Most of the phantom fiction that I have read is based on Andrew Lloyd Weber's version of the Phantom of the Opera. This one is a little different. While I have seen Weber's version, I much prefer the Maury Yeston/Arthur Kopit musical Phantom. Therefore, I would like to dedicate Erik to the following men who have been my inspiration, Maury Yeston and Arthur Kopit for writing such a wonderful story and musical, and Charles Dance who brought Erik to life on television in 1990 and to Richard White who has given him life on stage. Thank you, gentlemen for enkindling my love for this much maligned but much loved creature. I would also like to thank my long-suffering husband who finds that he has to share his wife with a fictional character. I would also like to make a final note before the reader begins my story. Most versions of Phantom are set in late 19th century Paris. My version is set in the near future in Paris. Thank you, dear reader for being kind enough to read my story, and now we begin. Rita Richards
Paris, the city of lights! The city of lovers and the heart of France! Paris, the seat of culture for the entire world. It is also one of the most expensive places to live on earth but for me, except for the first time I visited the city, one of the nicest places to live on earth. What a contrast from my first visit over twenty years ago! Maybe because I was a little older and wiser than my last visit or maybe because I felt a little more confident with the French language, I was able to get around a little better the second time I went there. Do not misunderstand me. I am just as cheap as I ever was, but because I knew a few more people, knew the language a little better and perhaps was a little more mature and perhaps a little more cautious as well, I did not feel as depressed over the high cost of living in Paris.
I was able to find a family to board with almost immediately after I arrived in the city so the only thing I really needed was a job. Jobs were and still are harder to come by in France than in America and I had only a few marketable skills besides a love for and mind for history but I felt that if I looked hard enough and long enough I would find something. Timing is everything in job hunting and when applying at the opera museum for a job as docent, I learned the staff was looking for someone to assist the opera costumer in the costume department. I immediately applied for the job and got it.
The story of getting that job is almost a story in itself. M. Jean-Baptiste Bouquet was the head of the costume department at the opera. The opera company that I ended up working for was not the National Opera Company but a smaller company that was owned by a private company that had its headquarters, not in France as might be expected, but in Germany. Nearly everyone that I met that was connected with this company was nice including M. Bouquet. What a kind man he was to take on a middle-aged American woman with no experience in the theater whatsoever! I believe that kindness was in that man's nature but the reader should not think he was a pushover by any means. M. Bouquet was from Normandy and like all true sons of Normandy, he could be tough when he had to be. If I had not known better, I could have sworn that he had been an American Air Force master sergeant. He knew how to accept responsibility as well as how to delegate authority and how to handle difficult people and situations. I truly enjoyed working for the man which is more than I can say for some bosses I have had in the past.
I will never forget the day I got the job. What has that got to do with an opera ghost one may ask? Everything, as the reader will see in a moment. That day was memorable to say the least. For one thing, it was raining. If one knows anything about Paris one knows that its' rain is special. It does not just drizzle and it does not just sprinkle. When it rains in Paris, more often than not it pours! For someone like me from Colorado it takes some getting used to. Anyway, that day it was raining and here I was, struggling to get myself, my purse, and two garment bags out of the back seat of a Parisian taxi. Naturally, the taxi driver would not help me in the least. To this day, I still do not know if he felt that it was not his job to help me or if he just liked to watch an American woman get her things out by herself, but, anyway he did not give me any help whatsoever. When I finally got into the opera house itself I was quite a sight! I looked like a drowned rat, or in my case, a drowned pack mule. Fortunately, M. Bouquet was right there at the door and helped me take my things to the costume room, which as it turned out, also doubled as he office. He must have thought I was quite a contrast from the day before at my job interview. I must have looked so much nicer in my mid-calf skirt, tailored blouse and jacket the previous day and this day I looked,-well,-wet. Fortunately, even though I was wet, the costumes I had that were in the garment bags were dry. Dry and historically accurate as he put it.
"Dry and historically accurate, madame. Tell me, how long did it take you to make this shirt?" he asked as he held up the boy's union shirt to the light. "About a week," I answered, "I worked on it off and on when I could spare the time from my job." "Comment? (How long)" he asked and then he rephrased the question, "About how many hours did it take you to complete the shirt?" "Let me think," I said and tried to mentally calculate the hours it had actually taken to make it, and then said, "probably around twelve to fifteen hours altogether." Then I thought to myself, I shouldn't have said that. He'll think I work too slow and then I won't get this job after all. "That many!" he said and then started to slowly shake his head.
I quickly added, "If you look on the inside of the shirt, you can see how I finished off the seams." I then took the shirt from him, took the shirt off the hanger it was still on and then turned it inside out. I placed it closer to him and ran my finger along the edge of the seam. "See, monsieur, after I sewed the seam, I folded the edges over about five millimeters and then sewed each edge separately. I also sewed the yoke on the inside of the shirt by hand." Then I took the woman's prairie dress off its' hanger and turned it inside out. I showed him how I had finished off the seams by zigzagging the edges even though I cut the dress out using pinking shears. I ended up showing M. Bouquet every one of the garments that I had brought, pointing out on each of these handmade garments different details; the feather stitching on the hand appliquéd ribbons that were on the Indian trade skirt, the silver brooches that were on the cape of the woman's shirt that were a replica of an actual shirt worn by a Miami Indian, the ruffled shirt collar and cuffs on one man's shirt and the pleated yoke on another, and the woman's 1880's style dress complete with the ribbon trim at the hem and the bustle as well.
"This is all very nice, madame. You seem to have worked very hard on all of these costumes," M. Bouquet said after his inspection, "but as I said to you yesterday in our interview, this job also requires some knowledge of millinery. I don't suppose you have any examples of that with you, do you?" he asked emphasizing the word that. "Yes, monsieur," I said as I pulled a bonnet out of the bottom of one of the garment bags. Even though it was somewhat crushed. it still seemed quite serviceable. "Here is an example of one of the bonnets I have worked on." It was a bonnet made of navy blue velvet on a buckram frame, lined with matching navy blue taffeta and it was trimmed with black velvet ribbon on the edges with black satin ties. "Yes, madame. This is very nice but I was looking for something a bit more modern." "I thought you might, monsieur. That's why I brought this." I said as I pulled another hat out of the other garment bag. It was a straw boater with a black bias band on the outside of the crown with silk ribbon flowers in yellow, pink and rose sewed onto the band. "I also have a pioneer bonnet made out of calico that has both a large brim and deep crown in my purse if you wish to see it," I added after handing him the boater.
