Biggles sat on the terrace, reading the newspaper. He picked up his cigarette from the ashtray and took a quick drag. He exhaled, coughing slightly. He knew he had been smoking too much recently and resolved to try and cut back during the next few days. He shivered slightly as the sun went behind a cloud. He wondered if it would rain before they were able to visit the local registrar to try to obtain a special licence and if a ring would be available. Once everything was sorted he could let Algy and Ginger know the details.
Mary came out to join him. "How long have you been awake for?" she asked, sitting beside him.
"Not long," he said with a smile, taking her hand. "Long enough to know I don't want to read any more doom and gloom in the papers today."
"Plenty of books in the library," she smiled back. "There's the old classics, some Agatha Christie, D.H. Lawrence."
"Not Lady Chatterley I hope?" Biggles looked shocked.
"Amongst others. Have you read it? Daddy's rather a D.H. Lawrence fan. "
"Er-I've read his travel books."
"Oh, so have I. I particularly loved his Italian Essays*. I read it after we came back from Italy. He captures the spirit of the place so well."
*(Note- Sketches of Etruscan places and Italian Essays)
"I kept thinking it would be a lot faster to travel by plane than walk."
"But you'd miss the sights and the smells; the piney scent of the forest or the brilliance of the Tuscan gardens, the odd whiff of garlic; the ancient taste of ripe olives and fresh tomatoes with a hint of basil; grapes warm from the sun bursting in your mouth." She broke off with a laugh. "Sorry, I'm rambling. But there's something about the sheer vibrancy of the place that gets to you."
"South America." Biggles smiled.
"Yes. You inspired me that day, you know. I still have my old atlas somewhere - bit worse for wear as I wrote down every place we went to. And I collected postcards before I could write."
"Why don't you go and get it?" Biggles shivered again. His body was starting to ache.
"Are you cold?"
"I just can't seem to get warm."
"I'll bring you a coat."
Mary got up and started to walk towards the house. "Oh by the way," she turned back with a mischievous smile "you never answered my earlier question."
"It was educational," he replied dryly.
Mary laughed. "It was at that," as she went inside.
.
.
She returned with the books and Biggles coat. She sat down at the table beside him and opened the atlas.
"Every time you and Algy visited us you'd tell us such wonderful stories about where you had been." Mary pointed to some of the notes written in a childish hand. "And then Ginger joined you on those adventures. I was so envious I wished I was a boy so I could join you too."
"But look at your atlas. You've been to some wonderful places that I haven't been to. Greece, Italy, and Morocco. When the war is over why don't we travel somewhere?"
Mary's eyes shone. "Could we? Would you take me to South America?"
"I'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. If we can afford it," he added prudently.
"That would be lovely. All the flowers and animals. The different food."
"A good dose of gippy tummy." Biggles interrupted.
Mary laughed "No romance in your soul have you?"
"None whatsoever." He grinned and shivered again. Suddenly he slumped in his chair.
"James, you're not well," Mary put her hand on Biggles cheek. "My goodness, you're hot!"
"Just a bout of malaria," he said. "Came on suddenly. Sorry, old girl. I'm not going to be much company for a few days."
"I'd better get you to bed. You need a doctor."
"There's quinine in my kitbag. That'll do. I'll be better once I can sleep it off."
.
Mary helped Biggles to his room where he collapsed on the bed, the result of the exertion of trying not to lean heavily on Mary. Mary rummaged in his bag and found the bottle. "Here you are." Unscrewing the bottle, she handed it to Biggles, who took two and swallowed them. "One every eight hours from now on," he said.
"Can you manage to get yourself into bed?" she asked anxiously. "I can do your shoes, but can't do the rest."
"Come back in about twenty minutes and I should be all right." He smiled tiredly and took her hand. "Don't worry, lass. I'll be right as rain in a few days."
.
.
At Mrs Raymond's insistence the doctor had been and seen Biggles, who was thoroughly disgusted by the fuss. He'd supplied a bottle of Atebrin, remarking that Biggles must have the last bottle of quinine in existence and agreed that he'd be as right as rain in a few days. Quietly to Mrs Raymond he suggested that someone might like to sit with Biggles, just to keep an eye on him and to watch for a change in symptoms that would mean the disease was changing for the worse. It was pretty unlikely, he felt, because treatment had started so rapidly.
