The Captain and the Prime Minister

by Catherine Curzon

  “It’s nine o’clock on Friday night, who’s still here?” Alex stood too, instinctively protective. “It’s not Greg, he headed up to his constituency after lunch. You wait here, darling. I’ll see who it is.”

  Tom didn’t sit down again. He picked up his glass, clutching it, wondering what was happening. Please, not a disaster—not because it would take Alex away from him, although it would for a few hours, but because Tom couldn’t bear the thought of heartbreak and tragedy existing in a world where he and Alex could be so happy.

  “I’ve been phoning you,” he heard Mandy say, as though she were accusing Alex of something. “Can I come in?”

  And moments later, she was there in the living room with Alex at her elbow.

  “It’s Friday night,” he warned. “And the kids are asleep, so keep your voice down.”

  “Tom.” Mandy nodded a greeting. “I need to talk to you both. It can’t wait.”

  “Both?” Why? Tom sipped his wine then put the glass down on the table. He folded his arms then remembered something about hostile body language, so he sank his hands into his pockets. “We’re not back to the nipple tassels again, are we?”

  She settled onto an armchair and took out her phone, glancing down at the screen for a few seconds. “I’ve had Doug from the Mail onto me tonight. He says they’ve got something on you. On the two of you.”

  “Something?” Alex’s tone was guarded and he stood a little closer to Tom, as though he could shield him.

  “He’s got an exclusive from someone who says he’s got photos of a sexually explicit message from the prime minister to his nanny.” She looked from one man to the other. “And his source’s claiming it’s an affair that’s been going on for years. He’s not saying for sure that it was happening before Gill’s death, but he’s not saying it wasn’t. It runs tomorrow and I want to know how far up Doug’s arse I’m going to ram this phone when I tell him he’s been sold a bag full of horseshit.”

  “Sexually explicit?” Alex asked, disbelieving.

  She looked at the phone again, then held it up. There was a photograph of Tom’s phone, showing the messages from Alex.

  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’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

  A photograph taken in Oscar’s.

  Years ago, Tom had been given training in how to survive interrogation without giving anything away. Mandy may not have tied him to a chair, and she wasn’t literally punching him, but Tom still smarted.

  Fuck you, Stuart, you bendy fucking bastard.

  Showing as little emotion as he could, Tom replied, “Yeah, looks like horseshit to me. It’s just some messages on someone’s phone.”

  “That’s what I said, but then I checked my diary and I did have a meeting with Alex for lunch. We arranged it on the hop.” She slid her phone back into her jacket. “So if that message’s for real, how do I tell them that the other is bollocks?”

  Tom forced himself not to look at Alex. He needed to hold his hand, but it would only prove that the text was right. “It’s a text. Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

  “Oh, well, I don’t know why I was worrying then! Why’ve I come up here rather than going home with a box of wine and a bag of crisps?” She shrugged, as though all her cares had deserted her. “I’ll just tell Doug it’s an invasion of privacy and he’ll pull the story. He’ll probably even send over a bunch of daffs to say sorry. Bloody hell, Tom, thank God you’re here!”

  “Just a minute—” Alex warned, but the director of communications was in full flight.

  “If this is real I need to know. Because we can put a lid on it here and now. We hit the Mirror hard with a rebuttal—they love going up against the Mail.” She jabbed a finger toward Tom. “We’ll get their photographer up here tonight, get the kids out of bed, grab some photos of the four of you. We’ll tell them it’s nothing sordid, nothing seedy, just two blokes playing happy families. Glad to be gay, all that. All they’ve got is a mucky text, so we take your I have two daddies spiel and we slam it up their arses with both hands. What do you say, Tom? Fancy being the wronged mate who carries a torch for the boss?”

  “What—? This is horrible.” Tom shook his head. “We’re not getting the kids up. We’re not—all right, I’m not pandering to the media. It’s not mucky, it’s a text, and it’s private. It’s got sod all to do with anyone else.”

