Spontoon Island
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Extracts from a Diary
by Amelia Bourne-Phipps
-edited by Simon Barber-
20 September, 1936 to 25 September, 1936

"Autumn Fruits"
As extracted by Simon Barber

(Being the 16th part of the diary of Amelia Bourne-Phipps, starting her third and final year at Songmark Aeronautical Boarding School for Young Ladies. Golly!)

Tuesday September 20th, 1936

Dear Diary - after the troubles of the last week in the Albanian South Indies, it is a relief to get back home. Term starts on Monday, and indeed the first-years are already here and in class. I was spared the chore of acting as reception committee even had I bbeen available - we are thirdyears now and above that sort of thing. Which is only another way of saying our Tutors are surely going to find us something much worse to do, soon enough.

As soon as I had said a less than reluctant to farewell to Brigit Mulvaney and Zara, I was straight round to my bank with my wages cheque. That, and a rather fatter commercial log book, is certainly the bright side of things. Checking my account, I note that Father has paid my allowance and suchlike, which is always a relief. After all, according to the government back in England I am listed as an Enemy Agent, thanks to that awful squirrel Soppy Forsythe.

I was definitely reminded of that when I bumped into the dark-haired tabby girl who works at the British Embassy, and refused to replace my passport. She looked me over with a sneer and asked if I was banking ill-gotten gains from my paymaster.

I think Molly would have decided one may as well be hung for a pound as a shilling, and practiced the Roedean Nerve pinch on her (there is a way we have been taught where you make it look like they have fainted and you are solicitously trying to help them as they collapse.) It was tempting. But I just smiled politely and let her pass, hearing the manager address her as Miss Millicent. So, that is something learned. If she is training in the diplomatic corps, I would have thought gloating at unfortunates would be considered undiplomatic.

At last I was on a water-taxi again, chatting in Spontoonie with the taxi boatman and heading homewards to South Island. This time next week we will all be back in class and finding out just why third-years tend to have that haunted look. I have a few days to get back into the swing of things, and hope to make the most of it.

I had an awful shock when I got to the Hoele'toemi compound; it was shut up and deserted, with no sign of anyone! I had a rather bad minute looking around the empty compound, until I spotted one of the neighbours. She explained that tonight is the "Hoopy Jaloopy" festival, and most folk are out on the West beach building the giant tourist figure and getting ready for the party.

It was quite a relief. Tonight is the first full moon after the last tourist boat departed (only last week, I am told) and all the hotel staff and "custom" entertainers are home with their waiter's dress suits or specially designed traditional costumes packed away for the year. It made me realise rather how much I have come to rely on the Hoele'toemi family, as the prospect of moving into a tourist guest house rather chills now. And I could feel my training kicking in: by the time I had made sure there was nobody at home I had already thought of four Alternative Plans.

It was a fine meeting, with Helen, Maria and Saffina plus Mrs H and all the family! Well, all except two; Jirry and his father were here all last week but have now left again! So much for a perfect last week of the holidays. Helen is very happily established in the guest longhouse with Marti, and it is the village women's longhouse for me. I can hardly say "alone" as there are half a dozen young village girls there apart from my dorm, but I had hoped for different company. Helen has been settled with Marti since we came back from Cranium Island.

I asked after Molly, and Helen's ears went right down as she explained Lars is back in the Spontoon Islands now and Molly is spending all her time with him. Well, she will certainly not get the chance next week; our Tutors have made it very plain what they think of him. Everyone else is enjoying their final week of freedom, though Saffina was grabbed last week to act as first-year welcoming committee.

It really makes the holiday better, knowing the new year are hard at work right now, coming to terms with three-finger Poi several times a week and discovering how hungry the exercise makes you regardless. Some of Beryl's little Songmark guide was accurate, including the bits about how you will ache in places one never noticed existed before. The frightening thing is, our Tutors have often told us they try and make every year equally hard, so whatever sort of challenges are in front of us are liable to be awful!

I helped Mrs H and the neighbours complete the palm-leaf effigy. It is harder to build than in previous years, as believe it or not South Island is running out of rubbish! This past year a lot of the young Spontoonies have been scouring up every pile of discarded roof thatching and delivering it to Casino Island where the rival German Scientists are turning it into gas or electricity. Even the cooking fire pits are looking very clean, as Professor Kurt pays good prices for wood ash for his industrial scale compost heap.

