The Captain and the Prime Minister

by Catherine Curzon

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tom did his best to be chipper when he collected the children from preschool, and he was fairly sure they didn’t notice how shaken he felt. He had to be happy for them. But memories from his time with Stuart were hovering at the corners of his mind.

  How many?

  And Stuart hadn’t been able to answer. Could he even remember? Had he even kept count?

  I’ve let him hurt me all over again. Idiot.

  Alex was right to have been concerned about him getting in touch with Stuart again, but Tom felt like such an idiot that he couldn’t bear to tell Alex what had happened.

  Ready for a cuddle when you come home. Also—I have lemon meringue tart! T xxxx

  The chance of Alex being able to read and reply to the text quickly was limited in the extreme, he knew, but it was enough to know it was there waiting for him. In a week or so Alex’s child poverty bill would be voted on in the House of Commons, the culmination of his time in office, the policy he had held dear to him for all this time, from his days in the charity sector before he even had the letters MP after his name. It had won the hearts of the public even as it had raised the hackles of his opponents for its reforming zeal. The welfare system was tottering, they seemed to agree, but better to shore it up than to try to renew its foundations. Yet Tom knew that it was his lover’s passion. The father whose children had everything couldn’t rest until the Child Poverty Action Bill had been voted into law, and by midnight next Tuesday, he’d know if he’d succeeded.

  He should, of course, but Alex had always been too popular for his own good. With a general election looming, if there was an opportunity to cut him down to size and suggest to the public that his words couldn’t be translated into action, then Tom knew that Alex’s opponents in Parliament would seize it. Regardless of the fallout for the youngsters it meant to help, ambition and personal animosity could see it go up in smoke.

  And it means everything to him.

  The twins were happily engaged in some story writing when Tom’s phone buzzed with Alex’s reply.

  I’m going to need tarts, cuddles and family, what a day! Xxx

  Tom dropped into the armchair and replied. You’re a hero. T xxx

  This time, the reply was almost immediate.

  I leave that to you. Lunch with Mandy now, see you tonight darling xxx

  Tom quietly turned in the armchair and snapped a silent photo of the twins, writing at the kitchen table. Then he sent it to Alex.

  All quiet at #11! See you later. T xxx

  This was all he needed. Not the knowledge of Stuart’s countless betrayals, of his selfish ego. This family and Alex’s embraces. This mattered.

  The twins were halfway through their tea when Tom heard the familiar sound of the key in the front door.

  Both children looked up and bounded from their chairs, Tom in their wake as they hurtled toward the hallway in a chorus of “Daddy!”

  “I’m so sorry I’m late!” Alex called as he swept the twins into his embrace. “Billy came to find me next door. You should’ve heard the ticking off she gave me. She chased me all the way home.”

  And there behind him was the cat, strolling into the flat as though she owned it.

  Madeleine grabbed Alex’s nose and tweaked it. “Daddy, Tom got cake!”

  “Tom spoils us.” Alex met Tom’s gaze and smiled. “Finish your supper and maaaaaybe I won’t eat your cake. Maybe.”

  “Please don’t eat my cake, Daddy,” Madeleine said. “I’ve been good all day long.”

  His arms laden with children, Alex nudged Tom with his elbow. “What do you say, Tom? Have they been good enough for pudding?”

  “They have. They’ve been very, very good.” Tom patted Alastair’s arm. “Haven’t you, Al?”

  The little boy nodded and said, “Yep!”

  “Finish supper first,” Alex reminded them. “Then it’s cake time, okay? And me and Tom need to eat too, unless you have already, Tom?”

  “No, I haven’t yet,” Tom replied. “I’m all ready to go with a stir-fry when you are. Sounds good?”

  “Perfect.” He smiled. “Ready pretty much whenever you are. Should I supervise the mini-Harts?”

  Tom heard in that question a sentiment. I want to supervise the twins.

  Tom nodded. “They’re all yours.”

