Author's Note: At one point where I was doing a bit of cleaning work for a living I thought about what it might be for Mrs. Symes, being a housekeeper for the boys. This story is a bit of a pondering from her point of view about the men she works for.

Warning: The warning is placed here for vinsmouse, who wanted a spew warning here, claiming it might be a bad idea to drink while reading the funnier parts. So please keep in mind that drinking any kind of beverage while reading this, might be hazzard'ous to the health of your screen.

Disclaimer: I do not own Biggles. I am merely playing with him and his friends. I give my word that when I am done with them they shall have come to no permanent harm. In case of damage I promise I will fix it with some chewing gum and Ginger's mechanical degree.

A Man in Her Life

The last time one of her friends told her that she needed a man in her life she just smiled softly and thought about the four of them she already had. It was many years since she last considered getting remarried. She had met a dashing young man once, one that she had loved being married to and she had many times pictured the life they might have had together. They would have lived in a small little house somewhere and they would have had plenty of children. She adored children, and so did he. With his bright red hair she had been sure she knew what the children would look like to.

If it had not been for the war it was what would have happened to. When the war did not end as soon as they had thought he had decided he should do his duty, so he had joined up with the British Navy, set out to sea and never returned.

She had never truly stopped mourning him and it never seemed so very important to find another husband after that. It was to support herself she had started on her career as a house keeper. First for a young couple, but it had not really worked. Then she decided that the problem was when there was two of them both with their own opinion of how things were to be run that caused the problem so she agreed to start working for a young bachelor.

Mr. Bigglesworth had been in the war himself although he had been a pilot and she found that he understood what she said when she talked about the love of her life although none of them brought it up a lot. He also had a cousin, Algernon Lacey. While Bigglesworth wanted her to call him Biggles his cousin wanted to be called Algy.

Keeping a household for the two of them was generally not very hard for Biggles left it to her how she wanted to do it. As long as everything got done as it should, he did not mind when or how. He did not see her as a lowly servant best left ignored but was happy to talk to her and she cared for the both of them. She knew very well that nothing would ever come from it, and it was how she wanted it.

Sometimes they would be gone for weeks and months, and always it seemed quite lonely in the house when they were away, something her friends could not quite understand how she meant. They were after all not a family, no, but they were friends.

She was not sure exactly how long she had been working for them when suddenly the child was there. Biggles and Algy had been away, she had not known what they were up to, but when Biggles came in one morning he had Algy and a child in tow. The child was introduced to her as Ginger and she had to smile. With his bright red hair, freckled face and blue eyes the name suited him. What she could not understand was the way he looked around himself as he had never before seen anything like the apartment. She fetched them tea and he was sitting at the very edge of the chair, cradling the teacup in both hands as he sipped the hot brew, and barely dared to help himself to the cookies he eyed so longingly.

She had been quite surprised when she found out he were to stay with them, at least until he had learnt to fly Biggles had told her. Oh, but she saw the way the youth looked at him with open admiration. Ginger would never want to leave. She herself had been sure she would not want him to, even after barely an hour for she found she cared deeply for the youth.

She was not supposed to run a household for two men and a teenager, but she did not mind at all. What she did was to insist that the lad helped himself to plenty of the cookies and frowned over how thin he was.

She could not describe it by saying he became like a son to her, but more like a nephew. She declared that she would have to fatten him up some and he blushed. He was so cute when he did that, and he did it a lot. He was not used to London or eating supper at the dinning room table. He was used to spearing a slice of roast beef on his fork and using his other hand to hold it still while he tore pieces from it with his teeth. She would chide him softly about dragging in dirt and about mud stained clothes. She also made up her mind that she now held the position she would want to keep. How could she leave them for a different work? She was at ease with Biggles and Algy, enjoyed the gentle teasing between them all, and it was funny the way Algy would try to pretend he thought he could get away with sneaking cookies from her pantry.