  Mandy drew back her nude-painted lips, revealing caffeine-stained teeth. “I think you’ll find it’s got a great sodding lot to do with a bloody huge number of people, Tom!”

  Alex crossed to the door and closed it, then returned to Tom. “You’ve stepped out of line, Mandy. First, you don’t come up here trying to sniff out scandal from Tom when you know I’m not around. This is home. Home’s off limits.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he was in the sort of form he usually reserved for ranting at Newsnight. “The text’s real. Tom and I are a couple and nobody’s coming up here to take photos of my family tonight or any other night. Tell the Mail to print their exclusive. I don’t think most people get too het up about a couple of single blokes falling in love these days. You can also let them know that if they make even the slightest suggestion that I was unfaithful to Gill, I’ll sue. They won’t care, but at least they’ll know what’s coming.”

  “Of course they won’t care,” Mandy replied, tapping her foot. “This is gold for them, you realize that? Your nice, cozy tragic dad act has rather fallen apart, hasn’t it?”

  “I think you might be losing your touch, Mandy.” Alex sounded too calm, always a sign that he was furious. “The Mandy I used to know wouldn’t have let the Mail walk over her. Here’s your rebuttal—Downing Street has no comment, but if they need an anonymous source to say something, he says that same-sex relationships haven’t been shocking for decades. Even the Mail knows that.”

  With effort, a deflated Mandy tried to draw herself up to her full high-heel-augmented height. “Right. Well. I shall pass that onto them. I just hope you survive this, that’s all. Both of you. And your relationship, too.”

  “Look, Mandy, we’ve always worked well together, but I’ve got this little family and I’m spending more and more time away from them.” The warning note had gone from Alex’s voice, Tom realized. “I’m thinking about my future a lot, I have been for months. After the vote, I’ll have made a decision. Let them run their story, but let’s not dignify it by pretending there’s anything dirty or sordid in it, okay? That’s what a rebuttal would do, just fan the flames.”

  Mandy nodded. “You’ve been a good man to work for, Alex. I’ll do as you wish. But I’d move to Churchill’s bunker for the next few days, if I were you.”

  “You know the official line.” he smiled. “Unofficially, this is all going to be public knowledge pretty soon anyway, because we don’t plan to hide it. But let’s not announce ourselves with a photo spread in Hello!?”

  “That will come.” Mandy smiled as she pulled out her phone. “Shall I arrange something? They book a few months ahead.”

  “Let’s play it by ear.” Alex held out his hand to Tom. “I think we’re probably a bit too dull for them!”

  Tom took Alex’s hand and rested his head on Alex’s arm. The first person to see them together and it was Mandy, of all people.

  “I don’t know,” Mandy said. “You do make a gorgeous couple!”

  Alex gave a bashful laugh and said, “That’s Tom’s doing, I just bask in his good looks.”

  “Nonsense!” Mandy wagged her finger at him, but this time it wasn’t admonishing. “It’s all right. I’ll see myself out. Out! Don’t worry, I’ll keep quiet.”

  “Night, Mandy. I wouldn’t want anyone else dealing with this but you.”

  Mandy shone them a smile, then the door closed softly behind her. Tom still leaned his he
ad against Alex, and only now that Mandy had gone did he say it, his voice small. He wanted nothing more than to curl up and hide himself in a corner.

  “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. The last thing you need is a scandal—right before the bill. You warned me and I thought, old soldiers won’t let each other down. I was so wrong. So fucking wrong.”

  Alex wrapped his arm around Tom’s shoulders and together they sank down onto the sofa. His silence was worse than any angry outburst could be and for a few seconds he said nothing. Then he sighed and admitted, “This isn’t how I wanted people to find out. But we’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Yet could it really be worse than this? The prime minister outed over a cheeky text message just days before the vote on a bill he’d put his heart and soul into? And he’d barely found the courage to admit his feelings to himself, let alone a public that they both knew could be vicious if the mood took them.

  How will we survive this?

  “I should never have trusted Stuart. Even after I’d said I was dating, he—” Tom paused, deciding on a polite way of putting it, “—propositioned me. And I turned him down. I bet this is why he’s done it. He doesn’t need the money, it’s just spite and hurt pride.”