He looked at the boater and the velvet bonnet for a moment and the asked, "How long did it take to make these?" "Not as long as it took to make the boy's shirt. Did I tell you that the boy's shirt was the first male item I had ever made? Now that I know what I'm doing, it won't take as long to make the next one. By the way, did you notice that the flowers on the boater are made by hand as well?" He looked at the straw hat again and said, "Yes, I see what you mean but as I said yesterday, I will need someone who can sew costumes from all periods of history as well as folk costumes from different parts of the world. Have you any examples of these with you?" "No, monsieur, I don't have anything except the dirndl that I'm currently working on." "Do you have enough room to sew where you are currently staying, madame? I understood you to say yesterday that you only have one room." "Oui, monsieur, that is correct. I do have a sewing machine but it's packed away in its' case at home in my room along with the rest of my things. I don't have enough room at present to do much sewing." He looked at me a moment, then to my hat and then back at me. He pursed his lips and then said, "Madame, I am desperate to have someone help me but I need to have someone experienced in mending as well and I know American women are notorious in their lack of skills in mending as well as in sewing."
"I know this isn't much but will this do?" I asked as I took an old sock from my purse. "I learned to do darning while I was still living in Denver and I practiced on my husband's old socks." I handed the sock to him. He took the sock and went over to the lamp on the desk which was against the back wall. He switched the lamp on, turned the sock inside out and held it up against the light. He looked at it for a moment, then ran his finger along the threads. Then he turned the sock right side out, switched off the lamp and then walked back to me.
He looked at me a moment and then said,"You're hired." I clapped my hands together and then put them up to my face. "Provisionally," he added with a stern look in his eyes that I would later come to know so well. He continued,"Normally, I depend on the government to sent me apprentices bout our government, like yours, is nearly bankrupt and I need someone now to help me. I need help in bringing our inventory of costumes up to date and I also need help with the costumes that we have. I need someone to help mend and repair our old costumes as well as altering the newer ones to fit the current members of our company of players. I also need someone who is willing to take the costumes that are in use home to be laundered. In short, that person must be willing to do whatever it takes to keep the costumes ready for use at all times. This is a tremendous responsibility. Do you think you can handle it?"
"Oui, monsieur," I said. "Good." he replied. "I will show you where we keep our costumes when they are in use and where we store them when they are not. Come follow me, please." He led me into the next room which was as big as my living room had been back in the States. For those who have never seen my living room, the room was probably about twelve feet by fourteen feet. On both of the longer walls, there were two racks of costumes, each of them packed. And what costumes! "Are you impressed?" M. Bouquet asked as I drew my breath in sharply. "Am I!" I replied, "These are gorgeous! May I look at them more closely and touch them?" I asked hardly believing my eyes. "But of course. However, I must ask that you handle them with care." I walked over to the rack on the opposite wall and just stood there. Never in my whole life had I ever seen such beautiful costumes. I spotted a dress at the end of the rack nearest to where I stood. I picked it up by its' hanger and gently took the whole thing off the rack. I looked at it more closely and then said, "This style looks like it's from the Renaissance. Is it?" M. Bouquet nodded. I ran my right index finger along the puffed and slashed sleeve. Then I said, "This can't be real silk. That would be much too expensive."
M. Bouquet walked toward me and said, "That is indeed real silk. That's why I asked you to be careful when handling the costumes." "But, monsieur," I replied, "This must have cost a fortune to make, not to mention the dry-cleaning bills. How can the company afford it?" "It's quite simple," he answered, "the corporation that owns this opera company has a lot of money. In addition, the corporation accepts donations from other individuals that help support this company. And last, but certainly not least, the company performs operas that the public wants to see. All of this enables the company to spare no expense especially when it involves costumes. Everyone, including the owners and benefactors enjoys seeing our operas. Our company, although small, is gaining a reputation here in Europe for its' productions."
"Incredible!" I exclaimed. Then I added, "Are all the costumes made out of silk?" "When they can be," he replied. Then he walked over to the other end of the rack and pulled out a kimono and brought it over to me. "This one is made out of silk as well. In addition," he nodded his head to indicate the rack on the opposite wall, "we have some costumes made out of wool and cotton. I know that you have worked with cotton before but have you ever worked with silk or wool?" I shook my head and answered, "I've worked with wool flannel but I've never worked with silk before, only polyester. I'm willing to learn, though," I quickly added.
"You'll have to," M. Bouquet replied. "There are some other costumes that are not currently in use that you can practice on. They're down in the basement. Come on, I'll show you where they're at." We walked out of the costume room. M. Bouquet continued to speak. "The room that I just showed you has all of the costumes that we will be using for the next few months." He stepped aside at the door to let me through and we reentered the first room we had been in. He continued, "This room is usually used as a dressing room when we are having performances. .the rest of the time, it serves as my office. This is where I assign costumes to the performers and where they turn them in after every performance. They are never allowed to take them home with them. Ever! The company's biggest expense, as you have guessed, is the costume department. I do everything I can to keep expenses down without compromising quality. At times, it seems like a thankless job but when I see the look on the faces of our audience, it makes it all worthwhile."
We passed through the room and went into the hallway. Then we went down the hallway to a set of stairs that went down. We descended the stairs and turned left into another short hallway. We then went just past another stairway that went down and stopped at a door. M. Bouquet took a key out of his left front pocket and unlocked the door. He reached towards the switch on the left side of the door and turned on the light. We descended two more flights of stairs and then turned to the right where we met another locked door. M. Bouquet reached into his pocket and retrieved the set of keys in his pocket. He took another key and unlocked the door. He reached toward the right on the inside of the wall and turned on another light.
I was absolutely amazed at the sight before me. There were racks of costumes on both walls and another rack of costumes going down the middle of the room. There were also two shelves under the racks of costumes that went down both walls as well as two shelves above the racks that also went down both walls. Both rows of shelves were covered with hats and hatstands with hats on them. I did not count the number of hats but I did notice that there were hats spanning nearly every time period imaginable. I also noticed that the upper shelves were rather high-six or seven feet and at least twelve feet long. The racks that held the costumes were just as long as were the ones in the middle of the room. I never measured the length of the shelves so I am not sure as to exactly just how long they really were. Getting back to the story, I must have had a rather odd look on my face because M. Bouquet asked. "Is there anything wrong?" I replied, "Oh, no, monsieur. It's just that I've never seen so many costumes in my life or so many shoes for that matter!"
