The Camberwell Raid (26 page)

‘What, again?’ said the sergeant.

‘Seen breakin’ a neighbour’s window,’ said the constable.

‘What, again?’ said the sergeant.

‘Happened this afternoon,’ said the constable, ‘and I’ve only just caught up with him.’

‘It’s a bleedin’ lie,’ said Tiddler Dobson, ‘and if you don’t leggo me ear, I’ll tell me dad.’

‘Denying the charge, are we?’ said the constable.

‘Yus, I am,’ said Tiddler, one of the terrors of Brandon Street.

‘He was seen by the complainant, Mrs Hardwick,’ said the constable.

‘Course I wasn’t,’ said Tiddler. ‘Leggo me ear, will yer?’

The constable released it, and Tiddler rubbed it.

‘Remind me, how old are you, young Dobson?’ asked the sergeant.

‘None of yer business,’ said Tiddler, eleven and skinny. ‘Anyway, old Mrs ’Ardwick couldn’t even see an elephant even if it was sittin’ on ’er doorstep, so she couldn’t ’ave seen me. It’s a bleedin’ false arrest, and wait till me dad finds out.’

‘He’s going to find out, so’s your mum,’ said the sergeant, ‘we’ll be talking to them tomorrow. Why’d you break the old lady’s window?’

‘Me?’ said Tiddler. ‘Corblimey, I ain’t stayin’ ’ere listening to you coppers. Me mum’ll sue yer for damages, and for twistin’ me ear as well. Why don’t yer go and arrest old Mrs ’Ardwick for chuckin’ a bucketful of pertater peelings over me ’ead, like she did yesterday? I dunno I ever been more aggravated, and it’s a crime, that is, chuckin’ pertater peelings in washin’-up water over anyone’s ’ead. Can I go now?’

‘When I’ve taken some particulars,’ said the sergeant. ‘Let’s see, Willy Dobson of fourteen Brandon Street, I think, witnessed in the act of breaking a neighbour’s window. What did you use, Tiddler, a brick?’

‘Crikey, you’re comin’ it, you are,’ said Tiddler. ‘I told yer, I ain’t guilty, nor of unsound mind, neiver.’

‘Didn’t you break some other neighbour’s window with a brick about two months ago?’ said the sergeant.

‘That was different,’ said Tiddler, ‘me ’and slipped. Tell yer what, mister, you let me go ’ome now and I won’t say nuffink to me mum an’ dad about bein’ false arrested. That’s fair, ain’t it?’

‘But is it fair to Mrs Hardwick?’ asked the constable.

‘What, that old biddy what can’t see straight?’ said Tiddler.

‘She saw you, me son,’ said the constable.

‘I ain’t standin’ for this no more,’ said Tiddler. ‘Can I see a slister?’

‘Solicitor?’ said the sergeant gravely.

‘Yus, can I?’

‘We’ll have a word with your mum and dad first,’ said the sergeant.

‘Cor, you ain’t ’alf bleedin’ ’ard on an innercent party,’ said Tiddler.

The dialogue continued. Bill was amused, Lilian fascinated.

‘Polly, you’re crazy,’ said Rosie. They were in the first-floor living-room, used by Boots and his family when they weren’t spending time with Chinese Lady and Mr Finch downstairs.

‘Just a suggestion, Rosie old thing,’ said Polly. Her idea, put to Boots over cups of tea in Lyons, was to contact Rosie’s natural mother, believed to be Mrs Milly Rainbould, and to find out if it was possible for the woman to declare she couldn’t recognize Major Armitage as the man who fathered Rosie. A little gift, say in ready cash, might help to foster that lack of recognition, in which case any civil action by Major Armitage to have the adoption set aside would barely stand up in court. Polly was willing to visit Mr Tooley and to persuade him to let her know where his daughter, Milly Rainbould, could be found. Polly would then arrange for the woman to be brought face to face with Major Armitage, who was bound to have changed to some extent over a period of
nearly
twenty-one years. ‘I’m very much on your side, ducky,’ said Polly, ‘and, of course, it would only be a precautionary measure taken to discourage Major Armitage from ever breaking his promise to you.’

‘Charles Armitage is a gentleman,’ said Rosie.

‘Dear girl, I’ve known a score of gentlemen all capable of putting self-interest first,’ said Polly.

‘The idea’s still crazy,’ said Rosie, ‘and questionable as well.’

‘Questionable?’ said Polly. In a tan-coloured dress of uncrushable velvet she looked extremely fetching considering she was in her thirty-ninth year. But somehow Polly kept the ageing process from taking any real liberties with her. Her natural vitality helped. Her bobbed hair and the piquancy of her features still made her look like a flapper whenever her brittle gaiety was ascendant. ‘Good grief, we’re not going to play by the rules, are we?’

