Louis Armstrong’s honeyed voice filled the room and Gemma closed her eyes and lost herself in What a Wonderful World. Music had always had this overwhelming effect on her.
‘Miss!’ a voice piped up from the back of the classroom. ‘Miss! What’s wrong with his voice?’
Looking at her Year Eight music class, Gemma tried not to laugh.
‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘Louis Armstrong did have an unusual voice. But it’s amazing, don’t you think?’
She stood up and walked between the pupils’ desks. ‘I’d like you to start writing down your observations about what you can hear – anything you notice, the chords, the rhythms, the sound of his voice.’
All the pupils bent over the paper in front of them and started to write a few sentences about what they could hear. Then Gemma played an extract from Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 and a lively discussion followed about the relative merits of the pieces before the bell went for break time.
I’ve got to stop playing that song, Gemma thought ruefully from her life, but also all thoughts of a certain man called Daniel…
