The Dragonfly Pool by Eva Ibbotson Page A

could always alter it a bit and make a Devon version,” Tally went on. “ ‘The Delderton Flurry Dance.’ ”
    Getting a team together was the next problem. Tally’s immediate friends all rallied around, and Verity, after watching snootily for a while, said she would come, which was a pity but they couldn’t afford to be fussy. Kit of course was really too small, but they couldn’t get people who were matched in size; they would just have to make do with what they had.
    The next day the rehearsals began, and they did not go well.
    â€œForm a circle,” said Barney with the book in his hand. “Now pick up your sticks . . . Then bow to each other. Now lift the right foot . . .”
    Augusta took up her violin, and the dancers lifted the staves they had begged from the gardeners, who used them for staking peas.
    â€œMove toward the center . . . hold the sticks up high . . . now flap your handkerchiefs. One, two, three, and hop . . .”
    None of the children in Magda’s house had handkerchiefs; they flapped their headscarves or borrowed tea towels. Borro flapped his shirt.
    â€œOw!” said Borro, as Tod’s stick went into his cheek.
    Kit said he couldn’t do it—it was too difficult. Augusta snapped a string on her violin.
    â€œWe have to be able to do it,” said Tally. “We have to.”
    At night the Delderton Flurry Dance ran through their dreams. They thought of it as a kind of sick animal that had to be nursed into health.
    â€œIt’s like those runts you get in a litter of piglets,” said Borro. “You know, the one that can’t feed itself.”
    They ran into each other’s rooms at all hours, suggesting changes—making the steps simpler. Nobody now would have recognized it as a known morris dance or anything else, but it didn’t matter.
    Gradually, very gradually, the children who had scoffed wandered away. The snooty Verity turned out to be the best at dancing, which was a pity but the kind of thing that happens in life.
    Matteo came past once when they had got into a hopeless coil. He gave some orders that freed them, but if they had hoped that he would stay and help, they were disappointed.
    Next came the clothes. White trousers or white skirts . . . bells . . . and flowers for their hats.
    â€œReal ones will wither,” said Julia.
    â€œWe could buy artificial ones from Woolworth,” someone suggested. They were surprisingly expensive, but everyone gave up their pocket money.
    The girls looked very weird in their hats, so Clemmy suggested they make wreaths and wear the flowers in their hair, which gave Verity the chance to nab all the forget-me-nots because she said they matched her eyes.
    By the end of the week they were ready to show what they had done to the headmaster.
    They took him down to the playing field. Augusta struck up on her violin. Borro, who was the hobbyhorse rider, galloped around the circle. The dancers began.
    The Delderton Flurry Dance was bad. It was very bad indeed. But it was there .
    â€œAll right,” said Daley wearily. “You’ll have to work on it solidly till you leave—but, yes, you can go.”

    It should have been a day of triumph and then suddenly everything went wrong. It was Verity of course who gave Tally the news that devastated her, but it was not really Verity’s fault; Tally would have found out anyway soon enough. But now she walked blindly away from the school and down the sloping, tangly path that led toward the river and sat down with her arms around her knees, trying to fight down the misery and wretchedness that engulfed her.
    She must fix her eyes on the things that were outside herself. The new beech leaves, with the sun on them . . . the bluebells shimmering like a lake through the trees . . . A thrush flew by with his beak full of twigs, and a water vole ran along the bank of the little stream.

    These were the things that