another chapter

[id-ten-it.livejournal.com]

Alright, Ginger wanted christmas presents, so here's a second chapter, in which he gets them.

Pairing: Algy/ Biggles (est)
Warnings: various young ladies hanging about. Obnoxious mother.
Summary: Have I ever told you how much I love to watch you dress?

Dinner the first night is constrained. Ginger had scurried up to Algy’s room and knocked, breathlessly entering. “What did you and Jones get up to, then?” asks Algy, levering himself from the sofa he’s sharing with Biggles and steering the protégée out of the room.

An ‘in the way’ sort of feeling steals over Ginger although he feels mollified on answering Algy’s questions. Youth returns to haunt him with a vengeance when he realizes Biggles has had a word to the server- a weak drink for Mr. Hebblethwaite, if not Ginger Beer. However he likes Ginger Beer, this is strong and fizzy, and the hiccups he develops are funny to at least the pleasant man serving them.

In an effort to control the dignity levels Algy plays the oldest card- dropping one of Ginger’s numerous spoons onto the floor- and lets him retrieve it. “Excuse me.” He tries with an almost straight face, and then lowers his voice for Algy alone. “Biggles is going to stomp on your foot. I saw it.” And he winks in his most insolent fashion before recalling his starched collar.

Algy has been interrupted from telling the edited story- not how worried he was- of their first meeting and consequent decision and now his mother at least feels somewhat sympathetic to the rascal who’s already been found hanging from his fingertips in her milk- shed rafters, determined to steal a squirt of fresh warm milk.

 

As they make retiring noises from the living room, it is decided, with the late night, that a late start tomorrow would be acceptable- breakfast is to be ready no earlier than half past eight. Biggles and Ginger make their excuses, leaving the family alone for a quarter hour of silent contemplation of each others feet, before Algy retires as well, determined to use the lie in tomorrow to catch up on the planned exertions for the night.

 

The snuggly bed has the youngest guest unwilling to interrupt morning milking too early, but well before half eight he’s hungry and rearing to go, dark morning not- withstanding. The door won’t open without a fight which he fears will disturb the rest of the house so instead he dresses and scrubs his hands and face in the cold basin before dropping easily down- drain, lean- to roof, tank, ground- then walking through the laundry.

 

“Morning Mr. Hebblethwaite.” Gives him such a shock he begs them to change it to ‘Master Ginger’ if they must use a title at all. Kindly he is shown the kitchen and given some toast and an egg to, “Keep you quiet till breakfast. Just like Master Algernon you are, he was always begging off more food. Not good for expenses but good for the soul and it didn’t do him any harm.” Ginger must have looked worried because she patted his arm, “Don’t worry, love, I won’t tell.” Ginger smiles and decides to pass the time down here, learning about ‘Master Algernon’ before he has breakfast.

After all, it’s Christmas and the ball doesn’t start till 8. (2000hrs tomorrow it shall be’ Algy had promised, saluting his father, and his mother had broken in, scandalized, ‘8pm, Algernon, not whatever you said’ and Biggles had smothered a smile.)

 

Carefully, Ginger carries up the teacups to Algy’s own lounge, between Biggles and Algy’s rooms, before settling down to the meal which has been brought up in his wake. He makes sly comments between bites which have Algy wondering, “It was Nancy, wasn’t it?” he guesses, as Biggles silently swaps the half- runny egg in front of Algy for the harder one in front of him and smiles tightly. “All your shopping done, Ginger?”

“Yes, chief. Do you have a soccer ball, Algy?” Fine weather and a smooth lawn is very tempting.

“Not in my rooms, laddie. We’ll go and hunt out my old one- there’ll be someone to use it, I’m sure.”

 

Ginger waits impatiently for the older men to dress, blinking when Biggles emerges from Algy’s door-way, straightening his collar (tie- less) and Algy emerges not long after, one lace of his spotless soccer- boots trailing after him. “Come on, then, Ginger. It’ll probably be in the far barn, knowing our luck.” But they find it with ease, Algy assuring Jones’ youngest son that a soccer ball is meant to be played with (Though Ginger notes, with some small relief, that he doesn’t want to play with them).

