Further on, out of sight and over several intervening ridges are the tacky houses of the mining town, Arawa. With his usual European pig-headedness Father had decided that the colonial old town suited him best, and had somehow managed to get the mining company to accept his choice of residence there on the bay. We lived in a bungalow, I suppose you'd call it, a house built up on stilts in the tropical manner, but nevertheless giving a long, low appearance. It huddled under an enormous banyan tree that had long, rope-like aerial roots dangling from its branches and orchids growing from every nook and cranny.

The house was actually a little bit past Kieta centre itself, on the way round to the yacht club. I loved it, for from my bedroom window I could look straight out onto the water and even out to the main reef, visible as a faint surf line.

There were a few houses on either side of ours, jutting from the green-clad hillside or under their own massive trees, but it was nothing like the regimentation of Arawa, with its company fixed-plan housing. I was silent for the remainder of the journey, taking pleasure in being back in familiar surroundings again and letting it dilute the shock effect of the earlier exchange.

I never let things get me down for long.

The car swept into the driveway and stopped under the half-roof of the carport. Leaning against the main door in an attitude of affected boredom was a dark haired youth in jeans and no shirt. Even when we extricated ourselves from the low slung Mercedes he didn't move, but I could feel his eyes sliding over me. This must surely be Michael. I simply ignored him totally and went to the rear of the car where Father was already grasping my bags.

"I will do it, Kelly," he said, his eyes carefully gauging my state of mind. I was amused and a little touched in spite of myself. It's hard to stay angry with him for long.

We turned to the steps where the tall youth still supported the door.

"Michael, this is Kelly. Where's Terry?"

For the first time the sullen face registered a genuine emotion. Surprise, followed by wary interest.

Oho! one of those. Kelly.

Without answering directly he turned to lean inside and bellowed "Terry!", then sauntered on into the house. We all followed, Father trailing as he struggled with my cases.

Inside, Michael stood aside to let us through, still a study in insolence as he ignored his mother completely. I was just beginning to get a hint of what she had meant back there in the car. Spoiled was definitely too good a word if this was a sample of their manners.

Father took my bags on to my room and put them in their accustomed place. I followed him in and pushed the door partly closed behind me.

"Vater..." He turned pleading eyes on me and I hadn't the heart to continue, and instead grabbed him and held him close, pressing my face into his shirt.

Awkwardly he put his arm around me and gave me a squeeze.

"Kelly, Kelly, I am so sorry... I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid... afraid that I would lose both of you. I know I am an old fool, but I didn't want you to go away... or anything. Do you understand, Liebling?"

What could I say? The old fraud. He knows me too well, knows I'm all marshmallow inside.

After a few sniffles I pulled away from him, looking into his face to see what he was thinking.

"Vater, do you really want to get married, or is this some trouble I don't know about?"

He smiled.

"It is true, Liebling. This woman is for me a good one, I think. Already she has the understanding of many years and we are both a little bit afraid of what will happen to us when our children grow up and leave us and we are alone again. Kelly, your father he is becoming old."

I reached up and kissed him.

"Very well, Vater, I will be a good little girl for your Marjorie lady, but I can't say the same about her sons. So far I've seen only the one... Michael, isn't it... and he's so unsypatisch it hurts. If they set in my way I'11... I'11 stomp them!"

He began to look a little uneasy.

"Kelly, you will try? For me? They have spent many years in the city and... well, you can see the results. But they must be family if Marjorie is, you understand?"

"We'll see. Now you must tell me my place here now that you have another woman." I smiled at him. "You have made me very jealous, Father! But what about the chores, cooking and washing and things like that?"

"These things I know nothing about. You must talk with Marjorie, Kelly."

"OK, Vati, I'11 do that. You scuttle off and I'11 unpack a bit, then I'11 go find Marjorie."

He nodded, relieved, and left me to it, and I began the exercise of sorting out my bags. It never takes me too long, for I like to be tidy and hate drudgery, so usually manage to zip through the job. Somebody had aired the room, I could see, and the bed had been freshly made. Reluctantly I conceded half a point to Marjorie. She was efficient. All my things were undisturbed... perhaps these monsters hadn't yet had time to do their worst.

Not fair, Kelly. You're judging on only a few seconds of contact...

Rot! That one is bent, I can tell. They can never look you in the eye.

It was nearly lunch time, and I decided that afterwards I'd grab the sailboard and go for a run out on the water, so I changed from my light skirt into bikini bottoms and was about to put the usual shirt on when I paused, thinking hard.

