Ginger In Australia
Chapter 2
An Unexpected Setback
The following morning, after a good night's rest thanks to his ability to fall asleep anywhere, even in strange surroundings, Ginger was driven to the university Faculty in Carlton where Georgia introduced him to her boss. Dr Jennings proved, much to Ginger's relief, to be solely interested in the dynamics of leadership. He made no mention of personal relationships and moreover showed no inclination to pursue that avenue of research. Their meeting was cordial and Ginger began to feel that the assignment might not be quite so onerous after all.
Georgia had mended her bridges after the inauspicious start and he was amused to note that she suddenly no longer seemed prickly in his company. It was the cat, he reflected, that had brought about this unexpected volte face. As is the way with such animals, when Ginger, who really preferred dogs, ignored it, the cat decided he was someone to be courted. Consequently it sought him out everywhere, including his bedroom. He had appeared at breakfast two days after his arrival with the handsome ginger tom in his arms and Georgia had looked from him to the cat and back again open mouthed. "You've just broken a dream," she informed him, acutely aware that Ginger's hair and the cat's fur were a perfect match, but what the dream was she refused to say. Whatever it was, it must have been pleasant for she looked at him in a new light and her attitude to him acquired more warmth from that moment on.
The week passed quickly and Ginger realised with a shock that he only had five more days before his departure, but his plans were upset when the following morning he slipped on the stairs coming out of Dr Jennings' office, twisting his ankle. The university doctor was summoned and told him to keep his weight off it for at least a week. When Ginger protested he was travelling home in four days' time, he advised him against it.
"Change your ticket. You have three months on your visa. Another week or so isn't going to make any difference," the doctor observed. "You wouldn't be able to go back to work, anyway," he added practically. "Apply for some sick leave."
Ginger realised he was right and telephoned Biggles, catching him just before he went to bed. Biggles was pleased to hear that Ginger appeared to be back to his old self, and did not seem put out by the change of plan, reassuring him they could hold the fort quite easily in his enforced absence.
"How is it going apart from that?" Biggles wanted to know.
"Fine, thanks," replied Ginger. "I was all set to come home before I twisted my ankle."
"Can't be helped," returned Biggles philosophically. "Enjoy the rest. You've been on the go non-stop for some time now; it will do you good. Make the most of the sunshine. It's still pouring here, so you're not missing anything," he assured him.
Ginger acquiesced, acknowledging the wisdom of the advice.
Georgia did not seem at all displeased at having her house guest for at least another week, and what her parents felt about it, they did not disclose, but Ginger hated the inactivity imposed by his immobility and insisted on getting about on crutches, his ankle heavily strapped.
Even this amount of limited mobility irked him and in no time he began tentatively walking a few steps, although he limped badly.
Georgia tried to stop him, but he was adamant. "I'll go crazy, lazing about with nothing to do," he informed her.
"Then go swimming," she told him with asperity, concerned he might do more damage to his joint. "That won't do your ankle any harm. The Carlton Baths are quite near the university. I'll drop you off. If I can't pick you up, there are lots of ways you can get back; you can take a tram, a bus or even a taxi if you're feeling extravagant," she added sarcastically.
Ginger thought that was a good idea; he had packed his bathing trunks in case of having the opportunity to sunbathe so they proceeded to put the plan into operation. Over the next few days, he spent a lot of time at the pool, enjoying an activity which enabled him to get some exercise without causing any problems to his injured ankle. Occasionally, when she could slip away, Georgia joined him and was surprised that he swam so well. She remarked that he seemed to swim lazily.
"In my opinion," remarked Ginger, "apart from races, there are only four reasons for swimming; for pleasure, to get fit, to get somewhere because there is no boat and because your life is in danger. I'm not racing and the last two don't apply here, so I see no need to swim fast or furiously. I'm enjoying myself. Why knock my pan out?"
She had to agree he was right. When the need arose, he proved quite capable of swimming both fast and efficiently.
She also seemed fascinated by the scars on his body. "I've led an interesting life," was all Ginger would admit, deprecatingly, being reluctant to talk about the cause of the injuries and he changed the subject completely the moment she asked him about the faint, old ones on his back which looked as though they had been caused by something sharp like the tongue of a belt buckle.
Shortly afterwards, on a day when Georgia was busy at the university and was unable to collect him, he made an acquaintance that was to involve him in an unlooked-for adventure. The circumstances were not particularly auspicious. Ginger had not had to make his way back from the pool alone before, but Georgia had given him instructions. Unfamiliar with the system, however, he slipped up over the tram numbers. She had told him to take the number 6 and get off at stop 28, but in the confusion because the tram was about to leave, he failed to read the number completely, and took tram number 64. Stop 28, instead of decanting him in Armadale, put him in a completely different part of the city. He looked around and realised that he was totally lost. Moreover, his ankle was not as recovered as he had thought. It started troubling him as soon as he alighted from the tram. Feeling in some discomfort, he sat down to rest, hoping the throbbing pain would soon abate so that he could continue his journey and find his way back to his lodgings, when a woman with cropped hair, whom Ginger guessed would be in her thirties, stopped dead-heading her roses in the front garden of the bungalow beside the tram halt and addressed him.
