Read Online The Camberwell Raid by Mary Jane Staples - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Jane Staples
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to a bloke.
‘Which bloke?’ said Ada.
Mr Tooley said there were blokes and blokes. Too right, said Ada. Mr Tooley then asked if she’d recently thought about getting married.
‘Me at my age?’ said Ada, laughing into her milk stout.
Mr Tooley assured her she was the right age for some men.
‘Some? ’Ow many?’ asked Ada. ‘More than one’s not legal, I’ll ’ave you know, Albert.’
‘There’s one bloke I’ve got in mind,’ said Mr Tooley, ‘and he’d make it legal.’
‘Which one’s that?’ asked Ada.
‘Yours truly,’ said Mr Tooley.
‘Bless me soul, you ain’t proposin’, are yer, Albert?’
‘Well, yes, I am, Ada, to tell you the truth.’
‘Lord Above!’ said Ada, ‘And ’ere’s me been thinking for months that you’d never ask.’
‘Ada, ’ave another milk stout,’ said Mr Tooley.
‘Don’t mind if I do, seein’ you’re goin’ to church me, Albert,’ said Ada, her buxom self mellow all over.
That’s one thing the Armitage toff didn’t do, said Mr Tooley to himself, he didn’t church Milly. Well, now that I come to think, I’m ruddy glad he didn’t. Boots, who’s always been a friend to me, deserves Rosie more than her natural father does.
Ongoing March, acknowledging the approach of April, gradually became bright with sunshine, and several daffodils raised their heads in Browning Street Gardens and Kennington Park to look around in suspicion of frost or snow. There was none of either, so they burst into golden yellow.
Miss Polly Simms, taking advantage of the academic lull following end-of-term exams, negotiated a day off from her teaching post at West Square Girls School to join Rosie and Eloise in a carefree trip to London Town. Eloise had been to the West End before, in company with Boots and Emily, but was still delighted to have Rosie and Polly show her the facades of famous theatres and their billboards, and take her in and out of shops. Polly’s pleasure came mainly from her strongly established friendship with Rosie, her favourite person after Boots. They gave themselves a leisurely hour or so for lunch, choosing that well-patronized and handsome restaurant, the Edwardian Trocadero, in the pulsing heart of the West End. Before the menus were brought to them, Eloise excused herself to powder her nose, which gave Polly the chance to ask Rosie for the latest news on developments at home.
‘Developments?’ said Rosie.
‘Regarding Eloise’s attitude now that she’s been with you for three months,’ said Polly.
‘You could say the attachment is strengthening day by day,’ smiled Rosie.
‘Her attachment to all of you generally?’ said Polly.
‘To all of us generally, and to her new-found father in particular,’ said Rosie.
The menus arrived, and one was left for Eloise.
‘Inevitable, I suppose, that she favours Boots,’ said Polly.
‘Oh, she’s really quite sweet,’ said Rosie, ‘although she’d monopolize him, if she could. But he’s too sensible to allow that.’
‘Well, Rosie my sweet, I really wouldn’t want anything to break up the special relationship you and Boots enjoy,’ said Polly. ‘You two go together like mustard and cress, like Adam and – let’s see, ducky, who was Adam’s first and most cherished daughter?’
‘God knows, but I don’t,’ said Rosie, which brought forth Polly’s quick brittle laugh. ‘And isn’t it Adam and his wife Eve who go together like mustard and cress?’
‘If you say so,’ murmured Polly, hoping Rosie didn’t mean Boots and Emily.
‘Special relationships are sacred, of course,’ said Rosie. And she smiled at Polly, well aware that this vivacious and endearing woman considered her own relationship with Boots to be distinctly special and closely guarded.
Mr Tooley thought about calling Boots from a public phone box to let him know Rosie’s natural father had turned up out of the blue. But he decided against. After all, the bloke had departed in as civilized a way as
‘Which bloke?’ said Ada.
Mr Tooley said there were blokes and blokes. Too right, said Ada. Mr Tooley then asked if she’d recently thought about getting married.
‘Me at my age?’ said Ada, laughing into her milk stout.
Mr Tooley assured her she was the right age for some men.
‘Some? ’Ow many?’ asked Ada. ‘More than one’s not legal, I’ll ’ave you know, Albert.’
‘There’s one bloke I’ve got in mind,’ said Mr Tooley, ‘and he’d make it legal.’
‘Which one’s that?’ asked Ada.
‘Yours truly,’ said Mr Tooley.
‘Bless me soul, you ain’t proposin’, are yer, Albert?’
‘Well, yes, I am, Ada, to tell you the truth.’
‘Lord Above!’ said Ada, ‘And ’ere’s me been thinking for months that you’d never ask.’
‘Ada, ’ave another milk stout,’ said Mr Tooley.
‘Don’t mind if I do, seein’ you’re goin’ to church me, Albert,’ said Ada, her buxom self mellow all over.
That’s one thing the Armitage toff didn’t do, said Mr Tooley to himself, he didn’t church Milly. Well, now that I come to think, I’m ruddy glad he didn’t. Boots, who’s always been a friend to me, deserves Rosie more than her natural father does.
Ongoing March, acknowledging the approach of April, gradually became bright with sunshine, and several daffodils raised their heads in Browning Street Gardens and Kennington Park to look around in suspicion of frost or snow. There was none of either, so they burst into golden yellow.
Miss Polly Simms, taking advantage of the academic lull following end-of-term exams, negotiated a day off from her teaching post at West Square Girls School to join Rosie and Eloise in a carefree trip to London Town. Eloise had been to the West End before, in company with Boots and Emily, but was still delighted to have Rosie and Polly show her the facades of famous theatres and their billboards, and take her in and out of shops. Polly’s pleasure came mainly from her strongly established friendship with Rosie, her favourite person after Boots. They gave themselves a leisurely hour or so for lunch, choosing that well-patronized and handsome restaurant, the Edwardian Trocadero, in the pulsing heart of the West End. Before the menus were brought to them, Eloise excused herself to powder her nose, which gave Polly the chance to ask Rosie for the latest news on developments at home.
‘Developments?’ said Rosie.
‘Regarding Eloise’s attitude now that she’s been with you for three months,’ said Polly.
‘You could say the attachment is strengthening day by day,’ smiled Rosie.
‘Her attachment to all of you generally?’ said Polly.
‘To all of us generally, and to her new-found father in particular,’ said Rosie.
The menus arrived, and one was left for Eloise.
‘Inevitable, I suppose, that she favours Boots,’ said Polly.
‘Oh, she’s really quite sweet,’ said Rosie, ‘although she’d monopolize him, if she could. But he’s too sensible to allow that.’
‘Well, Rosie my sweet, I really wouldn’t want anything to break up the special relationship you and Boots enjoy,’ said Polly. ‘You two go together like mustard and cress, like Adam and – let’s see, ducky, who was Adam’s first and most cherished daughter?’
‘God knows, but I don’t,’ said Rosie, which brought forth Polly’s quick brittle laugh. ‘And isn’t it Adam and his wife Eve who go together like mustard and cress?’
‘If you say so,’ murmured Polly, hoping Rosie didn’t mean Boots and Emily.
‘Special relationships are sacred, of course,’ said Rosie. And she smiled at Polly, well aware that this vivacious and endearing woman considered her own relationship with Boots to be distinctly special and closely guarded.
Mr Tooley thought about calling Boots from a public phone box to let him know Rosie’s natural father had turned up out of the blue. But he decided against. After all, the bloke had departed in as civilized a way as
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