Tales of the First

Sienna’s mother Margaret fussed over her when she picked her up. Her father Robert was out of town at a conference but he called as soon as the phone network was back up and was obviously just as frantic.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetpea?” he asked after she’d told him about Lucy’s collapse.
“I think so, Dad,” Sienna said. “It was scary but whatever that gas was it didn’t have the same effect on me it did on Luce and she’s going to be fine even though they’re keeping her in for observation.”

“She’s lucky to have such cool-headed friends as you, Charlotte and Wendy,” he said. “If you hadn’t borrowed that wheelchair–”

“Oh, Lord, the wheelchair!” Sienna said. “The police took it. I hope they’re returning it.”

“I’m sure they will, sweetpea,” he said soothingly. “They’re probably just testing it for residue first.”

“I hope so,” Sienna said. “I don’t think my allowance would stretch to paying for a wheelchair.”

“We’ll sort something out if it’s gone missing,” her father said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“But the convention–”

“Screw the convention,” he said. “You’re more important than that. I’d be home already but the trains aren’t running into Castleham because the station was damaged so I’m on the coach and won’t be in until the small hours.”

Sienna stared at the phone, uncertain what shocked her more. The fact her father had just sworn, however mildly, or the fact he’d left an important conference to hurry back. The last time he’d done that was when she’d come down with appendicitis when she was twelve.