The Captain and the Prime Minister

by Catherine Curzon

  “And I love all of you,” Tom said. But that word took on a meaning now that he hadn’t quite expected, and he avoided Alex’s glance. “So, ready for bath time now?”

  Alastair nodded, waiting for his sister’s considered response.

  “Yes, please! And soap crayons!”

  Alex kissed her cheek, then ducked his head to kiss Alastair’s nose. “It’s a deal!”

  Bath time ensued. Tom took a back seat, letting Alex run the show as lifeguard and scrubber both. The twins were soon giggling and squealing and Tom busied himself making sure the bath towels were warm and the talcum powder was ready. Eventually, amid much yawning and protestations that they weren’t tired at all, the twins were scooped from the water and prepared for bed.

  “I want Tom to carry me,” Alastair decided. “He was a soldier.”

  Tom buttoned the neck of Alastair’s pajamas and tickled him. “I could carry you over my shoulder like a fireman!”

  “Yes please!” The little boy laughed. Alex finished brushing Madeleine’s curls as she fussed with the sparkly puppy on her own pajama top then, to a squeal of excitement, slung her over his shoulder and carried her long the landing.

  Tom hoisted the giggling Alastair over his shoulder, following Alex to the twins’ bedroom. He let Alastair slither down from his shoulder and onto his bed.

  “Night, Al!” Tom kissed the boy’s forehead, and kissed Madeleine’s too. Then he tried to perch on a tiny wooden chair that had been painted to resemble a toadstool.

  “Read a story, Tom,” Alastair asked. “Mad can choose.”

  Alex deposited Madeleine on her bed then settled on the beanbag and said, “Go on, Tom, do the honors?”

  “Okay, Mads, what story would you like?”

  She snuggled into her duvet and replied, “Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle. Al likes that one.”

  Tom took the little book from its boxset on the shelf, then balanced once more on the chair. He yawned behind his hand as he held the book at just the right angle, so that the twins could see the drawings, and he could see the text. The pall cast by Jenny seemed to have lifted a little, at least, and he felt the affection in Alex’s gaze again as he read, but as the book went on and the twins began to doze, he saw his lover’s eyelids growing heavier too.

  Was the prime minister falling asleep to Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle?

  Not, not falling asleep. He was out like a light.

  Tom kept reading, but Alex’s regular breathing was making him feel sleepy too. The children closed their eyes and Tom finally reached the last page. He stared at the illustration of the lush green Lake District hillside and had the oddest feeling that he was there, floating downstream toward Windermere.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tom was in the car coming back from taking the twins to preschool when his phone chimed, heralding a text.

  Client cancelled, gone into labour!!!—fancy coffee? Sx

  Tom looked up from his phone. Should he? There were muddy clothes to wash from the twins’ weekend away, but he couldn’t turn Stuart down. Old soldiers and all that.

  Yeah ok—you choose? Tom

  In fact, a coffee would be perfect. Tom had woken up in the early hours on the floor of the twins’ bedroom. He’d realized he must’ve fallen asleep on the chair and slipped off it. Alex, meanwhile, had been fast asleep on the beanbag—and Tom hadn’t wanted to wake him, so he’d dug out a spare duvet and tucked him in. He’d looked rather comfortable in his nest, and Tom, on stiff limbs, had kissed his cheek before creaking back to his own room.

  Make it oscars since we both know it and smoothies are the dogs ,,, i wont order without u x second date in as many days u must be sweet on me xxx

  Tom felt a jab of guilt. Why hadn’t he waited for Stuart the other day? And what the heck was he going to do if Stuart thought this was a date? No, he couldn’t say anything by text—he’d have to tell him face to face. He’d met someone else.

  OK Oscars it is! Ten minutes? Tom

  Then he signaled to the CPO and the car pulled up, nearly at Whitehall. Tom climbed out of the car and turned up his collar. He was just another man on the street. Almost.

  Tom had just reached Oscar’s when he heard his name from along the road and there, jogging toward him, was Stuart. He was underdressed even for spring in Lycra jogging leggings and a vest that left little to the imagination. Quite the Muscle Mary these days.

  And people had noticed, one or two passersby throwing him an admiring double take as he put his arm around Tom and said, “Hey, T-bone.”

