Singing like a Sheep

Singing like a Sheep

©2020, Anna Treloar

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN: 978-1-09833-231-0

ISBN eBook: 978-1-09833-232-7

Garde tes songes; les sages n’en ont pas d’aussi beaux que les fous

(Charles Baudelaire).

Table of Contents

Prelude

Term 1

Term 2

Term 3

Term 4

Postlude

Prelude

They were late. They ran up the narrow stairs to the choir loft. A cricket ball fell out of Jamie’s backpack and rolled down the stairs, making loud cracks as it hit each step in turn. Jamie stopped to look at it in dismay. No time to get it he thought. And it’s a good one too. Grazia was just behind him on the stairs but did not notice that he had stopped. She fell over him, and dropped her music bag. Sheaves of print music and all her bound volumes cascaded down the stairs after the cricket ball. Hurriedly she and Jamie gathered them up and bundled them back into her bag. They arrived at the top of the stairs just as the Master lowered his baton. A jubilant bray of sound bearing little relation to notated pitch or the rhythm which the choirmaster was desperately trying to mark with urgent hand signals abruptly ceased.

Stop! The Master threw his hands up to his head in despair. You’re all singing like sheep. Don’t bleat.

He noticed Jamie and Grazia, red-faced and breathless. He looked at them over the top of his glasses but said nothing. As was customary in the school when making an apology, Jamie bowed his head and Grazia gave a short curtsey. They took their places, trying to see where the rehearsal was up to by darting quick glances at the music desks near them.

The annual carol service was only a week away, just before the end of term and the Christmas holidays. It was described as an informal event but all the School Board were invited. In spite of the summer heat the choristers would wear the Choristers’ Cloak, a voluminous garment, designed 150 years ago when the school was founded ,to provide a sense of occasion, solemnity to important events in the school calendar, and concealment of a variety of adolescent shapes, unironed shirts, grass-stained knees, and pockets stuffed with all the necessities for a school day. The Cloak was red with a black lining, dramatic, but restrictive, allowing only the hands to emerge through the mediaeval style sleeves, and heavy to wear on hot summer days.

The rehearsal did not go well. All the choristers were tired. There had been end of year parties, practices, presentations and performances. But all students who held scholarships were bound to join the choir. It was stuffy in the choir loft. Singers lost their place, missed their cues, sang flat or failed to sing at all. There was some sort of distraction among the choristers in the back row. Rather than investigate it, the Master called an end to the rehearsal and scheduled an extra one for the following afternoon after school. There were a few mutters but the group dispersed, knowing how important a polished performance was both for the school’s reputation and for their future as scholarship holders.

Grazia and Jamie left last, still trying to close Grazia’s music bag. The Master stayed behind to console himself with some Bach on the organ. Grazia wanted to stay too and listen but felt that might not be allowed. So she followed Jamie down the stairs and out the side door. As she passed a bush next to the path, she noticed a flash of white under it. The cricket ball! Without thinking she dived under the bush. Her school skirt flipped up and Jamie caught a glimpse of the regulation navy blue cotton knickers. Gallantly he averted his gaze. At that moment the Director of Music, who had only taken up the position at the start of the term, came past and also noticed the retrieval effort. His eyes lingered a fraction too long. Grace he said sharply. Behaviour! Grazia emerged hastily, blushing. She gave the requisite bob, handed the ball to Jamie and walked off quickly.

Jamie waited until the Director had moved on, and then caught up with her. Thanks he said. That was a really good ball. I didn’t want to lose it. My brother got it for me for my last birthday.

That’s ok, said Grazia. Pity about the Director coming along at the wrong time. Choir is better when we have the Master. The Director is….sort of…. She stopped, looking for the right word.

I know what you mean said Jamie. By the way, why does he call you Grace? I thought your name was….

My real name is Grazia. My mother is Italian. My parents named me after my grandmother. Nonna I call her. But nobody can say it right here. Some of the boys call me ‘grazier’. It’s not funny. I hate it. And the teachers just call me Grace because they know that name. Nobody consulted me. They just decided.

I will always call you Grazia said Jamie. Were you new this term? I don’t think I saw you around at the start of the year in Term 1.

Yes. I only started this term – so in Term 4. I got a scholarship. Singing.

Me too said Jamie. Organ though. Kind of a family tradition. The oldest boy plays the organ. To be honest, I’d rather sing. But dad says girls sing.