  “How did he get the photo?” It could have been an accusation, but it didn’t sound like one. “I’m guessing you left your phone on the table and nipped to the loo or something like that?”

  “I bought cake. That was all I did.” Bloody Stuart. “I left my phone for a second because they had lemon meringue tarts and the twins like them.”

  Alex gave a slow nod. Was he thinking of tomorrow morning, trailing round the streets of his East London constituency with the press pack baying at his heels? It would be a nightmare. “It’s going to be all right. I’ll give Jenny and Malcolm a call first thing, though. They need to be prepared.”

  “It shouldn’t have been like this. Why didn’t I think? After working for you all this time—why didn’t I think?”

  “Because you spend your days with two children, not with the conniving, backbiting, ruthless lot that work down the road.” He kissed Tom’s hair. “We’ll weather this, Tom, I promise. I’m not ashamed of you and me, but I won’t have them even suggest that we cheated on Gill. If I have to give a statement… We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

  Tom had seen enough of those statements to know how they went. An embattled politician, his family around him, standing at the gate of his beautiful home. A prepared speech, one that nobody believed, and then what? Sometimes, for the lucky ones, a quick slide into obscurity. For others it was infamy, years of mockery and ridicule.

  But Alex had done nothing wrong.

  “Should I speak to Stuart? See if he’ll back down?” Tom was clutching at straws now. Even if Stuart did retract his story, wouldn’t the newspapers be curious now and on the lookout for anything juicy about Alex’s private life? And he didn’t want to talk to Stuart anyway, because he couldn’t trust himself not to fly into a rage and make the situation even worse.

  “No, definitely not that. You’re going to have friends getting in touch to be nice and to be nosey and— I know you’re going to want to talk to your mates and get some perspective, but please, darling, just be careful who you trust? It’s not for long, just until we see how this is playing out. Is that okay?”

  Tom nodded. “I’m so sorry. He—he’s such a git. He even told me that he went behind my back with other men while we were dating. And he didn’t seem to care. Couldn’t even remember how many. He’s callous. So much for old soldiers.”

  “I’m sorry he did that,” Alex whispered. “If it’s any consolation, he’s lost the best man he could ever have.”

  “He was jealous that I spent time with you and not him.” Tom stroked Alex’s jaw and added, “If he hadn’t seen that text, I think he would’ve guessed in the end who my handsome new man was.”

  “In the history of scandalous texts, it’s a pretty weak effort.” Alex managed a smile. “Only my sex scandal could involve cuddling. It’s not quite whips and chains, is it?”

  “There might have been stripping in Soho, though!” Tom was halfway through laughing when he realized that was the last thing he should have reminded Alex about. “Ahh…oh, dear.”

  He felt Alex draw in a deep breath before he heard him sigh it out again. “Collette’s, though? That’s like accusing Harvey Nichols of being a sex shop for selling underwear.”

  Tom chuckled. “That’s true. And Stuart was there too, for heaven’s sake. He’s such a hypocritical shit—goes with countless men behind my back, then tells the paper you had an affair while Gill was still with us.” Tom bit his lip then added, “But don’t worry, I’ve been tested and all that.”

  “Honestly, that thought never even crossed my mind.” Alex picked up his glass of wine and took a long drink. “Don’t take this the wrong way darling, but… What the hell did you see in him in the first place?”

  “We were similar. I know that sounds silly, but we’d been through some tough times together when we were serving, and he was a laugh, good company, and when Stuart told me he was gay, we dated. If I’d known he was shagging around behind my back—” Tom shrugged. “I should never have met up with him again. I know that now.”

  “I just… I hope he’s thought this through. There’s always a backlash.” Alex shook his head. “Still, he’ll probably get a reality TV career out of it if he wants one, but I don’t think I’d sell my soul to the papers for that.”

