The Angel of Music

Dancers, artists, stage crew and musicians ran about backstage, costumes brushing along the floor, props being carried with haste to the stage. Madame Meg Moncharmin and Madame Ruby Richard, the two new owners of the opera house, stared in awe at their surroundings, at times completely ignoring their guide, Monsieur Lefèvre, or Chuck as he insisted he be called, who lead them round the back way, pointing various constructions and architectural points out to them. Not that they were listening much. Their wide, bright eyes darted around, catching the glimpses of gold silk, red feathers, and silver chains being transported from room to room. At one point, tapestries of materials adorned a room, where seamstresses slaved away by bright candlelight, their hands working like lightning to repair any damage in time for that night’s show, Hannibal. As they passed under a balcony, white smoke billowed out from a room, which Monsieur Lefèvre pointed out as the room where the sculptures and stone masons worked.

By the foot of the front stage, the musicians were gathering, the conductor hastily handing out their music sheets and pointing out their seats. A lone acrobat flipped across the polished wooden floor, and the man sweeping it had to dodge him quickly. A group of ballet dancers rushed down the iron stairs, chattering away as they rubbed the toes of their slippers in chalk. Jo and Dean were among them, and their talking stopped as they lined up with the other dancers to step into the opening pose of the dance.

The stage grew quieter and the practice began with the lead opera singer, a tall, heavily painted woman, sang the opening notes. Her shrill voice rang out with the orchestra, and as she finished, a group of singers entered from the side, gathering at the front. The male lead stepped out from behind them, singing his solo, but he was interrupted when Lefèvre walked out from backstage, followed by Meg and Ruby. The conductor let out an exasperated sigh.
“Monsieur Lefèvre, we are trying to rehearse.”
“Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, ladies and gentlemen, please if I could have your attention, thankyou.” Chuck turned to everyone on stage, who fell silent and looked to him, and eyed the two women behind him with curiosity. “As you know, for some weeks, there have been rumours of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true,” at this the lead woman let out a sharp ‘aha!’ “And it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two ladies who now own the Opera Populaire: Madame Moncharmin and Madame Richard.” Clapping ensued, and the two ladies bowed slightly. “I’m sure you’ve read of their recent fortune amassed in the junk business.”
“Scrap metal, actually.” Ruby interrupted with a small smile.
“And we are deeply honoured to introduce our new patron, the Viscountess de Chagny.” As Meg finished, the people clapped more, this time impressed.

“It’s Lisa.” Said Dean, so low that only Jo could have heard him. They looked across at the two ladies who were joined by the Viscountess. “Before my father died. At the house by the sea. I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts.” He said softly, smiling at Jo.
“Dean she’s so pretty.” Giggled Jo, but she fell silent when the Viscountess started talking.
“My parents and I are honoured to support all the arts, especially the world renowned Opera Populaire.” A few people clapped, and the lead singer walked to her and curtsied.
“Madame Abaddon Giudicelli, our lead soprano for five seasons.” The two ladies smiled at one another as a couple of ‘Bravo’s’ rang out at Abaddon’s name. The lead male let out a cough and stepped forward, and Chuck hastily introduced him as Senior Crowley Piangi.
“An honour, Senior. I believe I’m keeping you from your rehearsal. I will be here this evening to share your great triumph, my apologies Monsieur.” She nodded to the conductor, who shouted a ‘Thankyou Viscountess’ enthusiastically. He then turned to the orchestra and signalled for them to begin again. As the Viscountess walked off backstage, she passed Dean, who smiled at her and watched her go. When he noticed she had not seen him, his smiled turned a little sad, and he looked down at his feet.
“She wouldn’t recognise me.” He shrugged, but Jo put her arm on his shoulder.
“She didn’t see you.” She insisted tugging him with her to the stage where Madame Ellen Giry was gathering the dancers. They danced out in rows of three, taking care not to mess up as the managers watched.

“We take particular pride in the excellence of our ballet, Madame.” Madame Giry informed the two managers, who nodded in agreement.
“I see why.” Ruby smiled, following the dancers with her eyes. “Especially the little blonde angel.”
“My daughter, Jo Giry.” Madame Ellen said with pride.
“And that exceptional beauty. No relation, I trust.” Meg pointed out, motioning with her gloved hand to Dean.
“Dean Daae. Promising talent, Madame, very promising.”
“Daae, did you say? No relation to the famous violinist, John Daae?” Ruby chipped in.
“His first child. Orphaned at 7, when he came to train in the ballet dormitories.”
“An orphan, you say.” Meg sounded very much like she wanted him for dinner.
“I think of him as a child also.” Ellen said hardly, motioning for them to step backstage. “Ladies, if you would kindly stand to one side.” They watched the rest of the performance from the sidelines, giggling and pointing out attractive dancers or costume malfunctions.

