The Camberwell Raid (22 page)

‘More like a bucketful, I’d say,’ said Freddy.

Back the police car went, to search for clues by way of the roads and avenues off Denmark Hill. Stops were made whenever there was a chance to question a pedestrian, but all such enquiries brought nothing of any consequence. While the sergeant asked questions of people at North Dulwich railway station, the inspector made a quick call to his headquarters from the public phone box there. He was informed that Scotland Yard itself had all the details of the robbery, given by the bank manager and some of his staff. The inspector was able to offer a further detail, that of the baker’s name on the van. A young man, Mr Brown, had provided that information and was
presently
in the police car after being assaulted by the robbers. Headquarters said they knew that, the chief clerk at the bank had advised them of it, and Scotland Yard were arranging for the BBC to issue a newsflash. The public had to be warned, since the wanted men were obviously dangerous.

Subsequently, time was spent going up and down the streets, roads and avenues off Herne Hill, but entirely without success. The van could be anywhere south-east of London by now, but at least police all over the Home Counties had its description. Freddy was eventually driven home, where the inspector thanked him for all his help, informed him a wireless announcement had been made that might bring results, and then advised him to see his doctor about his bruised head.

‘I think I’ll make do with a Guinness,’ said Freddy.

‘Have I heard Guinness is good for a sore head?’ asked the sergeant.

‘I haven’t meself,’ said Freddy, ‘but I’m gettin’ married on Saturday, and I’ve heard it’s good for that.’

The sergeant laughed, the inspector smiled.

‘Well, the best of luck, Mr Brown,’ said the inspector. ‘Sorry about your head, but it’s a pleasure to have met you. When we’ve caught the buggers, you’ll be wanted as a witness. Fair enough?’

‘Fair enough,’ said Freddy.

‘Freddy!’ exclaimed the normally placid Mrs Brown a few minutes later. Her younger son had acquainted her with the afternoon’s happenings.

‘Nothing to worry about, Mum,’ said Freddy, ‘except it’s me fond ’ope that the geezers don’t get
away
with the loot, nor with givin’ me a headache.’

‘Oh, Freddy me pet.’

‘Steady, Mum, don’t make me sound like I’ve lost me teddy bear. I’m a bit more advanced than that, y’know, I’m nearly a married man.’

‘Yes, I do know, Freddy love, and that’s what makes it all the more upsettin’,’ said motherly Mrs Brown, ‘you ’aving to say your vows in front of the vicar with a nasty lump on your head.’

‘Is it nasty?’ asked Freddy. He knew it was tender, but he didn’t know how lumpy it looked.

‘Oh, never mind, it’ll have gone down come Saturday,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘Sit down and I’ll make a nice restoring pot of tea. Fancy me hearin’ about the robbery on the wireless and not knowin’ you were there and bein’ grievously assaulted. It said on the last announcement that a young man tried to stop them escapin’, and that they’d committed a very grievous assault on him. Well, it was something like that.’ She put the kettle on.

‘No, I just happened to get in the way,’ said Freddy, ‘so one of them clobbered me. I’m still sore about that, and I don’t suppose Cassie will like it, either. She said once that I ’ad a noble loaf of bread. I don’t know what she’ll say about me nobility bein’ out of shape for the weddin’.’

‘Oh, a loving bride won’t worry about the condition of your head, Freddy,’ said Mrs Brown, setting out cups and saucers on the kitchen table. ‘I mean, as long as everything else is in order, as you might say, there shouldn’t be any real worries.’

‘Mum, are you bein’ saucy?’ asked Freddy.

‘Why, I’ve never been saucy all my life,’ said Mrs Brown, ‘my parents didn’t ever believe in bringing
up
saucy daughters. Freddy, would you like an Aspro with your cup of tea and then a nice lie down?’

‘Not much,’ said Freddy, thinking about the vanishing trick performed by the robbers and their van. What a couple of peculiar crooks in their City bowlers and grey suits.

‘Imagine you chasin’ all over Denmark Hill with the police in the car,’ said Mrs Brown from the scullery. She poured boiling water into the teapot. ‘Your dad and Sally won’t ’ardly believe what happened when they get home, which’ll be any minute now.’

‘What gets me is where that van got to,’ said Freddy. ‘I mean, nobody seems to ’ave spotted it, and the police must’ve asked at least thirty people in the area.’

‘Now it’s not your worry, love,’ said Mrs Brown, placing the teapot on the table. ‘Nor don’t you want to worry, it’ll only make your headache turn chronic.’

