The Petticoat Men by Barbara Ewing Page A

words and then spoke very quietly. ‘In my own very personal opinion, he is tormented by too much upright morality which is – which is at war, perhaps, with his – personal temperament. A common difficulty maybe.’ And then Elijah moved to deal with an enquiry from a member of the public, whistling ‘I Dreamt that I Dwelt in Marble Halls’ as he bustled about, arranging something. Elijah always whistled.
    But later when he and Billy were almost alone in the Central Lobby Elijah thoughtfully contemplated the carvings of saints and monarchs that stood everywhere above them, and resumed the conversation.
    ‘I’ve known Mr Gladstone longer than many people here, and I believe he’s a good and very moral man as well as a significant Prime Minister.’ Elijah stared at the marble saints. ‘Everyone has demons, Billy. That is part of life. But the God I believe in is a little more merciful and less judgemental than Mr Gladstone’s perhaps. In my opinion he does, as I say, take stupid risks – so do many people, but they’re not all Prime Minister of England and Empire are they! But – he doesn’t care about gossip. He seriously thinks to rescue those street-girls from their wicked ways, that’s what you saw him doing. Been doing it for years. It’s part of his nightly activities.’
    ‘Does he rescue them?’
    ‘Well, that, lad, is hard to quantify. He talks to them about God, I believe. Seems to me Mrs Gladstone has some success – he takes some of them home and she tries to get them proper work.’ Elijah looked at Billy dryly and again spoke very quietly. ‘What he is actually thinking when he walks with them in the night you and I are unlikely to ever know, and it is not our business – although as you may gather I do sometimes make conjecture, having observed him for so many years.’
    And Elijah whistled as he tidied papers on his counter.
    Billy noticed that Mr Gladstone and Elijah always greeted each other, both long-time members of this institution. Billy also observed Members of Parliament emerging from Elijah’s cubbyhole behind his desk in the marbled Central Lobby with tears in their eyes: Elijah Fortune appeared to be a combination of head doorkeeper and father confessor. At first Billy had supposed that he must be giving his visitors strong spirits for strength and succour. But when he was invited into the inner sanctum himself, he saw that only tea was provided, made by Elijah in a pot hung over his small fire.
    And Billy was surprised to find that Elijah and his wife actually lived on the premises, actually lived in this wonderful, historic building. Not quite the splendid apartments where the Lord Chancellor lived, Elijah explained, nor the gracious establishment for the Speaker of the House, but in small living quarters just above the basement and the drains, and the sewerage pipes.
    It hadn’t taken Billy long to understand that Elijah knew everybody and kept many secrets. Indeed, Elijah Fortune, hearing the name of the new keen young messenger at the Parliament, had befriended Billy Stacey when he first started work, without mentioning that he had known Billy’s father and Billy’s mother. Isabella might not have wanted him to talk of the past, Elijah thought; he knew what had happened to her, what she had had to do, how hard it was for her, and Elijah Fortune was a man of infinite discretion.
    ‘Elijah Fortune!’ said his mother when Billy had described him soon after he had started work, aged thirteen. ‘Well.’ And for a moment she said nothing more. ‘He didn’t mention we were known to each other?’ Billy shook his head. She nodded. ‘How like Elijah,’ was all she said then. And then she did not mention Elijah Fortune for years.
    But very much later, long after they had moved to 13 Wakefield-street, Mrs Stacey said: ‘Well. We’re friends from the past – Elijah used to be at the stage door at Drury Lane in the olden, golden days – Elijah and your Pa and me and his