The Captain and the Prime Minister

by Catherine Curzon

“I’ll make sure you’ve got your wellies.” Tom took the marmalade out of the cupboard. When he opened it, he saw crumbs from yesterday’s breakfast—a whole lifetime ago, it seemed. Before he’d messed everything up.

  His mum had been addicted to booze. And was Tom an addict too? To sex? To being wanted? To wrecking everything, that was it.

  Alex crossed to the cupboard and took out two mugs. As he did he dropped his voice and asked, “Would you rather not tonight?”

  “No, I’d love to go out. It’ll be fun.”

  It’d be less awkward than sitting together in the lounge like they usually did. The sofa would loom large between them, a wagging finger in the corners of their eyes reminding them that Tom had overstepped the mark.

  And Alex squeezed Tom’s elbow. Just for a moment, no more, but it felt like it mattered. Like it would all be okay.

  He just had to not think about the prime minister’s sighs or his strong shoulders or that tightening nipple against his palm—

  Stop it.

  “Come on, mini-Harts,” Alex said, carrying the mugs and tea things to the table. “Eat up!”

  The children plowed in, just as they did every morning. Their world was just the same as it always was, and Tom clung to that. He was here for the children—he was their nanny. And he adored them.

  And he didn’t have to leave.

  They sat at the table together as they always did, nothing having changed even though everything had. But tonight he and Alex could patch over the cracks and by Monday it would be as if the kiss had never happened.

  But I’ll never forget it.

  Chapter Seven

  Hey dude, chewing my quinoa and missing you. Got time to shoot the breeze if I bell ya? Xxx

  Tom glanced up at Madeleine and Alastair, who were half-playing with the fire engine and half-watching cartoons. They were too excited about the imminent arrival of their grandparents to concentrate. But they were occupied, at least.

  Was Stuart really missing him?

  Tom replied, Yeah got a couple of minutes if you ring now. T

  The phone buzzed a few seconds later with Stuart’s incoming call.

  “Hi, Stuart?” Tom backed into a corner of the kitchen, still with an eye on the children but keeping his voice low so they wouldn’t overhear. There was a lot of noise behind Stuart and he recognized the unmistakable sounds of a coffee shop, Stuart’s favorite place that wasn’t a sunkissed beach or a gym.

  “Hey, T-bird, just had a morning in heaven with a couple of brand-new celeb yoga bunnies. Got them hitting positions they never dreamed of,” Stuart told him. “What’s your morning been, fella?”

  Tom wondered if this phone call was going to be clean enough for a nanny supervising small children. But clearly Stuart meant downward facing dogs or something.

  No, still doesn’t sound clean.

  “Nanny stuff, really. Took the kids to school, picked them up again. They’ve had their lunch now and we’re waiting for the grandparents to descend.” Tom wondered if saying all that was a security risk, but it wasn’t as if he’d sent Stuart blueprints of number 11’s floor plan and a copied key for the back door. Besides, Stuart might not be the most civic-minded sort of bloke, but Tom couldn’t see him running off with the prime minister’s children any time soon.

  “Sweet, sweet,” Stuart murmured. “So, when we split it was pretty dark, right? I didn’t do right by you, T. I was chilling on the beach in Ibiza and it punched me right between my baby blues, and I’ve got to put it right. So, you and me? Grab some sushi tonight? Talk about what went wrong, what’s going on for us?”

  “Ah, not tonight, sorry, mate! I’ve got plans. Last minute!” The squeezing in his chest reappeared. Tom felt guilty now. But why should he? Just because Stuart felt delayed guilt for what he’d done all those years before and wanted to ‘put it right’.

  Stuart laughed and said, “Friday night plans? I’m not the only one who’s changed! What’s your Saturday looking like?”

  With the twins at the grandparents’, Tom didn’t need to be at home to look after them while Alex did his constituency business. Tom had no excuse other than his reluctance to see a man who’d treated him as if he didn’t matter.

  But maybe he’s changed?

  “How about brunch tomorrow?”

  “Let me just have a look.” A few moments passed before Stuart said, “Yeah, for sure. Where’re you thinking?”

