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Do I Dream Again?	By : LaurieBaker Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 10050 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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After the ordeal in Perros-Guirec, Christine was relieved to be once again back in the comfortable little niche that she had created for herself. On the train ride back to London, she was plagued with self-doubt and had broken down in tears more than a few times. Had she done the right thing by sending Raoul away? Would she come to regret it? Yet now that she was back in her new home, she could lose herself in her music and her teaching while trying to put the pain of her past behind her.

She was especially grateful that her first lesson upon her return was with Geraldine. The exuberant redhead never failed to lift her spirits.

“You must come to see my performance at the Savoy, Miss Daae,” her student pleaded. “I would feel so much better knowing that you were there.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Geraldine...” Christine hesitated. “I really know of no one that I could attend the performance with.”

“Oh, Miss Daae!” the girl huffed with disgust. “This is Eighteen Eighty-Two! I am certain that you could attend without having a man at your side and no one would think anything of it.”

Christine smiled cynically. Geraldine was so young and still thought she could bend society to her own will. Still, there was a possibility. Perhaps Mr. Tomkins would be interested in accompanying her to the performance. He was a musician after all. And the poor man always seemed to be indoors, never getting out much. Perhaps it would do him good to get a little sunshine after that horrible illness he had suffered.

“Maybe I shall go,” Christine nodded. “But I shall make no promises.”

Even that much encouragement caused her student to jump up and down with excitement.

“You can meet my new suitor, Edgar,” Geraldine enthused. “He has asked me to marry him, but I do not know if I care to make the sacrifice to marry right now with the way that my singing career is progressing. Perhaps you could meet him and give me your opinion on the matter.”

“I should be the last person to advise you on matters of the heart, Geraldine.”

But the girl ignored her warning with a shrug.

“And afterwards, perhaps we could all go to dinner at some scandalous restaurant with alcohol and dancing girls. It will be such fun!”

Christine shook her head helplessly with a grin, not having the heart to discourage her lively student from her excitement.

“Oh, and Miss Daae, I meant to get that book from you that you recommended so highly. What was it? That Brontë novel?”

“Oh, yes!” Christine answered with a reverent nod. “Wuthering Heights! Such a sad and romantic story. I cried several times reading it. All about Heathcliff and Cathy with their doomed love out on the lonely moors...but I shouldn’t ruin it for you.” Walking to her bookshelf, she reached for the spot where her book rested, and found it missing. “Silly me! I seem to have misplaced it.”

Christine looked all about. That was so odd! She always kept that book in the same spot, for occasionally she would re-read certain chapters. Where was it?

And then an inexplicable rush of coldness passed through her. She had no way of rationalizing it, and yet she felt that this was significant that she could not find this book. But obviously her mind was just playing tricks upon her. Perhaps one of her students had taken it. But why would anyone do such a thing?

Once Geraldine had left, Christine realized that she had a bit of spare time between lessons. So she made a cup of Mr. Tomkins’ tea, just the way that he like it, and carried it up to the floor above.

Softly, she knocked upon the door.

“What the devil do you want!?” the voice inside growled furiously through the slight opening of the door.

Christine’s heart pounded in fright. Why, Mr. Tomkins sounded absolutely evil! He must be feeling quite ill to be so nasty.

“I am so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Tomkins,” she said timidly. “I made you some tea. Are you feeling better?”

She heard a soft intake of breath from beyond the door.

“Oh, yes, my child,” the voice softened with a rasp. “Yes, I am slowly recovering, I suppose. It was so kind of you to think of me. Please leave the tea outside of the door. And I apologize for my fiendish temper. I thought you were someone else.”

“It is quite alright,” she said hesitantly, rather glad that she was not the person that he thought he was addressing.

“I heard your last lesson with that soprano,” Mr. Tomkins ventured. “Her voice is coming along quite nicely, isn’t it? Although she still tends to sing with those flat A’s.”

Christine smiled at the thought that he was paying such close attention to her music lessons.

“Yes, but she will improve,” she answered with a smile. “Geraldine is quite a determined young girl. I wish I had only half of her ambition. Back in the days when I performed on stage, I...allowed myself to get distracted by too many things. If I could only go back, perhaps I would have done things differently. If I could have only been more like her, completely focused on my art and not allowing myself to get swayed by silly nonsense like romance, perhaps I should have been happier.”

“Oh, I don’t know...”

Christine raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“I don’t see how you could possibly know about my life back then, Mr. Tomkins.” That is, unless he too had heard about the affair of the Phantom of the Opera. She suddenly and fervently prayed that he had no knowledge of the event.

“Of course not, child,” he answered quickly. “I just meant that perhaps it is not too late for you to succeed upon the stage again. If you only apply yourself...such talent as yours should not be wasted...”

“Do you think that teaching is a waste, Mr. Tomkins?”

“No, dear, far from it,” he said hastily. “But you are young and beautiful. You can teach at any age. Yet to be a great opera singer, you only have a small window of time to truly make your mark upon the world.”

“That is kind of you to say,” she nodded, wishing that she could go past the door and see his face. “Often I do miss being on the stage. Mr. Tomkins?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if...well, forgive me if I sound horribly forward, but I was wondering if you should like to go with me to attend a performance that Geraldine is giving. I believe it is to be held a week from now. She would so like for me to attend, but I should feel quite awkward going alone.”

There was a long pause. Then a wretched sigh of despair.

“I would love to attend, Miss Daae,” the voice answered. “More than you know.”

“Wonderful!” Christine enthused.

