faltered, struggling to cross his muscular legs. ‘Hi again.’
‘I said you were coming, and she said she’d come along and give you moral support. She’s also filming me and Rocco at baby music class to put up on my Teenage Mums Facebook group page,’ said Charlene.
‘And I don’t go to college on a Monday,’ added Abby.
‘Oh,’ said Ben. He held Millie’s hand up to do a little wave at Abby then looked around, suddenly feeling awkward that everyone was staring at him.
‘I’m Linda,’ announced a woman wearing a poncho sitting in the middle of the group with a guitar rather than a baby on her lap. ‘I’m thrilled to welcome a young man to our group,’ she gushed. ‘It’s Ben, isn’t it? Charlene has been telling us all about you for weeks. Now I don’t want you to feelintimidated just because you’re the only man. You are very welcome at Music, Mummy and Me.’
‘Thank you,’ Ben grinned back. ‘You’ll have to change the name to Music, Mummy, Daddy and Me now, though, won’t you?’ he joked.
‘He’s right, Linda,’ exclaimed Charlene. ‘You don’t want to be done for bloody discrimination, do you?’
‘Please,’ said Linda. ‘We
do
have children present.’
Ben couldn’t suppress a smirk, which didn’t go unnoticed by Abby or Linda.
‘I’m sure everyone would prefer it if profanities were not used during the class, Charlene,’ Linda added.
‘Profanities?’ Charlene queried. ‘What are they? I don’t think I’ve used one of them before.’
‘You know what profanities are, you fuckwit,’ said Abby, smirking back at Ben.
‘Pleeeease,’ shouted Linda. ‘Shall we start again?’ She coughed and shook her shoulders. ‘So, as some of you are new to this class, maybe it would be an idea to quickly review the philosophy of Music, Mummy and Me before we make a start.’
‘Fuck me,’ Ben muttered under his breath. Abby stifled a giggle.
‘Music, Mummy and Me was founded in 1992 by Mary Jane Becket in Cambridge, following a study which proved that babies who participate and interact with music with their parents, smile more, communicate better and show earlier and more sophisticated brain responses to music, including the recognition of rhythm
and
more amazingly a recognition of pitch.’
‘Wow,’ exclaimed Ben. ‘That
is
amazing.’
Linda looked at him, unsure if her latest class member was naturally enthusiastic or merely sarcastic.
‘Mary started her own group in Cambridge, and now there are over fifty classes being run in the UK every week where babies and their carers can come along and enjoy a structured programme of melodic play.’
Ben stared at Linda in stunned silence until she was forced to ask if he was okay.
‘Melodic play?’ he asked.
‘Yes, that’s right.’
Ben furrowed his brow.
‘What exactly is melodic play?’
‘It’s play involving interaction with music and sounds,’ she replied.
Ben thought for a moment.
‘A bit like singing and dancing?’ he asked.
‘Well, yes. You could put it like that.’
‘Except,’ said Ben slowly. ‘Babies can’t sing or dance.’
Linda blinked rapidly.
‘Well,’ she said eventually, after a very long silence whilst Charlene and Abby sniggered and the rest of the mums looked uncomfortable. ‘They can move and make sounds to the music, and that’s what we are encouraging them to do during this class.’ She gave him a false smile then leaned forward and flipped some laminated pages in a file in front of her.
‘And
we c
an sing and dance,’ chirped one of the other mums.
‘That’s right, Caroline,’ said Linda, beaming at her. ‘The mums, sorry,
carers
, have a wonderful time singing and bopping along, don’t you?’
Forced smiles all round. Ben gazed at them, dumbstruck.
‘Are you serious?’ he gasped. ‘You’re expecting us all to sing and dance at ten o’clock in the fucking, oops sorry, ten o’clock in the morning?’ He turned to stare at Charlene in wonder.