  They went in and found a table. Tom ordered his coffee and Stuart looked excited by his smoothie as Tom felt his gaze pulled in the direction of the cakes. He tried to focus on what Stuart was saying, but the endless parade of anonymous celebrities who Stuart was bending into eye-watering positions was hard to follow and difficult to get too thrilled about.

  “I know you want to ask the names.” Stuart laughed as he came to the end of another anecdote. “But you can’t twist my arm, so don’t try.”

  “I probably won’t know who they are,” Tom replied. “Anything on the telly called Celebrity This or Celebrity That is full of people I don’t recognize. Unless it’s Mr. Tumble or Peppa Pig, I don’t have a clue!”

  “You know, if I wasn’t a man of honor,” he said in a low voice, “I could have a different dick every night. But I’m about the art of yoga now, I’m done with all that.”

  Tom raised an eyebrow, pantomiming a scandalized maiden aunt. “Sounds like Barcelona was fun, then.”

  Stuart shrugged. “More fun than breastfeeding the prime minister’s kids, mate.”

  Tom paused, his mug halfway to his mouth. An image came to him of one of the infant twins lying in the crook of Tom’s arm, gazing up at him as they suckled on a bottle because their mother was too ill to breastfeed.

  “Oh, mate.” Tom put down his cup. “At least I don’t have to wear Lycra.”

  “Who’d believe you and me were ever soldiers, eh? Just look at us now!” He took a long suck at the straw, propelling the pond-like smoothie toward his lips. “But at least I kept up the training.”

  “You’re very…ripped.” It wasn’t as if Tom could miss it. “But I love being a nanny. You’d be surprised how much of our training comes in handy! Heavy-lifting, strategy, cleaning up other people’s mess…”

  “But if your boss gets another bird, what then? Me, I’m building an empire. Here.” From somewhere in those leggings— Tom didn’t want to imagine where— Stuart produced a business card. It showed him in a pair of tight, fitted shorts and nothing else, his muscular body bent like a contortionist and in a too-cool-to-true font, the title, StuDo Notting Hill. “And it’s working. I’ve already had had approaches from TV, one or two of the bigger reality shows, and I’m talking big-name clients. This body isn’t just getting me laid, it’s gonna make me famous. I worry about you, man, holding the baby and hoping your boss doesn’t hook up and kick you out.”

  “My job’s safe, no worries there!” A tingle of pleasure ran through Tom at the memory of his shower with Alex. I’d say I get on pretty well with my boss. “I’m part of the family. I mean…good luck with the yoga stuff, but I’m happy being a nanny.”

  Stuart shrugged and at the counter, Tom watched a woman tapping her chin as she considered the pastries on offer.

  They do look good.

  “So, what about the dating side? You seeing anyone just now?” Stuart stirred the straw.

  “Yeah… About that.” Here is the moment. Even though Tom couldn’t say who his new man was, he could be proud of him anyway. “Yeah, I am actually. He’s great. Really lovely guy.”

  Stuart nodded and lowered his voice. “One of the boys? Ex-army?”

  “No, he’s…a senior manager.” Tom grinned. Very senior. “It’s early days but…” I’ve known him a while. “It’s good. I haven’t dated anyone for ages, to be honest!”

  “How’s the body? Take the card— desk jockey might need it!”

 
; Tom took the card. What supportive friend wouldn’t? But he wasn’t sure he could see Alex trying to bend backward.

  “He’s got a great bod… Not bendy, just…y’know, masculine. Broad.”

  “Fat?” Stuart screwed up his face. “You chasing chubs now? Dude, I’ll give him a free training session—for old times’ sake.”

  Are they the choices then, fat or ripped? And is that so important to Stuart?

  Sadly, Tom suspected that it was. Personality could take a running jump so long as he were chiseled to high heaven.

  Tom shook his head. “He’s kind, caring. Okay, so he’s handsome too, but I don’t think yoga’s his thing, really.”

  “Look at this place, though. They provide fuel if you know where to look.” He gestured to the smoothie. “But everyone sits around stuffing sugar and fat into their faces like the world’s ending. Not like you and me, we look after our temples, yeah?”