  They went back into the kitchen and as Alex settled the children down to what was left of their tea, Tom busied himself with the stir-fry. He loved to see Alex with the twins, leaving behind the cares of his day, and in a funny sort of way it helped Tom too, because it reminded him that there was far more to life than the likes of Stuart.

  “How was your day?” Alex asked once Alastair and Madeleine were eating again. “Anything exciting?”

  “Had a coffee with an old—a former friend,” Tom admitted. He wasn’t sure how much he would tell Alex. It didn’t seem fair to burden him, especially when he’d cautioned him about seeing Stuart again. “The best bit about that was bringing home awesome cake.”

  “A former friend?” Alex sounded thoughtful. Perhaps he’d already worked it out. “I’ve been ready for home since I left this morning.”

  “I bet you have. I hope lunch with Mandy wasn’t too bad?”

  He smiled and said, “She was fine. Wanted to know if we’d had a nice time on Friday night. Nothing gets past Mandy, does it? I told her we’d had a great night and recommended she get herself a table for the show.”

  “She’d love it!” Tom went on peeling a stick of ginger as he said, “So you didn’t get a ticking-off for a night on the tiles with your manny?”

  “Oh, you know…” The very casual way in which Alex ruffled his hair suggested that she might have been a little difficult, but that was Mandy. Tough, uncompromising, the scourge of the press everywhere. She was paid a fortune not only to know everything that was going on, but to make sure that the papers didn’t hear the half of it. “Good ginger-peeling skills.”

  Alex drifted from his seat and pottered across the kitchen. Clearly well aware now of just how much Tom would enjoy it, he began the familiar routine of unknotting and abandoning his tie, his fingers nimbly unfastening the usual three buttons. Then came the cufflinks and finally, as he leaned back against the worktop where Tom was working, he rolled his sleeves to the elbow.

  “You’re looking relaxed,” Tom said, trying to hide the husky timbre that had crept into his voice. Alex met his gaze and raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s being at home that does it. Can I help?”

  “No, no, it’s fine. Everything’s under control.” And it had to be, because Tom’s gaze was wandering from Alex’s arms to that flash of bare chest where he’d opened his shirt.

  “You know you only need ask if that changes.” Alex smiled. “Consider me all yours.”

  Tom took a courgette from the fridge and held it at waist height at an unmistakably phallic angle. He raised an eyebrow. “All mine?”

  “Cucumber!” Alastair announced, as though there was a prize on offer.

  Alex stifled a laugh and corrected, “Courgette,” then he offered Tom a smile. “All yours, Captain.”

  “Every inch of you, I hope.” Tom laid the courgette on the side and, ensuring the twins wouldn’t be able to see him, stroked his fingertip down the vegetable’s length. He heard Alex’s breath hitch as he watched, a thrill running through him as a faint flush of desire colored the prime minister’s throat.

  “All of me,” he whispered.

  All of him.

  “Finished!” Madeleine called from the kitchen table.

  And just like that, in a wonderful whirlwind of childish enthusiasm, the stolen moment was over. Not that it mattered, because all of this was part and parcel of the family that had welcomed Tom with open arms. As the children ate their desserts, Tom and Alex dined on stir-fry, as normal as any other family. As normal as Tom’s childhood had never been.

  Bedtime followed bathtime as it always did, and Tom and Alex were left in
the quiet flat.

  “Drink?” Tom asked.

  “Go and relax, let me?” Alex touched his hand. “You’re allowed to sit down once in a while.”

  “If you insist.” Tom wandered over to the sofa and flopped against the cushions. “I like being looked after.”

  “I’ve probably not done enough of it in the last three years, it’s been… There’s been a lot to process, as they say.” Alex leaned over the back of the sofa and passed Tom a glass of white wine. “And I need to make a decision soon about another term.”

  “I’m here to look after you, though—don’t feel bad.” Tom took a sip of the cool wine. “Yeah—Jenny was inquiring about that when they collected the twins. Have you decided? But I don’t expect you to tell me yet!”