  “I doubt he has. It’s revenge, pure and simple. Thing is, I worry about the twins, but out of everyone, they’re the people who will mind the least. There’s kids in their class who have two dads and others who have two mums—it’s not a weird concept to them.” Tom squeezed his arm around Alex. “And in a way, they’ve always had two dads, haven’t they?”

  “They have,” Alex agreed and kissed his hair. “It’s going to be all right, darling. I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tom sat at the kitchen table, hearing only one side of Alex’s conversation with Jenny. Alex’s laptop was open, showing the story in the Mail. They’d raided their archive and even the dreaded £100 trainers had made a reappearance, along with photos of Gill and Alex together when he had first been out on the campaign trail. The tone was barely factual, gasping at scandal everywhere. They even managed to make it sound as if a nanny living in with the family they cared for was strange and obviously a ruse for Alex and Tom to carry out their gay affair.

  Tom no longer felt nauseous—he’d seen the story now and it was the worst thing that could have happened. His phone kept pinging with messages but Stuart was suspiciously silent. At least his friends cared—even some casual exes he’d known got in touch.

  I’m jealous of both of you—what a lovely couple. Nice trainers too! <3

  He tried to fix his thoughts on his friends and their well-meaning messages, and not the sense of dread in the pit of his stomach or the nagging voice in his head.

  Just like a Southwell to mess everything up.

  And Stuart’s face, flat and straight at the top of the story as he told of the moment that, PM sexted MY date—how can I compete with the blue-eyed boy who runs the country?

  It didn’t sound as though Jenny was convinced. Alex was calm but there was an edge to his voice, an exasperation as he went through the facts again and again, as though being interrogated. Did she think the story might change? That he might forget his cover?

  It’s the truth.

  Eventually Alex said, “Well, I appreciate it, Jenny, thank you. No, no, they’re fine. I do understand but they’re better here with us.”

  Tom gaped at him in open-mouthed alarm. So Jenny wanted to take the twins? Bloody Stuart. At that moment, Tom could’ve tied his bendy limbs together in a bow like the ribbon on a birthday present.

  “No,” he said in reply to whatever the question was. “They’re on holiday until later this week but I’ve left a message. Bit hard
to get hold— Exactly, that’s right. Better to hear it from me, that’s precisely why— Jenny, please.”

  Alex looked at Tom and rolled his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was rather more decisive than it had been. “Stop it. You know all there is to know. Tom and I are together now, since last week. There’s been nothing going on. Do you really think we could’ve kept a secret like that for four bloody ye— I’m not swearing at you, I’m frustrat— Well, I need to go as well, so perhaps we can talk later when it’s a bit calmer? All right, bye.”

  Tom hopped up from his seat and put his arms around Alex. He held him tight.

  “I love you,” Tom whispered. “This is such a bloody mess.”

  Alex threw his phone down with a clatter. He closed his eyes and sank into Tom’s embrace with a murmur of, “I love you.”

  “Did she really believe that crap—that we went behind Gill’s back? And was she really going to take the twins?”

  “She’s upset, that’s all.” He gave a long sigh. “She doesn’t want to take them away from us, she just wants them to be where the media isn’t, and to her, that’s the farm. It’s a lot for Jen and Malcolm to deal with, don’t think badly of them.”

  “I’m being protective of you, that’s all. And the twins.” Tom kissed Alex’s cheek. “This is such a horrible way for you to come out—we just have to weather it, don’t we? And do we dare even look to see if any other papers have picked it up?”

  “It’s too early. They’ll all have their own angle on it soon, I’m sure.” Alex shook his head. “Meanwhile, I have a constituency to look after. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen, Tom, it’s what I was frightened of.”

  “They think you’re ace, though—they wouldn’t have voted for you otherwise.” At least, so Tom hoped. What if Alex’s visit today was nothing but intrusive questions about his private life? “I was going to take the twins to the park but… I can’t, can I? It’s a shame to be indoors in weather like this.”

  “Would you mind, just for today, taking them into the garden? I don’t want them upset.” He kissed Tom’s cheek. “I just don’t want them to notice anything off.”