Eva Ibbotson - The Dragonfly Pool

Tally looked in anguish at her father. “Oh please, I want you to take me.”

“Don’t be foolish,” said Dr. Hamilton. “You don’t suppose we’d let anyone else see you off? ”

Because of course May and Hester were coming, too. Actually, rather a lot of people had wanted to come and see Tally off: Kenny and Maybelle; the receptionist, Miss Hoy; Sister Felicia from the convent… but Dr. Hamilton had persuaded them that Tally would do best with only her immediate family to say good-bye.

Paddington Station on the morning of April thirteenth was in a state of bustle and confusion. Parents towed their children to what they hoped was the right barrier; loudspeakers crackled, announcing changes of platform; porters with their trolleys tried to avoid the passengers who asked them things they didn’t know. From time to time a waiting train would hiss fiercely and a group of agitated mothers or worried children would vanish in a cloud of steam.

Tally stood with her father and the aunts next to the bookstall. Her stomach had dropped down into some place deep inside her and didn’t seem likely to rise up again for a very long time…

Into this confusion there marched the boys of Foxingham, in their red and yellow uniforms, looking like a line of soldiers or regimented bees. There was a teacher at the head of the line and another at the tail. The boys had said good-bye to their parents at the barrier — the school did not permit parents to come on to the platform — and of course no one showed signs of emotion or looked as though they might cry. Homesickness was not in the Foxingham tradition. Tally had tried to say good-bye to Roderick earlier, but he had been far too lordly to speak to her, and now she did not dare to wave. At the end of the line was a very dark, serious-looking boy and she wondered if he might be the Prince of Transjordania and, if so, how he felt so far from home.

The Foxingham school train left from Platform 2. It looked as though it might be late leaving, but the well-drilled boys stood beside their carriages waiting for the sign that they could board the train.

“It must be Platform 1 that you’re going from,” said Aunt May, looking at the departure board. She had been awake most of the night, but she was determined to be cheerful and brave. “Look, what a nice lot of girls!”

Platform 1 had no barrier; it was the end one, by the ticket office and the refreshment room, and the girls who were gathered together there did indeed look very nice. They were all identically dressed in smart navy-blue blazers and straw hats with navy ribbons, and their white knee socks gleamed with cleanliness. Beside them stood calm and elegant parents tweaking at their daughters’ clothes. Two teachers in gray coats and skirts with whistles around their necks moved among the girls. Cries of “Had a good hol, Daphne?” or “Wait till you hear what I did, Cynthia!” filled the air. They were exactly like the heroines in the books that Tally had been reading.

Tally bit her lip. How was she to join those beautifully turned-out girls, dressed as she was in her shabby tweed coat?

But at that moment the loudspeaker crackled into life.

“This is a platform change. The school train for St. Fenella’s Academy will now depart from Platform Six.”

And in an instant the beautifully turned-out girls and their parents hurried away.

“Oh dear,” said Aunt Hester, who had been much taken by the well-behaved children in their straw boaters. “I did hope they were bound for Delderton. They seemed so suitable.”

For a while Platform 1 was empty.

At least it was empty of anyone who might have been going away to school. There was a girl doing a handstand by the ticket office: her skirt swirled around her head; her knickers were white and pocketless. A boy with wild dark hair appeared, carrying a glass tank containing something bald and white. His shoelaces were undone; water from the tank slopped on to his unraveling jersey. Another boy, wearing a boiler suit, was holding a banner that read: DOWN WITH TYRANTS! Behind him came a very pretty girl with bare feet.

“Are they from a circus,” wondered Aunt Hester aloud, “or can’t they afford shoes? Her poor feet…”

More children arrived. Here and there were grown-ups: a woman dressed like an Aztec peasant with a blanket around her shoulders… a man in corduroys with huge patches on the sleeves and a rent in his trousers… a small fat man with an enormous beard.

The train steamed in.

“Excuse me…” Dr. Hamilton had waylaid a porter. “Is this the train for St. Agnes? The Delderton train? ”

“Aye,” said the porter. “Better keep out of the way, sir — they’re savages, this lot,” and he hurried off down the platform.

But now a woman in a loose cloak, with long, red-gold hair tumbling down her back, came hurrying down the platform. She carried a clipboard, and when she came up to a child she spoke to it and ticked off its name, and the child wandered off to the train and got into one of the carriages and opened the window and went on shouting to its parents.

Now she came up to Tally and said, “Are you by any chance Augusta Carrington? ”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Oh dear. This list… I don’t know why they bother with lists, they never seem to be right. In that case who would you be? ” She peered in a worried way at her clipboard.

“She’s Talitha Hamilton,” said Dr. Hamilton, frowning.

“Ah yes, that’s all right, I’ve got you down. You can go to the train — sit anywhere you like. And if you do see Augusta Carrington send her to me,” and she moved away toward a boy with a birdcage who had just come out of the refreshment room.

“Well, at least it doesn’t seem to matter too much what you wear, dear,” said Aunt Hester, looking very pale.

Tally said nothing and her father put his arm around her shoulders. He was remembering some of the things that Professor Mayfield had said when he told him that he thought he could get Tally a scholarship to Delderton.

“It’s an unusual school and very highly regarded. All sorts of eminent people send their children there. The school believes in freedom and self-development, and not forcing the children.”

Perhaps he should have found out more before he’d agreed to send Tally — but the part he had taken notice of was the description of the beautiful Devon countryside, the healthy food… the safety it would provide in times of war. And of course he himself believed in freedom and self-development — who didn’t?

Now quickly he tried to explain to his stricken daughter that Delderton was what was known as a progressive school.

But Tally was beyond help. She would rather have gone into a lion’s den than into one of those compartments.

“I don’t know how to be progressive,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t know how one does it.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “And I don’t know about self-development. I don’t know about any of these things.”

But it was too late. As for Augusta Carrington, it was quite obvious to Tally what had happened to her. She had stayed at home with her head under her pillow and refused to leave the house.

“We’ll write to you every day,” promised Aunt May — and Dr. Hamilton, blaming himself utterly, took his daughter’s hand and led her to the train.

People don’t die from getting into school trains and Tally, as she leaned out of the window to wave, stayed incurably alive, but as she saw her father and the aunts standing very upright on the platform she felt a sense of desolation such as she had never known.