Biggles and Son: Chapter 5.

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. 

Sebastian’s head snapped up and his face went very pale. “My mother?” he repeated, as if he had never heard those two words before. “What sort of message?”

“A letter, apparently.” Biggles took a white envelope from his pocket and handed it to his son. “I had some time after the conference, so I flew down and got it from him. I haven’t opened it,” he added, as Sebastian gave him a quizzical glance.

Sebastian reached out and took the envelope with shaking fingers. There was a tense silence in the room as all four airmen watched him slowly slit the top of the envelope open with his finger. There was only one sheet of paper inside the envelope, and this Sebastian extracted and quickly scanned. His eyes widened.

“What does it say?” asked Algy.

“Nothing,” replied Sebastian, although his strangled voice spoke to the contrary. “It’s nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Can I see the letter?” asked Biggles, holding out a hand.

Sebastian hesitated, his hands gripped nervously at the edges of the paper as he glanced nervously at Biggles. “No,” he blurted. “I’d rather not—”

“Sebastian.” Biggles’ voice rang with the cool authority that had broken down many an insubordinate officer in Squadron 666 during the war. “Let me see the letter.”

Without a word the boy handed it over.

One look at the jumble of letters and numbers was enough for Biggles. The message, whatever it was, was in code. “What does this mean?”

“Nothing,” said Sebastian.

“Sebastian.”

“Does your mother always write to you in code?” inquired Algy, with genuine interest, taking the letter from Biggles’ now shaking hand and studying the code.

Sebastian licked his lips, glancing from one airman to another. He did not answer Algy’s question.

“Why don’t you tell us what it means,” suggested Biggles. “It’s obviously bad news, judging from the expression on your face. Whatever it is, we can help you—and your mother, too, if she’s in trouble.”

“Who said she was in trouble?” demanded Sebastian, his tone bordering on downright rudeness.

“Well, old boy, one only has to take a dekko at you to see something’s a bit off, if you see what I mean?” murmured Bertie. He was reading the coded letter over Algy’s shoulder through his monocled eye. “Interesting stuff, this. Wonder how long it would take to crack it, what?”

“Just leave me alone!” Sebastian abruptly jumped to his feet, hurtled into Biggles and Algy’s bedroom, and slammed the door behind him with a deafening bang.

&&&

Biggles exchanged a helpless glance with Algy. “Well,” he said, faintly sarcastic. “That went well, didn’t it?”

“He’s just a kid,” replied Algy. “Wonder what’s in the letter?”

“Must be something pretty serious to make him clam up like that,” said Biggles, eyeing the closed door to his bedroom thoughtfully. “D’you think it would be a good idea if I went in and talked to him?”

“He didn’t seem that inclined to talk when you talked to him a minute ago,” Algy pointed out. “What makes you think he’ll talk to you now?”

“That’s true. This parenting lark is harder than it looks. If he’d been a new pilot I’d have given him a clip on the ear.”

“And a well-deserved one, too,” muttered Ginger.

“Give him some time,” said Algy easily. “He’ll come round. It’s almost time for supper anyway, and no doubt he’ll want some. Perhaps he’ll feel better after he’s had something to eat.”

&&&

Algy knocked softly on the bedroom door, but there was no response. He knocked again, but there was still no response, so he gently tried the handle and opened the door.

Sebastian was seated on Biggles’ bed, looking at the array of photographs on the bedside table. In his hand he was holding a framed picture, and as Algy drew closer he saw that it was one of himself and Biggles, taken just after WWI.

Sebastian lifted his head for a quick glance round, and then nodded at the photograph. “Is this you?” he asked.

“It is,” said Algy cheerfully, seating himself on Biggles’ bed next to Sebastian and making himself comfortable. “And that’s your dad. And, that, my lad, is a Sopwith Camel.”

“I’ve heard of them,” said Sebastian, with faint interest. “They were very hard to fly, weren’t they?”

“They were absolute nightmares to start with, and after that they were great fun,” said Algy.

“Are you a good pilot?”

Algy grinned. “Not bad, even if I do say so myself.”

Sebastian stared at the photograph for a few seconds longer, than replaced it on the bedside table before saying, “There aren’t any photographs of Mom here, are there?”

Algy coughed to cover his confusion. “Er. I don’t think they actually had any photographs taken together before…well, I mean…Biggles might have some newspaper clippings…but…well…”

“He didn’t like her very much,” remarked Sebastian, with all the directness of youth. “That’s what she told me. She said that Dad was never that interested in her, that he never listened to anything she said.”

Algy coughed again because he couldn’t think of anything to say. “How about a spot of supper?” he suggested.

Sebastian shook his head. “I’m not hungry,” he said. He turned to look directly at Algy. “Uncle Algy, if Mom were in trouble, do you really think Dad would help her?”

Go to Chapter 6. 

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