Remember this?

[id-ten-it.livejournal.com]

A very, very long time ago (or so it seems, at the moment) there was a prompts table put up. Now, I'm not pointing any fingers as to why, but suddenly I'm looking at it and thinking (when I'm not humming along to all the songs there are in it)! I could do that.

So I've started. Not at the begining, because that would be silly. Some might point out that various -other- challenges (the letters one. I forget what fandom it was in, but it was a long time ago, I'm just re-reading at the moment) had bearing on this. Maybe they did.

Title: Words accross the sky (for No5, distance)
Rating/ pairing: none, really. hence G
Summary: Algy writes a letter home. This has a focus on the poor mother of Algy (whom I know nothing about), so some may say it's better suited for 'family'. I say there's a more obvious and better employed answer for family. If you really need the slash, well, read into Frederick what you will. And algy does Have a doting Biggles moment. But it wasn't written as that. pre-pre-slash, maybe?

The Honourable Mrs. Lacey gently fanned herself, elegantly juggling an envelope, fan and cup of tea as she nodded to her companion. “Your Frederick is so good to you, such large, regular letters.” She agreed, settling as the gentle knock of a relinquished fan, dangling from her wrist now, threatened to upset the exact set of her dress.

“Oh, my dear, I know it.” The equally Honourable Mrs. Cooper, Genevieve in this company, nodded in turn at the letter across from her. “That’s the first you’ve had in so many days. Although," she looked down, complacent, “When one is actively flying, instead of directing, there is liable to be less time.”

Mrs. Lacey, bless her, didn’t twitch at that, knowing which son was really being more useful, instead of running maps around the country, or whatever Frederick was engaged in.

 

“It’s such a comfort to know he’s with our nephew. But there, I’ll let the letter speak for itself.” Steadily, as befitted a properly brought up lady, she placed the tea on the table top, unfolded the already opened envelope and took out the sparse few sheets. Her pince-nez, no longer mere affectation, was equally settled before she again opened her mouth.

 

“He begins as he has since…oh, he left for school I should say. That’s ten years of letters, all begun so well.” Her voice changed as she began to read it, “Dearest Mother, I apologise for not managing to get this away sooner, however we have been kept fairly busy here. I have been placed under Cousin James’ wing, so to speak.”
Genevieve joined in the laughter there, “Oh, your Algernon always had such a sense of mischief in him. Such a healthy sign in a boy.”

 

Algernon’s mother agreed, moving on, “Who- that’s his cousin James, you understand- has taught me many things, and did me the honour of watching my back more than one would expect from your superior. This is a service he now says is useless, as I am, in his eyes (and therefore, I know, in everyone else’s) flying as a certain credit to all concerned.”

 

Mrs. Cooper nodded at Mrs. Lacey, “All those lessons you let him have, my dear, that they paid off so well….I only wish my Frederick had taken to it so well.”

Mrs. Lacey nodded back, remembering the tales of Fredericks…not taking to flying very well.

 

“We are kept fairly busy, as the continuous change in pen may have told you. Plenty of times we are not only meant to be shooting at other planes but also operating camera gear and such, to keep tabs on what those poor soldiers on the ground are doing.

 

Now, mother, I have some bad news. Do you remember one holiday you, as thoughtful as you always are, allowed a large group of boys to stay over the holidays? I received news recently that two of them have died, charging around in the mud. And one or two others have been injured, but as they have since written to me, there is more relief in that, as you can imagine.

 

Re-reading that last paragraph, I sound rather morbid, don’t I? But really, it was the natural superiority and safety of air that I was feeling, you must understand. The word ‘imagine’ has set me to remembering you all at home, as I frequently do.

May I ask you to remember me to your good friend Mrs. Cooper? Frederick is, of course, far away and kept so busy I doubt he has time to write many letters, so I am sure she is getting most of them. He is such an elegant letter writer. I have yet to have one from him, although given my tardiness in writing to you, I would be unable to reply to him for longer, which he might see as a slight, the last thing on my mind.

 

Also, if you could remember me to all those at home, especially….”

The proud mother broke off, to both save her blushes (Algernon was such a good, dutiful son who clearly loved to think of the happy home they had here) and to do all service to that elegantly turned paragraph to Genevieve.

 

Another cup of tea each, both women stood, moving towards the door, preparing to farewell each other until the next day. “Oh, such good sons.” Murmured Genevieve, “Lovely long letters,” she tucked her larger parcel away complacently, “and fancy your Frederick making such nice comments about me.” Smiled the other woman, petting her letter, nestled in the coat pocket.

 

“Now, tomorrow, we are going to continue with our Red Cross rummaging, aren’t we?”

A smile appeared on Genevieve’s face, “Of course. I’ll meet you at the usual time. Until then, my dear!”

 

Two ladies retired to their own homes, there to pore over the letters and to await their husbands, doing such important work in the war.

 

One son carefully inked another few lines into yet another letter, full of banalities and self importance. The other swigged some more coffee, still seated in the cockpit, gave the mechanic a ‘thumbs up’ and squared his shoulders, preparing to start his second sweep of the afternoon.

 

Two fathers raised a whiskey to each other, swigged it back and clapped the other mans shoulder, before turning out for a mid-afternoon walk, in which they discussed only the way rationing was starting to affect their whiskey stocks.

.

Comments

[prudence-dearly.livejournal.com]

Yay! I have been wanting Biggles fic recently, so thanks for posting this.

I like this little slice-of-life, especially seeing the war through the parents' eyes and activities.

I have been placed under Cousin James’ wing, so to speak.
I find that so cute! And it sounds very Johns-esque in terms of humour.

Frederick is, of course, far away and kept so busy I doubt he has time to write many letters... I have yet to have one from him.
Ouch. Poor Algy. (Yes, that would be me reading into it :)

I'm glad to hear there's a whole prompts table for you to work through. (No pressure ;)

[id-ten-it.livejournal.com]

Pleased you like it.
feel free to read into it. I didn't set out for it to do that, but when I re-read it I was reading into it...so thought I should add that warning.

A whole table. mmhm. I have ideas for some of them, so there's hope yet!

[fuskersawitall.livejournal.com]

Aww, Algy is so sweet, well done that was really nice.

[pearbean.livejournal.com]

ICON LOVE!

[id-ten-it.livejournal.com]

thankyou. I've always had a secret fetish for Algy as opposed to Biggles.

[pearbean.livejournal.com]

This was lovely! It was really nice to see a slice of their lives. It's so easy to forget that they have families, given Johns' usual (slightly disturbing) reluctance to involve anyone's relations unless they're comedy uncles.
Here's to resurrecting forgotten challenges!
(And can I also say I love you love you love you for getting "pore over" right? :D <3)

[id-ten-it.livejournal.com]

I'd agree with you about the comedy Uncles. (I'm sure there's some history there- maybe Johns felt he had no comedy uncle of his own and wanted everyone else to not suffer the same fate?)

(and you may say that, but I wasn't aware there was a way of getting it wrong?)

[pearbean.livejournal.com]

I've seen too many cases of "pouring over" :(
Poor soggy documents.

[id-ten-it.livejournal.com]

I see. Well there'll be a case of soggy documents for the next story, but they'l be photo-prints.
only other soggy documents you get here are the ones when tea is abandoned for...other persuits.