Biggles and Son: Chapter 4.

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. 

As soon as Algy walked in the door to the Mount Street flat Ginger pounced on him and poured out his tale of Sebastian’s transgressions.

If he had been expecting some sort of outrage, he was sorely disappointed. Algy merely laughed. “Bit young for it, I suppose, but nothing wrong with practice,” was his only comment, delivered with a wry grin.

“Are you completely out of your mind?” demanded Ginger. “He was kissing some random girl on our settee!”

“Seems like the best place for it,” said Algy, still grinning. “More comfortable than the floor, at any rate.”

“Algy—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, Ginger! Don’t act as if you’ve never seen anyone kissing before. I seem to recall you doing it yourself a few times, and in much less appropriate settings than a living room settee. How about that time that you—”

“I’m glad that you find this funny,” retorted Ginger coldly. “What are we going to do with him, anyway?”

“Sebastian? I don’t really know. I suppose it’s up to Biggles anyway, isn’t it? Is he back yet?”

Ginger shook his head. “No.”

Algy frowned and checked his watch. “Hmm. Should we ring for supper, do you think, or should we wait for him?”

“I don’t know. We can have it first, if you like. I am feeling just a bit peckish myself.”

“Good.” Algy put out a hand to ring the bell for Mrs. Symes, and at that moment Bertie emerged from the bedroom he shared with Ginger.

“What ho, old boy?”

Algy nodded absently in reply, glancing around the room deliberately before asking, “Where’s Sebastian? Is he in one of the bedrooms?”

Bertie looked startled. “No, old boy. I thought he was out here, what?”

“Well, he’s not here, is he?” Algy pointed out, with forced patience. “So where is he?”

The three of them exchanged a glance, but before there was time for any of them to utter a single word, the front door to the flat was pushed open from the outside, and Biggles’ voice could be heard, raised slightly in anger.

&&&

“—and where, may I ask, did you think you were going?”

“I was just going out for a walk.”

“Really?” Biggles’ tone was faintly sarcastic. “That doesn’t explain why you’re carrying a suitcase.”

“I just…felt like carrying one.”

Biggles had pushed the door open by now and the three airmen already inside the flat could see him clearly. Next to him stood Sebastian, looking defiant but at the same time strangely forlorn, carrying the aforementioned suitcase in one hand.

“Hey!” exclaimed Ginger. “That’s my suitcase!”

“Sorry,” muttered Sebastian, marching stiff-legged into the flat and flopping down on the settee that Biggles was pointing a firm finger at.

“Perhaps you can start by explaining where you were going off to in such a hurry, and after that you can explain why your headmaster informed me that you were on the brink of expulsion when you decided to escape from your school in the middle of the night—through a third story window, no less.”

Sebastian muttered something unintelligible, eyes on the floor.

“And after that, maybe he can explain what he was doing kissing his girlfriend on our settee this afternoon,” put in Ginger triumphantly.

Sebastian’s head snapped up. “Charlie’s not my girlfriend,” he said wearily, in the tone of someone who has explained the same thing over and over a hundred times. “We’re just friends.”

“We can deal with the settee later,” said Biggles. “Right now I’d prefer to know where you were running away to. I thought you came here in search of some father-son bonding.”

“I did!” protested Sebastian. “And I wasn’t running away, I was just going to a concert, and I took the suitcase because I was going to stay at my friend’s house afterwards. I would have come back in the morning.”

“Why didn’t you tell any of us that you were going to a concert, then?” demanded Ginger. “Why did you sneak out?”

“I didn’t sneak out!” said Sebastian indignantly. “I walked out the front door. It just happened that no one saw me. That doesn’t mean that I sneaked out.”

“Well, why didn’t you say anything to anyone?” asked Biggles, sounding slightly more mollified as he lit a cigarette.

“I didn’t think anyone would let me go if I asked,” said Sebastian. “Mom never let me go when I asked, and of course the masters at our school wouldn’t hear of it either, so we always had to sneak out. Not that I did sneak out, this time.”

“You could have asked us,” said Algy. “We wouldn’t have said no.”

“Really?” murmured Bertie, in mild disbelief.

“—and about the expulsion thing, that wasn’t really my fault. I had to do something. There was this boy in my year, and he kept doing all these stupid things, playing pranks and all that. I didn’t want to tell tales, so I challenged him to a fight, and when I won he ran straight to the headmaster and told tales so fast that—”

“All right.” Biggles raised a hand. “All right, all right. I think I’ve heard enough.”

Sebastian studied the suitcase in front of him with an unusual amount of interest. “So what happens now? Are you sending me back?”

Algy caught Biggles’ eye and frowned.

Biggles sighed. “No, I’m not sending you back to school yet. I’ve already told your headmaster that you’ll be staying with me until school starts again.”

Sebastian heaved a barely audible sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

“Just don’t do anything like this again,” said Biggles. “Oh, and by the way, the headmaster said he had a message for you. From your mother.”

Go to Chapter 5. 

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