Eva Ibbotson - The Dragonfly Pool

“This way, Karil,” she said. “I have secured seats for us in the first-class lounge.”

The others waited.

“I’ll stay with my friends,” Karil said and, ignoring the scowls of the Scold, he made his way to the pile of luggage on the deck which the Deldertonians had made their headquarters.

The crossing was calm and uneventful. Magda bandaged Matteo’s arm and he stood alone by the rails, looking at the water. It was time to relax now; the hunt for the prince had come to an end, and he was so tired he could hardly keep on his feet.

Squashed between the canvas bags that held the dancing clothes, Tally and Karil were making plans.

“There’s only another five weeks of term but you could stay with us in the holidays; there’s lots of room in our house.”

“I’d like that,” said Karil. “If I don’t bring trouble.”

“You won’t. You can be ordinary now. We’re very ordinary. Barney’s family has a big house, too, and his parents sound nice, if you didn’t want to be with us all the time — though Matteo will probably want to see you, too.”

“Thank you. I’d like to stay with you very much.”

They were three-quarters of the way across when they saw the chalk cliffs above the harbor at Dover — and though it was true they were not exactly white — more a sort of pale and slightly dusty gray, all the children, even those who had been dozing, came to the rails to look.

The boat docked smoothly, but they waited for a while in the harbor before the passengers were allowed to disembark. Then, as they crossed over to the customs shed, Karil stopped dead.

Waiting on the other side of the road was a large black Daimler with an elaborate painted crest on the doors: the coat of arms of the Duke of Rottingdene picked out in gold. And leaning out of the window was a stunningly pretty girl with fair ringlets, wearing a blue velvet beret and waving.

“This way,” she called. “This way, Karil!”

The boy stared at her. Behind him stood the Countess Frederica and two men in the duke’s livery. She had sent a cable from the boat.

“Say good-bye to your friends, Karil,” she said. “You won’t be seeing them again.”

Karil said nothing. For a moment he wondered whether to make a run for it, but what would be the use? The Duke of Rottingdene was his grandfather, not a thug or an assassin.

Tally stared at the ground, unable to bear the sight of her friend driven off into captivity. Surely there was something he could do. Run, fight… he had been so brave on the quayside. But after all, he was going to his grandfather’s house. He had a family. She had been stupid not to remember that.

Matteo certainly had remembered it. He made no attempt to hold Karil back but came and hugged him — and then the children shook hands one by one and said good-bye.

“This way, Your Highness,” said one of the footmen, and Karil got into the car and was driven away.

The last thing Tally saw was the smug-looking girl with ringlets putting her arm around his shoulders.

Nobody ever forgot where they were on the day that war was declared.

Tally was in the kitchen helping Aunt May to prepare the vegetables for Sunday lunch when the music on the wireless stopped and the announcer said that the prime minister would address the nation at eleven o’clock. Everyone had been expecting it; Hitler had invaded Poland two days before and the democratic countries had had enough. Aunt Hester came hurrying in from the garden and Tally’s father from his study.

The prime minister was old and tired; he had tried to keep the peace and now he told the people of Great Britain that he had failed. An ultimatum had been sent to Hitler demanding that he withdraw his troops from Poland and it had been ignored.

“I regret to tell you, therefore, that a state of war now exists between England and Germany.”

No one ever forgot what happened next either. Almost straightaway the air-raid sirens sounded — that hideous wailing that they had only just learned to recognize.

“Quick, into the shelter,” said Dr. Hamilton, pushing his daughter toward the door.

“Oh dear, my roast will be spoiled — couldn’t you go ahead, and let me—” began Aunt May, and saw her brother’s face.

The shelter was at the bottom of the street. It was not really finished yet and a puddle of water had collected in the bottom. The lady from number 4 said she wasn’t going down into that wetness, she’d rather be bombed than die of pneumonia. She was a very large person and the people behind her got nasty because she was blocking the door.

They had just climbed down when the all clear went. It had been a false alarm.

“Were you frightened?” Kenny asked, when he and Tally met that afternoon in Primrose’s stable.

“Yes, I was — it was the noise as much as anything — that awful wailing. But I’m glad I’ve got it over — the first time, I mean.”

The date was September 3, 1939. The Delderton term began in just over a week.

“Thank God you’ll be out of London,” said Dr. Hamilton.

That evening the king spoke to his people. The aunts as usual were more anxious about the king’s stammer than about what he said, but he got through it very well, speaking slowly and pausing when things might have got out of hand.

As she listened, Tally was back at the dragonfly pool, telling Karil about the British king. That he was a kind man and that his people loved him, but that he was not like Karil’s father.

Well, now Johannes lay under a stone slab in Bergania’s cathedral — and Karil, too, might be dead for all Tally knew of him.

There had been five weeks of term left when they returned from Bergania, and every day Tally had waited for a letter. Karil knew her address at school and at home; all the children had exchanged addresses. For while they had hoped that Karil would be able to come straight to Delderton; they knew that there might be delays.

But there had been nothing. Tally knew now how Julia felt as she waited for a letter from her mother. None of the others had heard anything either; nor had Matteo. At first Tally had written almost every day, then three times a week, then twice… Pride didn’t come into friendship, she told herself, and she knew it might take him a while to settle down, but still there was only silence.

Now, as the king said, “With the help of God we shall prevail,” and the national anthem was played, Tally was remembering Karil’s words as they sat by the dragonfly pool.

“I would have liked us to be friends.”

She had believed him. She had believed everything he said about wanting to be free, about being weary of being a prince.

But she had been wrong. Surely there was no one who could not write a letter and put it in a letter box.

And it hurt. For the rest of the term she had waited and hoped, and here in London, too, when she came home for the summer holidays, but still there was nothing. Well, she wasn’t going to turn into one of those people who sighed and hovered around postmen. There were plenty of other things to do.

And indeed, during those first few days when the long-awaited war became a fact, there was hardly a spare moment.

Aunt May went off to the town hall hoping to become an air-raid warden but was directed to the wrong room and found herself lying on a stretcher, covered in bandages and labeled SERIOUS BURNS in a first-aid practice. Aunt Hester and Tally filled sandbags in the park and tried to shoo off the little children who wanted the sand to make castles.