“But...” the voice interrupted. “I hate to say that I cannot. I am still much too ill. If you and the child were to be exposed to my wretched state, your voices should be out of commission for some time. I would hate to be the cause of such a tragic event.”

“Oh...” Christine answered, dejectedly. “You do not think you should recover within a week’s time?”

“I would hate to risk it.”

“Well, I do wish you should recover soon,” she answered, unable to disguise the disappointment in her voice. “I had been thinking that perhaps we could have tea together. And there are a few musical scores I have that would go wonderfully with violin accompaniment.”

“That would be most improper, my dear, for a man to be with a woman alone in her apartment. What would people say?”

“I doubt anyone would say anything,” Christine answered quickly. “I am alone with my male students all of the time. And Miss Hobbes doesn’t seem to mind if I have men alone in my apartment.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” the voice snorted.

“You don’t like Miss Hobbes, Mr. Tomkins?” Christine asked curiously. “She’s always been very civil and friendly with me, although I think she fancies me as a bit of an aloof loner.”

“You should pay no mind as to what a woman like that thinks!” Mr. Tomkins said indignantly, losing the raspiness of his illness momentarily.

“Well, at any rate,” Christine continued. “I am sorry that you can not accompany me. It would do you good to get out a bit more, Mr. Tomkins.”

“I shall take it under advisement. Good day, Miss Daae.”

The door closed.

Christine was a bit hurt to be so abruptly turned away by her neighbor. Perhaps he was an old-fashioned sort who did not approve of her effrontery of asking him out to a social event. At any rate, he had refused her. And she did not think that she would care to go to Geraldine’s recital alone.

------------------------

Geraldine would not take ‘no’ for an answer.

Therefore, a week later, Christine found herself seated next to Geraldine’s suitor, Mr. Edgar Holloway, at the Savoy Theater. Mr. Holloway was a nice young man who seemed to only have eyes for the red-headed soprano on stage. Christine was relieved that she would not have to fight off his attentions, that she could hold casual conversation with a young man and not feel threatened.

As it was, Christine had dressed as fine as she had in her Paris days. Yes, she was still in a gown of black. However, the gown was of lace and silk and rather low-cut. She had gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to have it especially made for the event. Still, she reasoned that if she were going to go to the theater, she would go in respectable style. And it felt good to dress up a little again. She even wore a red silken rose in her dark locks for a special touch.

Geraldine was marvelous with every song that she sang. The style of Gilbert and Sullivan suited her playful nature. She was absolutely perfect.

Throughout the night, Christine felt bloated with pride as she watched her student perform. Yet, her pleasure was short-lived when she saw a familiar man outside of the theater as she waited with Edgar for Geraldine to exit from the stage door outside.

“Mr. Tomkins!” Christine cried out in surprise.

Her upstairs neighbor was nattily dressed in expensive evening clothes with a walking cane, his white hair shockingly bright in the contrast of the night. He seemed ill-suited in such finery and more than a little drunk as he wobbled to her side.

“Miss Daae!” he called out with a toothy smile. Odd, but his voice sounded quite different tonight than ever before. If she didn’t know better, she would think that it was a different man living upstairs all together.

“How are things at that old Hobbes boarding house?” he laughed with the trace of spirits upon his breath.

“I suppose rather quiet without your violin playing tonight,” Christine joked good-naturedly, more than a little confused. “I am surprised to see you in attendance tonight, Mr. Tomkins. You said you were too ill to venture out.”

Even in his drunken state, Mr. Tomkins looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

“What are you talking about, young lady?” he asked loudly. “I don’t play the violin. I hate the cursed squeaky things! And I’ve never felt better in my life!”

Christine could not believe her ears.

“Believe me, I feel a lot better now that I’m out of that old Hobbes place!” he confided. “Now that I’m not climbing those stairs every day, I feel years younger. Yessirree!”

The world seemed to blur and spin a bit as Christine was sure she was about to faint.

“Just between you and me,” Mr. Tomkins whispered to her confidentially. “I am only here because of a certain young lady in the chorus. Funny how women start to pay attention to you when you fall into some money, eh?”

She said nothing. She was in too much disbelief to speak.

“But I abhor operas, operettas, anything with singing...just a lot of caterwauling it all is! I’d rather spend my money at the gambling hall or the horse races, I would!”

Then a frowsy big-bosomed blonde came out from the stage door, calling out for Mr. Tomkins in a high-pitched voice.

“Pardon me, Miss Daae,” Mr. Tomkins bowed. “My lady love awaits.”

Christine only stared at the man dumbly as he fetched a cab and rode off with the chorus girl.

Edgar Holloway rushed to her side.

“Miss Daae,” he asked with concern. “Are you quite all right? You look quite distressed.”

For a second, she could only stare at Edgar wordlessly.

“It is just a bit chilly out here, Mr. Holloway,” she said hollowly. “I am sure I shall be fine.”

The rest of the evening went by in a blur.

Christine refused to go out to dinner with Geraldine and Edgar afterwards, making up an excuse that she had a headache. As she was escorted home, her mind raced. If the man above her was not Mr. Tomkins, then who was he? And why was he pretending to be someone that he wasn’t? She should mind her own business. After all, it was none of her affair if she lived downstairs from some sort of strange imposter. She tried to put the incident out of her mind. She would simply not venture upstairs any longer. She did not care who the man was. All she knew was that she did not want to be involved. She did not want her quiet life to be disturbed in any way.

As she entered her room, the sight of her copy of Wuthering Heights once more placed upon her bookshelf caused her to shake uncontrollably with fraught nerves. All the while, the strains of the violin music played eerily from up above.

Who was playing that haunting music?
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Do I Dream Again?