 

The fresh air brings colour to their cheeks, just the two of them in jumpers, proper boots, socks and shorts, drilling each other. Algy played some, even in the war and Ginger back home but not much else. Biggles watches the same legs which crossed elegantly in front of the fire, swish through a dance or tangle with his undergo more feats. Algy is good, but a touch slow and spotting the opening Ginger flicks in his right foot, dribbling left, right, left and turning.

The house looms over, glittering, then the ball is gone and he’s chasing back again before Algy flicks it up with a grin and head- buts it.

 

Only when they’re heading back, tired and tossing the ball between them, does Ginger realize how Algy has instinctively been edging them from the house, figures Mrs. Lacey must be a late riser. They are greeted at the door with a long, disproving shadow and Ginger stops chatting, shoulders tense.

 

“Was that you I heard, yelping like so many pups, right outside my winder this morning, boy?” Ginger notes Algy doesn’t seem surprised, hardly reacts except to say, “Yes sir, won’t happen again, sir.” Then stand, giving off an air which conveys, ‘I’d like to get through, please, else I’ll get by you anyhow.’ Ginger had always though standing was standing, before this trip, but tries to mimic it. The older Lacey nods, leaves while throwing a, “Morning James,” into the room on his left.

“Good morning, sir…” floats down the hallway and Algy turns left, meeting Biggles halfway. “I could get used tot hat.” He quips, running fond eyes over the man in front of him and leaning forwards to straighten a hair curling into Biggles eye.

Ginger grins, distracted by the desire to run in socks, just to slide along the shiny wooden floor, but unsure of his Honour Lacey and His Wife. Also, he’s a touch muddy from all the snow about trying to settle.

 

“Didn’t mean ter wake yer Da up.” He mutters instead, when Biggles raises an eyebrow at their muddy state and Algy explains. “You didn’t” he assures, spoken earnestly, “He always says it like that. Think of it as affection.”

Now, Ginger mightn’t have had the best childhood but he knew real affection for honourable behaviour and said so. Algy looked pained and sat carefully on the arm of Biggles’ chair, casually dropping a hand down to Biggles own. “They have different ways of doing things.” He tries, but Ginger, warming to his theme, disagrees, “So there might be someone watching, or judging, but you’re his son, he shouldn’t treat you like a commanding officer does.” Biggles and Algy look at each other and smile. Ginger gets frustrated. “I bet your Da was like that too, hmm?” he snaps, shrinking even as he says it.

“Not as such,” Biggles admits, “Though it’s a bit different in India, I should think.”

This stops Ginger for long enough for Algy to remove his own dirty shoes and meander up long stairways to a cold basin, to remove the mud and slip on some pants, clean, more appropriate socks, and footwear.

 

“After lunch we’ll head to church.” He announces, having had to leave the overwhelmed Ginger to Biggles, exploring the floor their rooms are on, as he talks with his parents. “Then, we’ll be having a light tea, and Mother expects as to retire by half past six, to dress, and meet at the door by half seven, ready to receive the disgustingly long list of guests.” He drops the formal tone as he says the last, reassuring Ginger as well, “It’s alright, Ginger. All you’ll have to do is bow repeatedly and say something like ‘pleased to meet you’, about a hundred times, and then you’re free to enjoy the dance.” Ginger muttered something about not enjoying dancing, but he didn’t say much as Algy clearly did.

“So I thought we could do presents before lunch.” Algy grinned, “Which, I’m sorry to say, involves imposing on the parents and also some ‘select guests’, none of whom I remember and none of whom have bought any of us presents. However, we must make the best of it- and there’s cake.”

 

Ginger stood eagerly, “Cake! I feel like I haven’t eaten for days.” Biggles laughed, “Try minutes, boyo. Now, bring those beautifully wrapped gifts in here and we’ll get our host to carry them down.” Ginger left dutifully, returning to the room in double quick time.

So it was that Algy entered the room last, shepherding his guests and plopping well over the expected six parcels down below the tree before bowing over the women and shaking hands with the men.

