Page 50 of These Old Lies
“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.”