An early start today – we noticed Molly had not been sleeping too well, and when I woke up at half past five to see her staring at the ceiling wide awake, I roused Helen and Maria so we could have an undisturbed talk, a difficult thing to arrange with our timetable.

                Of course, I had thought about how hard it had been for her to get here – but I had only thought of it in terms of  inconvenient schedules and cramped lower-class accommodation. The full story of it was far more extreme, starting with her and her Father quarrelling over Songmark and his ultimatum that if she went there she need not bother returning. (One hopes he will have relented by now.) For tax reasons, a lot of the Family assets had been put in her name, and when those assets became a legal liability the G-men were hot on her tail. All the airports were blocked: only by calling in some favours did she manage to sneak onboard an ex-associate’s “cigarette boat” for the trip from Cuba to Panama City. Her funds were rather depleted by the time she found herself looking at the Pacific, awaiting a ship going in even vaguely the right direction.

                Unlike in the adventure novels, it seems commercial freighters are not really keen to take unskilled crew on for the price of  their meals and ticket – she stowed away on one bound for the Seabear Republic, having noted it was a mixed crew with a lady Captain and hoping for the best. Not only was she discovered the first night out from port, but her hopes were sadly disappointed (I had read in old Pirate tales about the Captain taking first shares before sharing captured spoils with the crew, but had not suspected the custom survives. Poor Molly!) The worst of it being there is nobody she can complain to, as being a stowaway she was never officially onboard the ship, and the entire crew would deny she ever was.

                Even having got here, she had more troubles to tell us. Miss Devinski has told her gently but quite firmly that unless Songmark receive at least half of next term’s fee by the end of term, they will regretfully use her deposit for a one-way ticket back to the nearest American port, where Molly says the G-men will be eagerly waiting. Every new Songmark student has to pay a travel deposit, which the rules say is used in the event of being expelled or invalided out of the course – having asked, Molly discovers she cannot transfer the deposit to her term fees.

                I had no idea things were this bad, as one always hears of folk in financial straits suddenly getting an inheritance from an Aunt or similar at the last minute – it seems this is a custom folk in Molly’s hometown have lost. So, we have another urgent task this term – lay hands on a fairly huge sum of money, and preferably have the option on doing it again a few months later. All this on top of the little matter of all getting through our own coursework, as well as whatever Mr. Sapohatan might send our way.

                Helen whispered that unlike Molly, in similar circumstances we could at least stay on the islands and await better fortune. There is a longhouse that Mrs. Hoele’toemi would like to see filled, and it is possible in the Songmark rules to take a year’s break between courses – Missy K has hinted that she might discover she needs to do that. We could join the Hoele’toemis as I am Tailfast and Helen is definitely considering taking that step with Marti, but Molly has less official connections here, having nobody local to sponsor her. I have heard nothing about Lars having a family, apart from his mysterious and villainous brother who nobody ever seems to mention. But even if we manage to get Lars back in good odour with the Authorities, I doubt Molly has quite the options Helen and myself enjoy; as I discovered in the past year, there are very fine gentlemen in these isles of very different sorts, but Lars is not the sort that one marries.

                In my Brother’s collections of ripping good yarns, there are scenes where friends stand over the campfire at midnight and swear blood oaths over the flames to stick by each other. We managed without the blood and campfire (inconvenient indoors and most unhygienic) but pledged just the same to do our utmost. We have ten weeks and counting – the trouble is,  we are not actually earning anything right now, nor have we time to do so with all our coursework. A rapid pooling of cash followed: Maria put in the lion’s share, and I pledged every cowry of my allowance (no more ice cream at Song Sodas for me, let alone new Rachorska dresses!)  while even Helen threw in more than I would normally have thought wise for someone in her situation.

                We are still about  twelve hundred Shells short of meeting next term’s target, but it is a start. With us four and our friends working on the problem Molly is looking rather more hopeful. Just as “hunger makes the best sauce”, necessity is definitely a spur to Adventure. Whatever Adventures might beckon, we should try and find the ones this term with a substantial payback involved. After all, it is in a good cause.

                Breakfast and Church went by in rather a whirl, with the Reverend Bingham giving Avarice a good shelling and strafing. Helen seemed a little uneasy (the first time any of the actual Religious bits have affected her) but I pointed out we were not trying to acquire riches for ourselves. Indeed, there is a Church Roof restoration fund starting up – our dear Reverend is hardly avaricious for hoping to raise a pile of shells for the project.

                Neither Jirry or any of his brothers were there today, but we spotted Saimmi outside the church awaiting us – we whispered that we had a meeting, but she smiled and escorted us up to the Park on top, where Mr. Sapohatan was awaiting us by the central pond. Not quite the sort of scene one sees in the films, Agents sitting on park benches looking out over municipal gardens. Indeed, when we arrived a food-less Mr. Sapohatan was surrounded by wildfowl which were expecting to be fed as in Tourist season; our first sight  was of  him being noisily disbelieved by a duck.