“I’m afraid Mother kept this part of our trip secret.” He smiled, “So we haven’t come prepared with presents for you all, as we hardly knew we were coming until we were here.” Appropriate comments were made and Ginger shook his head as Algy settles down, sandwiching him between Biggles. “How do you do it?” he muttered, as Mr. Lacey, gamely sporting a novelty hat, began distributing various gifts. “Do what?” Algy asked, watching a box being passed to his Mother and hoping she liked the selection.

 “Know what to say all the time.” Ginger seemed awed and overwhelmed by the farce so Algy merely replied, “I’ve had to do it for years, Ginger.” And when that didn’t satisfy someone he added, “It’s like flying, or riding a bike, or any other of a hundred things I could name- once you know how, you never forget.”

Their conversation was broken not by the arrival of a present- they were still waiting- but rather by the determination by Mrs. Lacey that there would be carols, sung by them, and Algy was hailed as the best pianist.

 

Good- humouredly, he struck a chord, flung his head back and inquired what was to be begged of him. The youngest Miss Parnell, there to accompany her aging father, gasped a little breathlessly and hurriedly turned it into a suggestion, timid, of ‘Angels from the realms of Glory’. Algy belted out the introduction and happily joined in the singing.

 

After many such intervals- presents and singing combined- they sat down for lunch, having said a 'farewell, see you tonight', to their guests. Ginger refused to remove his new scarf, yellow silk to match his mentors (“It shows the blood, but not too much” tried Algy, darkly, as Biggles had tried for a more traditional white), though he didn’t have on his new, spiked, boots or his soccer socks. Such gifts had been augmented by a ‘suitable book for a young man your age’ from Mr. Lacey- the Encyclopedia Britannica- and some monogrammed Handkerchiefs from Mrs. Lacey, who had, in her wisdom, provided money for the purchase of boots as well. Of course, as well as the promise of more flying lessons (this time coming from the much- impressed Mahoney, Smyth etc as well as Biggles and Algy) there was a novelty. Algy, facing the days of boredom before they could, in all decency, return to London, volunteered to teach Ginger the basics of driving, despite the weather, and to continue when they returned.

“This way, Biggles won’t watch us return his car a wreck.” He grinned, while his cousin looked pained.

 

The church is fundamentally an old, cluttered, building, but Ginger still enjoys looking at all the glass and brass and working out how old it must be from the dates embedded in there. It is with astonishment that he breaths to Algy, “This place is 600 years old” during ‘Oh come Oh Come Emmanuel’ and with further astonishment sits as Algy tells him, “Actually closer to 1000, got damaged a lot.” Before the every- present glare is upon them from further up the pew.

The sermon is suitable- hope and joy and world peace etc etc- though Biggles clearly has an issue with it, if his clenched fist is anything to go by. Ginger has to pass the time somehow and finds himself looking at the choir, recognizing the Miss Parnell and smiling at her before they are standing around chatting at the end of the service.

 

They travel back home in batches, the parents first, ‘Letting you get to know our friends a little more’ as Mrs. Lacey hopefully tries, eyes on Algy and Miss Parnell and her friends. It’s another hour before they are allowed home and inside to exclaim over the facts found in Encyclopedia, tease Algy with a feather duster he begged off Nancy and caste glances to the cuff- links he got Biggles and the matching tie- pin he got Algy (he doesn’t have enough money for what he wants to get them, this has used up more than he ought to have, he suspects, but Christmas comes but once a year and birthdays are marked, usually, by a single card from Mrs. Lacey and a set of handkerchiefs and socks).

 

It is with a sigh Ginger slips on the proffered jacket, hardly worn and likely to remain so, and heads down, minus the scarf, for the ‘light tea’ which will tide them over till half- eight. It is generous however, and he is constantly being offered more, so he takes it, not wanting to seem rude, before realizing he’s eaten almost a whole tray of sandwiches, when he tries Algy’s trick- a mute shake of the head as he smiles. Understanding, the tray is removed and they sit around playing cards for a while before Mrs. Lacey excuses herself. “I hope you will not be too late dressing, Algernon.” She admonishes, as Algy shows no signs of stopping their game, taking over the hand instead.

