The Dragonfly Pool Read Online Free PDF Page B

Julia when Clemency had gone.
    â€œIsn’t she nice? Magda, I mean.”
    â€œYes, she’s nice enough. Kind and all that. But she feels bad about things, and her cocoa is absolutely diabolical.”
    â€œCocoa can be difficult,” said Tally. “The skin . . . but why does she feel bad? ”
    â€œShe teaches German and she used to spend a lot of time in Germany, and every time Hitler does something awful she feels she’s to blame. She’s really a philosophy student—she’s writing a book about someone called Schopenhauer—and her room gets all cluttered up with paper and she can’t sew or sort clothes or anything like that.”
    â€œPerhaps we could help her to make proper cocoa,” said Tally. “She probably needs a whisk.”
    But Kit had gone under again.
    â€œI don’t like cocoa with skin on it,” he began. “I want to go to a proper school where they . . .”
    But just then the train gave an unexpected jolt and a shower of water from Barney’s axolotl descended on his head.

    When they had been traveling for more than three hours Tally looked out, and there was the sea. Tally had not expected it; the sun, the blue water, the wheeling birds were like getting a sudden present.
    They went through a sandstone tunnel, and another one . . . and presently the train turned inland again. Now they were in a lush green valley with clumps of ancient trees. The air that came in through the open window was soft and gentle; a river sparkled beside the line.
    The train slowed down.
    â€œWe’re here,” said Barney.
    â€œReally? ” said Tally. “This is Delderton? ”
    Her father had spoken of the peaceful Devon countryside, but she had not expected anything like this.
    â€œMy goodness,” she said wonderingly. “It’s very beautiful!”

CHAPTER FOUR
    Delderton
    T ally was right. There was no lovelier place in England: a West Country valley with a wide river flowing between rounded hills toward the sea. Sheltered from the north winds, everything grew at Delderton: primroses and violets in the meadows; pinks and bluebells in the woods and, later in the year, foxgloves and willow herb. A pair of otters lived in the river; kingfishers skimmed the water, and russet Devon cows, the same color as the soil, grazed the fields and wandered like cows in Paradise.
    But it was children, not cows or kingfishers, that Delderton mainly grew.
    Twenty years earlier a very rich couple from America came and built a school on the ruins of Delderton Hall, with its jousting ground and ancient yews, and they spared no expense, for they believed that only the best was good enough for children, and they were as idealistic as they were wealthy.
    The new Delderton was built around a central courtyard; the walls were lined with cream stucco; the windows had green shutters; the archway that led into the building was crowned by a tower with a blue clock adorned by gold numbers and a brilliantly painted weather vane in the shape of a cockerel.
    And the ancient cedar that had sheltered the lawns of the old hall was saved and grew in the center of the courtyard.
    Inside the building, too, the American founders spared no expense. Each child had its own room: only a small one, but private. The common rooms had well-sprung sofas, the pianos in the music rooms were Steinways, and the library housed over ten thousand books.
    But what was important to the founders was not the building, it was what the school would mean to the children who came to it. For Delderton was to be a progressive school—a school where the children would be free to follow their instincts and develop in a natural way. There would be no bullying or beatings, no competitive sports where one person was ranked above another, no exams—just harmony and self-development in the glorious Devon countryside. A school where the teachers would be chosen for their loving kindness and not