                As always, he was unfailingly polite, and asked after our health – we had to confess our worries about Molly, as it is no secret (at least to our tutors and assorted G-men) about her unfortunate situation. Far from encouraging us, Mr. Sapohatan had to explain that there seemed little chance of her being able to remain on Spontoon without a Songmark course. The Althing are not really keen to have large numbers of Euros moving in as Citizens – there are some, but they generally are folk with exceptional skills, or who have rendered exceptional services.

                He noted that it was rather a coincidence that we were looking for funds – from his pocket he pulled a huge sheaf of various currencies, what must have been fifty brand new pounds sterling plus I don’t know how much in foreign notes. He invited us to look it over, and it was quite a sensation to hold what was probably the price of Molly’s term fees, with enough besides for a new Rachorska dress to cheer her up.

                The real surprise came when he took the cash back, put it on the gravel walk beside the bench, lit a match and dropped it. The whole fortune went up in seconds, while we looked on with eyes wide and tails fluffed out in horror. Counterfeits, he explained, extremely good ones that quite a few tourists had found out about when returning home from these waters and presenting to their local bank. Definitely NOT good publicity for the Tourist Board.

                By his account, it seems unlikely that actual printing is going on in these islands (the presses needed for this quality of work are massive beasts and impossible to conceal) but certainly distribution is taking place. Being in the middle of the Pacific on a transport hub pointing in all directions, Spontoon is rather well placed for all sorts of quiet international dealing.  Which brought the conversation round to Lars, who has offered to keep his ears open and pass on any information he finds. I hardly think he would make such a specific offer unless he already had the scent to follow.

                Helen complained this sounded like a standard Police matter, and hardly something for us to tackle – unlike the search for Phoebe, which was unofficial as no actual laws were being broken. He agreed, except that in this case it was possible Spontoonies were involved who might recognise what their neighbours do for a living. In islands these small, of course there are only so many trained and competent folk available and other locals are probably aware of whom they are. As none of the notes were actually being circulated on the island and none of the forged notes are Spontoonie Shells, those involved might think of it as relatively legitimate business – the sort of evasion he hints that Lars would be quite familiar with.

                Of course, we agreed to take the case, so long as it does not take us away from work too much – I would be surprised if our Tutors raised any objections. Actually, I found myself wondering if it would be an entirely bad thing if a few million ersatz Russian Roubles or similar was let loose in the world – folk such as the Countess Rachorska might regard it as a harmless way of getting some of the confiscated fortunes back off the State. On consideration, with the mood Molly is in about her own Government right now, she would probably say just the same about forging dollars.

                We are in it again, and this should prove Interesting – at this rate I wonder what we will be getting into by our senior year. Helping the local Police is always a good thing, though I recall Erica mentioning some of her relatives take it rather to extremes.

                There is always the problem of what to tell Molly and Maria – it was well enough in the summer holidays when they were not around to worry about, but this is term time and we can hardly go about vanishing without a word. Mr. Sapohatan agreed, and promised to find something for them to do – I would not be amazed if he kept them on something important-sounding but futile such as submarine spotting in areas where none are expected.

                A brief farewell on the Eastern Island jetties, then back to Songmark to tell Molly and Maria what we could. They were thrilled to be given a part, and Molly was loudly hoping she would be allowed to take my T-Gew rifle out on official missions.

                I rather doubt it, but I hated to dampen her spirits by telling her so. If Molly goes around with that hardware, I expect Mr. Sapohatan will find her a vital role defending that strategic rock (for seagulls) Metzger’s Pyramid, fifty miles out in the ocean.

Tuesday October 10th, 1935

At last, we have started to get some choices in our timetable. All of us are poring over mimeographed sheets describing specialist areas, which might or might not appeal. It seems the local educational system is very flexible, with the local high school offering classes not just to its enrolled students but for anyone who wishes to buy into the course.

                Though we are naturally very air-minded, Songmark covers that side of things quite comprehensively and farms out other subjects to specialists. Several of the classes are at Superior Engineering, with advanced Engine repair and maintenance plus a good deal of general boat and aircraft work. Thinking back to our adventures this Summer, some more boating experience would have been very handy (Helen agrees, though plumps for the shore-based maintenance course.) Naturally we have more to think of than just “planning to fight the previous war” as next time will probably be quite different. Madelene X and her countryfolk disagree on this score, and to look at their Maginot Line they are set on building the world’s finest trench system well in advance. I am sure it will prove a sound French investment for at least a century or two.