“No, Mother. Though I hardly think you need any time at all, much less over an hour, to look beautiful.” He kisses her hand diligently, honeyed words rolling off his tongue, and Ginger is reminded of several girls and women he has seen smothering Algy with attention. He wonders, distressed, what will happen if Algy gets married, whom he shall turn to and what Biggles will do. It doesn’t seem to worry the men as they turn back to beating him hollow before hustling him up stairs.

 

“When you’ve a suit on come in and I’ll give you a hand with the details.” Algy smiles, stepping in to his own room, where the tails have been laid out carefully, though the hand who did the laying is nowhere in sight.

 

His first visitor, however, is Biggles, who comes in buttoning his collar buttons and stops to stare and the cuffs Algy is doing up. “Have I ever told you how much I love to watch you dress?” He asks, voice lower than it could be in a casual friend.

Algy can’t help a slow smile warming his face, “I believe you’ve told me many times the opposite is true.” He comments, reaching for his cummerbund and settling it neatly. “Though I think it’s time I commented on your own, most dashing, figure.”

 

To be truthful, they are both looking particularly fine tonight, as only healthy, happy men can look when anticipating a good night and dressing for a ball. Biggles already has his cummerbund on and is now struggling in front of Algy’s mirror with a real bow- tie of silver grey, while Algy is now checking the modest amounts of frilling on his shirt is hanging straight, before elbowing Biggles out of the way. His own bow- tie is black, sitting nicely with the white jacket, but he bends to whisper in Biggles ear, “You know, James, that colour brings out your eyes so well, it’s just as well this is white- tie, not just tails, or I’d be disappointed with plain black.”

It is just as well Ginger knocks before entering, or there would be a scene to explain- two grown men kissing in front of a mirror- instead of just two men helping each other with their bow ties.

 

Ginger has polished up well, and Biggles remarks on it, offering to help his bow- tie. Ginger acquiesces and then smiles, a little abashed. “You’re wearing the cuff- links I gave you.” He offers as explanation and Biggles smiles. “Of course I am, Ginger. That’s why you gave them to me, to wear? They look very nice, I think.” And they do, deep blue with a streak of grey in them in the shadow of a Camel. Algy reaffirms his silent promise to wear the tie pin tomorrow, since he can’t manage it in his ensemble tonight…But then he has an idea.

 

It is a handsome set of three men who come down the stairs on the dot of half- seven, errant red hair combed and sitting carefully, Algy being good at such tricks, employing them himself. Mrs. Lacey smiles as she accepts their compliments- deep blue looking good on her and matching her husband’s bow tie. Biggles hasn’t had a chance to look at Algy since they were interrupted, so it is with surprise that he notes the tie pin through a buttonhole, looking remarkably like a favour, but instead bringing a proud flush to Ginger’s face as he comments on it.

They’re still talking about it when the first guests arrive and a flurry of activity begins which doesn’t end until five to eight, with the Parnells smiling and happy, the youngest daughter blushing furiously when Algy does his trick of looking up through his eyelashes at her. Biggles notes this and tells Ginger to go and make himself useful, muttering a quick aside to Algy. “She thinks you like her, you know.”

He relaxes when Algy has to ask who twice before remembering who she is. Ginger, it appears, will need no second reminding, as he hangs off her word and smiles at her occasionally, offering her his arm to peer out the window.

 

First duty done, Algy draws away from Biggles with a shrug and goes to speak with the brown- haired, debonair man petting his petite blonde wife’s curl of hair, greeting him with a smile. “Freddy! Pleased to see you. And how is Mrs. Cooper?”

 

Across the room, Biggles is engaged in making polite conversation with a woman who knows someone who was engaged to a pilot in the war. “Awfully exciting.” She simpers, bringing large brown eyes up to Biggles mouth, but no further, “But then he was hit and down he went in flames…how would that work, then? I thought the cold would put them out.”

Biggles manages to mutter something and pushes away from her, bad tempered and ready to go to bed now, or at least to dance as they did on base, where there were never enough girls to go around and no-one cared.

“I said I’d introduce you.” Algy murmurs against his ear, managing to get a small peck in without anyone caring, “Because you look like thunder and I don’t want you in a bad mood now, not with a whole night stretching ahead of us, and those lovely tight pants on you….” His mutterings become more appropriate for the company as they again appear to the younger Coopers, and Frederick begins talking about his own importance. This is something they can deal with, and Algy grins at Biggles with his eyes as they fall into a long- perfected show.