Still, by mid-afternoon there was a fifteen foot tall effigy standing on the beach, a rounded form with deafeningly loud shirt made from dyed sacking and a yard-long cigar made from palm fronds and cardboard. A tea-chest painted black forms his camera, and in authentic style he wears the Spontoonie script hat that translates "skirt-lifter". The actual Spontoonie phrase is ruder than that sounds; these things never translate exactly.

The official festival only started at moonrise, so we returned for a few hours to Haio Beach. Molly was there first, alone in the village hut, and was rather embarrassed when we found her. I looked at the book she had been reading with such evident enjoyment, which I had expected to be "Extra-Spicy Pacific Adventures" although Molly has enough real ones anyway. Actually it was something I doubt is on sale anywhere - a technical report from the Bureau of Naval Design and Construction in Washington. She had propped the page open to a series of spark-gap photographs in thousandths of a second flashes, 'Model C 14" shell fired at 300 yards range on Charge Super, penetrating 16 inches of face-hardened Krupp Cemented Plate' as some of the captured German fleet was tested to destruction after 1918. Well, I hardly expected Molly to daydream about hearts and flowers. Seeing millisecond by millisecond how the traditional unstoppable force fares against the immovable object has its fascination I suppose, but to Molly so does setting buildings on fire.

As soon as I had seen it she hid the book in her day pack and whispered that Lars needed it back; I could see the "Secret" stamp on the front cover and can imagine there were never many copies printed. How Lars got it, is probably quite a story in its own right but one that will not be appearing in the Daily Elele. It is hard to say why the Spontoonies need anything like that if they already have those shells Lars got from Fiume; I can hardly see the local iron foundries casting any improved models! Those plain iron bollards they got from Rain Island are surely dummy training rounds.

Molly looks in the bloom of health, despite having been to Krupmark. She says it is much better than the horror tales she has heard from us; I suppose it suits her better than the rest of us. Having one place she is actually secure from G-Men with extradition warrants is an asset, I suppose. She says she has been making herself useful, and getting in some self-defence practice. Her eyes definitely gleamed when she mentioned Lars has promised her something very special as an Engagement present. I doubt it will come from a jewellery shop.

As the moon came up on the peaceful and mostly tourist-free islands, we gathered around the effigy on the beach. I suppose it was much as they taught us in Religious Education, of in olden times Kings ruled for a year signifying the fertility of the land then were sacrificed to ensure prosperity for the new year (the New Year theatrics with the old and new year characters is an echo of it.) The giant loud tourist is paying for many of the good things the Spontoonies enjoy, but at the end of the year - bonfire time!

There were some "tourists" present but not the sort the effigy shows. At any time of year there are travellers, explorers and treasure-hunters passing through, and every village having a giant effigy and party preparations is likely to get noticed. One snout was familiar from Casino Island, that Miss Fawnsworthy we met when I attended Reverend Bingham's church. She was with a gentleman deer, a nice-looking buck in a fine linen suit who had a spread of horns one could have held up a week's laundry on. One never sees stags in deep-sea diving helmets.

As the moon rose, the folk who have been sweating all Summer in waiter's costumes and chambermaid's outfits finally had their revenge. First the Priestess (one of Saimmi's friends we have met) lit and blessed a small camp fire, which was used to light torches. Then there was a grand torchlight procession, finishing in them hurling their torches at the tubby effigy. I am sure alienists would heartily approve, as it acts as a safety valve for Repressed Intentions.

 Although strictly speaking she is not qualified, nobody objected when Molly grabbed a blazing torch and thrust it into the already flaming image, probably close enough to scorch her fur. She does enjoy this; she threw back her head and laughed, lit most strikingly in the firelight as it gleamed in her eyes giving an effect film-makers would try long and hard to deliberately produce. For some reason I noticed the buck with Miss Fawnsworthy give a start and beat a hasty retreat towards the refreshments.

An excellent evening, as I am off "flight regulations" now and can have as much Nootnops Blue as I like. Whatever we are doing next week, it will certainly not be partying!