  Alex settled on the sofa beside him. “You’ll be one of the first to know, but right now I’m still turning it all over. I want to do the right thing for the family but I don’t want the public to say, is that it? But at the same time, I don’t want to end up five years from now with people saying, he should’ve gone years ago. In some ways, I wish I’d never got the bloody job in the first place. I didn’t count on Gill’s cancer coming back or losing her so quickly… And I worry about the press picking your life apart if—when —we become public knowledge.”

  If.

  “Better to leave on a high, I reckon,” Tom said. “You don’t want to get forced out by your own party, surely? And as far as I’m concerned, honestly, the press don’t bother me. What do I have to hide? Captain Southwell, remember—I’ve got medals.” Surely that would make up for Tom’s less-than-illustrious start in life.

  “It’s easy to say that if they’re not pointing a telephoto lens at you when you’re standing at your wife’s graveside with two babies.” Alex took his hand. But Tom had been there with him. He’d lived through it and together they’d prevailed. “They’ll take your life apart piece by piece looking for something to splash across the front pages, and I’m terrified that you’ll end up blaming me. And resenting me.”

  “Why would I blame you? You’re not a newspaper editor. It’s ridiculous, some of the gossip they think passes for news. We’ve had all that manny nonsense, but that died down once they’d got bored of it.” Tom squeezed Alex’s hand. “I wouldn’t blame you, that’s all.”

  “I know you’ll try not to but…” He put down his glass and took Tom’s face in his hands, studying him. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because…” Tom wanted to say it. I love you. But nothing happened when he tried to speak, until he asked, “What did Jenny say to you?”

  Alex looked away on the pretense of picking up his glass, but it told Tom enough. Whatever she’d said, it’d had an impact. “Just mother-in-law stuff, you know how she is sometimes.”

  “Warning you off me, was she?” Tom couldn’t help the brittleness in his tone.

  “Tom, don’t,” Alex warned. “Please, darling—”

  “Are we a thing, Alex? A couple?”

  Alex gazed at him, saying nothing. After a few seconds he murmured, “I want us to be, I really do.”

  “But let me guess, Nana says no?” Tom was aware that he was starting to sound like a brat, but after that argument with Stuart earlier, it seemed as if what he wanted counted for nothing.

  “Nobody’s said— She’s worried, Tom, that’s all.” Yet, since the children had returned, Alex had barely touched him, sweet text messages or no. “I told you that I might need a bit of time, how has that suddenly become a problem?”

  “I’m trying, all right? But it’s—you’re denying yourself. Don’t you want pleasure?” Tom covered his face with his hands. “You touch me, but you won’t let me touch you. I’m trying to understand, Alex, but…I start to wonder if you really want this. If you want me.”

  “So take all the time you need translates as, as long as that isn’t more than three days?” Alex’s tone was sharp, but he put his hand on Tom’s knee. Of course he did, because he wouldn’t want Tom’s hand on his, would he? What would people say? “I do want this, but— Tom, try to understand?”

  “I’m trying my best, but one minute you’ve got your hand around my cock, the next—” Desolate, Tom stared down at Alex’s hand. “Are you scared, is that it? Being touched by a man? I don’t know—maybe you regret what happened and you don’t know how to say so. And I feel like…like you don’t want me. It’s okay—we can stop. Just…stop.”

  “I’m scared.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to stop, but— I’ve spent years telling myself I’m straight. I’ve never been touched by a man, Tom. I haven’t even kissed a man since uni. So—yes, okay, I’m scared, and I know it’s pathetic.”

  Tom took Alex’s hand. “It’s not pathetic. I just—I don’t want you to torture yourself over it. You’ve got such a beautiful body, and aside from that—you deserve to feel good. Everyone does. I just wish there was something I could do to help you. I don’t want to see you struggle.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Alex stroked his face. “I care about you so much, I— Look, I ought to go and do a bit more in the office. I’ve got the visit up north after Cabinet tomorrow, it’s going to be a long day.”

  Tom gently touched Alex’s hair. “I care about you, too. And I want you to be happy, Alex. Really, I do.”

