At the Opera House

Chapter 9: Christmas

"Perfect." Christine swung a costume off a rack, looking over it's shimmering fabric cheerfully. "Absolutely perfect."

Next to her, a women just a few inches taller than Christine herself, gave a small smile. "I'm glad it's up to your tastes." She said briskly. "And if you make a few changes, I don't think anyone will mind."

Christine nodded and looped the gown over her dress. "I cannot believe we still have so many costumes." She admitted looking over the candle lit racks and racks of gowns, robes, and props.

"Well, they're useful from time to time." The seamstress confided. "Often we make brand new costumes by stitching two or three together."

They began walking down the row, the seamstress holding a candle up to light their way. "The younger seamstresses often draw straws to come and fetch costumes." The women laughed. "They're afraid of the ghost."

"Well, it's only when you get to the third level there starts to be trouble. I've heard." Christine commented, rearranging the silver fabric. "I must say, I'm very glad I thought to ask you about costuming."

"Well, I know you won't have any trouble keeping it nice and clean." The seamstress replied. "And being invited to the New Years Ball is no small thing! You ought to dress your best, and not waste all your savings for a one night dress just to impress the higher ups." She gave Christine an approving eye. "You've got sense."

"About the ball." Christine murmured. "I would prefer to keep it quiet. Invitations are dreadfully hard to come by, and some people might think I was-' she hesitated. "Doing some, "favors" for the higher ups. Which I am not-" she said firmly. "And will never do."

"Of course." A round eye winked at Christine. "I've got sense too."

She laughed, and they turned and began climbing the stairs up the ground level.

Christmas rolled around, and the whole theatre enjoyed a few weeks off. Christine spent her time sewing her costume to the shape and look she wanted. She had actually splurged again, buying a coil of silver colored wire that she shaped into a crown of sorts. It didn't look half bad, she thought, whilst securing it on her head with pins. In fact, it looked rather nice.

The sewing was more relaxed than the wedding gown had been, but the approaching New Year made Christine spend many a hour hunch over the shimmering fabric, furiously sewing.

On Christmas day, she woke and dressed, headed straight to the Giry's. As always, she spent Christmas day with them.

There, Christine and the Giry's had a filling breakfast, then circled round the a small tree heavily decorated with tinsel and candy to open the gifts they had brought.

Madame Giry received some pins from her daughter, and a good copy of Ivanhoe from Christine. When Meg ripped open her packages to fine silk stockings from her mother, and a knitted shawl from Christine, she shrieked with excitement and thank them both thoroughly.

As Christine began unpacking a string of crocheted lace from Madame Giry, Meg suddenly cried-

"Why- I forgot the package."

Madame Giry looked up, startled. "Oh. Yes. Do fetch that will you Meg."

Meg disappeared upstairs, and came running back down with a package so large that she struggled to carry down the stairs.