  “How about Oscar’s on Dean Street? They bake their own sourdough bread—it’s delicious.” Sourdough bread—how they would’ve laughed at themselves when they were in the army, eating flavorless rehydrated rations out of packets.

  “Sounds sweet to me. Eleven?”

  “Yeah, eleven. And—” Tom was cut off by the intercom buzzing.

  The twins leaped up and ran cheering to the door, knowing instinctively that the grandparents had landed.

  “Sorry, mate, got to go,” Tom said. “But I’ll see you tomorrow then. Eleven o’clock it is!”

  “Tom!” Alastair hurtled back into the room and grabbed at the knee of Tom’s jeans. “Tom, come on!”

  Tom almost dropped the phone before catching it and stowing it in his back pocket.

  “Have you got clean hands?”

  Too late now, he’s grabbed my trousers.

  Tom held Alastair’s chin and dabbed his nose with a tissue. Then he picked him up and carried him to the door, Madeleine following close behind. He looked through the spyhole and could see Jenny and Malcolm, and behind them a Downing Street aide.

  Tom opened the door and Madeleine darted out, grabbing hold of both grandparents at once.

  “I love you so much!” Madeleine gasped as melodramatically as if she were in a soap opera. Tom tried not to laugh.

  Jenny and Malcolm Hoyle greeted their grandchildren with a loud coo of adoration and Malcolm swept Madeleine up into a hug as Jenny and Alastair reached out for each other with a shared cheer. She peered over her grandson’s head and said, “Hello, Tom. Sorry we’re a bit late, traffic was a killer today! But we got here in the end, better late than not at all!”

  “Is Noddy waiting for us?” Alastair asked, apparently more excited about seeing the donkey that had been his late mother’s pride and joy than he was about his grandparents. Tom knew that wasn’t the case though—both of the twins adored Gill’s mum and dad, just as they did Alex’s. “Can we feed him carrots?”

  “Noddy can’t wait to see you,” Jenny assured him. “All of the animals have been asking when you were visiting!”

  “I’m going to paint you lots and lots and lots of pictures,” Madeleine told them as she rubbed her nose against her grandfather’s cheek.

  “Better put down the plastic sheeting!” the ever-practical Malcolm laughed.

  “Do you want anything to drink first or are you keen to be off?” Tom asked. He gestured toward the animal-shaped backpacks and brightly colored suitcases in the hallway. “They’re all packed and ready, by the way.”

  Jenny glanced back at Malcolm and asked, “Time for a cup of tea?”

  “Yes, of course, but we can’t stay too long,” Malcolm replied. “You know how the traffic gets on a Friday!”

  Tom wasn’t sure he did, but he nodded anyway. “Madeleine and Alastair, you can show Nana and Grandpa what you’ve been getting up to at school.”

  Jenny put Alastair down and he tore away through the flat, followed by the rest of the happy party. Jenny and Malcolm had never been anything but friendly, yet Tom always had the same feeling of trepidation that had come with a barracks inspection back in the old days, as though Jenny was about to find a rogue speck of dust or ask him why he hadn’t ironed a crease into his jeans. She had the certain officious yet plucky something that seemed to come with having once been a headteacher. A zeal for organization, even when it wasn’t her own home.

  “Let’s get this kettle on,” Jenny announced. She sallied forth into the kitchen and took the kettle over to the sink to fill it. “So, Tom, we saw
Alex on Newsnight on Tuesday. He was looking rather sprightly, reminded me of Malcolm when he was on the run-up to retirement!”

  Malcolm ran his hand through his thinning silver hair. “I’m still sprightly now, darling! But, Tom, what do you think Alex’s plans are?”

  Tom, in his hoodie, holding a sippy cup in one hand and a jumbo crayon in the other, would have made an unusual guest for Jeremy Paxman. He was hardly a political pundit.

  “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me. He’s all about the anti-child poverty bill at the moment.” But what had Alex said the other day? Tom’s job wasn’t reliant on them living at number 11. Maybe Alex was planning what he’d do come election time.