He looked at me and said, "Would you believe we have fewer shoes that Imelda Marcos? Indeed, we do!" "Not very many less, I'll bet!" I replied. He chuckled. "Perhaps not very many less, but less, I can assure you." Changing the subject, he continued, "As you can see, we are well equipped in the costume department. We also have a large collection of jewelry, fans and other small props in the next room. Would you like to see them?" I nodded. "Well, then. Come along. There's more to see." He led me out of the room, turned off the light, closed and locked the door, and then led me the hallway to another room. We stopped at the door where he retrieved still another key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He reached to his left, turned on the light and we walked into another room, this one being quite a bit smaller than the last one we had been in. He turned left to go in front of me and walked over to a huge wardrobe. He reached into his pocket and took out his keys and unlocked the wardrobe. He opened its' door and stepping away from it, he held out his hand with his palm open and said, "Voila! Our jewelry department!"
All I saw were drawers but there were many of them and each one had a label in it describing the drawers' contents. I asked if I could open a drawer but M. Bouquet shook his head. "No, madame," he said, "I don't come down here for any jewelry or any other props for that matter until just before each performance. If I must, I will come down here a couple of hours before hand to take what I need, especially if there are a lot of items needed. I then go over to the filing cabinet..." he said as he walked over to a cabinet that was on the opposite wall, "...and get a form out from the second drawer. These forms are very specific and are our records that show what props are in use for each performance." He opened the second drawer from the top. He turned and walked a few steps to the desk that was next to the filing cabinet. Continuing, he said, "Take the form over to the desk and fill it out. When doing so, please write in the time that you took the prop, the item that you have taken, and write down the name of the performance. By that I mean the name of the production. Please come over here and watch me." I walked over to him and looked at what he was showing me. It was a standard inventory form that had lines and instructions on filling out each line. It also had a line listing the time that the item was returned. M. Bouquet continued, "I would ask that you fill out a form for each item that you check out and please complete the form when you return each item. I must review each form after every performance and then make out my own forms to send to the accounting office."
"Is all this really necessary?" I asked. "Oh, yes indeed, madame. Every form is needed. This lets our accountants and managers what is being used at all times, and enables the managers to plan out the productions for each season. We try not to compete with the French National Opera as their season runs the same time as ours. If we were to run the same operas at the same time, it would be disastrous for both companies. Also there is another reason. Several years ago, we had an incident happen here at the very opera house. Someone had sabotaged our props and one of the members of our company was nearly killed. By doing things this way with all this paperwork, we hope to avoid such incidents in the future."
"What happened?" I asked. "Someone switched one of our prop knives with the real thing and one of the members of our company was stabbed." "How horrible! Now I understand, and I must say that I agree with this policy completely." M. Bouquet lifted his left hand and looked at his wristwatch. "Madame," he said, "it is nearly half-past six and I must close for the day. We'll have to go back upstairs." "Of course. What time do you want me to be here tomorrow?" "Could you come in a little earlier tomorrow, say , about eight-thirty tomorrow morning. I know that may be a little early but I must open the costume department by nine o'clock and there is still much I need to show you." "Of course, I'll be here by then. Is there anything I need to bring?" "I don't think so for now. Now we must go back upstairs. I will turn off the light behind you." I was slightly ahead of him as we left the room. M> Bouquet turned off the light and locked the door. We were walking down the hallway and had just reached the stairway when I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I must have breathed in sharply because M. Bouquet asked, "Is there anything wrong?"
"I thought I saw something mover over there behind us." He turned around and looked. There was nothing in the hallway that was out of the ordinary, just the three doorways that I had noticed when we first went down-the ones we had been in and the one opposite from the first. "What's in that other door?" I asked. "It leads down to the next level. We use that level to store our sets and other larger props. I'll show that level to you tomorrow." "How many levels does this place have?" I asked. "It has seven altogether although we only use six for our purposes. The seventh is where we have our lake." "A lake? Here?" I asked. "Yes. When Charles Garnier designed this opera house over a hundred and forty years ago, it was somewhat far from any other water supply and he was afraid that if the opera house caught on fire there might not be any way to get water to put out the fire, so he put a lake at the bottom of the opera house." "Wasn't he afraid that the foundations might crumble?" I asked. "He must not have. But just to make sure, the lake is drained every year and the foundation is inspected to make sure there are no cracks or any other damage to it. What were you looking for a little while ago?" he asked.
"I thought I saw something move but it must have been my imagination." "Perhaps. Perhaps you might have seen a mouse, too." "This place has mice?" I asked. "Unfortunately it does. We hired an exterminator a while back. It seems to be working. I haven't seen as many mice since." "Yuk! Mice!" I shivered. "Don't you like mice?" M. Bouquet asked. I looked at him and I noticed he had a twinkle in his eye and I realized that he had been teasing me. I smiled and said that I detested the little creatures and then he laughed. "I'll keep that in mind," he said finally.
When we got back to his office/dressing room, I looked down the hall and through the glass doors. It was still raining outside. Does it always rain like this in Paris. Seems like it's always raining whenever I come here to this city, I thought to myself. I then asked M. Bouquet, "Would it be all right if I left my costumes here until tomorrow? It's still raining and I really don't want to take all this home with me in weather like this." "Of course, you may leave these here for the time being but I would ask that you get them out of here by this weekend. We start production on a new opera Monday and I would like them out of here by then. Also, I forget to mention this earlier but when you come tomorrow, there will be some paperwork for you to fill out."
"Paperwork?" I asked. "Just some forms finalizing your employment here. We have to sent these in to the department of labor, especially since you are considered a temporary worker here in France." I nodded and said,"Thank you, monsieur. I'll get these things out of here by the weekend. And thank you again for hiring me. I'll see you tomorrow morning at eight-thirty. I just thought of something, May I call a taxi from here?" He shook his head. "Not from here. Andre, our doorman can do that for you. Just ask him when you leave."
I put my coat back on. It was still wet but that was not surprising considering how much it was raining when I had arrived. I grabbed my purse and shook hands with M. Bouquet, walked out of his office and down the hall toward the large glass doors. The doorman was there waiting for me. "Monsieur, could I ask you to call a taxi for me?" I asked as I got to the doors. "Of course, madame," he answered. "Will these doors be open tomorrow morning?" He looked rather puzzled at first, then understanding what I was trying to ask, he replied, "Yes, madame. These will be open tomorrow. These are the ones you will be going through. They are for company use only. The main entrance that the public uses is on the other side of the building. What time will you be coming in tomorrow?"
"About eight-thirty," I replied. I waited at the doors until I saw the taxi drive up I walked out of the building to where the taxi had parked across the square. Don't these taxi drivers believe in getting close to the buildings in weather like this, I thought to myself as I ran towards the taxi. No wonder no one likes Parisian taxi drivers!