  “Bet you have a sneaky cake every now and then, though?” Tom nodded toward the cabinet. It was more and more alluring by the moment, and—are those lemon meringue tarts? “The twins love those! Hang on, I’m going to grab some. I’ll be back in a tick!”

  Tom was out of his seat and in the queue in seconds. He hopped from foot to foot, hoping they wouldn’t sell out of them, but it appeared to be the time of day when Oscar’s was filled with people in Lycra drinking smoothies as equally unappealing as the one Stuart lauded, so by the time Tom reached the front of the queue, there were more than enough to spare. The server put them in a box for him, and he chose a caramel square for himself to eat there and then.

  Tom sat the striped box on their table and tapped the lid. “Sorry, mate, but these are much better than a smoothie!”

  Stuart laughed and shook his head. “Maybe you’ll be needing that card, never mind your broad man! Your phone’s been buzzing, mate. Someone’s after your attention.”

  “Really?” Tom’s first thought was of the twins, but then he dared to hope—had Alex been in touch? He picked up his phone and swiped to his messages.

  There were two, both from Alex. The first was innocent enough and said simply, I’ll be home for supper tonight - lunch meeting with Mandy at HoC, Greg at 4 but will definitely be there. Sorry for falling asleep on you.

  It was friendly but not exactly affectionate. Were they flatmates again? Was he just going to pretend—

  No. Not if the second message was anything to go by.

  It’s a week of meetings. All I can think of is how much I want to cuddle up with you again - in the shower and out of it xxx

  Tom slipped his phone into his jacket’s inside pocket. At that moment, it was all he could do to stop himself from running out of the door and back to Downing Street. Surprise him at his desk and—bring down the government. Yes, that would be clever, Tom, well done.

  “Messages from my lovely man.” Tom bit into his cake. The decadence of the thick caramel and dark chocolate suited his mood exactly.

  “That’s the sort of bloke you want.” Stuart took another sip through his straw. “So, look, you’ve got your broad manager, but…you and me, we had a good thing, didn’t we? Things you can do in the sack still keep me up nights and you know what I’m offering, ‘cept now I’m the enhanced package, you get me? I’m not looking for love and dinners out, I can get that from a hundred people. I guess what I’m asking is… You can’t be with the manager all the time, I can’t be servicing my yoga peeps twenty-four-seven. What say you and me have a hook-up now and then, like the old days?”

  Tom spluttered on his caramel square. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stared at Stuart. “Sorry—I am hearing you right, aren’t I? You’ve just offered me—no-strings sex?”

  “With this body,” Stuart added. “No-strings, good times, hard-riding. You know I was brilliant, you haven’t seen nothing until you see what I can do now. Half a million thirsty Insta followers don’t lie, and I’m offering you a suck on this smoothie.”

  “Come on, I’ve got this new guy, he’s wonderful—I’m sorry, Stuart, but I’m not looking for no-strings sex. Not with anyone.” Tom was aware of ears at nearby tables waggling with interest at all this talk of sex, but he wasn’t going to mince his words. And this was, after all, the man who had dumped him by text at the airport. “You’re an attractive bloke, I’m sure there’s loads of people who’d happily get bendy on a yoga mat with you, but no, thanks. I’m happy with the best guy for me.”

  Stuart shook his head and preened his waxed hair. “Mate, it’s a hook-up, everyone’s doing it. Don’t tell me you’re not looking at the fat controller and wishing he had a body like this!”

  I’m bloody glad he doesn’t.

  Tom shook his head. “His body does things to me. When he holds me, his arms, oh, Stu, his arms… I could be happy for the rest of my life just kissing them. They’re perfect!”

  Tom looked down at the surface of his coffee, embarrassed by such an outburst in front of an ex. But every word was true.

  He saw Stuart’s head nodding as though in agreement, but when he spoke again, his voice had a sliver of ice running through it. “I can’t figure you out, you know? Can’t work out what you want. Back in the day you spent more time with your boss and his wife than your boyfriend, but I said, whatever, she’s sick, he’s getting paid. Then she dies and then I never saw you—like you loved them kids way more than you did me. You know you drove me away, and now you’re turning me down?”