‘Boots was against your idea in the first place,’ said Rosie, ‘and wouldn’t give it house room now.’

‘Saints alive, what’s turned him into a Boy Scout?’ asked Polly. ‘All that play up and play the game stuff, for God’s sake.’

‘Is that what he told you to do, play up and play the game?’ smiled Rosie.

‘Not literally,’ said Polly. ‘What he did say was that he was touched by my concern, but didn’t approve of Major Armitage being victimized by any hanky-panky, and that it wasn’t what he expected of a Girl Guide. I said I’d never been a Girl Guide, and he said it wasn’t too late for me to join. I said that with his kind of principles he’d make a better Boy Scout than I would a Girl Guide. This was all in Lyons, of course.’

‘And what happened then?’

‘He laughed,’ said Polly, ‘and if I hadn’t drunk my tea, old thing, I’d have emptied it into his lap. I mean to say, don’t you know, with Major Armitage hovering darkly over the family, who wants to be a Girl Guide?’

‘Well, try,’ said Rosie, ‘because there’s no need for any further action, Polly. In any case, no-one, not even the gods of thunder and lightning, can split this family. And I really don’t want anyone to contact Mrs Milly Rainbould, particularly as it’s quite unnecessary now.’

Polly looked at her. Rosie’s mention of her natural mother hadn’t been spoken with any hint of bitterness or regret. In fact, there was a little smile on her face, and Polly knew she felt neither bitterness nor regret. From the age of reason until now, her life had been spent with Boots and Emily, and Polly suspected if there was any regret at all, it was for the fact that she hadn’t been born of them. She probably felt, however, that it was entirely natural for her to belong to them. Polly had never heard her speak one word about the woman who had conceived her. This was the first time she had mentioned her in Polly’s hearing.

‘Are you positive, Rosie, that you really can trust Major Armitage not to have second thoughts? You see, sweetie, you’re a very special kind of person, and if the man has no sons or daughters except you, I can easily imagine how much he’d like to have you in his life.’

‘He’s given me his word,’ said Rosie, ‘and we parted as friends – hello, another caller?’

The front door bell was ringing.

Tim answered it, and found Freddy and Cassie on the step.

‘Oh, watcher, Cassie, hello, Freddy,’ he said.

‘Aren’t you growin’?’ said Cassie.

‘Is your dad in?’ asked Freddy.

‘Everyone’s in,’ said Tim.

‘Just your dad, if ’e can spare a couple of minutes,’ said Freddy.

‘Come in,’ said Tim, and they entered the hall. He closed the door and said, ‘Crikey, you two look married already.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Cassie.

‘You’re both sort of flushed,’ grinned Tim.

‘We’ve been bike-ridin’ up and down Denmark Hill,’ said Freddy, ‘but I didn’t know it was goin’ to make us look married. Could you get your dad, Tim?’

‘Go in the front room and I’ll get him,’ said Tim.

Boots arrived with a smile, said hello to them, and asked if they’d dropped in with a query about their wedding. Cassie said they didn’t have any queries about that unless Freddy got himself disorganized. What they did have, she said, was some worrying news. Freddy took over then and gave Boots a pretty exact account of the day’s happenings, and how he and Cassie had finally caught up with the bank robbers’ van.

‘It’s standing at the back of someone’s house?’ said Boots.

‘That’s a fact it is,’ said Freddy, ‘and—’

‘Boots,’ said Cassie painfully, ‘it’s your brother Tommy’s house, “The Manor”.’

‘Tommy’s?’ said Boots, and thought of Tommy’s family and two short and peculiar phone conversations. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said.

‘Me and Freddy have an awful feeling the men are still there,’ said Cassie, ‘and in the house. Boots, d’you think they could be? Only if they weren’t, if they’d
gone
, Tommy would’ve done something about the van, about tellin’ the police, wouldn’t he?’

‘Cassie,’ said Boots, ‘they are still there, and in the house.’ He knew now the reason for Tommy’s odd remarks over the phone, remarks that he’d been turning over in his mind since he’d put the receiver down only five minutes ago. Among other things, Tommy had said he’d got visitors. ‘I’ve been on the phone twice to Tommy this evening, and each time he hasn’t made sense. Freddy, you were the bloke knocked out at the bank? You saw the gun?’

‘One of the ruddy crooks hit me with it,’ said Freddy.

‘We’ve a serious crisis,’ said Boots, ‘and that’s putting it mildly.’

‘We’ll just have to tell the police,’ said Cassie, ‘we can’t stand here talkin’, can we? I keep thinkin’ about what might be happening to Tommy and his fam’ly.’