                By the end of the day, I had agonised long enough – they are all sensible, practical-looking courses which might be very handy in the right situation, but we only have room in our timetables for five out of the fifteen. My choices are:
               Small boat Handling and Navigation (Moon Island harbour) 
                Marine and aero engine repair and maintenance (Superior Engineering)
                Advanced Reef and Shore fishing (Beresby docks)
                Advanced field medicine (Casino Island general hospital)
                Open-water and beach survival (Main Island, Lukapa Village)

                I think that should keep me busy enough, not that that looks like being a problem around here. Maria has branched out in Observation and Reporting, somewhere on Casino Island – though she is hardly a budding journalist, in her political career it could be very useful to be expert in noting and analysing exactly who did and said what and why. Molly has gone for the Field Engineering at Moon Island, although from the course notes there might be too much raft and bridge building and less of the demolitions she would really enjoy. Still, if we suddenly need a log trestle bridge building over a jungle ravine, we will know just who to call on.

Thursday October 12th, 1935

Three cheers for Jasbir! We had mentioned our quest for Molly’s Songmark fees, and she very generously donated fifty shells, all the disposable cash she had on hand. Li Han, Sophie D’artagnan and Irma Bundt chipped in with twenty apiece, plus they offered to treat us at Song Sodas whenever we needed to. In fact, after classes they insisted on taking us there straight away to cheer Molly up.

                Prudence’s dorm was already there with their friends, watched over tolerantly by Miss Windlesham. They have been making waves this term already, with some stunning successes in the swimming team they join on Saturdays. Carmen is a definitely exotic girl, and like all anteaters swims very well (one imagines a muzzle that pointed having little drag in the water.) Her very affectionate friend I have not been introduced to as yet; a native canine girl with patched black and khaki fur who I recall seeing dancing at the Hoopi Jaloopi festival.

                I noticed Molly’s eyes glazing over slightly as she watched the very affectionate scene, especially when Carmen licked clean the deep bottom of her sundae glass. Possibly that is good manners in Mixtexca. Molly’s ears went right down as she watched Carmen finish – I must ask why sometime. Possibly other anteaters enlist as villainous tramp steamer crews on villainous tramp steamers.

                Anyway, although a large hot fudge sundae will not solve our troubles, it put us in a far better mood for facing them. An hour’s dance practice with Jasbir and Co. after teatime put us in a healthy glow, though we were glad it is definitely getting cooler.  A most necessary shower, then up to our dorm and hard at work with textbooks trying to get a head start on our new courses next week. Molly was looking smug, there being nothing specific on Field Engineering in the Songmark library, and anticipating a relaxing evening. Having her sitting back reading her “True Crimes Illustrated” while we struggle was voted down by the rest of us – Helen found a coil of rope and a book of constructional hitches and lashings which she will definitely need. Although she eventually was persuaded (Maria grabbed her in a jolly good double hammerlock to immobilise, while both ears and feet were tickled mercilessly) Molly’s initial rejoinder was that Helen can get knotted.

Saturday October 14th, 1935

A busy Saturday, which we quite expect these days – starting with escorting the first-years over to the swimming baths on Casino Island: they are fairly empty this time of year, but fill up in winter when the sea gets chilly. Happily we were not required to escort them back, Beryl’s dorm being grabbed for that duty much to their disgust.

                It is a small world – after our dance classes, we were taken to the next hall to see the Advanced class in action – and for the first time in ages, we saw Lars performing. It was one of the interpretative Hulas, a most vigorous one that had the audience rolling with laughter or blushing deeply, according to sensibilities. Mrs. Motorabho gave us a rather condensed commentary on the plot, which was a rather updated take on an ancient Polynesian legend. It is amazing what one can get away with if one puts it forward as a classical legend: my Brother has mentioned the only worthwhile thing he has used his school Latin for is to read some very surprising stories that one would never get translated in a bookshop. But it is all Classical, so perfectly all right.

                It was a shame we missed the start of the performance, though we did get to see half an hour of  incredibly vigorous dancing, fully the equal of any effort we have made in the dance contests. Finishing to rapturous audience applause, Lars bowed his way out and made his way over to our table.

                Although Helen and Maria excused themselves and headed out, it was a very pleasant hour or so as we caught up on things. All of us were in our dance costumes, sitting on a very cosy bench, Lars between us. Of course, I had to act as chaperone. I must say, even after such a dance Lars has an exceedingly healthy scent – I notice Molly had her snout almost pressed to his fur, and I confess I was quite appreciative myself. As ever, I cannot quite recall exactly what we said – except that I was very sorry when he finished and announced he had to shower and work on some business arrangements. We both watched his departing form with some regret; he has a very fine tail indeed. Constant exercise will do that.

                 Helen had been awaiting us, exceedingly annoyed – by her accounts we had been very cosily cuddled up for an hour, our tails absolutely twisted sideways while we did all but groom Lars’ fur. She says we were sitting in a cloud of musk so dense she could almost see it, and urges us towards a shower with carbolic soap.