Wednesday 21st September, 1936

A day of relaxing after the party. The combination of my nerve-wracking South Indies trip and a very fine party left me feeling like a very flat but contented fur rug, just wanting to lie on the beach and soak up the still very nice Autumn sunshine. Actually I gave in to that temptation all morning while the rest joined me and we caught up on events. It will probably be a very long time before we can all do this again, just relax in the sunshine with nothing urgent to disturb us. In fact we can hardly count on it till Easter, and who knows what will be happening by then.

Molly and I have both been away for more than a week, in opposite directions. In fact they have been opposite in more than just compass bearings: whatever folk may complain about the Johnsons' family arrangements, they are certainly respectable people. Molly, on the other paw, has been helping Lars with what he does on Krupmark. She was a little vague about some of it; I think she realised too much information would only upset us.

Maria says the new Flying School is now in full swing; in fact they started their term a few days before the Songmark first-years. They are always neatly dressed, keep very much to themselves and are quietly being good citizens dividing their time between classes, flying and Church. No errant first-years being hunted down through the streets of Casino Island by their seniors! She has met the entire class and teachers, who came to the final service on South Island when the Chapel of the Sacred Heart was carefully dismantled. None of it was scrapped or burned even though a lot of the building is corrugated iron and timber that was green at the start and has seen better days since then. They have already planted decorative flower-beds on the site, where they will install a Calvary (possibly hoping the Native Spontoonies will not recognise what it is.)

Thinking of first-years, Saffina has a few tales to tell us of some new arrivals. She managed to find out most of the girls Beryl had sold those misleading pamphlets to, and warn them. Unfortunately some had already generously showed them to other new arrivals, who she had not got to in time. So the first breakfast meal on Monday had five girls standing up and in tolerable close harmony singing Beryl's idea of the Spontoon National Anthem, "Allthings Bright and Beautiful" with rather rude lyrics in the second and third verses. Actually I am sorry I missed it.

Although I imagine Beryl will get called onto the carpet by our Tutors for that prank, she is a resilient rodent and will not lose any sleep over it. Besides, it  all happened in Holiday timeand she was careful to ask for the pamphlet's return before the first day of term - she is always very careful to cover herself. It is the first-years she will have to look out for: not all of them are liable to laugh it off!

Saffina says there were two "tough eggs" as she calls them who were taken in by the stunt (hopefully they did not use the "respectful Spontoonie Greeting" that is nothing of the sort). Both are Americans; a bobcat called Lucy Ulrich and a squirrel called Nancy Rote. Miss Rote has put it on her public form that she is training as a new kind of flying sleuth, and dedicated to the war against crime. Doubtless she and Beryl will not be short of lively subjects to debate.

The tourist stalls were all packed away for the season but there was one hut on the beach selling Popatohi, and we followed our noses to the delicious scent of salted fried fish with garlic and native herbs. Even if Molly and Maria would be totally herbivorous by nature, they have been brought up on fish and meat and it seems the body adjusts to it. I hear many Orientals have a similar problem with milk, even felines who by all usual rules should love it. Besides, as Molly points out, in our Songmark course we have a lot of wear and tear to make up for, and for the protein in one small fish she would have to chew through a basket of bamboo shoots (and most of the nutrition there would be from eating the basket.) I would have thought they are the ideal reducing diet, as the effort of chewing and digesting bamboo probably burns as many calories as they contain.

I recall a year ago hearing Jane Ferry (who is a vegetarian by choice and principle, rather than biology) almost being tempted by Beryl's argument that eating spare ribs is perfectly all right, as they are only spares and the animal can obviously do without them.

Back to earn our keep at the Hoele'toemi homestead, working hard to bring the taro harvest in. Well, the family like it. It is certainly more useful than potatoes in that one eats the green leaves as well as the roots, and indeed there is no part of the plant that goes to waste.

It was good to return to oiled, patterned fur for a few days. My third-year uniform is waiting, but I am equally proud of the insignia combed onto my fur. Helen's is even better, being Tailfast. I have to confess being rather envious.

(Later) An interesting meeting at the family supper; Saimmi appeared and brought a guest, her ancient superior Huakava. I had not met her in months, and was shocked at how frail she looked. And yet she is the High Priestess of the whole Spontoon chain! She took me out with Helen and Saffina, and gave us some instruction that we have never heard before. Huakava told us many stories, and asked that we remember and write them down. Looking at her, I can believe she might not last another winter, and we are diligently remembering everything she tells us.

