Chapter Seven

“Think of me. Think of me fondly when we've said good-bye!” Catherine's heart pounded against her ribs as her young charge sang, the notes floating from her throat across to the audience, where the wealthy sat entranced by the girl's beauty. It was true – the crowd was more content than they'd been since Carlotta took Madame Piangi's place years ago.

Catherine looked at her daughter, who stood before her, smiling. It had been so long since Meg had smiled in her presence! Maybe, just maybe... Madame Giry reached a shaking hand out to fondle her daughter's long, blonde hair. Her vision clouded as Meg stood still. There was hope yet!

She looked up to Box Five where the Vicomte de Chagney stood, enchanted by Christine's voice. She watched him leave, then sneaked out herself in time to hear his voice cry, “Can it be? Can it be Christine? Long ago, it seems so long ago! She may not remember me but I remember her.” Catherine grinned. There was also hope for her girls' love lives. At least, for Christine's. Meg had never shown but interest in Raoul. Thank goodness. She had tried very hard to keep her little girl from people like Erik.

Catherine sighed. Erik couldn't keep his hands off the young girl he played angel to. At least, he couldn't keep his eyes from her. Catherine had overheard Christine describing to Meg the watched-over feeling that followed her constantly.

She closed her eyes, remembering how she'd felt when she'd first returned to the Opera Populaire. She'd known she was being followed. She knew Erik was watching Meg, too. Maternal fear led her to keep Meg away from all things reflective, and everything dark. She tried so hard to keep Erik from her, but when that didn't work, she set about making sure that Meg “knew” her father, Monsieur Giry.

“Boo!” a male voice startled her. She turned her now wide-open gray eyes on Monsieur Firmin, who caught her by the waist.

“Monsieur!” she gasped. He took advantage of her open mouth by pressing a fervent kiss to her lips. “Don't do this to me,” she moaned.

“Where can we go, Madame Giry?” he whispered into her neck. She shivered, closing her eyes and leaning against him.

“We can... nowhere, Monsieur!” she cried, pushing away from him. “You do not sneak up on and try to woo married women!”

“But, I thought, that is... Meg told me you were widowed!”

“I am, Monsieur, but that doesn't mean I'm free to the public!”

“I'm sorry,” he stuttered, backing away. She nodded, and swept the other direction, back towards the stage. She arrived just as Christine came flying backstage after her final curtain call. She ran into the older woman's arms and wept tears of joy.

“It's just as I always imagined!” she wept, “The lights, the crowd, the cheers. Just one thing is missing.”

“Hmmm?”

“Raoul. He's not here!”

“He was, dear. Come now, let's get you out of this costume.”

“No, wait! There's something I must do first.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Madame Giry nodded sympathetically. “Go. I'll be waiting.”

Christine smiled, gathered her skirts, and rushed off towards the basement. There she knelt, a whispered prayer lighting on the slight breeze wafting through the room. Oh, Father, you sent an angel for me. Now, Father, send your spirit to hear me sing, if you yourself are not the ethereal being that watches over me. She bowed her head, clasping her hands before reaching for a candle and a match.

“Christine, Christine...?” Meg. Father, forgive me.

“Christine.” She looked around. Father?

“Where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect!” Meg cried as she descended into the room and sat on the cold cement floor. “I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?”

“Meg, when Father died, he promised to send me an angel of music. Ever since, I've been watched. Even in my dreams, he's always with me.”

“Christine, do you believe your father's spirit is coaching you?”

“Who else, Meg? Who?” She crinkled her brow, confused. “Here in this room he calls me softly, somewhere inside, hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me; he, the unseen genius.”
“Christine, you must have been dreaming. Stories like can't come true. Christine, you're talking in riddles, and it's not like you!”

“Oh, Meg, I'm frightened. I think I'm falling in love with an angel!”

Meg stepped back, shocked. “What about Raoul?”

“I don't know. I love him, too!”

“Come, Christine. Surely Mother's waiting for you,” Meg changed the subject. Christine chuckled, and they left.

Lurking behind a closed door, Erik watched them go. It wasn't right! He started helping her, and she fell in love. And then there was the matter of Catherine and Firmin. Something was going to have to change, and soon!