The Dragonfly Pool

“She’s allergic to absolutely everything,” wrote Tally. “Magda says she is used to allergies because Heribert, the professor she loved in Germany, was allergic to cheese and strawberries—they brought him out in lumps—but Augusta mostly lives on rice and bananas, though she can eat weird things like tripe and dark chocolates with gooey centers. It’s no wonder she got on the wrong train.”

And the aunts in their turn wrote almost daily to Tally to tell her what had happened in the street: about the new air-raid shelter at number 4, in which the dog across the road had had her puppies, and about old Mrs. Henderson, who had attacked the gardener in the park with his own shovel for digging up the wallflowers and planting cabbages, which would help us to win the war if it came, but did not smell nice.

When Tally had been at Delderton for a week, Dr. Hamilton’s brother, Thomas, came to see him to consult with him about a patient. Thomas was the richer and more fashionable doctor, but James had a special instinct for what was wrong with people. And with Thomas came his wife, Tally’s aunt Virginia, the mother of Roderick and Margaret. She said she had come to sympathize with Tally’s family, but actually she came to gloat.

“My dear, we were so horrified by what we saw at the station. Those dreadful children and everything so out of control and no uniforms! I suppose you’re going to take her away? ”

Tally’s father looked at her. “I don’t think so, Virginia. Not yet, at all events. We have had some very interesting letters from Tally.”

“Letters! But she hasn’t been away for a week. At Foxingham they’re not allowed to write at all the first week while they settle back into school.”

“Well, at Delderton they write when they like, and Tally has been very good. Her letters amuse us very much.”

Actually, thought Dr. Hamilton, Tally’s letters had done more than amuse him. They had interested him and consoled him and touched on some things that he cared about deeply.

“Really?” This was not at all what Aunt Virginia wanted to hear. “Margaret never has time for more than a few lines.”

“Of course, the letters at Foxingham are censored by the teachers,” said her husband. “Just as well, really. One doesn’t want to get oneself upset by any nonsense the boys can come up with.”

“We saw something about Foxingham in the newspaper, didn’t we, May? ” said Hester. “A boy who tried to run away because he was afraid of being punished.”

“Well, that’s the kind of nonsense I mean,” said Thomas. “There have to be punishments—they have pupils there from the royal houses of Europe, so the strictest discipline must be maintained. The Archduke of Hohenlohe has just sent his nephew there, and of course the Prince of Transjordania has been there for over a year. The boy who ran away was obviously a coward. He was supposed to go to the head for a caning and he just bolted like a scared rabbit. They found him the next day, hiding in some wood about twenty miles away. If Roderick did that I’d be ashamed, and I certainly wouldn’t want to hear about it in a letter.”

“Roderick would never get into that kind of trouble, dear,” said Aunt Virginia. She turned to her brother-in-law. “Well, I suppose you know what you’re doing, James, but I’d take Tally away at once if I were you.” She lowered her voice. “Mrs. Trent-Watson, who was at the train seeing Bernard off, says she’s seen that woman who was in charge of the children before. She says she’s an artists’ model—and you know what that might mean. Life classes and all sorts of dreadful things! Of course it may not be true . . .”

Hester and May smiled. “Ah, but it is true, Virginia. We’ve seen her on the walls of the swimming bath. Such a lovely girl. And Tally says she’s a wonderful cook!”

Aunt Virginia sniffed. “Well, all I can say is I wouldn’t let Margaret associate with anyone like that, not in a million years.”

After they had left and Dr. Hamilton was alone in his study, he took out his daughter’s last letter again. Tally had described a strange, slightly mad but very beautiful world, a world in which the trees and the river and the hills at Delderton seemed to be as much a part of her life as the teachers and her friends.

And she wrote that she was waiting for her first biology lesson.

“The man who takes it is my tutor and he’s supposed to be terribly good. He’s been all over the world and done some important scientific work. I’m really looking forward to it.”

Dr. Hamilton missed his daughter more than he would ever admit, but he was very pleased about that last sentence. Biology, the science of life, how it had begun and where it was going . . . this was what had started him off on his studies as a doctor.

That his daughter should take the same journey made him very happy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Matteo’s Moan