The Petticoat Men (27 page)
Emma came rushing back up to me. ‘Just fancy, Isabella! That old party fellow, Sir Alexander, skulking in the wings! You know the Queen refuses him a peerage because he’s too naughty – all those children by a lady not his wife! And Isabella, listen, I just saw my friend, and he told me there’s been another case about Lord Arthur Clinton in another court! A cab driver was suing for a big fare not paid – he said he’d driven Lord Arthur all round London for hours, and then Lord Arthur told the driver to wait outside the Opera Hotel. And he didn’t come out again, and when the driver finally went into the hotel he found Lord Arthur had skipped out the back way! They called for Lord Arthur Clinton to appear in court – but nobody came! Isn’t it all exciting!’ and Emma rushed off again. And I remembered then how sure Mattie was that Lord Arthur had passed us in a cab. So he must be hiding in London, somewhere.
I also saw Algie again outside, proud in his policeman’s uniform, thanked him for getting me in, asked after his pa. Algie said his pa had lost his mind.
I stood there, wondering if I was going to lose mine. Postponed till next month, us no idea about our future or our fate. It wasn’t even lunchtime.
I didn’t know if I should go on with my heart attack, or laugh.
On Monday, when Billy went back to the clerks’ desk at the end of the day, having delivered piles of copied documents to the Colonial Secretary’s office, he found the same old verse by his place.
There was an old person of Sark
Who buggered a pig in the dark
The swine in surprise
Murmured ‘God bless your eyes,
Did you take me for Boulton or Park?’
A message was also waiting: he was to go at once to the office of the Head Clerk Mr Jenkins.
The Head Clerk’s room smelled strongly of spiced pomade. This time they didn’t even sit at the desk. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Stacey,’ said Mr Jenkins at once. ‘That same bishop, a hypocritical gentleman if I may reiterate, has got his way now. As Lord Arthur Clinton is now accused, and no doubt the trial becoming more sensational, and likely more publicity for your home, I’m afraid your position is be terminated immediately.’
‘Just like that?’
‘You have been here for ten years, Mr Stacey, I know that. I tried very hard to make them change their minds but I am afraid it was impossible. The House of Lords is bursting with bishops, as you know, and this one is their spokesman (self-apppointed, I wouldn’t mind wagering). He said no references, but I’ve written you one anyhow, to hell with Bishop Julius.’ He handed a paper to Billy.
‘Bishop Julius?’ said Billy. He remembered him, coming in to the Prime Minister’s office when Mr Gladstone had turned so pale.
‘He’s a hypocrite as I say,’ said the Head Clerk. ‘I am sorry, Mr Stacey.’
‘Thanks, John,’ said Billy, and he was gone to Elijah Fortune.
‘I’ve got to find Lord Arthur Clinton in a hurry,’ said Billy to Elijah.
‘You and everybody else apparently,’ said Elijah. ‘Why?’
‘My position is terminated.’
Elijah whistled a few bars of ‘Home Sweet Home’ while looking at Billy carefully.
‘I suspected it might be. What makes you think Lord Arthur is the clue?’
‘I need this work, for our family. I have to get it back. And I want to keep working here. I refuse to let them get rid of me when I’m good at my work – and I believe Lord Arthur and Mr Gladstone are – connected in some way.’ And there was something about the way Billy spoke: some anger but some certainty also. Elijah beckoned to one of the other doorkeepers.
‘Stay here for ten minutes, Cyril,’ he said. ‘Come with me, Billy.’
The Central Lobby, the Members’ Lobby, and the debating chambers were on the ‘principal floor’ of the Parliament. Daylight could be seen through leaded windows and a few steps led down from various doorways into the London streets. Billy thought he knew most nooks and crannies in the Parliament where Elijah, whistling still, led him, but Billy did not know the tiny staircase far along the corridor from the Central Lobby. He just knew he was going downwards, past the clerks’ offices under the Central Lobby, and then down again towards the basement where the sewerage pumps spewed their waste into the Thames. But between the clerks’ offices and the basement there was another floor: other rooms down some back steps past anonymous oak doors, dark corridors lit by gaslight, then a darker, tiny passage.
Elijah took a key from his waistcoat and they seemed to enter an almost invisible door.
Inside everything was red. Red velvet curtains, red-covered cushions, red lampshades, red wallpaper. And under one of the red lamps, reading, a great pile of books beside her, sat an old bent woman with claws for hands it seemed, and wearing a red hat.
Billy couldn’t help it: he laughed, and she, looking up, said at once: ‘Good heavens! You must be Joe Stacey’s boy, how lovely. Have a cake, dear. Your dear pa always liked my cakes.’
‘This is my wife, Dodo,’ said Elijah. ‘Used to be a singer and a dancer in the music hall, comedy songs mostly, but the arthritis has got her. I’ll have a quick cake too, my dear. Sit down, Billy.’
And as Dodo got up laboriously from her chair, Billy stood again, to help her, but Elijah motioned to him quickly. And when she had gone from the room he said, ‘She so wants to move and she can’t always, so let her try.’
Billy looked about the red room. ‘This is handy and nice!’ he said. The cosy red hideaway underneath the workings of the state somehow made him want to laugh again, just with the oddness and the pleasure of it.
‘We’re very lucky and comfortable down here,’ said Elijah. ‘Dodo and me.’ He pulled aside one of the red curtains. If they looked upwards they could see dusk and feet passing in a concrete alley. Elijah closed the curtains again.
