One part of the exams that Helen certainly approved of – in the cockpit again, for air navigation and formation flying. It was rather a wrench to concentrate on getting through the problems Miss Devinski was setting from the rear seat, being just such splendid flying weather one wanted to loop for the sheer fun of it. 

Helen and Molly were wishing they had some firecrackers today (in Molly’s case, she was wistfully describing “jam-tin” ones as her Father’s associates learned to make over in France) – passing Mahanish’s restaurant on the way back to Songmark, a crowd of American pilots and tourists were noisily celebrating their Independence day, and the fact that they were looking after their own affairs. Helen was quite surprised to spot a smaller contingent of British tourists with them, celebrating with equal enthusiasm. I did not quite like to explain it to her.
 

5^th July, 1935 

It’s over! We were kept hard at it all day – but by four o’clock the final papers were handed in and we were left to wander the compound in a rather shell-shocked state. Prudence was the first one to come to her senses and her dorm vanished towards Song Sodas – a splendid notion, in half an hour the rest of us had all joined her. 

            Either Prudence had arranged this well in advance, or she had reached the telephone at record speed – whichever, we found her most happily sitting with her friend Tahni by the time we arrived. I should have thought of this myself – our Tutors are definitely busy with exam marking right now, and are hopefully a little less vigilant than usual. 

            An ice cream was welcome indeed, and though I was glad of Helen’s company and the rest, I really missed having Jirry here. Looking at Tahni, it was certainly easy to see that she appreciated Prudence’s company. Quite … outstandingly so, in fact. Molly whispered that if one dated spotted hyenas, if the brother was unavailable then the sister could stand in perfectly well. 

            Naturally, we are not quite confined to our compound before lights-out – anyone can vanish for an hour or so in the daytime without being remarked on. Prudence and Tahni did so as soon as they had finished their soda, leaving the rest of us wishing we had planned better in advance. Whatever folk say about Prudence, she has wits as sharp as they make them. 

           (Later) Amazing – Miss Wildford dropped by and announced that we had all been booked for the evening at Mahanish’s, and had half an hour to get ready! Various jaws dropped – followed seconds later by a stampede towards our dorms and a frantic unpacking of best uniforms. An excellent meal, of the sort of chilli dish the League Of Nations would probably ban as a potential inhumane weapon if used on the unsuspecting. I greatly enjoyed it, all the more so for the unexpected treat. Hurrah for our Tutors!
 

6^th July, 1935 

Dear Diary – more good and bad news. The good news is that Molly and myself have tickets for the SIRA meeting tomorrow night – the bad news is who sent them, and that Molly insists on going. She reached Miss Devinski first, who wrote her a pass on condition she takes someone with her – and this time the tickets have our names on them. 

            Molly is practically walking on clouds – despite everything, I can hardly bring myself to discourage her, even if I had any chance of doing so. Of course, it will be a large meeting, with all sorts of officials and aircraft experts around, so we should be safe enough. 

            Beryl is fuming, and offering to try and alter the tickets to put her name on mine – she has a quite fascinating little printing set and a wide range of official-looking rubber stamps which she says often come in handy with paperwork. It seems that her former school is not entirely lacking in artistic courses – she is busy at work on a landscape engraving exactly like that appearing on the local fifty-shell banknote. 

            Still, off to the Dance classes, where we are still working on large-unit tactics and combined operations (as Father would say). To our surprise, Beryl turned up, claiming she had a Pass to visit the Museum of Anthropomorphology and study local artifacts. The only local artifact she showed any interest in is large, red and glittering, and given the fate of the last few folk to successfully steal it, the Museum need very little security around it. 

            Quite a sight as we waited for the water-taxi back – a fascinating racing floatplane, a twin tail-boom model with pusher and puller engines, touching down by Moon Island with a bigger utility seaplane following sedately behind. Maria cheered the place down – evidently it is an Italian contestant, probably with mechanics and support equipment in the aircraft behind. A very distinctive design*, and one she assures us is bound to win on general principles. If Italy had won all the times Maria claims they should do on general principles, the Schneider Trophy would be held around the Adriatic isles, not the Spontoon group. 

*  (Editor’s note: evidently a development of the 1929 season’s Savoia-Marchetti S.M. 65, strengthened to avoid the original model’s troublesome and embarrassing problem of the tail falling off.)

7^th July, 1935 

It has been a long, long week – I had thought it would be a relief to finish with the exams, but today I was quite as tense as before any navigation test. (Helen was not greatly encouraged by Miss Wildford’s sage remark “there are worse things than doing navigation – such as discovering you needed some and didn’t do it.”) 

