Our tale takes us from the ordinary to the bizarre, from the mediocre to the sublime.
The story, and its sad woes, begins in a cathedral where the congregation has the weekly pleasure of enjoying the melodious compositions of the musical giants of the past, courtesy of the choir and its director Stephanie Moses, who has a PhD in music.
Their accompaniments are the rage of the choral establishment. The choir is joined every Sunday by a small ensemble and a magnificent pipe organist. They perform all the old masters’ choral works. Every Easter they mount a musical extravaganza featuring a Bach Mass, together with full orchestra and soloists. The concerts sell out weeks in advance.
Our story relates the misfortune of one of the male choir members named Arthur Buchanan, whose musical gift was an unusually beautiful tenor voice. Many a week he graced the church with one of his solos, directed by Stephanie Moses; here was a treat not to be missed. He was in his forties, a very good-looking man and well built, and for whatever reason a confirmed bachelor. Arthur was a mathematician and worked for the government. He seemed to have the world at his feet.
Then influenza reared its ugly head. What at first was thought to be a common cold turned out to be an epidemic, and thousands fell victim to the virus. Arthur, not feeling well, went to his doctor’s office and was prescribed medication. He seemed to recover, only to have a relapse and, within days, was dead. When the news reverberated throughout the choir and the church, it was like an atomic bomb had been detonated: everyone was completely overwhelmed.
For the service, Dr. Stephanie Moses and the Reverend Dr. Olivier Wells staged Mozart’s requiem in Arthur’s honour. There were no eulogies, just the music and benediction. On the Sunday morning, all and sundry assembled in the cathedral. There wasn’t a vacant seat to be found. Dr. Moses bowed her head to the hushed audience. Turning back to the stage, she looked to her left, then to her right, then dropped her baton. A choral work of such magnificence permeated the air so as to reach to the very throne of heaven. Everyone in the church was stunned into silence; no one moved a muscle through the experience.
Weeks passed. The choir and Stephanie were coming to grips with their loss. Stephanie advertised for a replacement for Arthur. One morning, while sitting in her study cogitating the music for the coming Sunday, the phone rang.
“Good morning, Stephanie Moses speaking.”
“Good morning, my name is Jonathon Marley. I believe you’re looking for a tenor?”
“As a matter of fact, we are. Are you interested?”
“Yes, I’m very interested. I’ve sung in some very notable choirs.”
“Could you come to my place tonight for an audition?”
“Yes I’d love to.”
Stephanie gave Jonathon her address. This seemed uncanny. It was as if she was talking to Arthur. After the audition that night, if she was apprehensive before, she was even more so now. They shook hands and Jonathon promised to join the choir on Sunday morning.