‘After she left the stage, and before the arthritis really got her so bad as now, Dodo used to work here as well as me, so we got this place. Dodo was one of the housekeepers. Kept the Members in cakes – some of them nearly cried when she had to retire! Now listen, lad. I don’t know all the ins and outs because the nobility try to keep everything quiet from people like us, but I do know Mr Gladstone was very friendly with the late Duke of Newcastle, Lord Arthur’s father, and had something to do with helping him get his divorce from Lord Arthur’s mother in the old days when divorce was almost impossible.’
‘Have a cake,’ said Dodo, appearing with two plates, each holding an iced cake, and the two men smiled and ate and she smiled back. ‘Just like your pa,’ she said to Billy. ‘And how’s your ma?’
‘She’s well, Mrs Fortune. She told me of you, that you were a singer and a dancer, and she and Pa used to go to the music hall to see you.’
And Dodo smiled and smiled, and Elijah smiled at her too, for she had been so lovely. And he loved her still.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said to her, for the cake. And then he turned back to Billy. ‘The present pathetic Duke,’ said Elijah, ‘Lord Arthur’s eldest brother, Linky they call him, is a nitwit and a gambler and usually lives in Brighton or Paris, and is obviously not giving any assistance. If he had any sense at all he’d get his brother away to France where these things are not a matter for the law. Just keep that information in your head. And I know where Lord Arthur is.’
Billy was so surprised he stood at once, spilling crumbs.
‘He’s staying at a hostelry in Christchurch, the King’s Arms, he’s trying to leave the country. I got a message, asking if I can help him.’
Billy looked at the Head Doorkeeper in surprise. ‘How could
you
help Lord Arthur?’
‘He needs money,’ said Elijah. ‘He never has any money. He thinks someone in the Parliament might help him, and the Central Lobby is where everyone passes. I’m to send it to the name of Hamilton. If you see him, don’t tell him how no one wants to know, and I’ll keep trying anyway.’
‘Thanks Elijah.’ And the men finished up their cake.
And Dodo said, ‘Isn’t it sad that Mr Dickens has passed away.’
When Billy got home that evening, down in the kitchen that smelled of herrings, where Mattie was folding clean towels and his mother was just about to put an apple pie in the blazing oven, he stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, quite still.
‘I’ve been dismissed,’ he said.
‘
What?
Even though the trial’s postponed?’
‘Especially as the trial’s postponed apparently. They expect there’ll be much more publicity with Lord Arthur called for.’
Mrs Stacey did not ruffle or speak of the workhouse, just stood there with the apple pie, as if she had forgotten where to put it. Both women were silent-shocked, even though he had warned them.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said to them both. ‘I told you, I’ll get my position back. I am going to Christchurch, tonight, because I believe that is where Lord Arthur is. And if I can find him, I just might find out why Mr Gladstone went so white in the face. Surely it can’t just be because he knew Lord Arthur’s father, for goodness sake! So can we eat dinner now, Ma, please, before I leave.’
‘He’ll hardly want to be found by you,’ said Ma quietly after a moment, ‘if the police can’t find him.’
‘I’m not going to arrest him,’ said Billy dryly.
‘I saw him here in London,’ said Mattie. ‘I
told
you I saw him, Billy.’
‘He certainly was here in London,’ said his mother. ‘He apparently tricked a cabman in London not long ago, it was in one of the courts. How do you know he’s now in Christchurch? Some rumour? It’ll be like chasing a pin.’
She opened the oven and the heat came rushing out but still she clutched the apple pie to her, looking at her son.
‘Elijah told me.’
‘What?’
He raised his voice. ‘Elijah! And I met his wife Dodo. She’s got terrible arthritis, Ma, all curled up. She asked after you.’
Mrs Stacey then quite slowly bent down again and put the apple pie in the hot oven; when she closed the door it was a relief that the extra heat was cut off.
‘Dodo was such a clever dancer in the music halls long ago, till that blooming arthritis started. And she had a lovely, laughing voice and she sung them comic songs. And she made delicious cakes.’
‘She gave me one. It was delicious too.’
‘The audiences really did love her, me and Pa used to go, I told you. Well, if anyone will know what’s to be known, I expect it will be Elijah.’
‘He got a message about Lord Arthur needing money. Why would Elijah get such a message?’
Mrs Stacey looked at her son. ‘Elijah’s that sort of person. Everyone has always relied on Elijah somehow, it was always like that at Drury Lane too when he worked there.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ said Mattie to Billy.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said her mother.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Billy.
‘Let me
come
, Billy. I’ll help you. I’ll help you find him, I’ll be useful, no one will hide from a lame girl, you know that – I could approach him first and he wouldn’t be frightened that I was from the police or anything, he might remember me, limping.’
The top of the stove now banged and clanged.
‘Sit down and eat, both of you,’ said Mrs Stacey. She took a pot off the top, ‘Do you really think you can do it, Billy? Get your position back?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘I’m coming to help you,’ said his sister.
Their mother served out food. ‘Here, there’s herrings and mash, while the apple pie cooks, and if both of you are minded to hare off like insane policemen you’ll need some money.’
Her children looked at her in astonishment. She
never
gave them money; they earned their own, and gave part of it to her. She used to hide it all away, for the day they were all carted off to the workhouse – which was now more likely than it had ever been in their new lives.
‘And there’ll be a railway train, part of the way anyway, in the morning. Which there won’t be at this hour.’
And while her children ate obediently, Isabella Stacey disappeared. She returned some time later with an old tin from some secret hiding place of her own. She gave them three gold sovereigns each.
Billy and Mattie, deeply shocked, spoke in unison: ‘We’ve got some money, Ma!’
‘Take it,’ she said to them both. ‘It’s worth all this if it gets your position back, Billy.’ She bent down to the oven. ‘Now eat this apple pie!’
And as she laid the hot pie on the table, she said, smiling slightly: ‘Does Dodo still love red?’