  “Five years is long enough with a young family, don’t you think?” Jenny pressed the kettle’s switch and folded her arms over her neat pink blouse. “He and Gill were always very firm on that. Two terms as long as they were both happy with it, but—”

  Jenny paused there and tucked a strand of her neat gray bob behind her ear. It felt like forever, as she sought for the right words to continue. Gill and Alex had discussed it. And Gill had died too young, leaving her mother and father to try to pick up the pieces after losing their only child. After a few seconds Jenny smiled and opened the cupboard where the mugs were kept.

  “Gill isn’t here anymore, that’s what I mean. I worry, Tom, that Alex will stand down and be offered a wonderful job overseas or—” She glanced at Malcolm, this conversation clearly one that they had had before. “Or he continues here and misses the children growing up and turns into one of those PMs who everybody wishes had gone earlier. Hasn’t he given you any clues?”

  “I—” Tom put down the cup and the crayon. “I honestly don’t know. I wipe noses and cook the tea—Alex doesn’t talk shop when he gets home. Well, he does a bit, but he hasn’t talked about the election with me. He does his best to be with the twins as often as he can—he sees his kids more often than some blokes do, because they’re too busy down the pub or the golf club.”

  She nodded and told him, “I worry, you know that. I couldn’t bear not seeing the little ones.”

  “I know.” Tom nodded. “They’re growing up so fast. Seems like only yesterday they were learning to walk, and now they can’t go anywhere unless it’s at a run!”

  And, as though to prove it, in they ran, their arms full of toys and pictures and their faces filled with joy.

  Chapter Eight

  When the twins were away, Alex didn’t rush home. Tom didn’t expect him. And a doubting voice kept telling him that Alex was going to cancel their evening out and spend all night in his office. And Tom would be on his own.

  It served him right.

  Tom spent the day pottering—there was laundry, and toys to tidy, paint to scrub off the wall. But as he collected Alex’s shirts, the scent of his cologne rose up from them, and when he scooped up the very one that Alex had worn the night before, Tom felt as if he’d been lanced in the stomach.

  I’ve got to get over him.

  But had Tom interpreted Alex wrongly? He thought again of the hardened nipple under his palm and couldn’t understand how that could have happened if Alex hadn’t been aroused.

  Unless he had been thinking of a woman. That was probably it. No straight man would get turned on by the touch of another man’s hand.

  God, this is excruciating.

  When there had been neither sight nor sound of Alex by six o’clock, Tom was certain that there was to be no night out. He checked his phone for a cancelation, but there was nothing. By ten past he was considering what he could eat that evening, then, five minutes later, the front door closed.

  Tom’s heart leaped with anticipation at seeing Alex again, even though his overarching feeling at that moment was one of dread.

  He’ll go back to number 10 and work through the night.

  “I’ve just heard from Malcolm that the twins are safely arrived in Herefordshire,” Alex called as he made his way along the hall. Heading for the study, no doubt. But he didn’t. Instead, he appeared in the kitchen doorway. “We’ve got a table booked at eight. Is that okay?”

  Tom sighed. “I wondered if you were—I thought you might… I’d got it into my head that you were going to cancel. That’s great.”

  “Do we need to talk about last night?”

  Tom leaned against the worktop, his hands folded behind him. “I…yeah, I think so. I misread you, and I’m so bloody ashamed.”

  And off comes the jacket.

  “You didn’t.” Alex hung his jacket over the back of one of the dining chairs and approached Tom. He looked almost shy, certainly not disgusted or like a man about to sack his nanny. “Don’t be ashamed, Tom, please. I shouldn’t— I don’t want this to change anything.”

  Didn’t misread him?

  Tom nodded and held his head a little higher. “Did you—Alex, I know you don’t want this to change anything, but please, so I don’t drive myself mad… You wanted me to kiss you?”

  Alex closed his eyes for a second, then pinched his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He stood beside Tom, leaning against the same worktop, no doubt so he didn’t have to actually look at his children’s devoted nanny as he broke his heart.

  Then he nodded. “I shouldn’t have, I know—”

  Tom shrugged. “You’re straight, maybe we’re both a bit lonely, you were stressed… It’s okay to want human contact, you know. Even if it’s with a bloke. Just a hug or whatever.”

  But Tom couldn’t get past the words Alex had said. He’d wanted me to kiss him, but he shouldn’t have.

