Biggles Married II Chapter 9.

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. 

“Sir, sir! Would you like to say a few words—”

Biggles irritably pushed his way past the enthusiastic crowd of reporters in front of the hotel entrance. “Don’t you all have anything better to do?” he growled, although no one really heard him because all the reporters were shouting at the top of their lungs.

“Now, now, James,” murmured Jane in his ear. “Try to smile for the pictures, dear. You don’t want to look grumpy on the front page, do you?”

Biggles frantically hailed a taxi and helped his wife into it before scrambling into it himself.

“Where to, guv?” inquired the driver.

“Anywhere,” said Biggles. “Just drive around for a bit or something, I don’t care. I just want somewhere quiet to think for a bit.”

“Bad day, guv?”

“You have no idea,” Biggles muttered fervently. “I can’t stand much more of this,” he added to Jane, as the taxi began to move away from the hotel. “All these reporters everywhere, in our faces, following us about. Every time I turn around there’s another one of them, and it’s driving me insane.”

“James, dear, there’s no need to be like that,” said Jane, examining her face in a small hand mirror she had taken from her purse. “Personally I find it quite fun to have people hanging on my every word. I’ve always wanted to be famous.”

“Well, if anyone else asks me what I think about the current state of the government, or what my favorite color is, or any other nonsense like that, I’m going to drop a bomb on their head,” declared Biggles. “I have had more than enough of this. I’m tired.”

“Well, we don’t have to stay here if you feel that way, James,” said Jane. “We could always go home and spend the rest of your time off there. I could do some redecorating or something. We don’t even have to go out if you don’t want to. All this should have died down by then, and then we can go about like normal people again.”

“That does sound like a good idea,” admitted Biggles, leaning back against the seat. “I just want to go home and sleep and read about other people in the paper for a bit.”

“That’s settled then,” said Jane, taking his hand. “We’ll go home. Oh, by the way, did you tell your friends what we discussed?”

A hunted look came over Biggles’ face. “Er…I…”

“James! You didn’t! You promised you would talk to them!”

“I did, I mean, I will. I’ll do it. I’ll do it today. I’ll do it when we go to lunch, all right? And then we can come back here and pack and then we can go home, all right?”

“You do promise you’ll tell them?”

“Yes,” said Biggles, looking awkwardly strained. “Yes, I’ll tell them, Jane. I promise.”

“All right, James.”

“I will tell them.”

“You already said that, dear.”

&&&

“Hello,” said Biggles nervously, into the phone. “Bertie…yes, we’re both very well, thank you. Is Algy there? Oh…he’s just gone out, has he? When will he be back…I’ll ring back when he’s in…You’re not sure? What d’you mean, you’re not sure? You don’t know when he’ll be back? Where’s he gone? Personal business? What sort of personal business?

“All right, look, I was going to say this to Algy and have him break the news to you two….but as he’s not in, I suppose it falls to you, Bertie.”

Biggles paused, struggling to find the words.

“Listen, Jane and I are going to be coming home tomorrow. We’ve decided to spend the rest of my leave at home. The reporters are getting too much for me; I’m tired of having them follow me everywhere.”

He paused again.

“What? No, I’m still here, Bertie. I just…there’s something I have to tell you chaps, and I’ve been putting it off. This may come as a shock, but you’re all grown men now, and…oh, look, I’m just going to come out and say it. We need you three to move out of the Mount Street flat.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“I know it’s short notice, and I’m sorry, I should have said something before, but I thought I’d have plenty of time, the chief gave me a month off. Let Algy know when he comes in, will you? I’d like to tell him personally, but I’m going to be packing and traveling so I might not have the chance to before we get back. Yes, we’ll need you all to move out before we come back. I’m sorry. Thank you, Bertie. I’m glad you understand. And…I really am sorry.”

Biggles put the phone back into its cradle and leaned his head against the instrument. He stayed like that for a long moment, and then, with an abrupt shrug of his shoulders, he straightened, ran a weary hand over his face, and went back into the restaurant to join his wife.

&&&

Bertie hung up the phone and turned to Ginger.

“What is it?” asked Ginger, alarmed by the expression on Bertie’s face. “What’s happened? Is Biggles all right?”

“He wants us to move out.”

“What?”

“By tomorrow.”

“What?”

Go to Chapter 10. 

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