The Camberwell Raid (19 page)

‘Boots, I’ll never know how to thank you,’ said Cassie, ‘but I can kiss you, can’t I?’

‘Frankly,’ said Boots, ‘I’m all for it, and if anyone catches us we’ll talk our way out of it.’

‘Oh, you’ve always been so nice to me,’ said Cassie, and leaned over the car and kissed him warmly and fondly. When he drove away, her eyes were a little misty again. Well, who wouldn’t feel overcome by such kindness? It was no wonder that many Walworth people had such fond memories of the Adams family.

Crikey, fifty pounds. When Freddy received a similar cheque from Sammy, they’d have a hundred pounds between them. They’d put it all into the bank and save it until they were in a position to think of buying a little house. It was what Sammy and Boots wanted them to do.

From Kennington, Boots went on to Blackfriars to look in on Mr Eli Greenberg, whose large covered yard contained mountains of second-hand goods of every description. Boots, who was on his way to the Shoreditch factory, broke his journey at the yard. He needed to speak to the genial rag-and-bone man, a character so ubiquitous in the practice of his trade that there was scarcely anyone in the whole of South London who did not know him.

Mr Greenberg was at home in a manner of speaking, although invisible until he materialized out of adjoining stacks of kitchen chairs.

‘Ah, Boots my friend, to vhat do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?’

‘How’s life, Eli?’ asked Boots.

Mr Greenberg raised mittened hands and sighed.

‘You ask that of a man vith a spending vife and
three
stepsons?’ he said. Not long ago he had married a widow with three growing lads. ‘Boots, the expense, it vill mean no shirt to my back and an early grave.’

‘But your bed’s warmer, I daresay,’ said Boots.

‘Boots, Boots, I should ruin myself for the compensation of a varmer bed?’ said Mr Greenberg, but there was a twinkle in his eye. He may have been over fifty, but no-one could have said he was a fading physical specimen. ‘Vhat can I do for you?’

‘Listen,’ said Boots, and spoke to him about a matter touching on the double wedding, a matter he’d first broached a few days ago. Mr Greenberg smiled, and the smile became a beam. He assured Boots that all was in hand, the necessary hire had been arranged and the deposit paid. Boots said good, that he and Sammy would settle all expenses, and that it was time Eli had a telephone installed. Mr Greenberg turned pale.

‘Boots, I should have more expenses? Vhy, ain’t I got enough? And vhat vould a telephone do for me that I can’t do on my rounds? And is talkin’ on a telephone the same pleasure as talkin’ as I am to you now?’

‘You’ve got a point,’ smiled Boots. ‘Anyway, thanks for arranging everything. I’ve spoken to Freddy and Horace, but not a word to the brides, of course.’

‘Nor from me, Boots, not vun, until the day,’ said Mr Greenberg, tapping his nose. ‘Mind, a joy for them, von’t it be?’

‘Especially for Cassie,’ said Boots.

‘Ah, Cassie, such a joy alvays, ain’t she?’ said Mr Greenberg.

‘Granted, Eli,’ said Boots. Cassie, he knew, was a hard-up girl, earning a mere pittance at her job,
and
it was her affectionate old dad who kept her in good clothes. But Cassie had never been known to be other than as happy as a sprite of spring. ‘So long, Eli, see you at the church, old lad.’

‘Business is necessary, Boots. Vun has to live. But friendship is precious, ain’t it so?’

‘I think you’ve got something there,’ said Boots, and left.

Cassie rushed round to see Freddy that evening. Using the latchcord, into the house she went like one of the family, and through to the kitchen, where Freddy was talking to his mum and dad. Sally was upstairs, doing things relating to her wedding. Freddy was talking about his own wedding, ominously close for a bloke who was going to have a struggle to assert himself as Cassie’s better half.

‘Oh, hello, everyone,’ said Cassie, sparkling with life and rapture.

‘’Ello, Cassie love,’ said Mr Brown.

‘My, you do look lovely tonight,’ said Mrs Brown.

‘Yes, don’t I?’ said Cassie. ‘Isn’t Freddy lucky?’

‘Oh, he’s grateful as well for what the Lord’s providing him with,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘You’re goin’ to be a lovely bride, Cassie.’

‘Yes, aren’t I?’ said Cassie. Freddy grinned. In many ways, Cassie was never going to grow up. He liked that.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘what I’m specially lookin’ forward to is—’

‘Freddy, not now, not in front of your mum and dad,’ said Cassie. ‘Oh, d’you know why I’ve come round?’

‘No, I don’t exactly know right now,’ said Freddy, ‘but I expect I will in a minute.’