One thing she said that quite caught us by surprise was mentioning Songmark, which was certainly built when the official history says, but on a "significantly older" site. Frustratingly, she did not say why it was significant, only that it was very well suited to its new children, and that it would be revealed when the time was ripe. A fascinating evening!
 

Thursday 22nd September, 1936

A more productive day, as we headed across to Casino Island to prepare for the new term. We have all sewed the third bar onto our Songmark shirts and blazers; unlike in the military one is not issued with the uniform and has to buy the approved pattern. It makes you definitely keen to take good care of it.

I saw the first of the Spanish school in town, whose uniforms certainly look neat and tidy, if a little old-fashioned. Ours are rather unflattering even when well tailored; one can only put so much glamour into a costume meant for overhauling engines or scrambling up a rock face. It is a frightening thought that we are already outnumbered and that is just by their first year!

Thinking of Spain, Maria has heard from our old friend Consuela who has gone in the other direction from Father Dominicus' flock in that she headed into their Civil War from the safety of Spontoon rather than visa versa. She writes to say she is flying air support against the Reds, working with an International mixed-arms unit of combined German tanks and Spanish infantry. Their commander is General Sancho de La Mancha, of the "Sancho Panzer Division".

The islands are moving into the off-season, with the attractions closing up in the Treasure Point Amusement park. Some are being renovated, and I assume the Crazy Golf is having therapy. There is still a lot of activity as renovation work starts on the hotels in time for the rainy season (December in Spontoon is no time to have half a roof) and indeed some of the locals must have taken off their Tourist-pleasing costumes and slipped straight into their working overalls.

We had luncheon outside Lingenthals where they do various Continental cakes and such treats as we never see at Songmark. It was rather a pensive meal, with Helen pointing out this is the third September we have been here together. Things certainly change; now we have two junior years looking up to us. At least, Molly says if they do not look up they are going to be trodden down. I expect she is joking. Helen has been Tailfast for a year and a half now and plans to become Mrs. Hoele'toemi, and with Molly starting to think of Engagement presents (what is Lars going to give her, a howitzer?) our lives are definitely moving along.

Still, we are determined to enjoy what little time we have left before Sunday. We made the shopkeepers very happy, and had ourselves measured for the Rainy Season clothes we will soon be ordering. I would not fit into any snug garments made for me the first term I arrived here; we have filled out quite considerably especially around the shoulders, though the effect is not unflattering. Maria was rather strong to start with, and apart from Missy K and Irma Bundt (who should be back from Switzerland any day now) is by far the most powerful of us.

We are not the only Songmark girls enjoying our last days of freedom on Casino Island; Jasbir and Li Han met us as we headed back towards the water taxis. I hardly recognised either of them, having obviously been very busy with the fur dye and looking very different. Jasbir has fulfilled her ambition of dancing at the Coconut Shell, having evaded our Tutors' disapproval by manufacturing a whole new identity. She said it was worth the trip to Gull Island, and after a very eventful week the Natives there cheerfully fibbed to the Spontoonie authorities that she was one of them.

Helen whispered that she had heard of the Gull Islanders, who have morals as unsavoury as the rest of their island, and darkly speculated just what else Jasbir was doing that week. She seems in the best of spirits and none the worse for it indeed; possibly there are more things than dancing that she took the opportunity to try before returning to take up her official position as Maharani in Utterly Pradesh after she graduates. She is doing two shows at the Coconut Shell a night, which is surely exhausting but keeping her fit for the coming term; this is the last week of the Season, and she invites us to come and watch! We happily accepted.

Her sister Meera has arrived and is already in class, the first time two in the same family have been accepted at Songmark. This is not just because they can pay the fees (which are the same for everybody) but from what Jasbir says, Meera has taken top marks in chemistry and applied aeronautics at Roedean. The school "Congreve Club" has been trying to cross the English Channel with a rocket, and even their failures provided some spectacular firework displays. Actually, this might be more dangerous if it works than if it fails; unlike Bleriot and his gentle aircraft touch-down in 1908, any rocket is likely to "land" rather like a ten-foot meteor at several hundred miles an hour with its tanks full of explosive fumes. Do the greenhouse-owners of Calais know about this, I wonder? From the way Molly's ears went up and her eyes lit at the description, I am sure she will feel kindly towards a girl whose hobby involves burning wood alcohol in red fuming nitric acid.