                 Well! I had a few words with her about Jealousy (adding it is scheduled for Reverend Bingham’s target list tomorrow) and pointed out that Molly has ten times the right to complain, but seems unaccountably contented. Helen was right about the time though – time certainly does fly. I could wish I recalled it better, Lars is SUCH a captivating speaker, and has such fascinating deep hazel eyes.

Sunday October 15th, 1935

So now we know what has Madelene X hissing and spitting at the very scent of Saffina! Off to Church today, with some of the new girls to see Reverend Bingham. Jealousy came in for a “zone call” as they called it in the Great War, where every artillery piece in range was brought to bear on an urgent target. Really, Reverend Bingham does it awfully well – pouring on scripture, common sense, parables, pathos, bathos and even sarcasm. Helen was transfixed at the sheer output power of a trained sarcastic vicar on full throttle.

                Saffina was waiting outside the Church, with Miss Wildford who had brought her over specially – not for the Church, but for our regular meetings with Saimmi afterwards for local Religious instruction. It seems Saffina had noticed some of the small local shrines with offerings of fruit and flowers, and was interested in seeing if her homeland’s faiths were more than superficially similar.

                Saimmi seemed quite willing to take on another pupil, and as she quizzed Saffina on her home beliefs, we discovered exactly why Madelene is one step from jumping at Saffina with claws out (she’d lose if she tried it, though.)

                From what she tells us, Saffina’s mother was a missionary’s daughter like many of Madelene’s relatives, out in the wilds of Ubangi-Chari, their mission being days of travelling from the next Euros. It would be bad enough for her to have married the Chief’s son and converted him to a good Catholic – but there are precedents for that, so it would be forgivable. By all accounts, the tribe own a far larger piece of real estate than many perfectly respected European princedoms, and everyone likes stories of a girl upgrading from commoner to Nobility regardless of where the Nobility resides. What makes Madelene X get the “red mists” is that Saffina’s mother married the Heir and converted to HIS religion, making a total mockery of the family tradition. Her Family refused to accept the marriage, and hoped nobody would ever hear from the disgraceful pair again – which was just before the emerald discoveries catapulted the province into world-wide fame and fortune. Saffina and her six siblings kept her original French family name, which is a tradition in the local religion and something else the Euro side of the family must be choking on.

                Anyway, the complexities of the Polynesian religion are so extreme that there is room for a few more deities, and Saffina was welcomed as another student (or acolyte?). She says the climate is quite like her home and a lot of the diet is similar, poi resembling her local staple of fufu, as there are only so many variations on what to do with boiled mashed yams. I would suggest wallpaper paste rather than eating, personally.

                On the way back we spotted Molly and Beryl returning from their Sunday “Church” somewhat unsteadily, the Temple of Continual Reward evidently preferring cocktails to sacred wine. Molly marvels that the “holy water” they use there could be lit with a match – whatever they do on religious lines, they certainly contact some sorts of spirits.

                Hurrah! Jirry and Marti were awaiting us at the dock – we have all afternoon free, and though we are out of cash, we hardly felt like heading back for another Songmark meal. It would probably be fish fillet and yams anyway. Instead, we very happily accepted the offer to dine with the family on South Island, where for a change the entire Hoele’toemi clan is together. I had not seen Jirry’s father in ages – evidently his import and export business keeps him away from home for weeks on end. An excellent meal of fresh fish with the local vegetable Jirry called Mo’moa root, something like a turnip with great long “fingers”: my book lists another name as “Chinese Keys” though last week when I pointed it out in the market to Li Han she was baffled by it.

                We would have been very surprised a year ago to discover they already know about the counterfeiting scandal that Mr. Sapohatan swore us to secrecy on – but the whole family seem to be engaged in State business of one sort and another. Mr. Hoele’toemi is certainly right to be concerned, as any exporter would be hit hard if nobody trusts the cash he buys his goods with. He warned us to be very careful, and pointed out that people are sometimes found floating in the harbour in Spontoon as well as Krupmark.  We promised to be wary – as being “bumped off” by enraged forgers would severely spoil our timetable.

                One thing they did not do was try and discourage us from taking the case. I hardly like to ask what they know about it – Mr. Sapohatan knows his business, and we like to think he tells us as much as we need to know. We do not ask what he tells other people!

                Happily, we did not have to be back in Songmark till evening meal, so I chaperoned Helen (and visa versa) for a long walk with Jirry and Marti back to North Bay the long way round via the West-facing coast. It is rather odd how there is nothing on this side of the island, just steeply sloping jungle and a narrow beach that dives into the deep channel between South and Main Island. Still, it has its compensations, as nobody is liable to disturb a private party.

                (Memo to myself: though catnip is something I really am in NO need of with Jirry, I should enquire discreetly if I can buy some. It is only fair that I use it at least once with him, having used it elsewhere.)

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