Sometimes Marie spoke so softly that we were all struggling to read her lips, and I realized of course that she was putting us in Helen’s shoes again. In the end, her teacher did such a good job that Helen managed to pass a very difficult exam – so difficult that no girl had dared to even think of attempting it before. Then she travelled up and down the country to explain the importance of helping blind and deaf children, because of a sentiment known as compassion.

To finish with, Marie recited a bizarre sort of poem all about how vowels have colours. She punctuated each verse with very violent bow strokes, blasting out like atomic flashes. Everyone was blown away, but for me it was something special. I felt a bit like I’d been part of this poetic journey, as though we’d done it hand in hand. And at the end of the journey, I thought again about what I’d said to Marie only an hour earlier: that it was now that I was really starting to need her.

She finished the poem just before the bell rang. The teacher only had time to stammer that she was lost for words at the moment, that we all needed time to recover, but that she’d never before been punched in the stomach in such a beautiful way. I thought she was right: sometimes art is like being in a boxing ring, where the punches raise you up before they knock you out. We were all a bit dazed as we went out into the corridor.

“You all look like you’ve been hit by a tornado,” said Etienne. “Did the teacher have a go at you?”

I took the opportunity to challenge him about the concert at the Christmas fair. I was less and less keen to show myself up in front of Marie, but I wasn’t going to admit that.

“You’ll have to go ahead without me!” I said as we walked down the crowded staircase.

“You can’t do that to us.”

“And why not?”

“Because you can’t just chuck away months of work. And anyway we’ve made a commitment to Lucky Luke. A band’s got to stick together.”

We went out into the playground. The kids were running round and round the two snowmen, whooping loudly. Clearly the Metro couldn’t be expected to understand that musically speaking I had now discovered a different world. These days I was receiving an aesthetic education that made me look at things in a new light. There was another kind of music. It seemed to come from another planet, far away and inaccessible, and it made my heart swell. I was perfectly happy to go on making a racket with the Metro, since I wasn’t capable of anything better, but I’d have preferred us to keep it to ourselves.