Mmm said Grace. I’ve wanted to play the organ since I was little. But mum said girls do piano.

They looked at each other and laughed. They had reached the boarding houses. Grazia turned towards Girls’ House and Jamie headed for Boys’.

Don’t forget the extra choir practice tomorrow he reminded her. The Master will really lose it I think if we don’t all improve soon.

Grazia smiled. But even when he’s stressing out over it all he’s still…sort of…kind, isn’t he? she said. Not like the Director.

I know said Jamie. So let’s hope we get the Master tomorrow.

In the distance the Director had been observing this little exchange. Pretty girl he thought to himself. He moved off towards the Staff Room to see who was there and what he could find out. Networking was essential, as he often reminded himself.

Term 1

It was late afternoon. Sunlight slanted over the paddocks. The sound of the river mingled with the sound of the kookaburras and magpies in the trees. Tomorrow students would return from their Christmas holidays to start a new school year.

The school had been established through a philanthropical bequest by a man who had no family of his own. He left a substantial rural property and all his money to set up a boarding school for Middle School students and Seniors. His only stipulation was that all students must be offered a chance to study music and sing in the choir for their first year and that there should be full music scholarships offered every year to cover the entire tuition fees until the final year. This meant that all scholarship holders had to sing in the choir for a year even if they were not on music scholarships and all students in their first year at the school also had to take up an instrument if they did not already play one. As well as this all students in their first year at the school, whatever their age, had to study Latin, Over the years some unusual school traditions and somewhat quirky practices had developed, and become well entrenched in school ritual. And over the years the nearby regional town had expanded so that its boundaries had come closer and closer to the school. Yet it was still recognisably rural and the very extensive grounds allowed this to continue. New buildings and extensions had been designed to complement the original farm buildings and various donations had ensured that the music block was well equipped and that the organ in the chapel was well maintained. The requirement that all scholarship holders sing in the choir could prove a challenge to the Master of Music. Students holding Sports scholarships whose strength was football or cross country running did not always appreciate choir practices. The science high achievers could not always see the point of regular choral experience, though students whose penchant was for languages or history often made useful contributions.

Lights were on in the boarding houses as staff prepared rooms for the return of the students. The Boys’ House formed one side of a courtyard; the Girls’ House another. Classrooms, including music rooms and music practice rooms on the top floor, took up a third, and the fourth side included the library, the science laboratories, study rooms, store rooms and the staff room. The kitchen and dining hall, assembly hall and gymnasium were ranged along the outer perimeter. Extensive playing fields stretched to the river and there was a model farm, a kitchen garden and space for growing flowers and ornamental plants. Children from the country found it all familiar; children who had grown up in the city or who had come from overseas were often surprised and somewhat ill at ease with the garden and stables, though most quickly came to appreciate and enjoy them.

The Headmaster’s House was close to the river, on the other side of the playing fields from the school buildings. Most staff lived in the township close to the school; some of the younger ones occupied a share house near the main gates and the boarding house supervisors had their own self-contained flats within the boarding houses.

The Bursar and the Headmaster were conferring over a glass of sherry in preparation for the new year. Money was not going to be too much of a problem; however the School Board adhered strictly to the Founder’s Charter and scrutinised the music program very carefully. The Headmaster hoped that the Director of Music who had been appointed late in the preceding year would be able to encourage the requisite standard. The Board had made an independent decision to appoint the Director; the Headmaster knew little about him and had not yet seen any application papers or qualifications. However he had been assured that the man would be an asset to the school and had had to accept that.

A bus turned through the school gates. Many students travelled by train when they returned for each term; the school was near to the last station on the line. A charter bus took the students the final couple of kilometres. The busload at the start of new terms was always rowdy as students joked, laughed, sang, and greeted old friends at the tops of their voices. The bus drivers were used to it and took it in good part. But as soon as the bus turned into the school grounds silence fell within. Behaviour was important in the school and any rowdiness was not tolerated. Usually acknowledgement of transgressions and apology were conveyed by a bow of the head from the boys and a brief curtsey from the girls. But more serious errors required a written apology in Latin which had to be presented to the Headmaster. Any mistakes in grammar or spelling, or any untidy handwriting, meant that the document would be returned to the student to be re-written. This could take hours of precious after school free time so students quickly learned what behaviours were expected and tried to adhere to them.