People, Kelly.

Darn! I dug in the drawer and extracted the matching bikini top and then slipped a T-shirt on over the lot.

Satisfied, Ma Grundy?

Critically I looked myself over in the mirror. Looking back at me was one small female. Small, but nicely proportioned, I like to think, with brown hair, blue eyes and looking a little worried, the tiny crease of a frown on her brow.

OK, Kelly, just a wee smile for your admiring public...?

When I sauntered into the kitchen Marjorie was preparing a salad.

"Ah, there you are, Kelly. What would you like for lunch? I was just about to make a salad."

"Sounds OK to me. What would you like me to do?"

"If you wouldn't mind setting the table and getting the bread and such out, I'11 finish this."

Shortly we had everything organised and the table set, so I went into the lounge to get Father.

"Vater, where are these boys? Lunch is ready."

He lifted his lean frame out of the chair and put his paper and glasses down.

"I do not know, perhaps they are outside. I will get them."

With this he went out on the verandah and called, and I went back to the table where Marjorie was standing watching me.

She smiled.

"You're much prettier than I expected, Kelly," she began.

I snorted.

"Much smaller, you mean. I'm always looking up at people, even you!"

She sighed and seemed about to say more, but just then the two boys came in, followed by Father. Both of them stopped short when they saw me. The second was a solid youth, almost chubby, unlike his taller, older brother, but he was just as dark. He eyed me speculatively, then both of them went to the table and sat down, destroying Marjorie's faint beginnings of an introduction. I looked at her and she sighed.

"Boys, you'd better get used to it. Kelly's going to be your stepsister, and so the least you can do is treat her like one. You've known about our plans for weeks, but she hasn't. She's come home and found us here, so for her it's been a bit of a shock."

"But you never told us there was a girl!" Terry said indignantly. His voice was high pitched, almost girlish.

"Are you disappointed then?" I asked him sweetly, and he save me a look that should have incinerated me right there and then.

"Err... no, not exactly. Nobody tells me anything!" He glowered down at his plate.

Marjorie turned to get the salad.

"Well, I've got something to tell you now, so listen. As you know, Klaus and I want to get married in a few weeks time, and we would like our children to be on speaking terms by then, at the very least." She began to serve us all.

"The actual wedding will be in Brisbane, and we'd planned to fit it in with your return to school so that we minimise the travelling. Afterwards Kelly can go to her school, and you two boys can carry on down to yours in Newcastle. If you have any suggestions about variations please offer them in the next few days, because it's very difficult to get bookings for that time of the year, with all the other kids returning at the same time.

"Six weeks!" Michael moaned, smacking his forehead with his hand. "What on earth can we do up here for six weeks!"

Marjorie sat down at the end of the table.

"Perhaps you should ask Kelly that. Anyway, it's not as if you've never been up here before."

"Jeez, Mum, this dump hasn't even got an arcade. It's the pits."

I felt a slow anger building, and concentrated on my food. Talk about pigs in Paradise...

Father was keeping very quiet. Whatever his feelings about Marjorie it was plain he had reservations about his stepsons-to-be and was leaving control of them to her. I didn't blame him. There was a silence for several minutes as everyone ate. I couldn't see any lasting, useful relationship developing with my new siblings-to-be. In fact it was beginning to look as if this might just be classified as a war zone in the days to come. This was sure shaping up to be a real bobby-dazzler of a holiday.

After lunch I was shooed out of the kitchen and so I slipped downstairs to the garage and went to get the windsurfer out. This was one of Father's more extravagant gifts on my fifteenth birthday, and I'm pretty good on it now.

The two boys were sitting on the verandah steps watching me, but making no moves to help. Suits me. Kelly's done it all on her own hundreds of times. I ignored them and half lifted, half dragged it all out, across the lawn and over the road to the water's edge.

That's what I love about this place. The water is right there.

While I set it all up... an intricate exercise in tying the sail part... the boys sauntered over to watch.

"Hey, Shorty, can you really sail that thing?"

I didn't look up from my task. My name isn't Shorty.

"Shorty, I'm speaking to you! You deaf or something?" His high voice was pure school bully. It was Terry, the fat one.

"I can hear you now, Fatso. Your voice was too high before. What did you want?"

He reddened and grabbed the end of the board.

"Watch it, Shorty. Mike and I thought we'd go for a sail. That right, Mike?"

Cool Kelly, cool.

I continued to tie and finally looped the rope once around the mast, then picked it up ready to pop into the board socket.