 

Algy is charming, Biggles notes automatically, smiling gently at Fredericks wife, listening to her comments and skillfully integrating them into the conversation, but there’s something between the two men which he suspects needs to be talked about without the man’s wife listening, though Biggles is unsure he wants to know Algy is talking to his old friend unchaperoned. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Algy; he’s trusted him with his life so often that that never comes into it, and Biggles' heart has always been safe, with Algy looking after it. It’s just that being polite to a pretty young woman, married or no, while Ginger is clearly having a gripping conversation and Algy will be too, is hardly what he wants to be doing, before supper. Nevertheless, Biggles touched Algy gently on the arm to get his attention and interrupt him politely. “I wonder if Mrs. Cooper has seen the garden, since it has been lit?” he asks, a raising of the eyebrow and a civil tone doing wonders. “It looks very pleasant from these windows, I was thinking just last night.”

 

Algy’s smile could be of thanks, though if the absolute falsehood of Biggles’ words were known it would be more likely thought a smirk. Mrs. Cooper accepts, Biggles draws her away and Algy and Freddie look at each other. “She’s a lovely wife, Freddy.” Algy smiles, trying to instill the truth of his comment and the complete lack of regret he feels into his friends mind. “You are happy, I hope?”

Brown eyes meet his, years falling away to play the soulful innocent look for all it’s worth. “Usually, yes. She loves me, and I love her dearly, though perhaps more as a sister than I should. She certainly isn’t as exciting as you.” The last sentence is said quietly, and Algy nods to let him know no-one is nearby, though they take a few steps away from the nearest couple to make sure.

“I was hardly the rascally child you make me out to be.” Algy comments, eyes searching out Ginger, assuring himself the boy- young man- is out of trouble and staying that way. Freddy follows his gaze.

“You were the most exciting thing in my life.” He points out, perhaps still hoping they can have a final fling, but Algy shrugs, not picking up on the comment, not seriously considering, although there could be something between them, if Freddy was less pompous, smaller, fairer, more given to flying…he realizes all he’s doing is super- imposing James onto Freddie and he shakes his head, turning back. “I’m not nearly as exciting any more.” He says firmly, belief shining from his eyes, “I’ve found myself an Uncle with a teenager, though the steady job is still somewhat of a fantasy.” Freddy nods once, sadly, and turns away. “It’s been good to talk.” Algy tries, and Freddy smiles at him, though they both know they’ll continue as they did- no letters and, for Algy at least, no regrets and hardly any memories- from now on.

 “It has been.” Freddy replies, before freeing Algy to the clutches of his mother, lying in wait nearby and entertaining a group of girls.

 

Algy darts off to pay his respects to Mrs. Cooper again, so when he is surrounded it’s with James at his side, they both ending up with vapid, excitable women to herd them along to the just- announced supper. Algy raises an eyebrow at Ginger, who smiles back gleefully, being coddled by a motherly sort and all- but- worshiped by a young miss Parnell, who contrives to sit between Algy and Ginger, putting James two seats down from Algy and making a sit- down supper a long affair.

Comments

[003chan.livejournal.com]

I hope there's going to be another chapter :D

[id-ten-it.livejournal.com]

I actually hadn't decided if there would be- I haven't even an idea of where it's going to go.
But if there's demand, then I shall kowtow to it, by all means. It'll just take a few days!

[003chan.livejournal.com]

*wink wink glance glance*
I need moar stories with Ginger in them :D

[id-ten-it.livejournal.com]

*winks back* alright-y then.
But he's determining how best to behave at this dinner party I've plopped him into, and whether he can, in all conscience, dance with the lady Algy is supposed to be marrying.
When he's decided, i'll write it all up and let you know!

[003chan.livejournal.com]

Yay! Ok.

[fuskersawitall.livejournal.com]

Sorry this is late, just arrived back form France! Finally we get to meet Frederick, I don't know why I'm obsessed with him. Algy is stunning in this, and Biggles highly strung as usual. I hope you write more of this. Thanks!