The Dragonfly Pool

After that the duke’s words surged over his head unheeded. Delderton had offered him a scholarship, and the duke had agreed to let him go! He’d been wrong to think nobody understood him or cared about him; underneath all his bad temper the old man wanted to do his best, and Karil felt ashamed for having misjudged him.

The duke was still talking about the school.

“Of course, I’m not surprised that they want you—to have a member of a ruling house on their books can bring them nothing but glory. But you may be sure that they understand how to deal with royalty; the place has been a cradle for princes for generations. You will be treated with all the respect due to your rank but with the iron discipline that will help you fulfill your purpose in life. Countess Frederica will take you tomorrow to be fitted for your uniform. Harrods sets aside a special changing room for pupils like you.”

Only now did Karil come down to earth.

“Uniform? But they don’t have uniforms. They wear what they like.”

The duke stared at him, frowning. “Don’t be foolish, boy. Of course they have uniforms. Have you ever heard of a school which doesn’t?”

Karil took a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he said, “What is the name of the school, Grandfather? The one I’m going to.”

The duke told him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The Stripy Boys

It was Magda who was in charge of the school train so the children were being very careful, making sure she had all their names ticked off and that there wasn’t too much swirling about. They knew that she had been having real difficulties in the holidays with Schopenhauer and the washerwoman whom he had (or had not) thrown down the stairs, and they would not have stooped to play the kind of tricks they might have played on David Prosser.

So far she had not lost a single child—and the children in her own house were settled in their carriage even though there was another ten minutes before the train was due to go. Paddington Station was in its usual bustle: soldiers coming home on leave crossing with soldiers off to their new postings; evacuees who should have been in the country returning home—and parties of schoolchildren in charge of their teachers marching toward their trains.

And now, in spite of all their care, Magda was in trouble.

“There’s one missing,” she said, poking her head around the door and looking anguished. “A new boy called . . .” she peered anxiously at her list, “called Stephen Bellingham. If you see him, let me know.”

They promised, and went on talking of their plans for the term. Tally was in the far corner by the window talking to Julia, who had not troubled to buy The Picturegoer because her mother never appeared now in film magazines. Kit, to everyone’s surprise, was not crying and saying he wanted to go home.

More children got onto the train. Doors slammed. Verity took her place by the window bar in the corridor so that she could be seen in her new, suitably tattered skirt.

Seven minutes until the train was due to go . . .

“Here, you have the window seat,” said the boy who had accompanied Karil into the carriage. “My name’s Hamilton. Roderick Hamilton. If I can do anything to help you, I’ll be very pleased.”

He looked at Karil with eager admiration mixed with curiosity. The same look was on the faces of the other boys in the compartment, and Karil realized that once again he was back to being a freak, a person set aside by his birth, to be fawned on to his face and sneered at behind his back. One boy handed him a bag of crisps, another offered to put his bag up in the luggage rack. All stared at him as though he was somebody out of a zoo.

“There’s someone you’ll like,” the boy called Hamilton went on. “The Prince of Transjordania. He’s in the next carriage—I can fetch him for you; I’m good friends with him.”

“No, it’s all right, thank you. Don’t bother him,” said Karil, who needed the Prince of Transjordania like he needed a hole in the head.

“Oh, it wouldn’t be a bother—not for you.”

Karil was silent. It was as bad as he had feared—or worse. These boys had been brought up to be snobbish and servile and nothing he could do would break through the barrier.

How was it going to end? How would he ever get away? Escaping from Foxingham would be harder even than getting away from his grandfather’s house. Already, as the boys were marched onto the platform by their teachers, he saw that it was a place where ruthless discipline prevailed. And the ridiculous uniform with its ferocious red-and-yellow stripes would make him a sitting target for his pursuers.

He turned his head to look out of the window—and found himself gazing straight into Tally’s eyes.

“What is it?” asked Julia. “What’s the matter?”

Tally had given a little gasp and was staring transfixed at the railway carriage beside their own.

“It’s Karil,” she said.