When I arrived home, the rain had turned to a dull mist. Normally, weather like that makes me very depressed but not this day. I was simply too excited about my new job to let the weather get me down. As I opened the door to the apartment building, I could hear the concierge sorting the mail for the tenants. As I walked by her door, she called out,"Ah, Mme. Martin! I have some mail for you and a large package as well!" "Bonsoir, madame. May I have them please?" I asked. She handed me two letters and pointed to the large box on the floor next to the door. I took the letters and then walked over to the box and picked it up. It was much lighter than I had expected. "Oh, I'll bet I know what this is. It's probably some material from my mother's collection. I'll probably be getting more of these packages in the near future," I said as I lifted the box on my arms. "Comment?" the concierge asked. Then I realized that I had been speaking in English and had forgotten that neither Marie nor my family spoke any English so I translated what I had just said into French. "Est-ce-qu'elle coudre aussi? (Does she also sew?)" she asked. "Pas non plus. Elle est m orte maintenant. C'est pourquoi j'ai recu le tissu (Not any more. She's dead now. That's why I got the material." "O, je le regrette (I'm sorry to hear that)."
Then changing the subject somewhat, I asked her if she would let me know when I received any more packages and that I would make arrangements to have them brought upstairs to the apartment where I lived so that they would not be an inconvenience to her. Then taking my letters and package I walked up the five flights of stairs to the apartment where I lived with the Fontaine family.
As I opened the door, I could hear little Colette cry out, "Bonsoir,madame!" "Bonsoir, Colette!" I said as I put my things down next to the door. I opened my arms to give the little three year old girl a hug. "Ah, madame. Tu es mouillee! (You're wet!)" "Mais, oui, mon petit choux. Certainement! Il pleur! (of course, it's raining!) Mme. Fontaine then came out from the kitchen. "Bonsoir, Roberta. Colette a d'accord. Tu es mouillee. Alors, Colette! Viens!" Colette ran to he mother and the two of them went into the kitchen. I asked Mme. Fontaine if she needed any help with the evening meal and she replied that I could set the table and the she added, in French, "Did you get the job?" "Oui. Je commence demain (yes, I start tomorrow)," I replied. "Formidable! Nous aurons un surprise parti ce soir (Great! We'll have a party tonight to celebrate)," she cried. "Pas encore (Not yet!)," I said, "Let's wait until I get my first paycheck. Then I'll take everyone out to eat. In the meantime, let me put my things in my room and I'll come back to set the table."
Dinner that night was a lively affair, if I remember correctly. As usual, Mme. Fontaine had cooked a wonderful meal, simple but adequate. Even though the meal was simple, it was enlivened by the conversation. The French are just as good at conversation as they are with cooking. M. Fontaine was quite happy and excited because his accounting firm had just taken on a German exporting company as a new client. Colette was happy because she was to start pre-school in a few days and of course everyone was happy because I had started a new job at the old opera house. Happy a perhaps a little curious and concerned, too, as well as to why I would take a job there.
"Dites-moi (Tell me)," M. Fontaine asked, "Why do you want to work there? I thought everything had moved over to the new opera house by the Louvre." "Evedentally, this opera company is privately owned. It's not under the French government management. As for why I am working in the costume department, I've been sewing for at least thirty years and I feel that it's high time I got paid for sewing. Besides, this will be fun. I've always enjoyed making costumes more that I have just regular clothing. I've been sewing costumes for several years now so I've had some practice." I then assured them that if I had to, I would take on a second job if this first one would not pay enough. "Don't worry, monsieur," I finished saying, "I'll be all right." I must have been bubbling over with excitement because they did not say anything more.
After dinner, I returned to my room and started to unpack the box that I had received earlier in the day and it was, indeed, packed with material that my mother had had. My brother, Pete, had folded up the pieces of material and therefore was unable to get as much material in it as I would have liked but perhaps that was just as well because after I had repacked it by rolling up the pieces instead of laying them on top of one another as he had done I found that I only filled up the box halfway. I took them out again and then went about measuring them and writing down what each piece was on a sheet of paper that I got out of my small desk that was in my room. I also took mental note of each piece and how it could be used. As it turned out, there were several pieces of double knit and only a few pieces of polyester suitable for lightweight blouses or dresses. I'll have to ask Mme. Fontaine or Marie if they could use these pieces. If not, maybe they know of someone who could, I thought to myself as I repacked the pieces, rolling the up as I went along. I'll have to call Pete and ask him if and when he's sending me more material. I hope that there won't be much more. I don't have much room as it is, I thought to myself. I readied myself for bed and then looked at the papers that M. Bouquet had given me to look at after my job interview had ended the previous day. Rats, I forgot about these. They'll just have to wait until tomorrow, I thought to myself as I turned out the light. All in all, this had been a good day.
The next day dawned bright and clear. Normally, after staying up half the night, I find it difficult to rise in the morning but not this morning. I rose at six that morning and took a quick shower and then went into the kitchen to make some coffee. Since no one was up yet, I made enough for the adults. I figured that Mme. Fontaine could make cocoa for Colette when she got up. Fortunately, Mme. Fontaine had taken the time to show me how to make coffee the French way. I must have made it correctly because when she joined me several minutes later she complimented me on it.
"This is very good coffee, Roberta! What time do you have to be at work?" "Eight-thirty. I thought I would take some time this morning to go over the company's policies that M. Bouquet gave me yesterday. Would you let me know when it's seven-thirty? I can't seem to keep track of time when I start reading," I replied as I walked over to the sink and placed my bowl in it. "Of course, cherie," she replied.
As I went back to my room, I could hear M. Fontaine getting ready for work and I could also hear Colette as she was waking up. I retrieved the papers from my bag where I had placed them the night before, sat down on my bed and started to read them. I must have said something out loud because Mme. Fontaine came running into my room and asked me what was wrong. "What have I gotten myself into?" I exclaimed, "Some of these rules are absolutely ridiculous and others are just plain..."
"Stupid?" Mme. Fontaine suggested. "No. Unfair," I replied. I continued, "For example. 'The assistant costumer will not purchase any material(s) necessary for the construction of costumes without the express written permission of the manager(s).' Then another rule states 'No costume will be reproduced or restored without the express written permission of the manager(s).' Now these I can understand but others...Well, look at this one. 'The opera house employee will not join other organizations if the said organization would interfere with the duties of the said opera house employee.' This rule would make sense if I was working at another theater or making costumes or clothes for another person or company but what if I only wanted to join a church choir or a sports club? But these last two really irritate me. 'The opera house employee will not leave his or her workstation without the knowledge of or the consent of the employee's supervisor.' For heaven's sake, it's not like I'm working in a third world country! What if I have to go to the bathroom suddenly? And this last one. 'The opera house employee will at all time refrain from expressing his or her religious or political opinions while on the premises of the opera house.' What is this, thought police? What ever happened to personal liberty? I was forced to leave the States because I wasn't allowed to be pro-life. Now I can't be pro-life here, either? What gives?"