Just as Chuck came up to the two ladies and was about to talk, Abaddon stepped forward, holding up a finger.
“I hope you two aren’t as excited about the show as much as you’re excited about pretty dancers. Because I will not be singing!” She shouted in a heavy Spanish accent, holding up her arms and turning away. “Get my dog, bring him. Bye-bye!” Without turning around to see what happened, she stormed off, her maids running after her.
“What do we do?” Moncharmin turned to Chuck.
“Grovel, grovel.” He said motioning for them to go after her.
“Senora, great beauty!” Meg shouted, interrupting her shouting.
“Princess, bella diva!” Ruby joined in as Abaddon stopped.
“Goddess of song!” Abaddon crossed her arms.
“Monsieur, isn’t there a rather marvellous aria for Madame Giudicelli in Act Three of Hannibal?”
“Yes, yes, yes but no, because my costume has not been stitched properly because somebody not finish it!” Abaddon bit out, her accent coming through. She motioned to her head. “And, I hate my hat!”
“But, I wonder Senora, as a personal favour, you would oblige us with a performance. Unless ofcourse Monsieur Singer objects.” At this, the conductor shook his head, confused. The soprano took a loud breath.
“If my managers command it.” She smiled and bowed. It disappeared from her face in an instant. “Monsieur Singer?”
“If my diva commands.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Yes, I do. Everybody be quiet!” She shouted, stomping to the front of the stage. Moncharmin and Richard shared a look of annoyance and followed her. At the front, the singer silenced everyone again, and sprayed rose water in her mouth and then pushed the bottle back to the maid, who skittered offstage. She aimed a smile at Meg and Ruby, who stood by. As she started singing ‘Think of Me’, the two ladies looked at eachother, Ruby not bothering to mask her horror at Abaddon’s shrill voice. Chuck looked away, his expression one of pure boredom.

Suddenly, a tapestries’ rope was let loose from the balcony above, and the large cloth came crashing down straight upon the diva. People screamed, darting out of the way. Upstairs, where no one could see, a shadow passed back into the darkness of the opera house. As people hurried to help the screaming singer, Jo grabbed Dean’s arm backstage and shook him slightly.
“He’s here, the Phantom of the Opera.”
“Balthazar, for God’s sake, what’s going on up there?!” Chuck shouted at the man who came running across on the balcony above.
“Monsieur, don’t look at me, I wasn’t at my post!” He began pulling the painting up, allowing a crying Abaddon to be helped up. “Please, Monsieur, there’s no one there.” Ellen ignored the crowd and walked to the deserted backstage area, peering up into the rafters. A single white envelope fluttered down and landed a little way away from her. She bent to pick it up. “Or if there is, well then, must be a ghost.” The man laughed and secured the paper tapestry.
“Senora, these things do happen.” Meg said as a way of apology.
“For the past three years, ‘these things do happen’, and did you stop them from happening? No!” She turned and her red hair flung out from under her hat. “And you two, you are as bad as Lefèvre; ‘these things do happen’. No! These things weren’t stopped! They’re not supposed to be happening!” She walked off, shouting to her maids. Chuck turned to Meg and Ruby.
“Ladies, good luck. If you need me, I shall be in Australia.” As Richard buried her face in her hands, Madame Giry came up behind them, holding a letter.

“I have a message Madame, from the Opera ghost.”
“Oh God in heaven, you’re all obsessed!” Ruby said, rolling her eyes.
“He welcomes you to his opera house.”
“HIS opera house?”
“And he commands that you continue to leave box five empty for his use.” She motioned up to the box closest to the stage with her hand. “And reminds you that his salary is due.” Ellen handed the letter to Meg, who was still quiet.
“His salary?!”
“Monsieur Lefèvre used to give him 20,000 francs a month.” She said.
“20,000 francs?!” Ruby tore the letter out of Meg’s hands.
“Perhaps you can afford more with the Viscountess as your patron?” Ellen said, stepping backwards towards where the dancers were standing.
“Madame, I have hoped to make that announcement public tonight when the Viscountess was to join us for the gala, but obviously we shall now have to cancel, as it appears we have lost our star.” Ruby ripped up the letter as Meg suggested an understudy.
“Understudy?! There is no understudy for Madame Abaddon!” Monsieur Singer shouted, frustrated.
“A full house, Meg. We shall have to refund a full house!” Ruby put her hand over her corset and tried to help herself get her breath back.
“Dean Daae could sing it, Madame.” Madame Giry said, and everyone stopped talking. Meg scoffed.
“What, a chorus boy? Don’t be silly.”
“He has been taking lessons from a great teacher.” Ellen pulled Dean forward.
“Who?”
“I don’t know his name, Madame.”
“Let him sing for you, Madame. He has been well taught.”
“Alright. Come on, don’t be shy.” Meg sounded slightly patronising, and Ruby frowned.
“From the beginning of the aria then please, Monsieur.” The conductor said, starting the music.
“Meg, this is doing nothing for my nerves.” Ruby muttered, still trying to catch her breath.
“Oh don’t be silly Ruby. He’s very pretty.”

As Dean started singing, everyone stood shocked, and even the dancers who had walked off backstage came back, wondering who belonged to the voice. Ruby stopped her fidgeting, and stood in awe as Dean took a cautious step forward, urged on by Jo smiling at her from next to Ellen. Madame Giry’s face showed her pride as she stood tall. Dean was like a son to her, and she was glad that his talent was finally getting the recognition it deserved.