‘Yes, all right, Freddy beloved,’ said Cassie, and thereupon put him and his parents in the picture about the wedding gift from Boots and Emily. In proof thereof, she produced the cheque from her handbag. ‘I nearly cried all over him when Boots gave it to me.’

‘Goodness me,’ said Mrs Brown breathlessly, ‘I’d have cried buckets gettin’ a lovely weddin’ gift like that.’

‘Yes, and on top of the canteen of cutlery they’ve already given us,’ said Cassie. ‘I was overcome.’

Freddy, examining the cheque, said, ‘I’m overcome meself, Cassie, I’m goin’ to have to phone Boots and thank him personally.’

‘Freddy, you can bank the cheque with your own when Sammy gives it to you, can’t you?’ said Cassie.

‘Well, it’s made out to you,’ said Freddy.

‘No problem, son,’ said Mr Brown. ‘Just get Cassie to endorse it on the back.’

‘What’s endorsin’?’ asked Freddy, a stranger to banking procedures.

‘Just her signature,’ said Mr Brown. ‘That sort of makes it over to you as far as the bank’s concerned, and I think Sammy’s goin’ to let you ’ave your own cheque tomorrer. He’s callin’ in in the mornin’. You’ve been in touch with the Walworth Road bank, ain’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Freddy, ‘and the manager’s goin’ to have everything ready for me. I’ll only ’ave to do some signing.’

‘Freddy, you’ll be seeing the bank manager himself?’ said Cassie.

‘It’s the regular thing with a new customer,’ said Freddy.

‘Freddy, I could get proud of you seeing the bank manager himself,’ said Cassie.

‘Yes, it does sound compliment’ry,’ said Mrs Brown.

‘It’s Freddy’s cheque the manager wants to shake hands with,’ said Mr Brown.

‘Freddy, take mine as well,’ said Cassie, ‘then we’ll start the account with a hundred pounds. Oh, I’m nearly faintin’. I mean, a hundred pounds that’s all ours.’

‘What a lovely start to your marriage, Cassie,’ said Mrs Brown.

‘Lucrative, Bessie,’ said Mr Brown, ‘and ’andsome as well.’

‘All right, Cassie love,’ said Freddy, ‘sign your cheque, then.’

A pen and ink were brought from the mantelpiece by Mrs Brown, and Cassie endorsed the cheque. After which, she said, ‘Oh, don’t you think it’s nice havin’ friends like Boots and Sammy, Freddy?’

Freddy looked at her. She seemed a bit misty-eyed.

‘Well, yes, I do, Cassie,’ he said, ‘and it’s even nicer for me havin’ a friend like you.’

‘Freddy, you silly, I’m not your friend.’

‘Yes, you are, Cassie,’ said Freddy, ‘you’re my friend for life.’

Lilian, on arriving home from work that evening, found a note on her mat from her milkman. She read it with a smile.

Dear Mrs Hyams
,

I thought I’d just drop you a line to say the eggs are specially good this week, all brown ones of a large size, so
if
you need six of the best, just put a note in your empty tomorrow morning. Also, I’m doing myself the pleasure of calling on you tomorrow evening in the hope we can spend a few hours together as I haven’t had that pleasure for a few days and it’s made me feel gloomy, which isn’t my style. Yours truly, Bill
.

After digesting the missive, Lilian asked herself why she was smiling. After all, he was still only a milkman, and while she wasn’t toffee-nosed she did think herself good enough for a more affluent bloke. And Rabbi Solomon had dropped in yesterday evening to ask if a rumoured friendship with a Gentile person was true. Lilian said rumours concerning any of her friendships ought to be treated as nobody’s business but her own. Rabbi Solomon shook his head at her, and suggested there was promise in the fact that Mr Abel Morrison had an affectionate regard for her. Lilian said Mr Morrison was a kind man, but not her type.

She thought now that her milkman was more her type because he amused her and didn’t own any surplus flesh. And because he kept reminding her of Sammy. She smiled again.

There were callers at the Red Post Hill house that evening. Lizzy and Ned, Annabelle and Bobby, Vi and Tommy, and Susie and Sammy, all dropped in to congratulate Boots and Emily on having such a remarkable daughter as Rosie. They were a demonstrative tribe, the Somers and Adams families. Rosie was hugged and kissed on account of her kind but firm approach to her natural father, which had shown just how permanently attached she was to her adoptive family. Chinese Lady thought the occasion called for a glass of port all round. Amid
the
celebratory hubbub, Rosie quietly disappeared. Noticing her absence, Emily went in search of her and found her in her room.

‘Rosie?’

Rosie turned, a hankie in her hand. It startled Emily to see that her eyes were wet. She couldn’t remember when Rosie had last shown tears. As a growing girl, she had rarely cried. As a young woman, never. Except now.