  “I do care.” He kissed Tom’s hand. “And I promise you that I’ll do better than this. But if you want to give up on me… I’d still think the world of you, but I’d understand.”

  Tom’s hand rushed to his chest. It hurt to think of abandoning Alex. He couldn’t do it. “No—no, I don’t want to give up on you. You’ve got so much on your plate right now—you don’t need this too. Would you like a hug?”

  Alex nodded. “I could do with one.”

  Tom hung his arms around Alex’s neck and rested his head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, the scent of Alex’s cologne comforting and familiar as he hugged him.

  “I’ll do better,” Alex promised again. “Don’t worry.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The twins were slowly waking up as they ate their breakfast. Madeleine was trying to show Alex the plastic figure that had fallen out of the cereal box.

  “Daddy, look—is it a frog? Als says it’s a rabbit.”

  Alex was rifling through the contents of his red box and barely glanced up when he said, “It’s a frog.” Then Tom saw the precise moment when Alex caught himself, the dismay in his eyes at the knowledge that he had dismissed his daughter’s question. He put the papers down and asked, “Show me, Mads? Sorry, darling.”

  She leaned over the table and passed him the cheap little piece of plastic that had so enchanted her and her brother.

  “Daddy?” she asked hopefully.

  “Hmm.” He made a show of considering it, as though it was an exotic new discovery from a strange land. “I think… I’ve heard of it but I’ve never seen it, I don’t know for sure.”

  “What?” Alastair was enthralled, gazing at his father.

  “This,” Alex lowered his voice and leaned forward to impart his secret, “is a Madastair. I thought they only existed in legends, I never thought I’d see one.”

  “Really?” Madeleine said in a hushed whisper. “Where do they live? In cornflakes?”

  “Only in our cornflakes,” he whispered. “Tom introduced me to them, we’re very lucky to see one.”

  “They’re very shy creatures,” Tom added. He crept over to the kitchen table and crouched down. “But very friendly if you’re kind to them.”

  Alastair asked, “Do they just need a bit of time?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Tom told him. He glanced at Alex. “Sometimes not long at all, and sometimes a very long time, but in the end, they’ll be friendly.”

  Alex said nothing. Instead he was gazing at Tom, his eyes filled with undisguised affection. Then he closed the heavy lid of the ministerial box and cleared his throat.

  “Right, monsters, I won’t be back for tea tonight, but ev
en if you don’t see me before you fall asleep, I’ll come in and say night night when I get home.” He kissed first Alastair then Madeleine. “Look after your new Madastair, won’t you? And each other and Tom and Billy, and you can tell me everything I’ve missed at breakfast in the morning. Be very good and remember that I love you stupidly.”

  “Bye-bye, Daddy.” Madeleine waved the Madastair at him. “We’ll look after it! I love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you.” Alastair beamed. “We’ll all look after each other.”

  “That’s the Hart spirit.” He pulled the jacket of his dark blue suit on and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning, Tom?”

  Tom patted his arm. And tried not to think of how he had rhapsodized about Alex’s arms to his ex. “See you tomorrow. Good luck.”

  Alex let his hand linger then hoisted the battered red box from the table and left the kitchen. As he went, Alastair blinked up at Tom and asked, “What’s more fun? Looking after us or being a soldier?”

  “Looking after you.” Tom smiled as he ruffled Alastair’s hair. But how long he would continue to, Tom couldn’t say.

  Had Tom ruined everything last night? But he had had to say something. He didn’t want to lose Alex, but at the same time his no-touching rule wasn’t something Tom could easily understand. Perhaps he’d let Stuart bother him too much and that hurt had spilled over into his conversation with Alex.

  Bloody Stuart.

  And what would Tom do if he lost his job? Maybe there’d be other families willing to take him on as their manny, but would it be the same as it was with the Harts? He wasn’t sure he could bear it. It was bad enough dropping the twins off at school for a few hours, but the thought of never seeing them again felt like a punch in the gut.

  And Gill had handpicked him to care for her family. Before they were even born he’d been at her side, their friendship growing with every passing day. And she had asked him to care for them all when she was gone.