Read Online The Camberwell Raid by Mary Jane Staples - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mary Jane Staples
Ads: Link
worry about Rosie. She’s a young lady that’s always been happy right from the day she was given a new home at the age of five.’
‘I appreciate all you’ve said, Mr Tooley, but the fact remains I am her father, and I’d like to see her.’
‘Mr Armitage, you’re years too late. You fathered ’er, yes, I grant that, but to Rosie there’s only one man she’ll ever want as her father, and that’s the man who took ’er in when her mother deserted her, and then adopted ’er.’
‘Who is he and what does he do?’ asked Major Armitage.
‘He’s a natural-born gent name of Adams, with a business,’ said Mr Tooley, ‘and that’s about as far as you and me can go about all this. I appreciate ’ow you feel now you’ve found out you fathered Rosie, but it’s best to leave it as it stands, Mr Armitage. Now I’ve got to get ready to go out.’
‘Do you have a photograph of Rosie, Mr Tooley?’
‘I’ve got snaps by the dozen, being ’er grandfather, but they’re private. Like I said, best if you stay out of ’er life after all these years. I’ll see you to me street door.’
Major Armitage did not argue, nor did he show the extent of his feelings. He allowed Mr Tooley to show him out. He thanked him for his time, shook hands with him and said goodbye.
However, when Mr Tooley left the house a few minutes later, Major Armitage was still in the vicinity, and once Rosie’s grandfather had disappeared into the darkness of the March night, he returned to the front door. He had taken note of its latchcord. He pulled it, the door opened, and he went in. He was very quiet in his closing of the door. He was a man with a fine war record, and he owned reasonable principles, but such was his interest and his excitement, he had few qualms about stretching them. Using the light of struck matches, it did not take him long to locate a drawer in the parlour cabinet that contained a photograph album. He took the album into the kitchen, where the gas mantle was turned low. He turned it up, all his movements quiet. He could hear a few sounds from upstairs. In the album were pasted snapshots of a girl from her very young years to what was obviously the present.
Absorbed, he turned the pages, noting that as a girl child, fair of hair, she looked sweet. As a growing girl, delicious. As a young lady, no less than quite lovely. In some of the snaps, there were other people, children and adults. Which of the men and women were her adoptive parents, he did not know, but he did observe that the women had style, the men an air of self-assurance. In one of two of the later snaps, Rosie looked positively striking, her clothes faultless.
‘Ye gods,’ he murmured, ‘she’s an Armitage to the life.’ He was ready to swear she resembled his younger sister to a startling degree.
When he was ready to leave, he had with him one snapshot that had come adrift from its page, and which he thought showed her to be about seventeen. She would be nineteen now, and twenty sometime this year. And she was at Somerville, the women’s college in Oxford. And the name of her adoptive father was Adams. She would have taken that name.
Oxford had to be his next step. At Somerville College, he would make discreet enquiries. No wait, the students would be on Easter vacation now.
He returned to the parlour, struck matches, and examined a particular drawer again, moving the album aside. He found a letter, written and signed by Rosie. It gave her home address. He memorized it and put the letter back.
He left the house as quietly as he had entered it.
Mr Tooley, who had walked to the pub in a slightly perturbed state, put the man Armitage out of his mind once he was in cosy company with Ada. They chatted like friends who had known each other for years. Ada’s milk stout did its work, increasing her habitual jolly approach to a sociable atmosphere. Mr Tooley suggested a woman like she was shouldn’t live alone , she was made for being good company
‘I appreciate all you’ve said, Mr Tooley, but the fact remains I am her father, and I’d like to see her.’
‘Mr Armitage, you’re years too late. You fathered ’er, yes, I grant that, but to Rosie there’s only one man she’ll ever want as her father, and that’s the man who took ’er in when her mother deserted her, and then adopted ’er.’
‘Who is he and what does he do?’ asked Major Armitage.
‘He’s a natural-born gent name of Adams, with a business,’ said Mr Tooley, ‘and that’s about as far as you and me can go about all this. I appreciate ’ow you feel now you’ve found out you fathered Rosie, but it’s best to leave it as it stands, Mr Armitage. Now I’ve got to get ready to go out.’
‘Do you have a photograph of Rosie, Mr Tooley?’
‘I’ve got snaps by the dozen, being ’er grandfather, but they’re private. Like I said, best if you stay out of ’er life after all these years. I’ll see you to me street door.’
Major Armitage did not argue, nor did he show the extent of his feelings. He allowed Mr Tooley to show him out. He thanked him for his time, shook hands with him and said goodbye.
However, when Mr Tooley left the house a few minutes later, Major Armitage was still in the vicinity, and once Rosie’s grandfather had disappeared into the darkness of the March night, he returned to the front door. He had taken note of its latchcord. He pulled it, the door opened, and he went in. He was very quiet in his closing of the door. He was a man with a fine war record, and he owned reasonable principles, but such was his interest and his excitement, he had few qualms about stretching them. Using the light of struck matches, it did not take him long to locate a drawer in the parlour cabinet that contained a photograph album. He took the album into the kitchen, where the gas mantle was turned low. He turned it up, all his movements quiet. He could hear a few sounds from upstairs. In the album were pasted snapshots of a girl from her very young years to what was obviously the present.
Absorbed, he turned the pages, noting that as a girl child, fair of hair, she looked sweet. As a growing girl, delicious. As a young lady, no less than quite lovely. In some of the snaps, there were other people, children and adults. Which of the men and women were her adoptive parents, he did not know, but he did observe that the women had style, the men an air of self-assurance. In one of two of the later snaps, Rosie looked positively striking, her clothes faultless.
‘Ye gods,’ he murmured, ‘she’s an Armitage to the life.’ He was ready to swear she resembled his younger sister to a startling degree.
When he was ready to leave, he had with him one snapshot that had come adrift from its page, and which he thought showed her to be about seventeen. She would be nineteen now, and twenty sometime this year. And she was at Somerville, the women’s college in Oxford. And the name of her adoptive father was Adams. She would have taken that name.
Oxford had to be his next step. At Somerville College, he would make discreet enquiries. No wait, the students would be on Easter vacation now.
He returned to the parlour, struck matches, and examined a particular drawer again, moving the album aside. He found a letter, written and signed by Rosie. It gave her home address. He memorized it and put the letter back.
He left the house as quietly as he had entered it.
Mr Tooley, who had walked to the pub in a slightly perturbed state, put the man Armitage out of his mind once he was in cosy company with Ada. They chatted like friends who had known each other for years. Ada’s milk stout did its work, increasing her habitual jolly approach to a sociable atmosphere. Mr Tooley suggested a woman like she was shouldn’t live alone , she was made for being good company
Similar Books