It had not taken her long to teach Ginger where there was cookies to be had, and he would pass her way so he could talk with her. At first he would bring a fistful of mangled flowers, or something else a fifteen year old boy thought she would like. A few times she could barely smile, like when he took a lizard from his pocket, beaming proudly and telling how he had caught it out at the airdrome. Much like a cat showing off a dead mouse she thought. He was after all still a child and he did not always understand what the proper way to do things was.

Even when he learned that he could go and take the cookies himself when he wanted he rarely did. He would wait until she got back home and then talk to her while he ate a couple of them. He never stopped going by to talk to her, even when he started growing up and came to understand that the house keeper did not wish to see lizards or frogs.

She got to see another side of Biggles to then, for Biggles was responsible for the youth and he took his role seriously. He had tried to keep the lad from danger but was never quite able to. Ginger was not to be left out and Mrs. Symes could never blame him for taking him along. What Biggles did for him though was something to be admired. She saw him spend many an evening with the boy, patiently helping him to improve his reading and his writing. Biggles and Algy never seemed to tire of the many questions he had, they showed understanding, but they also made sure he learnt right from wrong.

Not that it was a hard task, Ginger was the child who would see someone drop a penny, pick it up and run after them to return it. He was a good child and Biggles was a good guardian for him.

It had taken them all by surprise when they realized just what he had been through as a child, it was not before they saw all the scars on his back that they truly understood. She had seen them to, when the boy had been soaked to the skin and so cold he could barely get his coat or shirt off.

Biggles had been furious and raging, and Algy just about the same. Ginger, the poor little child had stood there not understanding what was amiss. He had looked at her for help to understand, and it had been many long conversations before he finally did. Ginger would freely tell about his father and how he had boxed his ear for something done wrong. The bulk of it however was another matter and was something the boy never seemed to completely understand.

How could she mind her job then? Some said that cleaning and tidying after men was not a job one should have to endure, but there was not much work in it most of the time. Biggles was tidy by nature, Algy would leave a few magazines behind him, a book here and there and Ginger was mostly careful to clean up after himself. On occasion he would forget when he became excited. When Algy suddenly came with and offer about going to the films Ginger was out the door so quick that the paste would be left on the table with a few paper scraps and an open scrap book. That was however not something she found annoying, it was something that made her smile and think the young man would never fully outgrow being a boy.

Biggles would shake his head, smile and tell her to leave it for him to clear up himself later but she did not. Ginger when he came back would be smiling at her sheepishly while apologizing for leaving a mess and it was so sweet.

With the boy making three of them she had not expected anyone else, but then after the other war there was Bertie there as often as not though you could not say he actually moved in with them. She had been worried when they left, more worried than some thought she should have been and how could she not worry when she cared for them so much.

She had told Biggles repeatedly to keep an eye on Ginger and she just barely stopped herself from telling him to make sure the boy kept warm. Perhaps he was not a child anymore, but he was not grown either. He was the one who would send her postcards and letters, and why not, he had no one else to write to. His father would not care if he wrote or not and she could tell he wanted to share the experiences. Biggles would write to, because he wanted to make sure that she was alright. For a time when London was not safe Algy had written to her and told her that he had arranged for her to stay with his family out in the country where she would not have to worry.

It was strange after the war when they came to be police instead. Aviation police and that in itself was something to get used to. She liked Bertie and the way he had. He was a nice man who was easy to get along with. It did however take a bit of time to get used to him at first. How many times did the rest of them laugh while she stood there, unable to figure out if he was serious or not? Oh, he had a way to drive a poor woman out of her mind, and she would tell him so to. It did not bother him the slightest. She could see it in her minds eye whenever she wanted. Biggles sitting in front of the fire with a book, Algy talking to him about some article in one of the aviation magazines they read. Ginger munching on a cookie while he was trying to fold the wings of a paper aero plane just right. Bertie teasing him about it while at the same time trying to pull her leg on something.

Those times it never seemed like a job, she never minded that she was there until late in the evening to clear away the dishes. It was a family and she was happy to be a part of them. To be able to share in with it and see them smile as she came.

She did not need a man in her life like them people said, she already had four of them and it was all she needed, and just what she wanted to.

The End

Please review, the Cricket is hungry