Back to South Island, where Molly discovered a note from Lars awaiting her at the post office. It is an invitation to a party, on Saturday! Her eyes shone wide as she contemplated that, and invited me along.

Helen's ears went down and her tail bottled out at that, and she reminded me of the last parties I had attended with Lars. Well, that was nearly a year ago, and none of us did anything we objected to.

Having seen Jasbir and her scandal-proof fur dye, I had an idea that should help sooth (some of) Helen's nerves. I compromised and promised her I would go as Kim-Anh, who needs the fresh air and exercise, not having been in my Siamese fur pattern since Spring. So that's settled. I have to admit, I am quite looking forward to it, and not wearing my own fur pattern may save a lot of trouble. If Jirry was here of course things would be different - and my tail drooped as I realised how little I will probably get away to see him in the third year.

A fine night under the stars, fresh fish and roasted breadfruit for us and poi for the rest of the Hoele'toemi family. We will be eating enough of that all too soon!
 

Friday 23rd September, 1936

Pouring with rain in the morning, which rather put a damper on our proposed lunch on Casino Island. Still, the rain does not deter some people as we met Prudence and her swimming team on the way to the beach. Most of them were in oiled fur, which generally had some interesting variation in the patterning for anyone who knows how to read these things.

Prudence was pleased to see us, and invited us to join them. Well, I'll swim with anyone, and Maria and Saffina agreed to join us (Helen rarely surfaces before luncheon, for some reason. I expect Marti may be glad of a rest next week.) Molly turned very pale around the nose at the prospect, made her excuses and left at a high rate of knots.

I had to admit I had never taken part in any formation swimming before; we all swim regularly but generally as a way for getting from A to B, or else for exercise in the summer heat. All Prudence's dorm is back, in fact they have stayed here all Summer. Although Prudence is the only one who is Tailfast, I can well imagine there is more for them here that at home. Belle has told me something of life in the Bible Belt, and Ada has a librarian friend who comes out here to meet her from that direction.

We kept our bathing costumes on, but as there are no tourists braving the weather, the rest of the regular team swam in Polynesian tradition. Certainly they all keep themselves extremely fit, as every one of them looked quite Olympic qualified.

Hmm. On that scale one might say Tahni is qualified for more than one event; I had read about Spotted Hyena girls and seen her in a bathing suit before, but the actual sight is quite a surprise regardless. A flat-chested spotted Hyena girl would probably pass the Army medical for males! One wonders what the missionaries made of it, trying to translate Adam and Eve to a hyena audience.

Anyway, it was all very respectable and fun; the sea is warmer than the land right now and after yesterday's relaxations we all put in a hard four hours of water polo and by lunchtime was aching all over in the default Term-time sensation. Songmark girls ache.

Lunch was Prudence's treat, as her friends thanked us for coming along. We dined at a small café just behind the Topotabo Hotel on Resort Bay that the swimming party almost filled to bursting. I noticed one of the advertising posters on the wall, with a feline girl wearing tropical fruit who could almost have been modelled on my friend Angelica! I doubt she would model a skirt of bananas for any money though, she had a violent aversion to them at school (not that we had much in the way of fresh fruit there, let alone exotics.)

It was rather odd, sitting at the table quite surrounded by Prudence's friends, who by their scent were taking a definite interest in us. Quite a few tails were twitching, and eyes locked on our every move in a rather hungry manner. Rather flattering really, though not my idea of fun. At least I do not switch to panicked "fight or flight" as Molly would in the circumstances.

It was a fine meal, with Prudence, Belle, Carmen and Ada filling me in on some of their adventures this month. What with filming and all sorts of sports events they have had a very busy time, and Prudence hinted they were called away on some official jobs. It would be just like Mr. Sapohatan to engage two separate groups of us and never tell each about the other. Certainly we will not be talking about what we do to anyone, and Prudence is as close-mouthed as we are.