"Can't you find another place to work?" "I could but I'll be a week late in paying you my rent as it is. I don't want to be any later than that. Besides, you need my rent money since the rents were are increased throughout Paris this last month. Look. I'll have a talk with M. Bouquet. Maybe we can work something out at work but in the mean time I'll keep my eye out for another job," I replied, "Ah, bureaucracies! You can't live with them and you can't live without them!" I finished saying. Mme. Fontaine laughed. I ended the conversation by saying, "Well, I'm off. Wish me luck with my new boss." I picked up my tote bag, purse, sweater and umbrella. Into the lion's den? I sure hope not, I thought to myself as I left the little apartment and made my way down the stairs and out of the building. I sure hope not.
I arrived at the opera house at exactly eight-thirty-five. Oh, great! I'm going to be late on my first day on the job, I thought to myself as I walked up to the side entrance. It was the same entrance that I had used the previous day. "Bonjour, madame!" the doorman exclaimed as I walked up to the door. "You're five minutes late. M. Bouquet is expecting you." By the tone of his voice, I could tell that the doorman must have been taking a verbal beating from M. Bouquet.
"I know monsieur. I got on the wrong subway train this morning. I hope M. Bouquet isn't too mad, is he?" I asked but by the look on his face that Jean-Baptiste Bouquet was probably not very happy this particular morning. I groaned inwardly. Of all the days to be late. Well, I did my best. I'll just have to explain what happened and hope for the best, I thought to myself as I walked down the hall to M. Bouquet's office. Just as I got there, I thought I heard voices on the other side of the door. Normally I am not a snoop but I was a little curious as my name was mentioned in the conversation so I paused before knocking.
"What's she like, this new girl?" "She seems knowledgeable enough about costumes and knows a little about opera." "Does she know the rules yet?" "No, not yet. I'll be going over them with her when she gets here. IF she gets here. She's five minutes late already!" "I thought all Americans were punctual. She'd better know the rules better than she can get to work on time. I'd hate to have another...incident."
I thought I had better knock at the door at that point, so I did. "Qui est la (who's there?)" "C'est moi, Roberta. Puis j'entrer (it's me, Roberta. May I come in?" "Alors! Elle est ici! Finalement! (she's finally here!)" M. Bouquet cried out as he threw open the door. I looked inside the room as he did so and I saw that he was alone. "Regarde, Andre! Roberta est ici! (Look, Andre! Roberta is here!)" M. Bouquet continued as he gave me an exaggerated hug. I'm in big trouble! I thought to myself as he bowed and gestured for me to enter his office in a grand exaggerated manner. As I passed through the doorway, I thought to myself, I'm in really big trouble! So much for letting him know that I don't like some of the rules.
As M. Bouquet closed the door behind him, he turned to me and asked, "Tell me, madame. Are you always this late?" As I stood and looked at him, I said, "No, monsieur, not always. Only when I get on the Metro thinking that I'm headed in the right direction only to find that I'm going in the opposite direction that I should be going in." At last, M. Bouquet smiled. "You don't know the French language as well as you though you did, do you, madame!"
"Evidently not," I replied. Then I added, "This won't happen again!" "It had better not! We have much to go over, you and I and I have a meeting with the managers at ten. Being late like this, even only a few minutes, throws everything off. We may not have enough time to do everything I would like to do before my...our...meeting with the managers." "Our meeting?" I asked. "Yes! OUR meeting!" he replied emphasizing the word our. "The managers would like to meet you. Besides," he added, "there's some paperwork you need to sign, employment contracts, agreements, that sort of thing."
"Speaking of that, could we go over this list of rules that you gave me?" "Certainly. But some of this will have to wait until our meeting. Right now, I need to show you how to open up the costume department." He walked to his desk and took out his set of keys and said, "I always place this key in the upper left drawer of this desk. I'm not allowed to make copies of these keys so you must be very careful to put them in the drawer. Otherwise, no one will be able to get into the storage rooms or the prop room, so please, be careful of these keys as they are the only copies." "Am I allowed to make copies of any of the keys?" "No," he replied, "as it is, I will have to get permission from the managers to make you a copy of the key to my office. And only one copy. You will have to guard it with your life!"
"Why so many rules?" I asked. He walked toward the door and motioned for me to follow him. "That's just the way it is around here," he replied. "Bureaucracies! You can't livewith them and you can't live without them!" I said as we left his office, and like Mme. Fontaine, he laughed.
Our meeting with the managers started promptly at ten o'clock. M. Hauptmann was seated at a large table at the opposite side of the entrance. Mme. Giry was seated on his right. When M. Bouquet and I entered the room, M. Hauptmann stood up but Mme. Giry remained seated. M. Hauptmann walked over towrd us and extended his right hand to me and said, "Ah, Bouquet, nice to see you. So, this is your new assisstant, mlle..." "Roberta, monsieur. Roberta Martin," I said as I walked over to him and shook his hand. Then I added, "And it's madame, monsieur. Madame Roberta Martin." "So, your husband approves fo you working here at the opera house?" he asked. Then he gestured for me to be seated.
I sat down on a chair opposite from M. Hauptmann and Mme. Giry. "Actually, monsieur, it's my ex-husband, and he doesn't know that I'm here. Well, he knows that I'm in Paris but he doesn't know I'll be working here." Ms. Hauptmann and Bouquet exchanged glances but there was no reaction from Mme. Giry. I continued, "We divorced on friendly terms, monsieur. I know that sounds unusual but then again, our divorce was an unusual one as well. You see, after the president issued her orders demanding that all federal workers renounce their Christian beliefs or lose their jobs, my husband and I decided to divorce rather than have him lose his job. It was bad enough that I had to lose mine. We felt that he couldn't afford to lose his as well. Besides, he's not a Christian, so ther was no reason why he should lose his job."
"But why this? Couldn't you just live together in spite of your divorce?" "We had thought of doing it that way but then the president issued another set of orders demanding that all Christians working for the federal government be fired and that all non_Christian spouses and significant others of Christians living with Christians be fired as well. We knew of several couples that tried to keep their jobs and their spouses and those people lost their jobs and some of them lost more than that, so we decided that a divorce was the only way my husband could keep his job. I was hoping that we could keep our kids out of this but then the president issued another one of her orders demanding that all spouses and children of federal workers renounce their Christian beliefs as well or face elimination of their benefits. That would have meant that our children would not be able to continue their education and it would mean the elimination of my husband's retirement benefits. We couldn't see that happening so I moved out of our home and we divorced. Believe it or not, we still get along in spite of all of this."