‘Well, I’ll tell you this, Mum,’ said Freddy, ‘I don’t want to turn up for the weddin’ in a chronic condition.’

‘That’s it,’ said Mrs Brown comfortingly, ‘let the police do the worrying.’

Vi wanted to scream. The atmosphere was chilling, with scarcely a word being spoken. Everyone was waiting for the arrival home of Tommy. The cold-eyed pair were standing, one by the door, one by the French windows. The light was dull, the April evening having turned grey with heavy clouds. Alice, David and Paul were sitting together on the settee, Alice with her arm around young Paul. All three of them kept glancing at the man with the thick moustache, the one who had done all the talking at first but now
hadn’t
opened his mouth for twenty minutes. That Gladstone bag was at the feet of the other unlikeable character, the one with a small moustache who had said nothing throughout. Yet somehow Vi felt this was the more dangerous of the two. She hated it whenever those cold eyes turned on her children. She sensed boyish truculence in David. Perhaps it was because he saw himself as an aggressive protector of his sister. Young though he and Alice were, they couldn’t have failed to realize these intruders were a threat of a very unpleasant kind.

Vi, her throat dry, said, ‘Alice, would you and David like another sherbet drink? And would you like one too, Paul?’

‘Stay where you are, lady,’ said Miller. ‘No drinks. You’ve all had tea.’

‘I don’t like you, mister,’ said David.

‘Mutual, my lad, mutual,’ said Miller. He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Twenty-five to six. ‘Settle down,’ he said. The room became compulsively quiet again.

The phone rang six minutes later. Vi jumped.

‘The phone, Mum,’ said Alice.

‘Answer it,’ said Miller.

Vi came to her feet, Carstairs, at the door, opened it for her and followed her out. Vi lifted the receiver.

‘Hello?’ she said, her dry throat making her voice sound husky.

‘Vi?’ It was Tommy. ‘I’m a bit late leavin’, I’ve had a fabric supplier here. Thought I’d let you know I’ll be a little late ’ome.’

‘How – how much late?’ asked Vi.

‘Should be with you by six-twenty,’ said Tommy. ‘Vi, you all right?’

Vi, feeling the cold eyes on her back, said, ‘Yes, I’m fine, Tommy. Thanks for lettin’ me know. See you when you get here, then.’

‘By the way, there’s been a bank robbery in Camberwell, did you know?’ said Tommy.

‘Oh, you can tell me about it when you get home,’ said Vi, her nerves on the brink of shattering.

‘I’m on my way,’ said Tommy, and rang off.

Vi put the receiver back and turned. They were both there, looking at her, eyes boring into her.

‘Well?’ said Miller.

Vi swallowed and said, ‘That was my husband. He’ll be a little late, about twenty minutes.’

‘Won’t be here, then, until twenty after six?’ said Miller.

‘He’s only just leavin’,’ said Vi, ‘and he has to drive from Shoreditch. There’s a lot of traffic this time of an evening.’

‘Pity,’ said Miller, ‘but as long as he gets here, there’ll be no trouble. Go back to your kids, the youngest one’s snivelling.’

Vi hastened back, and they followed her in. Paul was letting go the occasional sob. Alice and David were trying to comfort him. The young boy, seeing the return of his mother, quietened.

‘He thought you weren’t coming back, Mum,’ said Alice.

For the first time, Carstairs spoke.

‘Little fool.’ It was a gruff, irritable comment.

‘He’s not a fool,’ said David, ‘he’s frightened, that’s all. You’re ugly, you are, and so’s the other bloke.’

‘Keep him quiet, missus, or I’ll clip his ear,’ said Miller, and looked at the clock again. Fourteen minutes to six. Carstairs nodded at him, and gestured
at
the French windows. He turned and noted a key on the inside. He locked the windowed doors and put the key in his pocket. He walked over to Carstairs, and they left the sitting-room, closing the door behind them. Miller had the Gladstone bag under his arm.

‘Listen,’ whispered Carstairs, ‘the coppers are bound to be out and about all evening. They have to suspect we’re somewhere in the area, and I wouldn’t put it past the interfering sods to stop all vehicles for miles around, on the grounds that we wouldn’t be stupid enough to be using the van. We can pass on our appearance, but not with the bag or the loot. So we’ll leave it until midnight before we make a move. The coppers will be thin on the ground by then. Right?’

‘You’re the boss,’ said Miller, ‘but I don’t fancy keeping company with this prissy lot until bloody midnight.’

‘Getting on your nerves, are they, Miller?’

‘And yours,’ said Miller.

‘What’s the answer, then?’ asked Carstairs.