One thing they could tell us about was having met Angelica, just after I did in late August. It is very odd indeed, what happens to her aircraft when she tries to fly it. Anyone would think she had the reverse of Adele Beasley's chronic bad luck, where everything goes wrong for the unlucky bunny when she's not in the air! I am starting to think the dice is loaded against Adele, as much as that pair Molly brought from Chicago in her first year. Nobody has seen Adele for most of the summer; the last time anyone did she was heading towards the seaplane ramps with Wo Shin. Not the safest of company to keep. When someone runs out of luck on Krupmark Island (her default mode) one hardly expects to see them again.

 The party waved us a reluctant farewell, and we could feel their gaze on our tails as we left. Certainly it is nice to have options, however unlikely they might be. In the last week I have been invited to be a fifth wife in New Elohim City and today half the team have their tails going sideways looking at me! There is even that paper from Leon Allworthy that I will tear up now I know it will not be needed (not that I would have liked to have to use it). Had it been a genuine offer it would have been such a gentlemanly deed.

We spotted Molly getting off a water taxi, who rather spooked as she scented our fur from the company we had been keeping and the scent of their interest in us. Well, the café was crowded and I suppose we must have been soaking up female musk like blotting-paper. She has been back to the Temple Of Continual Reward, where a few matches of "dirty pool" helped restore her equilibrium. It has some interesting rule variants by her account, some almost like golf. If one knocks the ball off the table one must play it where it lies, which must make for difficulties getting back in scoring range of the pockets.

One thing she did mention rather alarmed me - she met two Portuguese gentlemen who were talking about going to Lars' party booked for tomorrow night. I got away with being Kim-Anh from Macau last time, as nobody on the Gilbert and Sullivan Islands challenged me to speak in Thai or Portuguese! Needless to say my cover would be blown in a minute if they spotted me as a Siamese and started asking me questions. I will definitely have to think about this one.

Back to Casino Island in the evening; we are certainly keeping the water-taxi folk employed. Although we have been past the Coconut Shell so many times, we have never seen an actual show there. A shell each (not a coconut one) got us front-row seats for the Sea View Revue, a rather well-done mix of song, dance and comedy. The main play, "Whoops Vicar where's my wife's trousers?" was one of those simple-hearted but fun efforts involving a lot of people just missing each other running between rooms in a long country-house corridor, pursued or pursuing each other as the farce built up brain-spinning levels of complexity.

Jasbir and Li Han have actually made it to the main chorus line, quite a feat. True, it is only for the last 2 weeks of the season, but they are putting everything they have into it, and the crowd was well pleased. We are booked to do a more Traditional dance tomorrow, as the S.I.T.H.S. has renewed their challenge at the dance school. Just think, some Songmark third-years might have spent the Summer holidays relaxing at home or sitting on beaches. Actually I doubt any of us have been doing much of that, we have been warned what to expect this year and our Tutors will not be merciful if we turn up less fit than the last time we saw them.


Saturday 24th September, 1936

A day of defeats and successes - the last full day of our holiday, and indeed it was full. We took our Native costume to Casino Island where Mrs. Motorabe welcomed us back for the year, and spotted the whole senior class of the S.I.T.H.S. in the audience, looking gleeful.

We were short of two dancers from Jasbir's dorm, as Irma Bundt and Sophie D'Artagnan arrived late last night and are still busily unpacking. So it was just my dorm with Jasbir and Li Han, starting off with the dances we learned in our second-year. I thought we did rather well considering our lack of hard practice - until I saw the opposition.

Well, had it been an aerial dogfight they would have put their first fifty rounds straight through our engine. They have a new dance, a radical new development that works perfectly as a Hula story but gets there from a whole new direction. We could only look on with amazement and applaud furiously when they finished, the clear winners. Molly was looking on in awe wondering how we are ever going to top that performance. We had tried our best, but felt like a Sopwith Camel confronted with one of those new Hawker Hurricanes; outclassed completely no matter how well you fly it.

I wonder where they have got their new moves from? I did ask Mrs. Motorabe but she just smiled and promised she does not tell anyone trade secrets, and would keep ours just as safe from the S.I.T.H.S. team. It seemed to be rather oriental rather than Polynesian, but all in perfectly good Hula form and with no moves any judge would knock points off as less than authentic.