"What did your children think of all of this?" Mme. Giry asked looking up from the papers she had been reading. "I really don't know. They weren't all that happy that I refused to sign the renounciation papers and they weren't all that happy when I moved out. Unfortunately, they seem to be following in their father's foorsteps. They seemed more than willing to sign the renounciation." "I really don't understand why you are here in France. Surely you could have stayed in the United States and gotten a job in the private sector?" Mme. Giry asked.
I shook my head. "The president issued another order stating that all Christians would be barred from working for firms that did business with the federal government. That cut down on my chances of employment. To make matters worse, the president issued another order deporting all first, second and third generation Americans back to the countries of their forefathers. In particular, she wanted all pro-life Catholics like myself deported. Since my great-grandparents came from France, I was sent here." "And your children weren't allowed to join you?" she persisted.
I shook my head and said, "Like their father, and despite my efforts, they don't have any religious beliefs. They didn't see signing the renounciation as being a problem. Unfortunately for them, I do. I wouldn't have taken them here anyway. Needless to say, the renounciation has been more of a problem for us than the divorce has been."
There was silence for a moment, then M. Hauptmannspoke up. Changing the subject somewhat, I understand that you are here to sign the employment contract, am I right?" "Yes, monsieur but before I sign anything, could I ask about some of these rules?" "What would you like to know?" "Why do I have to have written permission if I need to buy material for costumes?" "Have you seen all the costumes we have?" M. Hauptmann asked. Just as I was going to reply, M. Bouquet cut in, "She's only seen about half of our inventory."
I turned to M. Bouquet who was seated on my left and asked incredulously, "You mean, what I saw yesterday was only half of what you have?" "Yes. I ran out of time yesterday before I could show you everything and you came in too late this morning for me to show you any more," he replied. "Oh, my gosh," I muttered to myself and then addressing M. Bouquet, I said, "No wonder you were so upset whenI came in this morning. Looks like you'll be keeping me busy for the next several days." He nodded as I turned back to M. Hauptmann. I continued with my questions, "Is there a good reason as to why I must have permission before I am allowed to leave my workstation?"
M. Hauptmann looked puzzled and yet again M. Bouquet cut in, "Are you referring to the rules on page two of the policies I gave you?" I nodded and he continued, "I think I know which rule that you're talking about. Sometimes when we are fitting costumes or making new ones, things can get pretty hectic and I really do need to keep track of where people are. Are there any other rules that you wuld like to discuss?"
"There's only two more. Is there any reason why I could not join a group that is not connected with this company? By that, I mean a church choir or maybe a health club. Something of that nature." This time it was M. Hauptmann that spoke up, "Normally, especially during times when we are not running any operas, there is no reason why you could not be active with any of the choirs or chorals here in Paris. Usually their rehearsals are in the evenings when we would not be requiring your services but durning the opera season, as I;m sure you will find, things are so busy around here that there is no time for other things. I'm sure you will understand if we ask you not to get involved with other groups during those times." I nodded and then said, "Well, I have one final question. Is there a reason why I am not allowed to express my opinions?"
Again it was M. Hauptmann who spoke up. "If you mean by your opinions that re directly related to your work , the answer is no. There is no reason why you can't speak up on work related issues. However, when it comes to politics or religion, we have found through experience that many times these subjects can be so divisive that they can actually cause problems in the workplace. Now I understand that you are a loyal and faithful Catholic and while I do not agree with or share your beliefs, I do respect them. As for politics, am I not mistaken in believing that one of the reasons you were exiled from the United States is that you were a member of the political opposition?" I nodded and he continued, "Well then, there you are. While I may not agree with your political opinions, I respect them but I would urge you NOT to express them while at work here at the opera house. M. Bouquet tells me that you seem very knowledgable and skilled in sewing as well and I would hate to see him lose another assisstant. He has lost three this past year alone and I don't think he wants to lose a fourth. Am I clear on this issue?" he finished and looked at me very sternly.
I swallowed hard and then nodded. "Of course," I replied, "I will try very hard to follow these rules." I thought to myself as I said those words, I feel like such a hypocrite. These were the smae rules pretty much that I had to follow back in the States. I don't know if I can do all of this. I;ll just have to start looking for another job and bite my tongue while I'm working here. Maybe I can find another job that does'nt have all these rules but I doubt it. In the meantime, I'll just have to put up with this. Instead of saying all of this, I just finished by saying, "I guess that's all the questions that I have. Is there anything else I should know before I sign these papers?"
"Yes!" M. Bouquet spoke up, "There is one more rule. I would ask that you let me know when you're going down into the basement, particularly when you start on the inventory. Many of the things that are down there, the old sets especially, are very heavy and are hard to move. I would ask that you let me know when you are going down there so that I or one of the stagehands could help you with moving them if they need to be moved for any reason."
:Of course. That seems reasonjable enough to me," Reasonable? Won't these rules ever end, I thought to myself. "Is ther anything else I should know?" I asked as Mme. Giry started to hand a form to me to sign. All three shook their heads. Well, here goes nother, I thought as I took the first form and began reading it. I hope I'm doing the right thing.
"Well, now. That wasn't so bad, was it?" M. Bouquet asked as we left the managers' office almost an hour later. "I suppose not, monsieur, but I get the feeling that I just signed my life away," I replied. "You don't need to call me monsieur anymore, now that we'll be working together. You can call me by my first name, Jean-Baptiste, or just plain Jean for short," he said with a much friendlier tone of voice. These Frenchmen can switch moods on a dime, I thought to myself, which reminds me that I need to ask about something.
Just as I opened my mouth to ask another question, Jean said, "You'll need to meet the rest of the company and your fellow co-workers. Let's see, it's just after eleven. Michel and his daughter Jacqueline should be in the workroom by now. Let's stop there first. No, on second thought, ;let's stop at mu office to put these papers in my desk and then we'll go to the workroom."
In case the reader is wondering about the forms that I had just finished signing, they were the standard employment and insurance forms that all French workers must fill out as well as the form stating my compliance with the company's rules and regulation. I had to sign four copies of each form. The managers each got a copy, M. Bouquet got a third copy and the last copy was for my records.