‘It’s not going to be easy, Cassie, trying to lay hands on a pair of armed desperadoes who won’t think twice about using the family as a bargaining factor,’ said Boots. ‘The Home Office might call the Army out. It’s the way the Government sometimes deals with armed criminals who are holed up. Let me think.’

‘Freddy’s relying on you to do just that,’ said Cassie, ‘but we both hope you won’t take too long.’

‘At least, there’s one way of getting into the house without breaking down the front or back door,’ said Boots.

‘What way?’ asked Freddy.

‘Down into the coal-hole at the side of the house, and then up some steps to the inside door next to the kitchen,’ said Boots.

‘I like that,’ said Freddy.

‘But if the police do that,’ said Cassie, ‘they could still get shot as soon as they showed themselves in the house.’

‘Well, we need a distraction, don’t we, Cassie?’ said Boots.

‘And we need to be quick,’ said Cassie.

‘We need to get Tommy and his family out of harm’s way, and that’s a fact,’ said Boots. ‘Have you asked each other why the two men are still there, which I think they are? Why haven’t they taken Tommy’s car and made a run for it?’

‘Perhaps because they think the police are still lookin’ for them,’ said Freddy, ‘which could mean they’re waitin’ till they think the coast is clear. They probably think they’re as safe as ruddy houses stayin’ where they are. I mean, who’s goin’ to look for them there?’

‘First-class point, Freddy,’ said Boots.

‘Boots, I can’t think why you’re not doin’ something,’ said Cassie, every nerve fidgeting.

‘We need to be sure of exactly what we can do and the best way of doing it,’ said Boots. ‘My guess as to what they’re going to do themselves is that they’ll probably make their move sometime after midnight, when police activity will have quietened down.’

In the ground floor living-room, Emily was asking Tim what Cassie and Freddy had wanted Boots for. Tim replied that they didn’t say, but that they looked very keen to talk to his dad.

‘Just your dad?’ said Chinese Lady.

‘Yes, just him, Grandma,’ said Tim.

‘Then I don’t suppose it’s about any aspect of their wedding,’ said Mr Finch, a grey tint in his hair adding its own touch to his distinguished looks.

‘Shall I go and ask Papa what it’s about?’ suggested Eloise.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Emily. ‘Stay here, Eloise.’

Rosie, coming downstairs with Polly, heard voices in the room now known, in Chinese Lady’s terms, as the parlour. The door was open and she looked in.

‘Well, my goodness, see who’s here, Polly,’ she said, as the two of them entered the room. They said hello to Cassie and Freddy.

‘There’s something up,’ said Polly.

‘Is there?’ said Boots.

‘It’s written all over you,’ said Polly.

‘So it is,’ said Rosie. ‘You tell, Freddy.’

‘All right, tell them, Freddy,’ said Boots, ‘while I have a word with my stepfather before I phone the police.’

IT WAS WHILE
Freddy and Cassie were conducting their search in Denmark Hill that Chief Inspector Carson of Scotland Yard, along with a detective-sergeant, arrived at the Walworth police station to talk to Bill Chambers. Only a few minutes later, the Scotland Yard men were on their way with Bill and Lilian to the house in which a suspect had lodged.

‘This the place, Mr Chambers?’ said the Inspector as Bill and Lilian came to a halt in Stead Street.

‘That’s the house,’ said Bill.

‘And you saw the van parked here?’

‘Right outside the door,’ said Bill.

‘And the name of the lodger who moved out this morning was Barnes, you said?’

‘That’s the name in my customers’ book,’ said Bill.

‘Well, you’ve given a pretty fair description of him,’ said Inspector Carson. ‘Let’s see what the landlady can tell us.’

‘Only what she told me, that he’s gone,’ said Bill.

‘Landladies can usually tell a lot more than that about their lodgers,’ said Lilian, who had recently come to think there was a lot more to Bill than bottles of milk and offers of new-laid eggs. ‘I was a lodger myself for several years after the war, when I only had a war widow’s pension to live on.’

The landlady, Mrs Wetherby, became a flustered
woman
when she found four people on her doorstep, two of whom were policemen from Scotland Yard. But she didn’t lose her manners, she invited them into her parlour, and her flustered state changed to excited curiosity the moment Inspector Carson began to ask her questions about Mr Barnes, her departed lodger.

No, she didn’t know his Christian name, his rent book just said J Barnes. He’d been lodging with her about three months and kept himself to himself. No, he didn’t have many visitors, not as far as she knew, but he did have one or two call on him. No, she hadn’t actually seen them, only heard him go down and let in whoever it was who’d knocked. She’d never been a nosy woman, she didn’t come out of her kitchen to see who it was he took upstairs. No, he hadn’t left any forwarding address. What did the police want to see him about?