Chapter 17 Devil’s Bargains, Again
Charlie jumped on the packed red omnibus as the doors were closing, almost certain to be late meeting Ned and George at the Lilypond.
As the bus inched through the streets, Charlie stumbled up the stairs to find a seat in the upper level and squeezed between a window and an elderly woman with what looked like a month’s worth of grocery shopping.
Normally, Charlie would be seething in frustration—at his father for dragging his feet closing up, at the customers who couldn’t make up their minds, at the fact that all of London seemed to be determined to take this omnibus.
But he couldn’t muster the energy to displace the warm happiness that filled him.
Not for the first time, Charlie asked himself if he had ever been as content.
The shop was doing well; he had even sold more of his custom hats. Kitty had gotten engaged over Christmas, thank Christ. Then Labour had won the snap election. Sort of, with the support of the Liberals, but Charlie wasn’t going to split hairs.
Most important of all, Charlie had Ned. Magnificent, aristocratic, brilliant, exasperating Ned was in his life and in his bed, making Charlie feel like a god when they fucked, making him laugh when they weren’t, and generally making life more colourful, all because half a year ago, on a perfectly ordinary day, the shop bell on the door rung, and a customer with an unpaid bill strolled up to the counter.
Charlie had thrown away Ned’s card three times before he’d finally sent the note asking for a drink.
The brokenness of the tall man sitting across from him at the pub had spoken to all the pieces of Charlie that were also splintered.
The confident golden boy had been replaced by a man with dark circles under his eyes who spent more time thinking than speaking.
Neither one of them was the man they had been six years ago, and if Charlie didn’t want to be judged by his choices, he could hardly do the same to Ned.
The ease of being with Ned had caught Charlie off guard as well.
Ned already knew all the secrets Charlie worked so hard to keep from everyone else.
About what he had done in the war. About who he liked to fuck.
Their conversation in that pub had been everything that the coming months would turn out to be: terrifying, exhilarating, liberating, and wondrous.
The bright lights of Piccadilly Circus shone through the misty bus windows and brought Charlie back to the present.
He probably looked like a right idiot to the rest of the passengers, grinning to himself.
Or like a man in love. Charlie pulled the bell for the next stop and scrambled down the narrow stairs of the omnibus into the London crowds, the exhaustion of the day replaced with the joy of seeing his Ned.
???
The Lilypond was a haven for the queer men who lived and worked in West London.
Ned had assured Charlie it was as safe as such a place could be, and that nothing about the decor or the behaviour of the patrons revealed that it was welcoming for men with a certain tilt.
Charlie thought that was a bit of a shame, even as he appreciated the safety it brought.
Ned and George were already in deep conversation when Charlie arrived.
The three of them met for drinks fairly regularly since Ned’s birthday.
Charlie liked George a lot more than Ned’s other friends.
He worked for a living, had a decent sense of humour, and agreed with Charlie about football.
Charlie didn’t like the way that George stared at Ned’s arse, but it was really a very impressive arse, and Charlie spent a lot of time staring at it himself, so he couldn’t really criticise.
Fighting his way through the crowd of other patrons, Charlie caught George’s last sentence as he sat down on the bench with Ned. “Consider it, Edmund. They won’t wait long for an answer.”
Charlie squeezed Ned’s thigh under the table, a form of a hello kiss. For reasons that didn’t make any sense to Charlie, Ned looked like a spooked cat. “Sorry for running late, it took forever to close up and the omnibus nearly drove backwards.”
The conversation carried on to the usual updates of their respective Christmases.
It was a good hour before they stepped into the cold and Charlie could properly ask after Ned.
“Are you going to tell me what is bothering you? Or do I need to go get you drunk first? Because it's after Christmas and I don’t have that kind of money, so you might need to wait a few more weeks.”
That at least got a laugh out of Ned and an apologetic smile. “My conversation with George discombobulated me.”
That was posh, even for Ned. “He didn’t declare his undying love for you, did he?”
“You think everyone is in love with me because you are.” Ned paused. “George wanted to warn me that my name is apparently being discussed for a role in the incoming government.”
Charlie had always found Ned’s existence as a man of leisure bizarre, but Charlie spent his days selling hats to old ladies, so he wasn’t going to start throwing stones. “I thought you weren’t interested in slaving away in the ministries?”
“Apparently my recent efforts to help veterans find work made an impression on certain figures. That, and my reputation as a one-time radical. They want to hire men who share their vision for Britain, men who want to challenge the way things have always been done. It would be a very prestigious post, advising the Cabinet. Exactly the type of role that I imagined for myself when I was at Oxford.” There was an almost youthful wistfulness in Ned’s tone.
“So, take the job and fix the country. God knows we could use the help.” A part of Charlie wanted to burst with pride that his lover was being singled out personally by such powerful men.
“It might not be that simple. This government has big dreams, but without a majority in the Commons they will be threading a needle in the dark to get anything done. They need advice about which ambitions might actually be realised, strategies about who needs to be convinced and who needs to be neutralised, and then making sure that the plans actually happen…” The wheels in Ned’s mind were already whirling away, exactly like they used to in the trenches.
Before Charlie could respond, all of Ned’s enthusiasm seemed to deflate like air out of a balloon. “Who's to say that Labour’s aims could even be realised? We’re talking about remaking society, overturning centuries of custom.”
“You are the one who showed me that such change was even possible.” Charlie spoke with a certainty he felt in his bones.
“You showed me that officers could be frustrated with the orders they are given, that men could wear lip tint, that men could fall in love with one another. Showed me that we don’t need to accept the same old art, the same old politics, the same old lies.
