Patrick Hazlewood and Tom Burgess’s relationship
My PolicemanPatrick Hazlewood and Tom Burgess’s relationship is a love affair lived in secrecy and later recast through memory, testimony, and silence. Tom marries Marion Burgess while continuing to see Patrick; when their relationship becomes entangled with a criminal case, Tom’s fear of being seen and his failure to return shape the lovers’ separation. The novel places their private tenderness beside the social and legal pressures that make their attachment dangerous, then returns to it decades later as an unresolved bond rather than a completed past.
Identity and Circumstances
The relationship joins Patrick, an older man, with Tom, a police officer who is married to Marion. Patrick’s prison account describes Tom as someone who enjoyed listening to him and was introduced by him to theatre, art galleries, and opera. Patrick remembers their affection as mutual and profound. His account also makes clear that Tom’s marriage did not end their meetings: he says Tom continued to see him as much as he could. That description belongs to Patrick’s retrospective telling, but it establishes the central contradiction of the relationship: Tom’s outward married life and his continuing attachment to Patrick coexist.
Their intimacy develops within a world where exposure could bring professional disgrace and legal consequences. Patrick’s diary records his anxiety about the pressure Tom might face when a scandal involving senior figures in Brighton CID breaks in the newspapers. He welcomes the prospect that powerful officers might themselves face disgrace, then worries that ordinary members of the force, including Tom, will suffer for their superiors’ conduct. The episode shows that the danger around the relationship is not confined to private discovery. Tom’s occupation makes the police institution both part of his public identity and a source of particular vulnerability.
Marriage and the Divided Life
Tom’s marriage to Marion becomes one of the circumstances through which the affair is remembered. On 29 March 1958, Marion marries him after an engagement of less than a month. Looking back, she wonders whether Tom hurried to marry before he could change his mind, though at the time the speed felt thrilling and flattering. Her recollection supplies a perspective different from Patrick’s: the marriage is not simply a fact in Patrick’s account of a continuing affair, but a decisive event in Marion’s life, entered with hope and with signs she only later understood.
The relationship’s concealed existence changes the meaning of that wedding without erasing Marion’s experience of it. She remembers the downpour, the treacherous path outside the church, and her father’s shaking hand as he adjusted her veil. The rain initially seemed like a baptism into a new life. In retrospect, the haste and the ceremony sit beside what she would later learn about Tom’s continuing bond with Patrick. The contrast is central to the relationship’s narrative: the public form of marriage promises a shared future, while the lovers’ private connection continues beyond it.
Venice and Private Tenderness
In Patrick’s memory, Venice offers a rare interval in which the lovers can move together without attracting attention. They spend mornings in bed, take long lunches on a hotel terrace, and walk through the city. On the Rialto Bridge, Tom takes Patrick’s arm as Patrick guides him through the tourists. In the church of Santa Maria dei Miracoli, they sit together and kiss. Patrick remembers proposing that they live there after only two days, while Tom answers with a playful impossibility. The exchange captures both the intensity of their imagined future and its distance from the lives they actually lead.
A water-taxi journey across the lagoon gives Patrick another concentrated memory of closeness. The men sit together in the enclosed cabin; the speed of the boat makes them laugh, and their thighs touch. When Venice appears beyond the windows, Tom responds with wonder. Patrick recalls that the most important part for him was Tom’s hand touching his. The episode makes privacy itself part of the tenderness: the closed cabin briefly gives them space to be together, while the journey’s destination opens onto a city where Patrick remembers being able to guide Tom openly.
Marion later travels to Venice alone on an organized opera trip. She has never told Tom that her itinerary included the city, which has become one of the words they do not say to each other. As she walks its streets, she imagines Patrick and Tom arriving at the station, crossing bridges, and waiting together for a vaporetto. At Santa Maria della Salute, she sees two young men sharing a guidebook and is moved by their closeness; at the Accademia, she studies the two men in The Arrival of the English Ambassadors. Venice therefore holds different meanings for the three of them: remembered freedom for Patrick, an imagined shared world for Marion, and a place inseparable from the trip she does not discuss with Tom.
Exposure, Separation, and Silence
The relationship becomes an explicit issue at Patrick’s trial. The prosecution puts to Marion that Patrick had an indecent relationship with her husband and asks whether she denies that the accused is homosexual. Marion answers no to the allegation about Patrick and Tom. After the exchange, she thinks of Tom: what will happen to him, and how can he forgive her? Yet Tom is not mentioned again in the remainder of the trial. His absence from the proceedings is consequential: the relationship is named in court, but Tom remains outside the public account that determines Patrick’s fate.
Patrick’s prison narrative presents the prosecution as a false or opportunistic accusation and describes the charge as the result of carelessness. He believes Tom’s pride and fear prevent him from seeing Patrick again, even though Patrick continues to love him. Years later, Marion’s recollection reveals Tom’s proximity to the arrest: he tells her that he was there when Patrick was brought in, saw Slater holding him by the wrist, and left quickly so Patrick would not see him. Marion then understands that her attempt to destroy Patrick has also placed Tom at risk. The lovers’ separation is thus not just a private retreat; it is bound up with arrest, public exposure, and Marion’s recognition of the consequences of her own action.
The Relationship’s Afterlife
Decades later, Patrick remains incarcerated and still measures his life through Tom. He remembers the Venice trip while trying to avoid thinking about him, and recognizes that recollection has become difficult precisely because it restores Tom’s sweetness while obscuring the reasons they could not remain together. His memories return especially to the water taxi and the touch of Tom’s hand. The past has not settled into a simple account of loss: it arrives repeatedly as an intimate scene that Patrick can recall but cannot recover.
Patrick also tells other prisoners that Tom loved an older man, married, and continued to see him, and that the man still loves Tom despite the separation. His insistence makes the relationship speakable within the prison even as his account presents it as a source of risk and punishment. In 1999, Marion seeks Patrick out and brings him back, while hoping that Tom will come to see him and that Patrick’s continued love might break Tom’s silence. The evidence does not establish a reconciliation between the two men. Instead, their relationship remains emotionally present across decades: remembered by Patrick, imagined and eventually acted upon by Marion, and avoided by Tom. Its endurance lies in that imbalance between Patrick’s repeated avowal, Marion’s belated recognition, and Tom’s silence.