‘Sorry, Mum love,’ said Rosie, ‘I’m not really as cool as everyone thinks.’

‘Well, who cares, Rosie?’ said Emily. ‘We all hide some feelings, don’t we, we all try not to let ourselves down. It’s been upsettin’ for you as well as us, hasn’t it, findin’ your father was out there in his own world.’

‘Mum dearest,’ said Rosie, ‘that was a shock and a surprise, but not upsetting. What made me suddenly feel weepy was the realization a few minutes ago that—’ She stopped to dab her nose.

‘That everyone came round to let you see what you mean to all of us,’ said Emily. ‘Bless you, Rosie darling, we all love you, and it’s nice you’re like the rest of us, that there’s times when you just can’t ’elp showin’ your feelings. You’re ours, Rosie, and none of us could stand losin’ you. You’re an Adams, never mind who you were born of. Boots meant to make you an Adams from the very start, and what Boots wants he always goes quietly about gettin’. He’s not as much of an earthquake as your Uncle Sammy, but his results are just as good. You’re one of his very special results, Rosie love.’

‘Oh, help,’ said Rosie, ‘now I need my hankie again.’

Sammy was at his Southwark brewery the following day. He exchanged some profit-making business chat with the manager, had a few cheerful words with Mr Brown, the foreman, and then called Freddy. He took him outside into the temperamental April sunshine. Well, it was the kind of sunshine typical of April, all present and correct one moment, and going absent without leave the next.

‘Well, Freddy me sport, are you lookin’ forward to doing the honours with Cassie, or have you got twitches?’ Sammy asked.

‘No good havin’ twitches anywhere near Cassie,’ said Freddy, ‘she’d spot ’em a mile off and take advantage.’

‘What sort of advantage?’ asked Sammy, as electric with vitality as ever. He had an automatic self-rechargeable battery. His one problem was that Susie seemed to be able to unplug him, and he didn’t know anyone else who could do that, not even his redoubtable mother.

‘What sort?’ said Freddy. ‘The kind where I give in and flop. I won’t say it ain’t enjoyable after a fashion, but it always puts her one up. There’s something about females like Cassie that makes a bloke feel he’s got no legs, let alone a will of ’is own.’

‘Take my advice, Freddy, and as soon as Cassie has spoken her vows, make sure she understands you’re goin’ to wear the trousers,’ said Sammy. ‘Marital trousers look after your legs and keep ’em firm and standin’ up.’

‘Pardon?’ said Freddy, his slightly wavy brown hair ruffled by the breeze.

‘Legs, Freddy, trousers,’ said Sammy, showing the wisdom of experience. He was nearly thirty
three
, Freddy, his brother-in-law, not yet twenty-one, although a forthcoming bridegroom for all that. ‘Did you have your mind somewhere else?’

‘On account of the wedding’s so close,’ said Freddy, ‘I don’t know where me mind is most of the time. But I’ve got to say it’s always been me intention to keep Cassie from puttin’ the trousers on.’

‘I can mention it’s never been out of my mind all the time I’ve been married to Susie,’ said Sammy. Not that it’s done me any good, he thought, she was standing me on my head well before we got spliced, and I can’t remember I’ve ever regained me correct posture. ‘It’s only natural, Freddy, for the bloke to be the boss. Otherwise, where does that leave you and me? Fixin’ new tap washers and pushin’ the pram. As me old friend Eli Greenberg once said, it’s a sorrowful thing that female women ain’t as respectful to blokes as they used to be. They don’t seem to honour their spouses like Queen Victoria and her kind did. Very sorrowful that is, Freddy, and sad as well. Mind, there’s compensations. Happy ones, I might say. In any case, you’ve got yourself a young rose of good old Walworth in Cassie. Pretty as Peggy O’Neill as well. Good luck to you, Freddy, and don’t allow for workin’ in this brewery all your life. I’m not allowin’ for it myself, something’ll come up to your advantage one day. Cassie deserves a husband with real prospects, and I can’t say fairer, can I? So I’ll keep an eye open for the right kind of prospects. Well, you’re as good as fam’ly, and here’s that weddin’ bonus I promised. It’s from me and Susie, with our compliments.’ He handed Freddy the cheque for fifty pounds.

‘Mother O’Grady,’ said Freddy, ‘what a bonanza.
Thanks
a million, and lots more on top of that. Cassie’ll do cartwheels twice over. Well, she ’ad a cheque herself yesterday for fifty pounds from Boots and Em’ly.’

‘Well, trust Boots to see someone came up trumps for Cassie,’ said Sammy. ‘Has she banked it?’

‘No, I’m goin’ to bank it with mine,’ said Freddy.

‘Get it done rightaway, Freddy.’

‘I’ll get time off before the bank shuts,’ said Freddy.