  “It wasn’t just human contact.” Alex turned his head, settling his gaze on Tom’s face. “I—it was you. I wanted you to kiss me. I want you to kiss me.”

  Tom shook his head in disbelief. “Even now? Right now, in the kitchen?”

  He saw the shine in Alex’s eyes falter and he replied, “No—yes, I think so. You look horrified, Tom, I didn’t want to make a mess of this and that’s just what I’m doing, isn’t it?”

  “You’re not. I am. Alex…” Tom wasn’t sure what to say. Still, with his hands clasped behind his back, Tom inclined his head, resting his forehead against Alex’s. The man he had thought was out of his reach wanted him to kiss him. “I really want to kiss you too.”

  “So maybe we should…” And all it took was the slightest tilt of Alex’s head for their lips to meet.

  Tom held his lips there, not moving, just enjoying. Tasting Alex, trying to imprint this moment in his mind forever. Because what if it never happened again?

  Then Tom parted his lips, hoping Alex would want them to deepen their kiss. As Alex responded, following his lead, Tom realized that perhaps they wanted the same thing after all. Perhaps he had misunderstood his friend all these years. Because this was way beyond platonic.

  Tom tentatively slipped one arm around Alex’s waist, then a dam seemed to burst, because he was tangling Alex’s hair with his other hand, sighing against Alex’s mouth, bringing him tight to him as they kissed deeper and deeper still.

  The arms that he had adored, fantasized about even, were around him, Alex’s fingers tight against Tom’s shoulder as though he were clinging on for dear life. He heard Alex gasp his name into the kiss before he renewed it, surrendering to Tom’s embrace.

  Tom circled his hips against Alex’s, feeling Alex’s erection hard against his own through layers of fabric. Tom unfastened the top button on his jeans and reached between their bodies to stroke over the hard, tempting curve in Alex’s perfectly tailored trousers. He wanted to stroke it, kneel down and worship it.

  “Tom,” Alex whispered, entwining his fingers with Tom’s to close their joined hands over Tom’s erection instead. “Last night…how did you know?”

  “Your breath hitched.” As did Tom’s at the sensation of Alex’s hand against him. “And your nipple was hard, and the way you sighed.”

  “When you put your arm around me…” His hand stroked over Tom’s clothed erection. “I—I kne
w you’d be able to tell, I thought you’d laugh at me.”

  “It’s all right, Alex, I’d never laugh at you. Never. I want you, Alex—and I never thought you’d want me in the same way.”

  He saw Alex’s eyes close and heard him breathe a sigh of relief. Then he asked, “Can we take things slowly? It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date. I’m a bit out of practice.”

  “Yeah, we can take things as slowly as you like.” Tom chuckled. “I thought I had an impossible crush on you—I had no idea you liked guys. So you’ve dated men before, then?”

  “Oh, you know.” Alex touched the tip of his nose to Tom’s. “I was young and carefree once upon a time. I wasn’t always Right Honourable.”

  Tom stroked the outline of Alex’s ear. He was seeing everything anew. “Downright dishonourable Alex Hart? I like the sound of that! But I don’t know how I didn’t realize—my gaydar must be on the blink!”

  “Does it work for men who— Is it a problem, me having been married? I mean, I’m not gay, as such, I guess. I don’t know what the rules are.” He laughed, a little awkwardly. “I’m out of practice in a lot of things, aren’t I?”

  “Bi men are fine by me.” Tom nibbled Alex’s earlobe, then stopped. That was hardly taking it slowly. “But…you are fine by me. If you want me, Alex Hart, then I’m yours.”

  Tom couldn’t quite believe that the words he’d longed to say but never thought he’d be able to were now freely tripping from his tongue. And the man he longed to touch was in his embrace, his eyes closed and his breath quickening with even just that little nibble on his ear.

  “First date tonight?” Alex breathed, fluttering his eyelids open. “You and me?”

  “Yeah, first date. Holding hands only, no kissing in public?” Tom feathered kisses against Alex’s neck. He smelled so good. Masculine and inviting.

  “There’ll be plenty of time to catch up with kissing when we get home, if that’s all right?” Alex sighed, a happy sound. “I’d better shower and change. Don’t want to let my date down by turning up looking as though I’ve just rolled out of the office.”