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"You are hardly eating your porridge," Madame Giry noticed, frowning a bit. Meg looked up from her breakfast and looked at Christine with the same concern that was in her mother's eyes.
"I'm not very hungry, I suppose," Christine stated plainly.
"Is something wrong?" Christine's best friend asked, trying to sound as mature as possible when really she was just as emotionally unsteady.
"No Meg, I'm fine. I promise."
"Is it about your dad?"
"Meg! You must not talk like that! Don't you know your friend is still grieving?"
"No, it's okay Madame, really, I was actually thinking of my father. I miss him a lot."
"That is understandable. You will for a very long time," she paused before adding, " I have noticed your voice has been excelling, I hear you practicing. You're very good."
"Thank you..."
"What is it?"
"Well, uhm, it seems farfetched, but..."
"You needn't hide anything Christine," Madame Giry' s voice was serious. So serious her eyes almost hinted that she knew what Christine was going to say.
Christine looked up from her porridge and barely eaten apple turnover. She figured why not tell the only two people on the planet who anything about her what was going on?
"Well, you see, after Papa died he promised me the angel of music, to teach and protect me. And I've been visited by him. I know it sounds ridiculous, I do, but he has taught me how to sing."
"But, Christine," Meg blurted out, quickly being interrupted. Her mother shook her head quieting her.
"Christine, what was this Angel like?"
"Mother!"
"Meg..." Antoinette flashed an aggravated glare at her daughter with the intention to warn her a second time.
Mrs. Giry slowly focused her attention back on Christine still giving Meg the eye from her peripheral vision.
"Now back my question dear."
"I don't know very much about him Madame, I've, uhm, I've never seen him."
Madame Giry immediately looked at Meg, already knowing she would make some unnecessary comment in disbelief. She non verbally warned her a third time. Meg crossed her arms and slumped back in the iron patio chair giving up. She looked away at the street, knowing if she said anything it would be disregarded anyway.
"What does the angel sound like then?" She continued.
"He has sort of an eery voice. He is kind and when he sings..."
"He sings?" Madame interrupted.
"Yes Ma'am that's how he teaches me new songs. He sings them first and I start getting familiar with the tune and then from there he coaches my vocals."
"And how then do you know the pitch in your range dear?"
" He has taught me how to sight read as well but the piano plays on its own when I practice with him."
"May I ask, in what room?"
"Oh no, ma'am I'm terribly sorry the angel told me never to tell where we meet."
"Hmm," she paused. "Christine?"
"Yes, Madame."
"When we get back I'd like to talk to you alone."
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