Biggles Married II Chapter 3.

By Sopwith

Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own, any of the Biggles series characters used in this work. This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only and should not be considered part of the official storyline.

Warning: Non canon type fan fiction works may contain severe time mix-ups and character deviations.  

"Jane, dear, I've invited someone to have dinner with us. Do you mind?" Biggles inquired, as his wife combed her hair in front of the mirror.

"What?" Jane was holding the comb in her mouth while she twisted her hair up.

"I said I've invited someone to dinner."

"Who?"

"Oh, a pal of mine, from the war. He was in Wilks' Squadron. You remember Wilks?"

"You mean Arthur?" asked Jane.

"Er, yes, Arthur," said Biggles, taking a second to remember that Wilks' full name was Authur Robert Wilkinson. "Him."

"I don't mind," conceded Jane, clipping her hair up. "I suppose they all want to see the famous Biggles' wife," she laughed.

"Well, perhaps a bit," admitted Biggles. “Are you sure you don’t mind, though?”

Jane laughed. “Of course I don’t mind. I just hope he’s not disappointed when he sees me.”

“Disappointed?” echoed Biggles. “Why would he be disappointed?”

&&&

"Good evening, Mrs. Bigglesworth. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you," Todd said politely, after introductions had been made by Biggles.

"Captain Kurtnam," acknowledged Jane, smiling.

"Let's sit down," suggested Biggles, pulling a chair out for his wife. "I wonder where the waiter is."

"Here comes one now," said Todd, waving his hand.

After they had ordered, Biggles asked Todd about his flying club. "It must be very prosperous, with all the people who are interested in flying nowadays."

"Oh, those," Todd said, with some contempt. "They don't know anything about flying. They just want to loop the loop or some other wild looking nonsense. None of them know what it's like to be in Hunland with jammed guns. They think flying's a sort of circus show."

"I sympathize."

"I've remodeled a few Sopwith Camels and S.E.5s, but no one wants to even try them. They seem to think that they’re too ugly to fly!"

"Camels, eh?" murmured Biggles, with interest. "Believe it or not, I've missed that lightning right hand turn. It's been years since I was in a Camel."

"Why not run down and try one?" asked Todd. "I'm going back to the club tomorrow, you could come with me."

"I'm very tempted," mused Biggles.

"Oh, come on. You can show these young fellow nowadays what real flying is like. We could even have a fake dogfight--camera guns and that sort of thing."

"Jane?" Biggles turned to his wife.

"I think you should go," replied Jane. "After all, we are on our honeymoon, and you've plenty of time. Besides, I'd like to fly again myself."

"Well, I think I'll call Algy and make sure everything's all right back at HQ. If it is, we can get ready to leave with Todd in the morning. Excuse me for a bit."

He went quickly into the main lobby and asked to borrow the telephone. It took a minute or two for the call to go through, and he waited impatiently while it did.

"Hello, Ginger?” he said, as the call was answered. “Yes, it's me. Our honeymoon's going very well, thank you. Yes. Well, I ran into Todd…Kurtnam…remember him? Anyway, he's invited me down to his flying club to do a spot of flying. Yes...yes...so has anything come up? No? Is something wrong? No, I just thought your voice sounded funny, that’s all. Yes...yes...Are Algy and Bertie there? Oh, they're out. Are you sure you're all right? You really do sound strange. Oh, I see, you've got a cold. Well, better get it seen to. Right. Cheerio, laddie."

Biggles hung up the phone. "That's that," he said to himself.

&&&

Ginger stood with the phone in his hand, staring into space. He felt a wave of emotion wash over him. How could he have accused Algy of trying to usurp the throne? It was obvious that he really wanted Biggles to have a good honeymoon. “And look how happy Biggles sounded on the phone,” he muttered to himself. “He seems to be really enjoying himself.”

He glanced at the clock. Perhaps it wasn't too late to say he was sorry. The thought of Algy going off into the blue, perhaps never coming back, haunted him. He didn't like the idea of them parting on bad terms.

Ginger dialed the number of Air Police Headquarters.

It was the better part of ten minutes before he finally got Algy on the phone. The moment his crisp "hello" hit Ginger's ear, Ginger gasped in relief.

"Algy, I'm sorry," he blurted.

"Who is this?"

"It's me--Ginger. I'm sorry."

"Ah. I see. What for, exactly?"

"For saying all those things to you. I'm sorry. Don't go off to America without making it up."

"Ginger, it's quite all right," assured Algy, sounding slightly impatient. "We all say things we don't mean at times. Don’t worry about it."

"Good," breathed Ginger. “You’ll call us if you need anything?” he added anxiously.

“Of course. Don’t be silly. Cheerio, laddie.”

“Cheerio,” said Ginger, swallowing something in his throat. “Take care of yourself.”

Go to Chapter 4.

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