As we entered his office, I looked around the room. Jean noticed this and asked, "Is there anything in particular that you're looking for?" I shook my head and replied, "No, but I was going to ask you earlier who you were talking to this morning when I came in." "That was Andre," he answered. "Before that. Before I knocked on your door." "No, I don't remember speaking to anyone before you arrived." Great! I thought to myself, first I think I'm seeing things in the shadows that aren't there and now I'm hearing things. Must be this opera house. Funny, I never thought of this as being a spooky old place before. Now I really am letting my imagination run wild,
As if he were reading my thoughts, Jean said, "Sometimes with these old buildings, people let their imaginations get away from them. The same thing happens to me whenever I go to England or even just visit some of our chateaux in the Loire Valley. Don't let it bother you. As long as I've been here, I have never seen any ghosts." I smiled and asked, "How long have you been here?" "Thirty years. I'm scheduled to retire the first of January." "Are you looking forward to retirement?" "Yes, and so is my wife. Now we'll finally have time to do the traveling we had wanted to do when we were younger."
I smiled and remembered that my own parents had felt the same way. They, too, had looked forward to traveling after their retirement but unfortunately, my father had died of a heart attack only a year after he retired and then my mother got cancer and all the money they had worked for and saved all of their lives went for doctor bills and funerals. "Is that why you are so eager to show me the ropes here at the opera house?" I asked. "Yes. That and the fact that I have only a little time to show you everything before rehearsals start on the next season's operas. And the fact that I must start my search for my replacement." "Are you allowed to name your own replacement?" I asked. "I hope so. I have a good working relationship with the managers and I'm hoping that they will let me name my replacement instead of letting the government choose him or her."
We left his office and went down the hallway to the stairs. As we descended the stairs, Jean started to tell me about my new co-workers. "I think you'll enjoy working with Michel and Jacqueline but you'll find that they are...how shall I put it?...somewhat passionate about their work." When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we turned to the right instead of turning left. When we entered the room I immediately understood why Jean had said that Michel and Jacqueline were passionate about their work.
I shall never forget my first meeting with those two. What a contrast those two made with each other and with Jean and the two managers for that matter. Like many older Frenchmen, Michel was rather short, somewhat fat and completely bald. His daughter, Jacqueline was the complete opposite in nearly every way. She was very tall, even taller than I and even though I'm somewhat tall by French standards (about five and a half feet tall), Jacqueline must have been almost six feet tall. She was quite thin as well so that must have made her seem taller than she actually was, and she had short, jet black hair cut in such a way as to emphasize her long neck. Like many French women, her eyes were dark and she wore a minimum of makeup, just some powder, eye shadow and lipstick. Just as the two differed so completely in appearance, they differed in personality as well. For being so short, and a Frenchman as well, Michel seemed to be the calmer of the two and tried desparately to make his points in the argument in a calm, collected manner while Jacqueline was the one who was aggitated.
"Alors, assai!" Jean cried out, "Silence! (Quiet!)" The room became quiet immediately. "Bon! (Good)" Jean finally said and the continuing, "Je voudrais de presenter la nouvelle fille, Roberta Martin (I would like you to meet the new girl, Roberta Martin)" "Bonjour! (Hello)" I said somewhat nervously. "Une polonaise? ( a Polish woman?)" Michel asked. "Non, papa. elle est americaine (No she's American)," Jacqueline replied. "Mais, non. Elle est polonaise." "Non, monsieur," I cut in before the two could start arguing again. "Je suis americaine." "Vraiment? (really?)" he asked as he looked at me and then to his daughter. She responded by giving him a look that must have said, I told you so! "Oui, c'est vrai,(yes, it's true)," I replied.
I would have said more but jean began to explain that I would be helping them in the costume department as soon as I finished helping him with the yearly inventory. He finished by asking, "Where's Joseph?" "Oh, you know Joseph," replied Jacqueline, "He's probably on one of the lower levels looking for props of one kind or another." She turned back to the project that she and Michel had been working on when we entered the room.
Jean groaned and said, "I hope not! If I know him, he's in some out of the way corner and it will take me all day to find him. Well, let's go on." He turned to me and said, "There's still a lot that I have to show you and it's nearly time to break for lunch." After we left the room, we walked down the hall. He continued, "Damn that man! He knows the company rules and yet he continues to disregard them! One of these days, he's going to find himself without a job, union member or not!"
"Why can't we go down here without permission?" I aasked. "Because, there are so many rooms and passageways, especially on the lower levels that it's too easy to get lost. Also, the lowest levels may not be as structurally sound as I would like them to be, in spite of the yearly inspections that we do here. Wait! I think I hear something!" He motioned for me to stop and then he called out, "Joseph? C'est toi?(Joseph, it that you?"
"Oui!" a voice called out in the distance. A moment later a door opened up just down the hall and a head peeked out from behind it. The head belonged to an older grey-haired man. Then the head spoke, "Bonjour, Jean! Je suis ici." "Oui, c'est vrai. Qu'est-ce-que tu fait?(yes, that's right. What are you doing?" "Je cherche pour quelque-chose (I'm looking for something)," Joseph answered. "Qu'est-ce-que tu cherche?(what are you looking for )" "Maintenant, j'ai oublie(now I forgot)" "That figures," Jean whispered to me and the turning to look at Joseph, he said, "Alors, vien! Je voudrais de presenter Roberta Martin. Elle est la nouvelle auxiliaire (Come. I would like to introduce Roberta Martin, my new assisstant.)" "Ah! Bonjour, mademoiselle!" Jeseph cried out and then came out of the doorway and walked toward me. When he came up to us, he corrected himself. "Madame," he said. "Bonjour!" I said as I took his hand and shook it. We shook hands warmly and I noticed that his hands, while small, were as strong and calloused as they were wrinkled.
After we finished shaking hands, Jean looked at his wristwatch and said, "C'est l'heure!" "Noon already?" I asked. "Past noon," Jean said and then turning to me, he continued, "We'll have to wait until after lunch to continue this. Do you know where you're going to eat?" I shook my head and then said, "I thought of Cafe de la Paix across the square." Then it was Joseph's turn to shake his head. "Unless you have a lot of money to spend, I wouldn't recommend that place. There might be some cafes on the Boulevard des Capucines. I don't think there's any place to eat on the Boulevard de la Madeleine. You might try the Avenue de l'Opera, In fact, that may be your best bet." He turned and started to go back to the room he had been in. "It was nice meeting you," he said as he walked back to where he had been when we first met him.
We went back to Jean's office where I had left my things. Jean looked at me and asked, "Well, what do you think of your fellow workers so far?" "What a bunch of characters!" I replied. "If you think these people are interesting, wait until you meet the performers!" "I can hardly wait," I said with a bit of sarchasm. Then he changed the subject. "Be back here no later than two o'clock. We still have a lot to do yet today, so don't be late. A tout a l'heure!"