Helen and Maria returned to South Island for a final night in Haio Beach, but Molly and I headed out to an appointment with Madame Maxine's. Our carefully oiled fur was soaped and de-oiled till we were as Euro a pair of girls as one sees, then the two Siamese fur-dressers got to work on us. I had booked the appointment to be re-made as Kim-Anh Soosay, and had brought along the matching silken Cheongsam dress I was given on Krupmark. Of course, Kim-Anh had to wait awhile longer if I was expecting to meet people who could ask me questions about Macao that I could not answer - so I had to come up with an alternative fur pattern in a hurry. Fortunately I have the money now to invest in a really first-rate styling; Madame Maxine does not work cheap but the results show that.

An hour later I was looking in the full-length mirror at a sight that for an instant had my claws popping out with hostility. The Honourable Miss Millicent from the Embassy is just about my height and figure, and there is no language problem. Darker head-fur and tabby stripes like Saffina inherited from her mother, complete the picture. I am sure respectable Ambassadorial staff members do not go to Lars' parties, so I am fairly safe from meeting her. Besides, if I do not look like myself I have to look like somebody else, and it would hardly be fair on a friend to borrow their appearance if things go wrong.

Molly quite approved, and whispered that Lars always enjoys playing a good trick. It turns out that he actually is religious in a way, though not to any God one has to go to church or perform good deeds for. Some Scandinavian deity called Loki, whom I recall hearing of as a practical joker back in Religious Education. (It was a rather practical class at St. Winifred's, even if the lectures from the Thuggee Missionary were rather frowned on by the local vicar.) Perhaps I can persuade Molly to take up his religion; it can only be an improvement.

Molly looked quite striking in a new dress, a Rachorska creation that Lars evidently likes seeing her in. Certainly she will not be overheating. My own outfit was as simple as could be, about six ounces of silk and a pair of Oriental sandals; they have tabby cats in China and surrounding parts, though I did not plan on discussing my origins with anyone. Madame Maxine thought highly of the ensemble, which is totally plain but exceedingly glamorous at the same time, with not a scrap of jewellery (that anybody can see; while brushing me she found the gold wire in my tail but passed it without comment other than a rather raised eyebrow. I felt like asking her about it, but hated to give the impression I do not know myself.)

After two years of dodging the rickshaw traffic around Casino Island, I had never been inside one until tonight. Songmark students walk, when they are not double-timing it around the islands with our Tutors cheerfully shouting encouragement. Molly and I fit into one perfectly well as we have less weight between us than some of the tourists we have seen rolling between taxi, tour-boat and hotel bar. I have rarely felt uncomfortable on Casino Island, but dressed as I was I was glad to be in a rickshaw and not walking across the island.

I must say, Lars does know how to stage a wonderful party. It was a different place than last time, but had the same layout of courtyard with high walls protecting it from casual sight, and definitely solidly closing doors. There was a refined clinking of glasses from within, and Molly's eyes quite lit up. Lars met us at the entrance looking very smooth in a white suit that was tailored in very fine style; Molly's tail went sideways at the sight and she was running her fingers over his horns as if she had been parted from him all term and not two days. His horns are at their best; Lars sheds his every Spring, and Molly keeps one of last year's as a very treasured reminder.

There were one or two familiar snouts there, his employee Mr. Sstabeck the Komodo dragon gentleman I met my first time on Krupmark and a very handsome hare buck I had seen in the street there last trip. I discovered he is called Roger, and is one of Lars' pilots. Of course, in most circumstances I would love to talk aircraft with any pilot, but as far as I know Miss Millicent is not air-minded and anything Lars' employees do with their aircraft they would probably not discuss especially with strangers.

Anyway, Lars introduced me to everyone (about twenty gentlemen, including the two Portuguese chamois) and half a dozen or so Euro girls. Oddly, none of them were Spontoonies as far as I could tell. He offered one arm to Molly which she happily took, and then offered his other to me. I did hesitate but it was very nice of him to invite me to the party, and we walked in to the head of the table with a very fine spread was awaiting.

There was little of the formal dinner side of things, though Lars did announce that he had acquired a profitable and reliable customer whose cheques never bounced and who was not too likely to vanish overnight leaving unpaid bills. Having seen what he brought back in the gunboat Parsifal, I think he probably means the Government, who are not too liable to run away with the money (Carmen has told us of many South American regimes who are not as reliable that way.) A lively swing band was playing, not one I have heard before in these islands, and they might well have been brought in from outside.

