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"Oh," said Ginger worriedly as he opened the Mount Street door to von Stalhein, "didn't anyone tell you?"
Von Stalhein went still. "Tell me what?" he demanded. "Is Bigglesworth all right? What has happened?"
"Is that von Stalhein?" came Algy's voice from the sitting room. "Blast, I meant to telephone him--no, just sit down, for heaven's sake..."
"Erich?" came a second voice, relieving one of von Stalhein's fears. "Come in!"
Ginger sighed and stood aside. "Perhaps it's as well. The skipper fell off a ladder this morning putting up Christmas decorations. He'll be all right, but he injured his elbow and the doctor gave him these new painkillers, and they've sent him a bit--well. You'll see"
His mind a whirl of relief, concern and curiosity, von Stalhein followed Ginger into the sitting room, where it appeared that someone had finished putting up Christmas decorations, for gold paper chains were festooned around the walls and holly decked the windows. On the sofa, Algy Lacey was sitting with an indescribable expression on his face, half extreme annoyance, half deep affection. Bigglesworth, with one arm in a sling, was sitting close against him, his head resting on Algy's shoulder, and Algy's arm was wrapped around him. Bigglesworth's bright hazel eyes were oddly vague and his movements languid; he turned his head and smiled broadly as he saw von Stalhein.
"Erich! I was just thinking of you. We're going to ride in the Row," he added to Algy. "Can you believe Erich's never done that? Nor have I, in fact. But I want to see Erich on a horse again, it will be magnificent."
Von Stalhein bit his lip on a smile. "I think perhaps some other day," he said. "Once your arm is better. I'm sorry to disturb you all; I wish you a speedy recovery, Bigglesworth."
"You're going?" Bigglesworth twisted free of Algy's arm and rolled to his feet. Algy scrambled up after him, but Bigglesworth took several unsteady steps across the room and collided with von Stalhein, who had moved forwards hastily as well. Bigglesworth gave a contented sigh and sagged against von Stalhein, his good arm slipping around von Stalhein's waist. He leaned his head against von Stalhein's shoulder and said, "Don't go."
Von Stalhein moved to shift his unexpected burden back to Algy, but Algy retreated with a warding-off gesture. "I haven't been able to so much as get up for two hours," he informed the room at large. "I want to stretch my legs and get some lunch. He's all yours, Erich."
This much was already apparent to von Stalhein. Bigglesworth swayed gently where he stood, clinging to von Stalhein. Carefully, von Stalhein put his arms around Bigglesworth and said, "You should be sitting down."
"No, no, we're going riding. I can't miss that."
"You won't. We'll choose another date once you're feeling more yourself. Come on now, sit down and rest."
But as von Stalhein had often observed in men who were the worse for drink or other substances, once he had an idea in his head Bigglesworth stuck to it fixedly. He tried to pull away towards the door, saying, "We'll be late, come on."
Von Stalhein twisted around to stand between Bigglesworth and the door and captured him again before he could fall. "No," he said a little more firmly, "you're staying here until you're better."
Bigglesworth leaned agreeably against von Stalhein, and raised his good hand to run over von Stalhein's cheek. "It took me ages to persuade you, you're not getting out of it now."
"I don't intend to, but we can't go today. Once you're better we'll go." He tightened his grasp as Bigglesworth sagged further, and tried to propel him back towards the sofa, but Bigglesworth resisted him to the extent of his ability. Not wanting to hurt him, von Stalhein remained still.
"I'm not that good a rider," Bigglesworth said unexpectedly. "I learned as a boy, but it's not something I do often."
"Well, I'm not a very good pilot," von Stalhein answered. "You'd be quite safe with me."
"It's not that," Bigglesworth answered. "But I'd rather not look a fool."
This, from a man draped across him like an octopus, wrung a smile from von Stalhein. "Don't worry about that." Struck by inspiration, he added, "Come and sit down, I'll tell you more about how to manage a horse and you can tell me about piloting."
Algy and Ginger had been watching this interchange from across the room, Ginger with one fist against his mouth and eyes glinting, Algy with the sardonic expression of someone who's already spent two hours at the same pastime. But von Stalhein thought he saw a grudging nod of appreciation from Algy as he got Bigglesworth turned around and aimed at the sofa again. Then Algy shrugged and went out, followed by Ginger.
"The first time I saw you, you were on horseback," Bigglesworth said as von Stalhein steered him back towards the sofa. He sat down heavily, pulling von Stalhein with him. It was a deep and squashy leather sofa, and von Stalhein found himself wedged into a corner of it while Bigglesworth penned him in on the other side, leaning against him. "Everything's spinning," he added. "I didn't know you were you then, but I did know really, I couldn't get either of you out of my head and eventually I realised it was because you were the same."
"I see. I think."
Bigglesworth craned his neck to look at him, then abruptly flopped down so that he was lying on the sofa with his head resting on von Stalhein's lap. He tried to adjust his arm in its sling, wincing, and von Stalhein pulled one of the small cushions free and said, "Use this. Here, like so."
He arranged it to support the injured arm, and Bigglesworth beamed up at him. "That's good," he said. "Do you like horses better or camels?"
Von Stalhein attempted to answer that question, but it turned out to be unexpectedly involved, because they were just so different, as he explained. Bigglesworth watched him speak, expounding on the differences, then closed his eyes.
"... but you always want the naqah, the female camel for a difficult operation. The males are inclined to be noisy, pick fights with other camels and so on, and they have less endurance. A female camel will be an utterly faithful and silent companion. My very best camel was--"
Bigglesworth gave a slight snore. Von Stalhein, who had been back in Palestine for several minutes, came back to himself with a start and fell silent. Bigglesworth's eyes flickered open again, still vague, even the odd golden sunflare around each pupil seeming fuzzy instead of sharp. Instinctively, von Stalhein ran a hand over his hair, saying, "Ssh, go back to sleep," and Bigglesworth's eyes closed again.
As long as he kept stroking Bigglesworth's fine fair hair, he stayed asleep. So von Stalhein sat, the hard weight of Bigglesworth's head against his thighs, smooth hair under his fingers, and wondered how long it would take for the painkillers to wear off. After about half an hour Algy returned, saying, "How are you getting on, has he confessed his undying love--"
"Hush!"
Algy came around to look at the scene. His mouth twitched, but at von Stalhein's glare he choked back the guffaw that would undoubtedly have woken Bigglesworth and meant he'd had to do the whole thing again. "Looks like you're stuck there now. Wishing you'd stayed home instead?" he asked wryly.
"Not at all," von Stalhein heard himself say before he could think better of it. Algy rolled his eyes and went out again. But he must have said something right, because five minutes later Algy returned with a teapot, two cups and a plate of mince pies.
"If you've got a free hand," he said in a low voice. "I'd been trying to make him lie down and sleep it off for an hour before you got here. What did the trick?"
"Camels," von Stalhein said. He took the teacup from Algy with his left hand and took a cautious sip, careful all the while not to interrupt the metronome-steady rhythm of the other.