I left the opera house and walked down to the Cafe de la Paix just to check the prices. I was shocked when I looked at the prix-fixe that was posted in the window. Joseph was not kidding when he said that this place was expensive. It was 180 francs, about $30 in American currency for lunch. I desided to take his advice and turned and left and went down the Boulevard des Capucines. I must have walked on that street for half an hour before I found a cafe and like all cafes at noon around the world and not just in Paris, it was full. There were no empty tables or even empty seats, so I turned around and walked back towards the opera house. When I came to the intersection of the \boulevard des Capucines and the Avenue de l'Opera, I turned left again and went down on that street. Joseph was right. There seemed to be several cafes on this street, but they, too, like the one on the Boulevard des Capucines, were full. I walked for nearly a half an hour more before I found a small Bar-tabac that sereved sandwiches. I bought a ham sandwich and took it with me since it was nearly half past one. On the way back to the opera house, I found a small grocery store that had probably just opened up after the noon lunch hour was over and I bought a liter bottle of mineral water. I walked back to the opera house, eating my lunch as I walked along and wondering if I would make it back to the opera house on time. I actually got back to the opera house on time--two o'clock on the dot. By two-thirty, I was hard at work helping out Jean with the inventory.
I had just finished listing the costumes on my inventory sheet when Jean came up to me and asked if I had gotten the shoes on the list yet. "Non, monsieur. I just finished doing the first room that you have on the list." I looked at my watch. "Is it nearly seven already?" I asked. "Yes," he answered. "Do you want me to wait until tomorrow to finish them?" I asked. "No," he replied, "This really needs to be completed as soon as possible. Tell you what! If you'll do the shoes, I'll do the prop room. That way, I hope to be done by nine o'clock. I know that rather late. Will your family be worried about you?" he asked. I shook my head and said, "I called them earlier during my break and let them know I was going to be working late tonight and not to wait supper on me. I'll probably call them before I leave to let them know when I'm coming home." "Very good! Let's get started then." He led me down the same set of stairs we had gone down the previous day and then he unlocked the doors to both rooms. "If you need me for anything, I'll be right next door," he said as he closed the door behind him.
I went into the room and started checking off the shoes that were on the inventory list. Fortunately, the ladies shoes were on one side of the room and the men's shoes were on the other side. I started with the ladies shoes first. I had been working for almost an hour when I looked up to rest my eyes and looking out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something move. Stop it, Roberta! I thought to myself, there's nothing there! I finished with the ladies shoes and went over to the other side of the room and started to work my way down that side of the room, checking off the men's shoes as I went along. I got halfway down that side of the room and was looking down at the shoes when I saw something. I knelt down and picked it up. "A mouse trap?" I asked out loud, "We have mice in here? I thought they were only on the lower levels.. Oh, great! First I think I'm seeing things, then I think I'm hearing things and now this!" I put it down gently and the quickly pulled my hand back. "Yuk!" I exclaimed out loud.
I continued down the row of shelves, checking off as I went. Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. I jumped up and cried out, "Qui est la?(Who's there)." "C'est moi, Jean-Baptiste. Est-ce-que tu as fini?(Have you finished)." "Presque. Seulement un peu plus (Almost. Just a little more)." "C'est presque neuve heure. Il faut finir vitement (It's nearly nine o'clock. We need to finish quickly)." "un moment, s'il tu plais ( just a minute, please)," I replied. I returned to my inventory, checking off shoes as quickly as I came across them and then I noticed them. "Work shoes!" I said aloud, "Those aren't on my list!" I knelt down to take a closer look. It was then that I noticed that the work boots were attached to a pair of feet, which were attached to a pair of legs which were attached to a body which was attached to a pair of long arms and a neck which was attached to a skull, or at least to something that resembled a skull. I screamed out loud and then raced to the door and struggled to open it. After what seemed eons, I got it open and ran out of the room, nearly knocking Jean over onto his backside as I did so.
"What's wrong?" he cried out as he regained his balance. "There's something or someone in there!" I exclaimed. He looked at me and rolled his eyes. "Jean, I'm not imagining this! There's someone in there!" "All right. We'll both go inside and look." "Please," I answered, still shaking violently. He opened the door and we both walked into the room. "Where did you see this...thing?" he asked. "It was in that far corner up against the wall," I answered and pointed to the far corner of the room. I was still shaking violently.
He walked over to where I was pointing and said, "There's nothing here." "Jean-Baptiste, I'm not making this up! I saw a pair of work boots that were attached to legs , which were attached to a body that was attached to a skull. I saw it, Jean!" "All right! Calm down! I believe you. Look, it's nine o'clock. We can start up where we left off tomorrow morning. If it will make you feel any better, we'll ask Andre if he's seen anybody come into the opera house this evening, OK?" I nodded. "Good!" he continued, "We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow morning. Go home and get a good night's sleep."
We walked out of the room and he turned off the light and closed and locked the door. We walked back up the stairs and then to his office. I picked up my purse, sweater and papers and then we left his office. He turned off the light and locked that door as well. We walked toward the door and stopped as Andre opened it up for us. "Bonsoir, Andre. Say, did anyone come in here this evening while we were doing inventory?" Jean asked. "Non, monsieur. Personne (No, sir. No one)." "I see. Well, bonsoir." "Bonsoir," I said to Andre as I walked out the door.
As we walked away from the opera house, Jean asked, "Are you sure you saw someone? Could it have been a hat stand or a dress form that you saw?" "No! I'm sure I saw someone. You saw that corner! The only things on that side of the room were shelves with shoes on them. No, Jean. I'm certain that I saw someone in that room!" "Did you see anything else in the room that looked odd to you?" he asked. "Well, now that you mention it, I did. Just before I saw that...thing...whatever it was, I found a mouse trap next to one of the pairs of shoes. Do we have any mice in that part of the opera house? I know that you said that we had them on the lower levels." "Yes, we do unfortunately, and we have rats as well," he replied. "Yuk!" I exclaimed.
"Will you be all right?" Jean asked with a concerned look on his face. Then he said, "With all this excitment, I forgot to ask if you have called your family before we left the opera house." "Yes, I'll be all right. I'm calming down now. I'll call them from the metro station. What time do you want me to in tomorrow? The same time? I asked. He nodded and then said, "Yes and be on time tomorrow." He looked at me with a stern look on his face but I saw a twinkle in his eyes as I turned and walked away. It helped to lighten the mood a little. When I got home and went to bed, however, I could still see those work boots and what they were attached to in my mind