Voices in Stone - Emily Diamand Page 0,13

ID.

“I work for the Health and Safety Executive,” he said, “Can I ask your patient a few questions about what happened?”

“You arrived quickly,” said the paramedic, a little crossly.

“Accidents have to be investigated,” he said.

“Well, he’s fine to answer questions.”

The paramedic went to help someone else, and the man from Health and Safety asked me about what had happened, and what I’d felt like. As he wrote my answers down, I had this weird feeling I’d seen him before. He looked… like you actually, now I think about it.

I’m telling you – there was no one who looked like me. No one.

Oh. No one.

Please continue.

Anyway, it turned out one of the teachers had phoned the school about what was happening, and the school phoned parents. My mum must’ve driven over at super-speed. I could hear her shouting at people before I saw her.

“Where’s my son? Is he all right?”

And then she was grabbing me into this crushing hug. “Gray! Oh my God!”

“Let go!” I said, trying to push her off. “I’m fine.”

Mr Watkins came over. “They’ve all been checked over,” he reassured her, “and everything seems normal.” Mum let go of me but she still looked really worried. She got a hanky out of her pocket and I could see her hands were shaking.

“It’s all right, Mum,” I said. And I did feel mostly better by then. “I’ve got a bit of a headache, that’s all.”

Mum burst into tears.

“He could have died!” Mum sobbed at Mr Watkins, who I noticed was this weird colour, sort of grey.

“Please. None of the children have been seriously hurt. The paramedics think they possibly had a reaction to the dust, a bit like hay fever. It may even have been psychosomatic.”

“My son doesn’t make things up!” Mum said, wiping her eyes with the hanky.

Which was when Dad turned up.

“Gray!” he called, walking fast through all the kids and parents and emergency services people. Mum turned, glaring, and whatever she’d been planning for Mr Watkins got hurled at Dad instead.

“What are you doing here?”

“The school phoned me,” Dad answered, glaring back.

I looked between them and knew what was coming. I felt like running for cover.

“I’m surprised you were bothered,” said Mum.

“Of course I’m bothered!” said Dad. “He’s my son!”

“Oh, so you’re suddenly full of parental care?”

“How can I be if you won’t let me see him?”

“You nearly got him killed! You didn’t even try to keep him safe!”

“Look around you, Jenice!” Dad waved his hand at everything going on. “You agreed to this school trip, not me.” He pointed at the paramedics. “Things happen!”

“They do when you’re around!”

Dad went this sort of purplish colour then.

“I told Gray to stay at home that night. You brought him out to the field!”

“Because you’d filled up his head with UFO rubbish.”

“Can you stop?” I asked, but I don’t think they even heard. People were starting to stare, one girl had even stopped crying and was now listening closely.

“Gray’s not a little boy any more,” said Dad. “You can’t wrap him in cotton wool forever!”

“You lied to me about where you took my son. Not just once, but time after time, for years.”

“He was never in any danger.”

“He could’ve died! Your girlfriend’s daughter did die!”

Of course Cally had to choose that moment to appear.

She came out of nowhere, through a gap in the crowds of kids, wearing this ankle-length red dress, like a witch or something. Her face was white, her mouth was open and her black hair was trailing out behind her. Mental-looking, I thought.

She didn’t even notice us at first, just ran up to the paramedics and started hassling one of them.

“Where is she? Where’s my daughter? Is she all right? It was on the radio that something had happened up here, but no one will tell me anything!” She didn’t even give the paramedic a chance to answer, just spun away and started questioning everyone in our class. “Isis! Where’s Isis?” she was calling, high and panicky.

My mum folded her arms. “Your girlfriend’s here.”

Dad didn’t need to be told. His eyes were stuck to crazy-Cally. Lots of other people were staring at her too, and even though I was glad she’d distracted them from us I felt kind of sorry for her as well so I went over.

“Gray?” Her eyes were huge in her face, and she was almost panting. “Where is Isis?”

“She’s fine,” I said. “Nothing’s happened to her.” I pointed to everyone milling around the coaches. “She’ll be somewhere over there.”

“Oh!” Cally let out