Lars dances very well in Euro style as well as Spontoonie, and there is about as much chance of him stepping on one's paws as of Adele Beasley getting unto an unplanned spin. He might not have claws as such, but he has rather delicate fingers considering and found the wire ring in my tail-fur in a quite accidental fashion. I expected him to ask what it was, but he was the soul of discretion and said not a word, though he carried on touching it as we danced.

I must admit, I was getting distinctly relaxed by the end of the second dance, after which Molly claimed his attentions and they swept off in a brisk tango. It was a warm evening and I was glad not to have more than a thin silk dress on; the downside of course is that anyone can see that all there is under it is me. It is a perfectly Respectable dress in the Chinese style with my neck and shoulders modestly covered; having the sides slit to just about maximum altitude helps greatly in the more vigorous dances and is wonderfully cool. It does spread one's scent around very liberally, but I received no complaints about that.

It was quite an evening. I had one glass of champagne an hour, no more; enough to keep invigorated but with the dancing it burned off completely before the next hour. Lars introduced me to two of his new employees, tall and very smooth looking wolverines of Scandinavian stock called Nils and Erik respectively. If they were twins or litter-mates was hard to tell, but they were very similar and even their scent was almost identical. Both were very fine dancers, but I doubt they do that for a living.

I spotted Molly dancing with the Portuguese gentlemen and was rather glad she was keeping them out of my way; even though I am not dyed as Kim-Anh they are businessmen from Macao and might ask me what part of the Orient I hail from; not a question I want to answer.

Dear Diary: Lars certainly provides his guests with all the facilities they are likely to need. One thing that was not needed was a rickshaw home and crossing to South Island in the small hours, the water taxi folk can enjoy a restful night in after the stresses of the season. In my case, the stresses will start on Monday, and I made the most of my opportunities. The guest-house rooms were really very comfy. And I think Nils and Erik really must be identical twins.
 

Sunday 25th September, 1936

A late morning, which started with a very thorough grooming in a large bathroom that Molly and several of the girls were taking turns to use. Wolverine musk just does not come off! I did not like to try too hard with the more potent shampoos, for fear of losing my tabby stripes like a disgraced feline sergeant. It would not do to be recognised by just anyone; our Tutors would object though strictly speaking it is still holiday time. If asked I answered to the name "Milly" which is near enough, and indeed the original feline is never likely to hear of it. One hears of devoted film star fans having their fur dyed and styled to exactly resemble their idols; imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and it is cheaper per hour to look in a mirror rather than pay cinema prices.

Molly seemed to be in a complete daydream; one almost expected Lars to have promised her a regiment of heavy artillery to play with. She still had her snout striped quite artfully, and evidently had a very fine and varied evening. One thing nobody can accuse Lars of is jealousy.

Fortunately I had packed a respectable Euro costume for the return trip, which we made before lunch. There was time to stop off and swim before arriving at Haio Beach, which got most of the wolverine musk out of my fur. It must be like skunks, who lose control of their scent glands at times.

Helen was pleased to see us back safe, but looked at me with her ears down and grumbled that at least Molly has an excuse. Actually I rather enjoyed the evening, and will have something to look back on when sweating over whatever tasks our Tutors set us next week in steel toecapped boots with mud and oil in my fur. I helped her remove her fur oil and patterning, something she never likes doing, while she de-tabbified me and restored my head fur to its usual light shade. Molly says that whatever you do in dyed fur does not count, something I can hardly agree with. Still, anyone sneaking a peek last night would have seen Miss Millicent and not Amelia Bourne-Phipps, which certainly saved trouble.

A brief farewell to the Hoele'toemi family, as indeed we hope to be back when we can. Our Songmark uniforms are unpacked and smelling slightly of mothballs, and with our spirits resolutely set we started the mile-long walk back to Resort Bay and the water taxis.

(Later) Well, here we are in our new third-year rooms, settled in and unpacked. We have checked in with our Tutors, who report that everyone is present and accounted-for. Adele Beasley was the last one in; she looks rather flustered but in good health.

When one sees one's Tutors rubbing their paws together in glee, it is rarely a good sign. I wonder just what they have lined up for us - whatever, we are getting our heads on the pillow well before lights-out tonight, for a good night's sleep. I would bet any money we are going to need it!



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