The Dragonfly Pool

He had not gone far when he saw, sitting by the side of the track, a small hunched figure. Coming closer, he made out a girl about his own age. She had light hair cut in a fringe and wore shorts and a blue shirt. Not a local then—probably one of the folk dancers. As he came up to her she lifted her head and he saw that she had been crying.

“Are you all right?” he asked in English.

For a moment she looked at him blankly, and he was about to try another language when she focused on him.

“No,” she said furiously. “No, I’m not all right. How can one be when things like that go on?”

“Like what?”

“The Nazis. Hitler. I’m so tired of Hitler. I’m so terribly tired of him.” She began to cry again. “We were all so happy. I thought we had done it.”

“It’s when you’re happy that God strikes you,” said Karil.

She shook her head angrily. “It’s nothing to do with God. It’s people who spoil things.” She went to wipe her eyes on her sleeve and Karil felt in his pocket for a handkerchief, which he gave her.

“Thank you. I really like my school and I really like Magda—she’s our housemother and very clever—but she can’t manage handkerchiefs.”

“Keep it,” he said. “I’ve got another one.”

“Two?” said Tally, momentarily diverted. “Lucky you!”

“No,” he said vehemently. “I’m not lucky. I’m not lucky at all.” He looked away, then turned back to Tally. “You’re from the camp, aren’t you? One of the folk dancers?” He thought now that he had seen her through the telescope, helping a little boy. “It looked so nice down there. What happened?”

“They came and marched all the German children away. They said the king had insulted Hitler again, but I don’t see how you can insult Hitler enough. There was a horrible Nazi . . . There’s been a crisis.”

“There’s always a crisis,” said Karil bitterly.

“They were so sad to go, the German children. There was a very little one with plaits wound around her head who couldn’t stop crying. I went for the Nazi, and Matteo—he’s in charge of us—pulled me away and I was so angry I just ran off. There’ll be a row—we’re not supposed to leave the camp alone.”

“No, children are never supposed to do anything sensible alone.” He hesitated, then made up his mind. “I’ll take you to a place where no one will find you. You’d better come out of the sun. Then you can tell me . . . if you want to. But you needn’t.”

She followed him willingly. He was surprised at himself: the dragonfly pool was his secret and his father’s—yet he was going to show it to an unknown girl. But then, what was the point of sharing anything with his father? What did his father care?

They plunged into the cool of the forest. He led her down a mossy path, along a stream in which a heron stood on one leg, fishing. The path was dappled with pigeon feathers, and small fir cones lay on the ground; there was the faintest of breezes. The relief of the shade and moisture after the heat of the meadow was overwhelming.

Karil turned along beside a smaller stream; Tally heard the sound of rushing water and they came to a waterfall, tumbling down between rocks. Running up its side was a narrow track almost hidden by creepers and overhanging bushes. Still following the boy, she scrambled up to the top—and stood there, silent and amazed.

They had come to a pool so still and dark and deep that it hardly seemed to belong to the real world. The branches of great trees spread their arms over the surface of the water; a bright green frog plopped suddenly from a leaf into its depths. A kingfisher flew off with a flash of blue and emerald.

And over the surface of the water there danced and swooped and circled a host of dragonflies. Shafts of sunlight turned them every color of the rainbow and in the silence she could make out, very faintly, the dry clatter of their wings.

She said nothing, just shook her head in wonder—and Karil knew that it was all right to have brought her here. He could not have borne it if she had gushed and exclaimed.

“There’s a place there behind those boulders where no one can see us.”

He led her along the side of the pool and they scrambled over the flat stones into a kind of hollow soft with fallen leaves and moss.

“Are there otters?” she asked.

Karil nodded. “You have to come at night to see them.”

“I think this must be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,” said Tally as they sat down side by side, resting their backs on the cool stone. “But then, this is a marvelous country. I knew it would be. I wanted to come from the moment I saw it on the newsreel.”

“You’re with the British team, aren’t you?”

Remembering the rumors he had heard about the British “savages” he smiled, and Tally stared at him. He looked quite different when he was no longer serious and stern.

“Yes. We’re very bad—in fact we’re terrible—everyone’s going to laugh at us. We invented this thing called the Delderton Flurry Dance and it’s really weird, but it was the only way we could get here.”

“Why did you want to come here so much?”

Tally had been watching a tiny spider crossing the stone.