The bus drew up outside the boarding houses. The bus emptied quickly as students shouldered their bags and boxes and hurried to the main doors of their Houses. All wanted to know where they would be sleeping this new term and unpack and settle in before the first day of school tomorrow. The Middle School students slept in dormitories and did their homework in common rooms, but the Seniors had their own tiny living spaces, each set up with a bed, a cupboard, a chair and a table. Some of these rooms were in the attics and the ones with tiny gable windows were the most prized.

Grazia and Jamie were Seniors now, in Ninth Year. Grazia found she had been allocated one of the most desirable spaces, under the roof with a window which overlooked the playing fields and the river. Jamie’s space was larger but had no individual window, only a skylight in the ceiling.

There was a rush to unpack and tidy living spaces so all were ready for the Midnight Feast. This was another unusual school tradition. The evening meal on the day before a new term started was always salad and bread. But at 8 pm students gathered in the common rooms to share all the treats they had brought back with them from home. Boys were allowed to visit Girls’ House; girls were allowed to visit Boys’ House. This was part of the joy of the Feast nights. During term boys and girls attended class and various rehearsals and practices together but once in the Houses they did not mingle. The Midnight Feast was over long before midnight; lights went out at 10 pm. But the name persisted from the early days of the school.

Jamie and Grazia sat in the window seat together. Jamie had invited Grazia to come to Boys’ House so he could share his food with herss. This year they would be in the same class; last year when they were still in Middle School there had been two separated classes for Eighth Years. They noticed a new student sitting alone in the corner. He was Chinese and looked utterly miserable. They went over and introduced themselves and offered him some of their food. He shook his head and asked sadly if there would be rice tomorrow? Grazia thought of the lumpy rice puddings which featured in the evening meal when the cooks had run out of ideas for desserts. She did not think this was what the Chinese student was hoping for. We could buy some and cook it here she suggested.

You’re new aren’t you? said Jamie. That means you’ll be in the choir with us. You know, to sing.

Sing? muttered the Chinese boy. I can’t sing. I don’t read music. Not your sort of music anyway. Some of my friends did piano or violin in Shanghai, but I didn’t. He looked so stricken that Grazia felt she must reassure him. We’ll help you she promised. And I am sure the Master will know what to do. You can join in somehow. It will be ok. What sort of scholarship did you get?

Mathematics, advanced replied the boy. That’s what I know. That’s what I do. Not this singing.

He had told them his name was Qiang but was saved from further distress by the bell which announced the end of the Midnight Feast. Students hurried to clear up the plates and cups and packets and tins, and all headed off for bed.

Grazia noticed there was one empty space close to hers. She wondered where the intended occupant was. It was very unusual not to be back at school by the night before term started.

She found out the following morning. She had just woken up and was contemplating the view from her tiny window. A mob of kangaroos was grazing in the distance just over the river. Something startled them and they moved off quickly. Puzzled, Grazia tried to gain a better view. There was a strange sound outside which seemed to be coming closer. It had woken Jamie who saw a shadow pass over his skylight window. The noise settled into a steady hammering and thumping and Grazia was amazed to see a helicopter circle the playing fields and then lower itself into an ungainly landing. The engine cut out and the rotors stopped. A door opened and a girl jumped on to the grass. Somebody threw a collection of bags and boxes after her. She waved and then began to move them away from the helicopter. When she had a tidy pile on the edge of the oval, the helicopter took off.

Several students were now awake and looking on. They saw the Headmaster’s front door open and the Headmaster peer out. A hasty call on his mobile sent the Girls’ House supervisor scurrying across the playing field to meet the new arrival. Together they loaded themselves up with the luggage and set off for Girls’ House. Everybody raced downstairs in their pyjamas and dressing gowns to see what would happen next.

The front door swung open and the new arrival marched in, dumping her bags by the entrance. She seemed quite unfazed by all the attention. Hi she said. I’m new. Magdalena. Call me Mag. Flooded in at home. Had to get my brother to drop me off. Literally! She laughed.

The Girls’ House supervisor seemed a little out of her depth though she was usually on top of anything that occurred. Grazia she said faintly. Perhaps you could show Mag, Magdalena, to her space? And some of the rest of you could manage the luggage?

Grazia stepped forward, accompanied by two curious helpers. The group moved up the stairs to the space allocated to Mag. Cool she said. "The skylight’s awesome. I have to come here because it’s a tradition in my family. We all go here for our Senior years. So are you all on scholarships? I wanted one, but there’s nothing for Dance. That’s my thing. My last