            Church seemed definitely flat with the substitute Vicar, and we were very keen to get out and meet Saimmi. She took us to the park on the western side of Casino Island, where there is an ancient grassed-over crater with some fascinating stone carvings. I felt quite at home – there is one just like it in the next parish to mine, the quaintly named Devil’s Punchbowl over by Goatswood. Only the lack of pouring rain and freezing wind was rather a giveaway that I was on the far side of the world. 

            The carvings are as I copied into my other book – the Spontoonies have some very strange creation myths, possibly because the local aquatic folk first told them. Saimmi showed us the weathered, exposed carvings – and after a quick look around for non-native watchers, she showed us some more. There are sand and gravel paths around the deep natural fissures at the bottom of the hollow – scraping a paw-thickness of sand away, Saimmi uncovered some other carvings, even more interesting. Fortunately we did not have to excavate them all – we covered them again, retired to an unmarked villa just on the side of Tower Hill, and Saimmi showed us a hand-written book with a full record of what thousands of unsuspecting tourists walk over every week. 

            Back to fill in the details in my second book – I hardly feel comfortable taking it into Church somehow, as despite the text being in shorthand, the various pictures and tracings are very recognisable, and not the sort that are displayed in a traditional Sunday-school. Except of course in Goatswood, where they have alternative traditions. 

            Helen is decidedly worried about my heading out with only Molly, and promises to start ringing every sort of alarm bell if we are late – a most reassuring idea. 

            (Later). A most wonderful afternoon and evening! We collected our passes and headed straight out to Meeting Island, where we could see six of the racing floatplanes pulled up on the beach – I suppose there is a lot more style in taxiing up to a SIRA conference in a thousand-horsepower racer rather than a chugging water taxi. 

           Molly had brought her large satchel, and after she vanished for five minutes in the powder-room, I discovered why. Her new dress is certainly worth showing-off, though I doubt our Tutors would approve of it or where it came from. I felt really quite dowdy next to her, despite the smart and well-respected Songmark uniform. Rather like a Girl Scout next to a debutante – in higher social circles having a sleeve covered in merit badges rather fails to impress. 

            The main meeting had the main SIRA panel discussing all the arrangements, with the racing teams taking careful notes. I suppose if they ever doubled the course length, any racer with a bare minimum of fuel tanks would be in real trouble – hence the course is decided two months beforehand. Even so, looking over some shoulders I spotted engineers doodling drop fuel-tanks under racing wings.  Even the weight of an extra ten or twenty gallons could be critical, as some races are won or lost by fractions of a second – and winning aircraft very commonly cut it so fine they run out of fuel taxiing back to the beach. Various welcome speeches were made, and then the meeting broke up for cocktails and an hour’s general discussion. 

            Having filed my notebook away, I could relax somewhat and mingle. Though of course I kept my eyes wide open – one of the engineers was sketching on the blackboard his idea for a radiator that actually provides thrust as well as cooling, with steam boost powering something like a LeDuck engine. Considering most trophy winners are fighting overheating by the time they are in the final lap, the prospect of turning some of that into speed seems very tempting. (It also looked very like the tubular radiators of the “Sea Fleas” I saw under Main Island.) One supposes there is nothing to be lost from telling the competition about the idea at this time of year – if it works the secret will be out for next year’s season anyway, and it is far too late to start radical rebuilds for August. 

            A polite cough made me turn round, and before I knew it I was looking up into Mr. Nordstrom’s eyes – which really are a most remarkable hazel colour. Molly had of course found him already, and we three retired to a table while the rest of the party surged around us somehow distant, like passers-by on the pavement outside. 

            Lars is really a most polished conversationalist – he began by telling us of his problems and triumphs with acquiring interesting technologies and materials for the island, with some chemicals in very short supply. I am sure he mentioned having obtained sodium metal by the barrel for local aeronautical use – very odd, as although it is used in engine valves one would hardly need tonnes of the alarming metal unless the engine was wholly cooled by it. Which would be a most radical engine design, and I am certain the aeronautical press would be raving about it one way or another as soon as word leaked out. 

            A fascinating discussion as far as I recall – this morning I sat through a prize-winningly dull sermon that I forgot almost instantly, as I am sure the rest of the congregation did. That is hardly surprising – the difference being tonight, that I know I found the conversation most intriguing, and wish I had taken notes! 

            A wholly pleasant evening, finishing with Lars escorting us to the water-taxi and putting us onboard in good time with no more than a respectful kiss for Molly, who seemed remarkably content with that.  Helen and Maria were quite worriedly waiting for us, and Helen in particular was quite fussy over just what we had been doing and saying. 

            (Memo to myself: Molly was complemented by various folk on her dress, which is admittedly very flattering. But I have one of my own nearly as good, and it is a waste to just keep it in the wardrobe. We really must get out more!)

next