Page 32 of The Secrets of Dragonfly Lodge
‘Look.’
She followed his line of sight. ‘Yuck,’ she groaned. A strange, formless creature was oozing over his boot.
‘A medicinal leech. Lovely.’ He planted his net in the silt,took a jar from his windjammer pocket, unscrewed the lid and, bending, urged the invertebrate inside. They peered at it together as it flowed in looping movements over the inside of its new home. Nancy shuddered.
‘Sorry, I can’t help it. It’s the thought of it sucking people’s blood. Why on earth did doctors ever think it did patients any good?’
‘It’s rather beautiful in its own way. I’d always thought they’d be black.’ Instead, it was brightly coloured, with greenish-grey and rusty stripes on top, its underneath a greenish yellow.
‘I’m not persuaded,’ she said with a grimace and Edmund laughed heartily. She hadn’t heard him laugh much before. Even in repose, he had rather a sad face, she thought as she watched him pocket the jar, then she lifted her net and concentrated on scooping up a boatman.
They spent a contented hour collecting specimens, though the one Nancy most desired, a bulky male dragonfly with a sky-blue abdomen, appeared to sense her intent, for he continually zigzagged away out of reach. ‘Anax imperator, the Emperor,’ she sighed. ‘He would have been the star of my collection.’
‘You’re free to fly another day, Your Imperial Majesty!’ Edmund called out across the water and Nancy laughed.
When they’d used up all their jars, they searched for great crested newts but found only frogs. Then, feeling hungry, they wandered back towards the camp for lunch, taking turns to follow birds on the wing through Edmund’s field glasses. They’d not really talked about anything personal,only the job in hand, but Nancy realized she felt comfortable with him.
They returned to find that Peggy was a little better. John Philips, a regular clown, unscrewed the pot containing Edmund’s leech and threatened to ‘cure’ her by applying it to her arm. Peggy shrieked in alarm until the others held John down and sat on him. Edmund rescued his specimen while Nancy laughed cruelly until the tears ran down her cheeks.
That night, after it grew dark, a crescent moon crested the trees, bathing the campsite in a pale silvery light, and Dr Hillman declared it a perfect opportunity for a walk. Everyone gathered. Some shone torches, but Hillman said to put them away. ‘Use your natural nightsight instead,’ he said. ‘You’ll see more that way.’ They followed him across the heath, past ponds, glittering under the moon, and into scrubby woodland, realizing that he was right. Once their eyes became used to the light, they could see everything beautifully.
They found themselves walking alongside a grassy bank that flanked dense woodland. Dr Hillman came to a halt and pointed. Someone gasped. Another said, ‘Oh!’ and at the same time Nancy saw what they’d seen. ‘Glow-worms,’ James West said. And now, everywhere she looked, it seemed, were little points of greeny-orange light.
‘How beautiful.’
‘They’re not worms at all,’ Dr Mills said. ‘They’re beetles, but the females don’t have wings so they just sit and look pretty to attract a mate. Rather like other parts of the animalkingdom I could name, eh?’ There were only a few giggles at Dr Mills’ well-worn joke and Nancy sighed audibly.
‘The males are equipped with large, far-ranging eyes so they can spot their lady friends easily.’ Dr Hillman switched on a torch with a red light, scooped one of the glowing beetles into a jar and invited them to inspect it.
‘It’s a bit sad to think they’re boring old beetles,’ Anne Durban whispered as they all set off back to the camp. ‘They ought to be fairies or something, carrying lamps.’
‘I’m not sure that fairies come into Zoology, Miss Durban.’ Dr Hillman had overheard and there was much laughter at her expense. ‘What Latin name would we give fairies. Hmm. The word fairy comes fromfatum– fate, I believe. How aboutfata fabulosa?’
‘What’s the glow-worm’s formal name?’ Nancy ventured.
‘Anyone?’ Dr Hillman asked.
‘Lampyris noctiluca,’ James West said promptly.
‘Well done, West.’
‘That’s a lovely name,’ Nancy said to Anne, hoping to soothe her hurt feelings. ‘I don’t know, it just sounds nice.’
She felt very close to the others, walking through the semi-darkness as though they all belonged together. Edmund and Michael hung together at the back as usual, but when she smiled at Edmund he smiled back, his eyes twinkling at her in the moonlight, and she felt a rush of liking for him. The person she was most aware of, though, was James West.
Two nights later, Nancy shared in another magical experience.
‘It’s here, look.’ James stopped suddenly. ‘By the roots of that oak.’
Dr Hillman had pointed out the badger’s sett the evening before. The group had passed a number of D-shaped holes burrowed into a bank in a copse of broadleaf trees where they’d gone to look for stag beetles. It wasn’t far from the camp, near one of the main paths, so on the presumption that it would be difficult for them to get lost, James, Nancy and Peggy had been allowed to return to try to see the occupants. Dr Hillman had advised them to set out an hour before the light faded and gave them various guidelines to ensure success.
The air was warm and very still, so that they didn’t need to worry about the wind carrying the scent of humans to the badgers, but the downside was that it was difficult to be silent.
‘No waterproof clothing, it rustles,’ Dr Hillman had told Nancy when she’d appeared for inspection in her windjammer after supper. ‘And West, you’ll need plimsolls, not those clumpy boots, or the badgers will think it’s a herd of elephants tramping about. Miss Durban, you look very pretty in pale blue, but I did advise “dark clothing”. And I hope neither of you ladies is wearing anything perfumed. Badgers have an excellent sense of smell.’
‘I just smell of sausage and onion,’ Nancy had grumbled to Anne as they returned to their tent to change.
‘Sausage and perspiration, me,’ Anne had said with a shameful smile. ‘I don’t know about you, but I haven’t washed for two days so there’s no danger of me smelling of soap.’
