night.
"I think." He went on after a while. "It was Antoine. Seeing the poor boy like that, five years old, his innocent face destroyed…it was like seeing myself. I was younger than he was when my mother beat me so badly I very nearly died. Because of this." Erik gestured stiffly at his exposed deformity.
Christine winced, and pulled Erik closer.
"It occurred to me for the first time…"
"What did?"
Erik was whispering now.
"That it wasn't my fault."
Christine wrapped her arms around her husband, so tightly, it was as if she thought she could squeeze the pain right out of him. She kissed him softly on his deformed cheek.
"Christine." He whispered. "I've been selfish. You should marry someone else. You could have children with someone else. I'll grant you a divorce."
"Erik, have you lost your mind?" Christine said, incredulous through her tears. "I thought you died tonight. I'm never letting you go."
"I thoughtyou'ddied tonight." Erik said through a voice also wavering on the brink of tears. "For a brief horrible moment, when de Changy found you on the stairs. And the last thing I would have done to you is accuse you of infidelity."
Christine winced.
"I know my actions are my own fault. But why didn'tyou just tell me about de Chagny?"
"Raoul didn't want me to. He hates himself for it."
Erik considered this for a while.
"It's strange. This whole time I've done nothing but envy the boy. For his perfect life. His perfect face. And as it turns out, he's just as damaged as me."
"There's nothing wrongwith Raoul." Christine said sharply.
"YouknowI agree with you." Erik said, looking at her. "What I mean is… he thinks there is."
"Yes." Christine said, softer. "You two are more similar than you think."
"I'm sorry I doubted you." Erik said. "And I'm sorry for lying. I have so many things to atone for."
In the distance the first rays of sunshine had began to break out over the forest. The singed remains of the house smoked out into the orange and red sky.