November 1942

Squadron Leader James Bigglesworth came slowly down the steps of the Air Ministry and onto Kingsway. The wound on his side had begun to play up with the exertions of the last days in Monaco but the week's rest in Algiers had gone someway to heal it.

Reports had been completed to their satisfaction and Air Commodore Raymond had expressed his gratitude.

"Well that's that," remarked Biggles. 'I suppose we might as well get back to the squadron."

"I've got a spot of leave to finish if you don't mind, sir," said Ginger meekly.

Biggles raised his eyebrows "What do you want leave for?"

"Well, I've got to see my tailors about a new uniform and one or two other things" explained Ginger in an offhand way.

Biggles smiled. Algy shook his head sadly. Bertie winked.

"Give her my love and all that sort of rot-if you see what I mean?"

"You run away and polish your eyeglass, troubadour," sneered Ginger and hailed a passing taxi

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," called Algy as the taxi drove away.

"Women!" snorted Bertie. "They'll be the ruin of him."

"Possibly," said Algy. "He's young, attractive, and enjoys a bit of fun. He can't help it if WAAF girls on the base are falling over themselves for his attention. Up until now he's not been bothered. More than one good man has been bowled over by a pretty face before, and done stupid things."

"But Jeanette could also be the making of him," he added hastily, as he glanced at Biggles' face. "Shall we head back?"

"You go ahead. I'll catch you at Victoria."

Algy nodded understandingly. "Come on Bertie, old fruit. I'll stand you an ice cream."

"An ice cream!" exclaimed Bertie. "I should jolly well think so if you can find one!"

Biggles sank onto the step and lit a cigarette. He remembered back to the closing days of the first war.

Marie.

His first love.

He remembered the happy days as if it was yesterday and how sharp and bitter the pain of betrayal had been in contrast.

Over the years he'd tried to tell himself he didn't care, but still he wondered what had happened to her. Had she really loved him? She must have, or she wouldn't have come back to leave a letter. Could he have continued to love her? Could he have lived with himself? She tried to destroy his friends that day. Life without Algy was unthinkable. Had he really been so stupid as to fall for a pretty face and throw caution to the winds?

He'd known her a week. He'd been lucky to have come out of the whole affair without a court-martial He knew he'd been vulnerable, having returned from a distasteful posting in Palestine to the news his brother had been killed in action. He'd let down his guard.

He'd only been a kid, even younger than Ginger.

He stabbed his cigarette out viciously and lit another, inhaling deeply.

Bah!

He hoped Ginger would never have to feel the same kind of pain or to suffer the consequences of his own stupidity. But judging from Ginger's reaction, he was as capable of being equally as hot-headed as he himself had been.

Suddenly he felt old.

His body ached and he was dog tired.

He stood up. The morning's sunny sky had clouded over and matched his mood. The twinge in his side reminded him of his recent injury.

Well, he wouldn't let his past blight the boy's future. He'd have to keep an eye on Ginger and made sure he straightened up and flew right, as Algy had tried to do for him over so many years.

But sometimes he wondered if the pain would ever go away. Would it continue to dog him until he went topsides?

"Maybe the sooner the better for all," he thought bitterly, grinding out his cigarette.

"'Captain James'!" A young cheerful voice broke in on his thoughts.

He turned to see the speaker and found himself looking into a large pair of very alive brown eyes.