I can’t think of anyone better to help his fellow citizens than you, a man who actually believes in a better future. ”
Ned made a choking noise, but said nothing else as they walked down Whitehall to the north bank of the Thames. Gaslights cast long streaks of yellow and white across the inky depths of the river.
Ned looked up at the sky, as if trying to figure out what to say.
“To do this job the way it needs to be done, the way this government expects it to be done, requires upsetting more than a few apple carts. Men in these types of roles need to be beyond reproach, if for no other reason than adversaries, both foreign and domestic, and will be trying to ferret out any advantage. Power attracts attention.”
Understanding hit Charlie like a ten-tonne shell. A committed bachelor could make excuses. A Bright Young Thing, who spent a bit too much time socialising with a working-class chap in notorious clubs? There would be questions.
Ned read Charlie’s face and nodded. “If I didn’t already have a reputation as a bit of a dilettante then maybe we could get away with it. Considering the choices I’ve made, it would be near impossible for us to be discreet enough.”
“Gossip isn’t the same as the police knocking at your door.” Charlie threw Ned’s words of comfort back at him.
Ned thrust his hands in his pockets. “The risks of blackmail, gross indecency prosecution, and subsequent social disgrace wouldn’t be restricted to me, it would put—”
“Me at risk.” Charlie’s words echoed off the Thames.
“I promised I would do right by you. Nothing is more important.” Ned spoke with solid conviction.
“I believe you, Ned.” Charlie glanced around to check that there weren’t any passers-by who would notice, and reached out to squeeze Ned’s hand for a second. Exactly the kind of behaviour that would put them in even more danger if Ned was in the public eye.
Of course, turning down the job wasn’t the only option. There was another way, even though it meant shattering Charlie’s heart.
“I love you, and because I love you, we need to end this,” Charlie said, unable to look at Ned’s face for this next part, staring instead across the blurry lights of London reflected in the Thames.
“I’ve thought a lot about what happened in May ’17 over the years, but I don’t think I really understood until tonight why you chose to have me sent away from the front.
I thought, well, that you’d made a decision for the both of us and that I had to live with it.
I think I finally understand now, how loving someone makes you ready to make sacrifices that seem insane otherwise.
You saw what needed to be done in ’17. You were so goddamn brave, and it's my turn now.”
Ned’s mouth was moving, trying to say something, but no words came out. Charlie wondered if he should explain more, to talk about what led him to go into the crater in ’17 in the first place. He and Ned had never discussed it, and he wasn’t sure Ned truly understood all that had happened.
“Oh God, Charlie. How could losing you be worth it?” Ned sounded like he was fighting off tears.
“Did you ever question if saving me was worth it?”
“Never.” Ned’s voice held no hesitation.
Charlie wished with every fibre of his being that he could pull Ned into his embrace.
Instead, he turned to face Ned, still gripping the railing to steady himself.
“Build me a fairer Britain, Edmund Pinsent. Where veterans work in factories instead of begging on the streets, where anyone can go to school and have a safe place to live. Build me a Britain where people can love who they want. If you do that, it will be worth it.”
“It's all so painfully ironic.” Ned laughed a bit hysterically, and Charlie was tempted to join him.
Had they really been chatting about Christmas presents with George an hour ago? Love like theirs, forbidden, crossing too many boundaries, too many taboos, wasn’t built to last. Still, Charlie hadn’t expected it to end tonight.
“That’s not the first word that jumps to mind, to be honest.”
“Before this year, I never would have even considered taking this role. I went to parties, I drank, I fucked. Then I had you again, and you not only made those three activities better, you made me care about everything else in between. What I had for dinner. What was in the paper. What my friends were joking about. Which is awful, because when one cares, one doesn’t want to flit between parties.
And now, at the very moment I find myself living with a purpose again, I find that it comes at the cost of you, the very man who opened my eyes to the world again. ”
“It won’t be like last time.” Charlie hated that his voice broke slightly on the words. “We don’t have to be complete strangers. I’ll always be here to do right by you.”
Charlie smiled up at his lover and tried to memorise all the colours in Ned’s eyes illuminated in the streetlight, the flecks of green and blue, the circles of brown. He could lose himself in those eyes.
Ned met Charlie’s stare. “I believe in a better future for you, too,” Ned said.
“You don’t need to always be at the shop making the hats your father likes.
” Ned paused for a second before he continued, “There are other men you could be with that wouldn’t be as risky.
Please don’t feel you can only be yourself in your workroom. ”
Charlie could see what Ned was trying to say, but when he looked towards the future that Ned had painted, of covert affairs and lies, he knew that wasn’t the life he wanted. Not without Ned.
“I’m going to have my own business.” Charlie hadn’t even admitted these words to himself before.
Until this moment, the idea had been nothing more than scattered daydreams while he counted Ned’s eyelashes in the early hours of the morning.
“More and more people have motors every year. With a business like that, I could support a family of my own.”
The part of Charlie that was already broken-hearted felt a flash of triumph at Ned’s flinch of pain at the last sentence. He also meant what he said, though.
Maybe he wasn’t going to be advising the Prime Minister, but Charlie couldn’t go back to living each day as a merry-go-round of teasing his family, selling hats, watching the football, and dancing with Betty. Charlie would build a better life for himself.
“You deserve every happiness and more, my darling Charlie.” Ned’s voice was thick with emotion. “It is one of the privileges of my life to know you.”
Charlie raised Ned’s hand to his lips. One last intimate gesture. “The pleasure has been all mine.”