"Are you alright?" she asked solicitously, seeing him rub his swollen ankle.
Ginger smiled despite the soreness. "Fine, thanks," he lied. "I've twisted my ankle. I just need to rest a bit."
She looked at him. "You're English," she remarked.
"Yes, how did you guess?" he returned with a smile.
"Your accent," she told him seriously, not appreciating his dry sense of humour.
Ginger introduced himself and found that his interrogator was called Vera Trelawney. They chatted for a while and when she discovered that he had come from the Air Police Department in Scotland Yard under Detective Air Inspector Bigglesworth, she exclaimed, "I've heard all about him! I work in the Melbourne Stock Exchange and there was a lot of fuss when it was announced the Barula Creek gold had been recovered1. My boss is English; he told me about that affair with Cronfeldt and Carstairs2 before the War."
Ginger smiled. "Yes, that's Biggles," he admitted. "I was there, too."
"Well, fancy that!" she exclaimed, looking at him with a new interest. "I don't know why I didn't make the connection before. I should have recognised your name," she observed, "it's not exactly common."
Ginger grinned. "Nor particularly easy to say or spell, either," he acknowledged.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" offered Vera. "If you're anything like your boss, you won't say no," she added with a smile.
Ginger, whose ankle had been bothering him more than he cared to admit, accepted gratefully, acknowledging cheerfully that Biggles was indeed exceptionally fond of a cuppa.
She held out her hand to help him up. Ginger noticed she wore a wedding ring. To his enquiring look she said, "My husband was in the Merchant Navy. His tanker was sunk by a U-boat."
Ginger drew in his breath sharply, having seen a petrol dump go up and imagining the effect of a torpedo on a ship full of high octane aviation spirit. His mind flashed back to the sinking of the trawler3 and he thought it must have been much worse on a tanker.
She nodded, her eyes bleak. "The Germans used to call it a tankertorch," she told him. "Not pleasant. We'd only been married a few weeks."
Ginger said nothing, not knowing quite what to say, but aware that he knew how she must have felt.
Vera helped him into the house, a big 1930s "California bungalow". Ginger thought the upkeep of it must be hard for a widow. The paint was peeling in places and it had a general air of needing a handyman's touch. He was intrigued to find she kept bantams. "It reminds me of the countryside and keeps me in touch with reality," Vera told him when he remarked on it, "although my neighbours are not so keen since the birds have made a few forays next door. The neighbours have no sense of humour," she added sombrely. "They even got a cat to deliberately menace the chooks."
When she had settled him on the sofa in her sitting room with a cold compress on his ankle, and gone off to make the tea, Ginger looked around. There was a photograph of a sailor and several pictures of a young boy at different ages on the side table. When Vera served him his tea, he asked her about the photographs. "My husband and my son," she told him. "Paul's away at school camp at the moment at Barwon Heads, just past Geelong."
To hide his surprise that she had a son, for there was no other indication of a child in the neat and tidy room, Ginger asked her what she knew about Biggles. He was quite astounded by her knowledge of what he and his boss had been doing over the last few years. It rather shook him that their exploits should be known half a world away.
She invited him to stay for dinner, intrigued to meet someone from so far away that she had hitherto only heard about.
"I really ought to let Georgia - the woman from the university that I'm staying with - know what I'm doing," stated Ginger, with a guilty conscience. He looked at his watch and was surprised how late it was. "She'll probably be wondering what on earth's happened to me."
"That's no problem," Vera informed him. "What's her number? You can ring her and tell her what you're doing. I'll drive you back."
When the arrangements were made, Ginger settled back happily to talk to his new acquaintance. He found her interesting and remarkably well informed, not just about everything that they had been doing before Biggles had rounded off the Australian operation, but also since. She had also closely followed the post-war trials of U-boat personnel that had been reported in the papers, he discovered. He supposed that was explained by her personal experience of wartime loss.
Vera prepared him a very tasty evening meal of roast chicken, which, to Ginger's surprise, they ate outside in the garden as the weather was warming up. She apologised for not having any beer in the house, but Ginger eased her embarrassment by telling her he was not very keen on it anyway. The bantams watched them with bright, alert eyes, secure in their moveable coop until they were let out to feed on the crumbs. Feeling relaxed and happy, Ginger thought that he had really enjoyed his evening and would like to return the hospitality, but did not know of any suitable eating places in Melbourne. He felt he could hardly ask Vera to recommend somewhere he could take her, so he sounded her out about where he could wine and dine Georgia in recognition of her hospitality.
Vera gave him a few recommendations and he thought Florentinos sounded suitable. Hesitantly he asked if he might take her there for dinner the following evening.
She was initially reluctant and Ginger naively hastened to reassure her he had no ulterior motive. She smiled at his youthful earnestness and asked him if he realised it was very expensive.
"I think I can run to it," he told her with a grin as she weakened at the thought of an unexpected treat.
After she dropped him off at Georgia's house with the promise to pick him up the following evening to take him to the restaurant, Ginger limped jauntily into the house, temporarily oblivious of the pain in his ankle, reflecting that the assignment had not turned out so badly after all.
1 See Biggles Works It Out
2 See Biggles & Co
3 See Biggles Defies The Swastika