  “They were babies, Stuart! Two small demanding babies—did you expect them to look after themselves? There was no one else to care for them—their grandparents couldn’t be there all the time. And yes, it’s my job, I get paid, but I love those kids as if they were my own. There. That’s the truth.” Tom’s coffee had gone cold and his caramel square was a broken mess of crumbs. “Yes, I am turning you down, and I’m kind of shocked, really, that you even offered. I mean—we agreed to be mates, right? Not…not fuck buddies.”

  “A nanny? You were a soldier, mate, soldiers don’t nanny!” Stuart looked incredulous, as though the very thought of it was absurd. “It’s because of you that I got into hook-ups in the first place, if you want to know. Always on my own while you were running around after Mr. Big-Man-Prime-Minister, what else was I supposed to do? Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

  “You…” Tom ran Stuart’s words through his head. And ran them through again. “Did you— What the—? You were shagging about behind my back?” Tom heard anger and hurt in his voice. But he didn’t seem to feel it, as if he was already sheltering behind a blast-proof shield.

  And Stuart shrugged. He actually shrugged.

  “Had to get it somewhere.”

  “How…how many were there?” Tom was amazed at how blithely conversational he sounded, as if he was asking Stuart how many reps he’d managed at the gym.

  “That’s so you, Tom, keeping count. It was three years back, don’t sweat it.” He grinned, showing those porcelain-white veneers. “And before you ask, I’m clean.”

  “Gave yourself a good scrub, did you?” Tom only then realized that he had wound a paper napkin around his finger and was tearing bits off. “Bloody hell. Am I supposed to say thanks or something? Glad you didn’t give me gonorrhea, Stu! Ta!”

  “Jesus, you seriously need to lighten up. Everybody does it, Mary Poppins!”

  “I’ve got responsibilities—two kids who lost their mum, and you could’ve… I can’t even get my head round it. Bloody hell, Stu.” Tom unwound the napkin and it sat on the table in front of him, a curved paper hull. “As it happens, I got tested after I broke up with the last guy I dated, but…but you know what, no, not everybody does it. Some people like the idea of cuddling up with just one person. One special person. And I’m sorry that wasn’t you, Stu, because there was a time when I thought maybe you were.”

  “Then you should’ve put me first, not someone else’s kids. End of.”

  “D’you know what? It would’ve been far healthier if we’d had this discussion
when you decided to bugger off to Barcelona. If you’d just bloody well said all this to my face.” Tom buttoned up his jacket, even though it was a warm day. “How dare you try to take the moral high ground—what there is of it—when you dumped me by text at the airport!”

  So much for Zen.

  And Stuart just didn’t care. Tom could see it by the look on his face, that he had somehow convinced himself that he was the wronged party. Then he picked up his smoothie and sucked on the straw again, as insolent as a teenager in front of a disapproving parent.

  “You know,” Tom said, “when you got back in touch, I thought, maybe I shouldn’t see Stuart, seeing as you hurt me. I still remember you getting shitty with me when I cancelled that date with you the day after Gill’s funeral. Alex was in pieces, I couldn’t leave him, and if you’d cared about me you would’ve known how impossible it was for me to go.” Tom pushed back his chair. “But for all the times we ended up in a ditch on training, for all the times we wound each other up and said there were camel spiders in our boots—that’s why I thought, you know what, I owe it to Stu to meet up. Old soldiers, old friends. Comrades. I wish you well, Stu. Hope the yoga stuff is a success. But you know it’s probably best if we…if we leave things as they were.”

  Tom held out his hand across the table.

  And Stu put another business card into it.

  “Give it to your boss,” he told Tom coldly. “I reckon he might enjoy it.”

  Tom gritted his teeth. He would’ve torn the card in half under Stuart’s nose, but he wasn’t that mean. Instead, he put it in his pocket.

  “I’ll pass it on, but don’t bank on him booking a session.”

  “He gets a freebie.” Stuart winked and grinned. “But don’t tell everyone, Mary Poppins.”

  Tom sighed. He didn’t say goodbye, but instead dropped some coins into the tip jar on the way out of Oscar’s, waving at the server as he left with the twins’ cakes under his arm.