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Summary
Six Christmases across the decades.
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The dinner reservation was for seven, but by seven forty-five, even Biggles has to accept von Stalhein is not showing up. Algy has drunk three glasses of wine, which is always a bad idea with Biggles, because now he is noticeably drunk and Biggles is not, and he is less able to modulate his own disquiet.
‘Do you know if he’s gone anywhere much since setting up here?’ he asks. ‘I didn’t think a restaurant would be too much to ask but perhaps we should have gone to eat limp sandwiches in a bus station instead.’
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The only notable moment of the entire affair was when a tall, tanned, good-looking man with dark hair, in the uniform of a Major, had come striding up the stairs, two at a time, like a bolt of sudden lightning through the otherwise muted atmosphere of the offices. Algy followed him with his eyes, taking in the long lean stretch of his legs and the sharp, cold cut of his gaze as he scythed through the scatter of staff officers.
Major Sterne is bored. Algy Lacey is in over his head.
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When Erich turns up on Algy’s doorstep with a bullet wound under the ribs and a mess of blood-soaked cotton clamped to his side, the first thing he says is, ‘Don’t tell Bigglesworth.’
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"Besides, if I stay here I shall probably die of fever. Every time I have an attack it gets worse."
- The Boy Biggles, W.E. Johns
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He sometimes thinks he has stolen a child from death, and death is working its way back to him each day.
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Just 14k of Biggles' dad apologia that absolutely no one asked for.

