The Camberwell Raid by Mary Jane Staples Page A

might have been. To Chinese Lady, anything specifically French was suspect on account of her belief that the natives of France were a lot too improper in their talk and behaviour.
    ‘Oh, French boys do it in the dark, yes, and before the girl can say no,’ smiled Eloise.
    ‘Don’t look at me,’ said Tim. ‘Listen, Eloise, did you get kissed in the dark when you were young?’
    ‘I am old now?’ said Eloise.
    ‘All right,’ said Tim, ‘when you were younger?’
    ‘Oh, many times, yes,’ said Eloise.
    ‘And all before you could say no?’ smiled Boots.
    ‘Perhaps not every time,’ said Eloise, ‘and not until I was sixteen.’
    ‘Well, perhaps I don’t mind when a girl is sixteen, except it shouldn’t be in the dark,’ said Chinese Lady.
    ‘Oh, I think a kiss in the dark is sometimes rather nice, Nana, isn’t it?’ said Rosie.
    ‘Sounds as if you’ve had some of that, Rosie,’ said Tim, and she laughed.
    ‘I hope, Em’ly, you won’t encourage Tim to do it with Pam Willis,’ said Chinese Lady.
    ‘I should say not,’ declared Emily.
    ‘I wouldn’t know how to start,’ said Tim.
    Rosie smiled. Tim was like Boots, he had the same kind of easy-going nature, and it had its appeal even at his age. Girls were going to like him later on. She gave him a wink.
    ‘Pam will help you,’ she said, ‘when you’re both older.’
    Eloise laughed.
    ‘Rosie, you are so entertaining,’ she said.
    ‘Oh, you’re not far behind, Eloise,’ smiled Emily.
    ‘I think that means we’ve now got two of a kind in this house,’ said Boots.
    ‘We’re a fortunate family,’ said Mr Finch.
    ‘Yes, let’s hang on to both,’ said Boots.

Chapter Four
    ROSIE’S NATURAL GRANDFATHER , Mr Albert Tooley, was a widower of fifty-nine and a little like Cassie’s dad in his bluff ways, rugged looks, and the soft heart that beat beneath his sturdy front. He was giving his best bowler hat a buff this evening. Well, it was just after seven and at eight he was due to go out and meet Ada Franklin, a laundress, at the Deptford Arms, where he’d enjoy a pint of old and mild and have the pleasure of treating her to a milk stout. The lady, fifty-two, was a cheerful body and nicely plump. Further, she’d never been wed, but was always joking that she’d had more than one chance to be churched, only each time the bloke had seen her coming. Well, there was a lot of her, she said. Far from being against that, Mr Tooley had thoughts of a second marriage. He had only a few more years at his job with the Deptford Council in front of him, and reckoned he and Ada would make a good old Darby and Joan together. His savings and a bit of a pension would look after his and her years of retirement. He had a happy idea that Ada’s thoughts were coinciding with his, so this evening, when she was halfway through her milk stout and accordingly mellow, he meant to pop the question. His nephew’s wife, Nellie Nicholls, who was fond of him, was encouraging him to take the plunge.
    His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his front door. He occupied only the ground floor himself . A young couple with a small child lodged upstairs. Opening the door, he found a tall distinguished-looking man in a trench coat and bowler hat on his step. He had a military look, emphasized by his handsome moustache.
    ‘Hello,’ said Mr Tooley, ‘don’t think I’ve ’ad the pleasure, have I?’
    ‘Sorry to disturb you,’ said the caller, ‘but I’m looking for a lady who I believe used to live here.’
    Blimey, thought Mr Tooley, a toff looking for a Deptford lady?
    ‘Here? You sure?’ he said.
    ‘I was given this address,’ said Major Armitage, ‘but am prepared to believe she doesn’t live here now. I’m wondering if you know of her.’
    ‘What’s the lady’s name?’ asked Mr Tooley.
    ‘Millicent Tooley.’
    ‘Come again?’ Mr Tooley blinked.
    ‘Millicent Tooley,’ repeated Major Armitage. ‘Would you know of her?’
    ‘I ought to,’