Terry pulled it away.

I counted to ten and then put the sail down.

"Are you going to play idiot all day? I thought you went away to have your afternoon nap about now."

Ooooh Kelly! You're really forcing it now!

Terry went beetroot red and dropped the board to grab my arm.

"You little Miss Smartarse..." he began, then his voice rose to a shriek as I took his wrist and pulled him sharply towards me, overbalancing him so that he fell forwards, then at the last moment flicked the wrist I was still holding so that he rolled to come down heavily on his back and shoulders, air whooshing from his lungs.

His brother gaped as I stepped over the prostrate, gasping form and entered the water with the two parts of my craft and unhurriedly assembled them. Without a backward glance I clambered aboard, lifted the sail and gave it several sharp pumps to give me forward motion away from the shore.

That's going to give you grief, Kelly!

Too bad. The jerk got what he deserved.

Out on the water I soon forgot everything in the joy of being free again, away from the hassles and cares, away from the city and at last controlling my own direction again. Not that there's usually all that much wind out there. I was on my own, for during the week there's almost no activity at the yacht club and all the water traffic concentrated up at the other passage where long, low fibreglass craft with outboards plied back and forth to Pok Pok Island and the village there.

I headed off in the other direction, sometimes zipping along quite smartly, but more often waiting for that mere wisp of breeze to reach me. It was nice and warm and I soon peeled off the T-shirt and bikini top and wrapped them around the base of the mast where they couldn't get washed overboard. I don't believe in getting sunburnt in stripes.

Some time later I was lying idly on the board, face down, simply soaking in the peace, when there was a violent splash on each side of me.

Startled, I started to jump up, then relaxed as I recognised the shiny black bodies of my very special friends, the porpoises. They circled the board, chittering away in that excited high-pitched language they have, throwing their heads up in flipping motions.

I believe they laugh at us humans sometimes. How else can you explain the stealthy approach, the sudden rushing swirl, then the cackling chittering afterwards?

Definitely laughter. I sat upright on the board and waved my fist at them in mock fury, but all the time giggling at myself. Soon they were both up to the non-sail side of the board to have their heads and noses rubbed, nudging each other out of the way to get the lion's share of attention.

While I rubbed I talked nonsense to them, telling them how glad I was to see them again, and what clever creatures they were to find me so quickly. Actually, they come just about every time I go sailboarding and we sometimes have races when the wind gets me moving. Even before that they were often with Tanu and I when we went out in the little dugout. Until I met them I thought all porpoises went around in groups, but these two couldn't have heard of this rule, they always appeared as a pair, although they often did bring more timid friends.

Tanu is a special friend of mine.

So are the porpoises. Since I never could be sure of telling them apart I've called them Dot and Dash, and I was very pleased to see them again, my own welcome home party.

With a last chirp they abruptly made off, for whenever the board is simply sitting quietly on the water they soon lose interest and so off to do their own thing. I watched them go, envious of their grace and sleek form.

How I'd love to be like them instead of merely being an undersized female biped! Even Tanu admits she envies them, but with her they're much more reserved and merely circle discreetly unless we get into the water. Then they'll let us grab their fins and be pulled along on an exhilarating dash, always ending with us having to let go as the force of the water breaks our grip on their sleek black bodies.

They seemed to enjoy the frolicking as much as we did and it was always us mere humans who tired of the sport first. Neither Tanu or I told anyone else about our friends, and as far as I know Dot and Dash kept away from other people.

Maybe they're telepathic, or at least sensitive to emotion, for they seem to sense my moods and react appropriately without fail. Perhaps it's me, maybe I think a little bit like them, for long ago I discovered they would respond to suggestions, balancing things on their noses in response to clearly projected mental images. Even more abstract concepts are possible, I discovered. I spent hours and hours teaching them my name. Porpoises are smart.

At least a couple of hours had passed without having to put up with those creeps ashore. There was even less wind now than when I had begun, so I reluctantly started back towards the shoreline and the house. It took a lot of pumping to get movement now, and the air hung heavy. The sun was hidden behind billowing clouds and in the hills it was raining heavily.

That's quite normal on Bougainville. If it doesn't rain between two and three o'clock there's something wrong. The wind failed me completely when I was still several hundred meters from the beach, so I carefully laid the sail along the board and slid into the water to push. No hassle, I like to swim.

There was a solitary figure on the beach watching me jockey the board in. It was Marjorie, idly trailing her toes across the boundary of sand and sea.