Eva Ibbotson - The Dragonfly Pool

Meanwhile they had been given vouchers for a large room with two rows of beds on the top floor, and a small sitting room. Looking out, they could see the beautiful city of Zurich and the Limmat River which flows through its heart.

They had wanted to go out and eat in a restaurant but money was tight — and though Matteo was reasonably certain there was no one following the prince, he wanted to keep Karil safely indoors and out of sight.

So Tally and Julia had stayed in the hotel with Karil while the others went shopping and came back with bags of delectable food.

“It’s a pity it isn’t midnight,” said Tally when everything was spread out, “but you can’t have everything. Let’s hope Matron doesn’t come in in the middle and spoil everything.”

Kit knew about feasts in the dorm, too. His friend in the school where they played cricket had told him about them. “You have pillow fights.”

“So you do.” Tally looked at Karil. “But not when your father has just died.”

Karil had been sitting quietly on his bed. Now he lifted his head and said, “No, that’s wrong. It’s when your father has died that you have pillow fights. It’s when your father’s died that you do everything he used to do.”

And he picked up the big, spotless pillow from the nearest bed and hurled it across the room at Borro.

There was a moment of silence. It seemed to the other children that they had witnessed someone behaving very well. Then Borro picked up his pillow and hurled it back. Soon the room was full of flying pillows and feathers. Julia managed to save the Gruyère cheese and Augusta Carrington’s bananas, but the plateful of rolls tumbled to the floor.

Then the door opened and everybody stopped dead — because what Tally dreaded had come to pass. Glaring into the room, fierce and furious, was Matron. At least, she looked exactly like the pictures of Matron in the books: thin and black-haired and scowling, and she was within an inch of stepping on the rollmops.

“Karil — are you mad? Have you totally forgotten yourself?” said the Scold. “And what is that that you are wearing?”

Karil put down his pillow. “They’re Tod’s pajamas,” he said.

The countess curled her lip.

“You cannot possibly sleep in rags like those,” she said. “And all that food on the floor — I never thought I would live to see the day.” She raked the room with her eyes. “Is that a girl I see over there?”

“Yes,” said Tally. “It is, and it’s me. And this is Julia and those are Verity and Augusta; they’re girls, too…”

“It’s outrageous! Karil must have his own room. Where is the woman in charge?”

“She’s with Matteo next door. They’re doing the accounts,” said Barney.

But at that moment Magda came in to say it was time for everyone to wash and get into bed, and was instantly attacked.

“Ah! You there. I demand that the prince has his own room. It is out of the question that he should share a bedroom with these savages.”

“I’m afraid we only have one big room for everyone. Matteo and I are sleeping on sofas next door.”

“Well then, you must erect a shelter so that the prince’s bed is screened from the rest and he can sleep in privacy.”

“I don’t want to sleep in privacy. I want to be with my friends,” said Karil.

The countess ignored him. “It should be perfectly possible to put up a shelter using a blanket — it can be suspended from a hook above the window.”

Magda blinked at her hopelessly. She could have climbed Mount Everest more easily than she could have erected a shelter made of a blanket suspended from a hook. “We don’t believe in segregating children,” she said.

“We are not dealing with children,” snapped the countess. “We are dealing with the Crown Prince of Bergania. And please remember that His Highness requires exactly two centimeters of toothpaste to be spread on his brush, and he invariably has two rusks and a glass of juice at bedtime. Not one rusk. Not three rusks. Two. Moreover—”

She was interrupted by an angry voice. “I think I have asked you already, Countess,” said Matteo, coming into the room, “not to appear to be traveling with us. We may still be being followed, and you being the closest person to the prince would certainly be under suspicion. Once we are in Britain it will be different of course, but for now Karil must travel as one of our party and behave as our party behaves.”

“Like a savage, you mean,” barked the Scold.

But she turned and left the room, and they could hear the lift door clashing shut as she was carried down to her apartment on the ground floor.

“I want everybody to stay here till I get back,” said Matteo the next morning, as he set off for the British embassy.

Magda had had a bad night, dreaming that she had to cover Schopenhauer with a blanket suspended from a meat hook, and had a migraine, so she went back to lie down on the sofa in the sitting room.

In their dormitory the children settled down to read or play cards. It was a beautiful day; from their windows they could see white birds wheeling over the river, the green and gold domes and spires of churches and museums and a glimpse of the lake which edged the western side of the town.

Time passed very slowly. The church clocks struck the hours and still Matteo did not come.

“We’re going to be cooped up in the train all night,” said Verity. “It’s ridiculous not to go out and stretch our legs. I’ll bet the shops are fabulous.”

“Matteo said we were to stay,” said Borro.

“No, he didn’t. He said he wanted us to stay,” said Tod. “That’s not the same thing.”

They waited another half hour. A soft breeze came in through the open window. Then the chambermaid came to clean their room.

“We’re in the way,” said Tally. And then: “It’s sort of our duty not to hinder people who are trying to work, don’t you think? If we went out just for half an hour?”

“But let’s not wake Magda,” said Julia. “She might think she had to forbid us and that would make her sad.” She turned to Karil. “Unless you’d rather stay?”

But Karil was as keen as anyone to get out of the stuffy room.

They set off along the left bank of the river, across the famous Cathedral Bridge, and down the wide streets that led into the commercial quarter. Beyond making sure that Karil was always flanked by at least two people, they had quite forgotten that there could be any danger.

It was a marvelously prosperous city; the shops were like museums, full of exquisite jewelry and high-precision watches and leather handbags; the pavements were wide and shaded by trees, and everything was so expensive that even Verity was not tempted to try to shop.

And keeping out of sight behind them marched the Countess Frederica.

They were walking down a particularly imposing street when Barney stopped suddenly in front of a notice set out on a wooden stand beside a big carved door.

SWISS GUILD OF CHEESE MAKERS, it said. And underneath: FREE CHEESE TASTING, FOLLOWED BY THE UNVEILING OF THE NEW PORTRAIT BY THE BRITISH PAINTER FERDINAND PONSONBY-SMITH, COMMISSIONED BY THE GUILD TO MARK ITS TWO HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY.

The notice was in German, but when Karil had translated it Barney became very excited.

“I thought I recognized the name. Don’t you remember? It’s the picture Clemmy posed for. They said she had to be the Spirit of Cheese, and there was a row because the artist painted her as a lot of abstract cubes and the Cheese Makers were very upset and sent it back and he had to paint it again with Clemmy looking like herself. She charged a lot of money for modeling because she had really retired.” He turned to the others. “We have to see Clemmy unveiled.”