The Dragonfly Pool

And all the time Daley brooded over the latest letter from the founders in America, trying to make the final decision about whether to evacuate the school. With one stroke of the pen he could secure the safety of all those in his care. The Americans were famously hospitable and friendly, and the founders were ready to do everything to smooth his path.

Yet did he really want to forsake his country now? Was that what he wanted for the children? He imagined the buildings empty, the grass in the courtyard growing between the stones, the cedar tree untrimmed. Or the army would move in—they would be glad of the building.

“I must decide,” he said wearily and reached for the aspirin bottle yet again.

Tally, meanwhile, threw herself into all the activities that were going on. She helped Clemmy resettle the mice that were caught in the kitchen. She dealt with Kit when he said he didn’t want to be an erupting seedpod in Armelle’s drama class, and she stirred Josie’s cauldron of whatever wort they were using till her arms ached.

But sometimes she went off on her own into the woods and made things she had not made since she was six years old: little houses of sticks and interlacing leaves which a worm might come and live in if he felt so inclined, or a necklace of scarlet berries which she did not put on but left lying in the grass. Or she would wander over to the library after supper and Julia would find her bent over a book of those phrases that are supposed to help people with their lives. Sayings like: “You cannot stop the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can stop them nesting in your hair.”

“Well, how goes it?” asked Matteo as Tally came to his room for her tutorial. “Any problems?”

“No, not really. I’m all right.”

Matteo looked at her. He knew that she was not all right and he knew why. The other members of staff, though they watched over Tally with concern, were sure she would soon get over her disappointment.

It was a mistake that he did not make. He and Johannes had met when they were seven years old and they had known in an instant that they were going to be friends. Till Matteo was in his twenties his life had been bound up with that of the king—his best ideas and most selfless visions of the future had come from this relationship—and when he cut himself off and stormed away from Bergania some part of him had died.

His friendship with Johannes had lasted for fifteen years. Tally and Karil had known each other only for a few days, but that made no difference. Sometimes you meet someone—and it can be at any age or time—with whom you should go forward into the future. All the children had warmed to Karil, but for Tally the friendship had been special. She had believed totally in Karil and his wish to live a life that was honorable and free—and she believed that in this life she had a part to play. Now the ground had gone from under her feet. She was not the sort of child to pine, but Karil’s silence had hurt her very deeply.

Matteo glanced at the sackbut propped up in a corner of the room. He had not played it since he came back from Bergania.

Then he said, “Karil is safe, I can tell you that. Nothing bad has happened to him. He is with his family.”

Would this make it better for her? In one way yes, but in another way no. She must surely think that an able-bodied boy could write a letter and put it in a box.

There were other things he kept to himself: his visit to a lawyer who told him that there was nothing legal he could do to take Karil away from his grandfather; and the message he had sent to old von Arkel, who was supposed to have fled Bergania and be on his way to England.

Two days later a letter arrived from the War Office addressed to Matteo and he took it to Daley to ask for leave to go to London.

Even though the letter had been seen only by Matteo and the head, its contents mysteriously went around the school and everybody knew that Matteo had been summoned.

“They’ll want him to do something very important and secret,” said Tod. “Maybe they’ll recruit him to be a spy—he speaks enough languages.”

“Or they’ll drop him behind enemy lines by parachute,” suggested Borro.

Barney thought they might want him to be a code breaker. “That wouldn’t be much fun: you just sit in a sealed house somewhere and decipher things, but it’s terribly important.”

Matteo, needless to say, showed no inclination to discuss his coming visit, and at the end of the week he took the train to Paddington.

The children had said good-bye to him with a mixture of pride at the thought of having a teacher who might be facing a heroic fate and sadness at the thought of losing him. But when he returned it was in such a vile temper that the idea of doing without him seemed an excellent idea.

He came back in the afternoon, in time to give his biology class, and when they came out of it the children were stunned.