Voices in Stone - Emily Diamand Page 0,25
“you’ll be great!”
Isis lifted a little with the praise, but it didn’t help. There was no sign of Mandeville, or any other ghost.
“I’ve… seen ghosts in the playground,” she said to Summer, “and in the old hall there’s the ghost of a teacher. He’s always shouting.”
Summer folded her arms. “Is that it? Stories? I can make stuff up.”
Jess shook her head. “No! She can tell you things!” She glared at Isis. “Go on.”
But without Mandeville she didn’t know anything about Summer. He was the one able to call the ghosts of relatives from whatever faraway realm they were in, and even then it didn’t always work. Isis had asked why and Mandeville told her that not every spirit heard when he called out to them. Only the ones still interested in the living would come through.
“The others are too far away,” he said, refusing to explain further and looking shifty.
They’d struck lucky twice, with Jess and Nafira, but even if Summer had any ghostly relations who were willing to talk, Isis didn’t have a clue how to reach them without Mandeville.
She tried to think.
“I just have to…” She pushed open one of the toilet doors and flung herself into the cubicle, bolting it quickly behind her.
“What’s she doing now?” Summer snapped.
“I don’t know,” said Jess. She knocked on the door. “Isis?”
Isis leaned against it.
“Mandeville,” she whispered silently. “Mandeville!”
Nothing.
“Forget it,” said Summer, her footsteps heading for the door.
“No, honestly, she really can see ghosts!”
“What are you doing?” Jess hissed through the door.
“I’ll be ready in a sec,” called Isis.
“She’s a bit nervous,” Jess said, and Isis heard Summer’s footsteps returning, accompanied by a sigh.
“Mandeville,” Isis whispered again, “please.”
“Isis, are you ready?” Jess would never forgive Isis if she mucked things up now.
A drip fell into the toilet bowl from the ceiling. It plinked loudly, clouding the water. Isis glanced up. The drop had fallen from one of the stains in the ceiling; moisture glistened across the dull white paint, bubbling through the plaster. One drop became another, then another. Water plinked into the toilet bowl, quicker and quicker, the stain growing wetter, the plaster bulging and sagging above her head. Something must be overflowing in the room above this one.
Before she could move, a soggy crack ripped across the ceiling, a rush of putrid smelling water pouring through. Instinctively she ducked, hands over her head, eyes screwed shut. Freezing, sewage-stinking water smashed over her, getting into her ears and mouth. Isis shut her mouth, desperately trying not to swallow any.
In moments the rush of water faded to a last few drips. Isis lifted up her head, opening her eyes.
She wasn’t wet.
Overhead, the ceiling was whole and unblemished, the floor wasn’t even damp. Standing out of the toilet, like a tall bony heron, was Mandeville.
“Not the most salubrious location for a seance,” said the ghost. “Yet I am grateful for any progress.” He stepped out of the toilet.
“You finished now?” Jess called.
“Our audience awaits,” said Mandeville, smiling. “I’d open the door for you, but I am no poltergeist.”
Isis unbolted the door. She dropped her shoulders, lengthening her neck, trying to copy the way Cally stood on stage. Then she pulled open the cubicle door, staring directly at Summer as she spoke the strange, familiar words she’d heard Cally say so many times.
“The spirits are listening. Is there anyone you want to speak with?”
Chapter Ten
Isis
Isis was with Jess and the other girls, queuing for lunch in the canteen. They shuffled in the line, in their own little group, self-contained and talking among themselves. Isis knew the eyes of other students were on them, more today than yesterday, more yesterday than the day before, and the week before that.
Interest in their group had been growing ever since her seance for Summer. Jess had organised other seances in the toilets and the more hidden corners of the playground, and Summer had made good on her promise to let them hang out with the older girls. Isis smiled to herself, still not quite able to believe the way Jess had changed things around, so that what been a curse was now a blessing.
The girls sat down and Isis ate quickly, which was the complete opposite of all the lunches she’d had before joining Jess’s group. In the past, the food on her plate had given her something to do. The canteen had been safer from bullies than hanging about the edges of the playground, and less lonely than reading a book by herself in the library.
It