‘Tie them up, and lock them up,’ said Miller.

‘Bloody brilliant,’ said Carstairs. ‘We were going to have to do that, anyway, before we left. All right, so we’ll get them out of our way earlier. If the husband gives trouble, put him in the land of Nod. We’ll catch a ferry tomorrow. Now let’s get back to these fairies.’

‘First,’ said Miller, ‘how’d you like having had to keep your mouth shut since we went into the bank?’

‘It’s no strain.’

‘A bit hard on you, though, eh, Ginger?’

‘I’ll manage,’ said Ginger Carstairs.

When they re-entered the sitting-room, David was on his feet and trying to open the French windows
with
a key that had been lying on the mantelpiece. Carstairs swooped and dragged him away by the collar of his jacket. David twisted round and aimed a kick. Carstairs slapped his face.

‘Stop it,’ said Vi, ‘stop it. You’re disgustin’, you’re both disgustin’. David, come here.’

The boy obeyed, his face flushed and angry.

‘I thought I told you not to make accidents happen?’ said Miller to Vi. ‘They will happen if you let that kid try to open any more doors.’

‘It won’t be repeated,’ said Vi quietly.

Miller drew the curtains to, covering the French windows. This shut out the view of the van and dimmed the light in the room, which didn’t improve the situation for Vi and her children. They felt locked in.

The time came up to six o’clock and Vi thought, Tommy will be on his way now.

She felt a great need for his presence.

‘Rosie?’ said Polly over the phone.

‘Oh, hello, Polly,’ said Rosie, ‘how’s your famous self?’

‘Famous,’ said Polly. ‘May I come and see you this evening?’

‘Love you to,’ said Rosie, ‘but is there a special reason?’

‘Yes, I want to talk to you about a certain gentleman,’ said Polly.

‘Do you mean Major Armitage?’ said Rosie.

‘Yes, I believe that’s his name,’ said Polly.

‘Polly, I think you’ve already talked to Boots my dad about him,’ said Rosie. ‘In Lyons.’

‘Oh, he told you, did he?’ said Polly.

‘Well, we do communicate,’ said Rosie.

‘I know you do,’ said Polly.

‘Didn’t you talk to him again last night?’ asked Rosie.

‘Yes, he had the grace this time to let me know you’d settled things satisfactorily with Major Armitage,’ said Polly, ‘but can the gentleman be trusted?’

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Rosie.

‘Trusted to be content with seeing you only four times a year?’ said Polly.

‘I think so,’ said Rosie.

‘Well, in case trust is shattered, and I’m a cynic myself, I’ve an idea to offer,’ said Polly.

‘Yes, I know,’ said Rosie, ‘but didn’t Boots say no to it in Lyons?’

‘He’s developing fusspot principles,’ said Polly. ‘I’m coming over this evening to talk to you. I don’t have any fusspot principles myself.’

‘Oh, come over and have a chat, anyway,’ said Rosie.

‘I will,’ said Polly. ‘By the way, how has your French sister taken all this?’

‘As if crazy goings-on are peculiar to English people,’ said Rosie. ‘She’s amazed that I don’t show any enthusiasm for being the daughter of what she calls an English nobleman. She’s sweet, but impressionable.’

‘Major Armitage impressed her, did he?’ said Polly. ‘Sounds dangerous. Yes, I’ll come and talk to you, ducky.’

‘Count yourself one of the family, Polly,’ said Rosie.

I would be, thought Polly, if I’d got to Boots before Emily did.

‘See you, sweetie,’ she said, and rang off.

The tension was at a peak, Vi’s nerves tightly strung. That these two unpleasant people simply had to be the ones who had carried out the armed bank robbery was obvious, and she could only hope that Tommy would let them have what they wanted – his car – and that they would then disappear with it. Tommy was a good-natured man, but not a simple one. He might not be as disarming or as subtle as Boots, or as quick-thinking as Sammy, but he was no fool. He would see at once that there was no point in putting his family in danger. That was the last thing he would do, unless his immediate reaction was to hit the roof. Tommy, tall, broad and muscular, could give a very good account of himself, and the sight of his family at the mercy of these men might just make him furious enough to go hammer and tongs at the intruders. He wouldn’t know, as she did, that they were the bank robbers, that they’d shown themselves to be as hard as nails, and that one of them was armed, according to the wireless newsflash.

Time seemed to hang in demoralizing fashion, the while the children sat together in silence and the ugly eyes watched them. The minutes crept like crippled snails towards six-twenty, and when that time finally arrived, Vi was rigid in every limb.