.
Biggles lay under the blankets, sweating profusely. He was cold despite the fire burning in the room. His throat was sore and his head was aching. He was grumpy and tired. Mrs Raymond had decided that she and Nanny would share any nursing that needed to be done. The click of Mrs Raymond's knitting needles was getting on his nerves and he was finding it hard to rest.
He wondered where Mary was. "Mary," he murmured. He hadn't seen her since she brought him a cup of tea earlier that morning. He could do with a cup of tea, he thought. Tea came from India, didn't it? He'd grown up in India. Mrs Raymond had been born in India. Mrs Raymond was Mary's mother. "Mary." Where was Mary? He had to find her. It was foggy. She'd get lost.
Suddenly he was aware of a face looking at him. "Mary," he muttered, reaching for the face, which disappeared. He tossed and turned, trying to identify the voices he could hear. "Mary."
"I'm here, James." Her face swam into view and he felt a cool hand touch his. He grabbed it and said urgently "We've got to get to India. Angus has crashed into a tea plantation and there are piranhas in the river."
"Algy and Ginger sent me a signal to say they have already picked him up and he's safe in hospital. You can't go to India until you've had your malaria medicine and a brush up. I need time to have a cup of tea and a bowl of soup before we go. It's a long way to India and I'm very hungry."
"It's cold," Biggles shivered and swallowed his Atebrin.
"Some soup will warm you up. Can you sit up and drink some?" Biggles sat up with a lot of help and Mary held a cup of soup to his lips and fed him slowly until the soup was gone. Mary watched him carefully and was glad to see his colour improve and his eyes became less feverish as the medication began to work. She laid him back down.
.
She wrung out a cloth in a bowl of cool scented water and began to sponge Biggles' face gently. His eyes never left her face. Once he made a comment: "What is it?"
"It's lavender and roses from the garden," she began to sponge his neck and chest.
"Nice," he sighed and closed his eyes.
.
After more than an hour Mary noticed he was settled again and was sweating less. "Do you know where you are?" she asked gently, covering him up.
His eyes opened. "I'm with you at your home."
"You don't want to go to India?"
"Not a chance! That's where all this trouble began. Why should I?"
Mary smiled and relaxed. "Because nearly two hours ago you were rambling and insisting we had to go to India. Welcome back. You had us worried."
"What time is it?" he reached over and took her hand.
"Well after three in the morning. Mother came and got me when you started asking for me."
"Who was it knitting?"
"Mother. You told her to put those infernal things away."
"I didn't!" Biggles was horrified.
"You certainly did!" Mary chuckled. "I was never more delighted in my life." She looked down at him and smiled. "You're a very fetching shade of yellow, you know."
Biggles grimaced. "One of the unpleasant side effects of this stuff. Is there anything to eat? I'm rather hungry."
"Could you manage some egg sandwiches and a cup of tea?"
Biggles eyed the plate that had been sitting under a damp cloth "I could manage all of those."
"They're all yours." Biggles sat up and realised his pyjama top was unbuttoned. He blushed slightly, and began to button it up quickly. Mary pretended not to notice and reached for the thermos of tea Nanny had left.
.
Biggles ate all the sandwiches and drank two cups of tea. "Well that certainly hit the spot," he sighed.
"Do you think you can sleep now?"
"I'll try."
"I'll be right here if you need anything."
"No you won't! You're going right back to bed yourself. That's an order!" There was a suspicion of a smile.
"Yes Squadron Leader Bigglesworth, sir!" Mary snapped a mock salute with a grin.
"And you know there's only one thing you can do when your Squadron Leader issues an order."
"Now what would that be?" she pondered out loud. "Call him an autocratic bully? Or kiss him?"
"Definitely the latter," Biggles grinned, holding out his hand.
"If you insist," she laughed and bent down.
He held her hand tightly for a moment. "I love you, darling."
"I love you too, James. Sleep well."
"You too."