Eternally North

  But like all good things – L’Oreal’s Shocking Volume Waterproof Mascara, Cadbury Crème Eggs after Easter and the perfect display that was Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt’s marriage, to name but a few – it had to come to an end, and we were heading up Shit’s Creek at a rapid speed without a paddle.

  It was the last week of term in December, only four days of school left before the Christmas vacation, when the phone calls began and my loving boyfriend began to change.

  Tink, Tate, Tudor and I were out at Ristorante Girasoli (once again hidden in the back room) enjoying dinner when my man received yet another mysterious call. Up until that point I had not really questioned who they were from, as Tudor had assured me that I could trust him. I assumed it was his “people” in LA talking business and then I quickly changed my mind. The problem was that he would not give me any information on the matter whenever I asked him, and my inner Miss. Marple suspicions were aroused.

  When the ringtone sounded, and he lost the 'nice-Tudor’ personality I adored and adopted the 'bastard-Tudor' I was once victim to, I stilled and prodded Tink's leg under the table to give him a heads up. I had confided in Tink about the strange goings-on of late, and this was the first public call Tudor had gotten, the first opportunity for someone other than me to witness.

  Tink winked once to let me know he was paying attention, and we listened as we ate our carprese.

  "Hello… yeah, shit, okay... no I’ll be there...when... no, I'll be alone... no, no-one, nothing special… yeah, I’ll call you soon."

  Tudor never once made eye contact with anyone during the conversation, and when he was finished he slammed his phone down onto the table top, practically splitting the wood in two.

  I stared at Tink, who had his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tate’s head was cast down and he was fiddling with his hands.

  I cleared my throat. "Tude, are you okay?" I swallowed back the fear I felt brewing in my stomach.

  "What?" he snapped.

  I drew back at his aggressive tone. His manner was overtly hostile – whatever the problem was, it seemed to be getting worse.

  "She asked if you were alright!" Tink bit back, defensive hackles rising.

  Tudor rubbed his hand over his face and looked my way. "Yeah, I'm fine, just stop asking." He was cold and distant.

  "Who was that?" I dared ask. I was over not knowing.

  He whipped his head up to look at me and sternly shook his head. He stood abruptly, discarding his napkin on his barely-touched food and reached for his hooded leather coat, motioning to Tate that it was time to leave.

  "I need to go. I'll call later, okay?" He leaned forward and brushed a meaningless kiss across my forehead.

  "You're just going to leave? Leave us sitting here like numpties?" I spat out. Tudor was annoyed, and groaned in exasperation, eying Tink warily. "Tash, I need to go. Can you just get a ride back with Tink, please? This is not the time or the place to start with the questions again."

  Well, that told me!

  I threw down my own napkin and crossed my arms. "Fine, just bloody go then!" I turned to Tink. "Come on, chuck, I've suddenly lost my appetite."

  I grabbed my bag from the back of my chair and stood, linking arms with my fabulous fairy, and stormed past Tudor. Tink tutted, clicked a finger in Tudor’s face, blew a kiss at Tate, but kept up with my pace.

  Tudor turned to us, trying to catch my sleeve with his hand. "Tash, please, I have to go but–."

  I put up a hand. "But let me guess, you can't tell me why?"

  He opened his mouth several times like he was trying to explain, but no words popped out.

  I nodded once. "Thought so. Let's just go, Tink."

  "Mmm… hmm. Let's split like a banana, Toots!"

  By the time I had got to the car, I was shaking with anger, literally bouncing in the passenger seat with fury. I turned to Tink. "What the hell was all that about? I told you the phone calls seemed dodgy. Has Tate said anything lately about what's going on? Even just a hint?"

  He shook his head. "No, not a peep! But I agree, how weird was that? Who d’you think called him? ‘Cos whoever it was has royally pissed him off."

  I shrugged. "I don't know. You know, over the last week he's been getting these phone calls at all hours, and every time I ask who it is he just tells me not to worry and to just 'trust him'.”

  Tink pulled out of the parking lot. "And do you? Trust him, I mean?"

  We watched as Tate and Tudor got into the Jeep and sped away in the opposite direction.

  "I think I do, but what can be so bad that he can't talk about it?"

  Tink hunched his shoulders, and silence filled the car for several blocks.

  "Tink, did you hear him say 'No-one, nothing special'…you... you don't think he was referring to me, do you?"

  He dismissed my comment with the wave of his hand. "Are you kidding? You’ve hardly been apart for the last few weeks. You’ve spent more time with him lately than most couples do in months. I think we can safely say that you definitely are someone special to him."

  I sighed in relief.

  Look, let me just put in my two cents worth so you know where I stand. I am not a needy girlfriend; I do not need to know every aspect of my boyfriend’s life. I do however feel that I should at least gain some insight when something weird starts going on. At this point, I would have even been happy to just know how he was feeling in himself, but Tudor was keeping me at arm’s length, pushing me back like the pose on the friggin’ Heisman Trophy.

  I’m an independent woman (‘throw your hands up at me…’) and like having my own space. Equally, I thought Tudor should have his, but I was nearing my breaking point. I thought he would’ve confided something by now, but in between the ridiculous amounts of sex and the shower-storms of affection he had been throwing my way, he had been cold and distant, leaving no room for discussion and certainly not acting like the man I had come to know.

  Tink put a hand on my knee and squeezed it gently. "Look, my greasy Bacon Buttie, you have two choices: you trust him like he has asked, or you decide you don't like the secrets and make your mind up from there. Sorry to be brutal, Wil, but dems the breaks!"

  I hit my head back against the head rest. "I know, I guess I'll have to trust him then, won't I? I don't want to give him up over something that may be nothing in the end, right?"

  He nodded in agreement. "Right, and I don't blame you for keeping your claws into that hunk of prime cut beef... I'd like to carve me off a slice of that if he was eating on the same side of the table!"

  I cracked a smile, and Tink tapped my thigh. "There you go, I hate to see you doubting what you have, sausage."

  Tudor didn't come over that night. I received a brief text message to say he was staying at home – the first time apart in weeks. I had never been to his place; I knew it was in an affluent area near Aspen but I had never visited, and he had never invited me either. I had always put that down to wanting to keep our relationship secret from Boleyn, and that I understood, but I was beginning to wonder…was I being kept on the sidelines? I tried to not read too much into it and just went straight to bed, not sleeping, and trying not to obsess over the ever-growing mountain of secrets.

  The next morning, I went about my usual Sunday routine, planning to stay at home and get the last of my pupils’ work marked before the Christmas break. I was halfway through a mammoth stack of essays on the causes of the Russian Revolution when I heard the doorbell. I headed to the door and opened it slowly to Tudor, who I noticed looked slightly, shall we say, stressed.

  "Hey," I greeted, my brows pinched in concern at his sad demeanour and unkempt look. His clothes were heavily creased and his eyes looked tired and dull.

  "Hey," he sounded morose.

  I let him in and led him to the kitchen. "Coffee?"

  He nodded, and I set to making it how he liked it – flavoured cream with sweetener, fact fans – and poured him a cup. For the first time in our ‘official relationship’, there was
tension.

  I took a seat next to him at the breakfast bar and turned down the volume on the small kitchen flat-screen so we could talk.

  He looked down at his mug and played with the handle before lifting his head to meet my assessing gaze. "Tash, about yesterday, I-I shouldn't have just left like that."

  I expected more of an explanation, but none came. I took a deep breath. "Is that it? No ‘I left because of this’ or ‘the person on the phone was...’? Nothing? All I'm getting is just 'I shouldn't have left'?"

  He gritted his teeth at my response. "Yes, I shouldn't have left so abruptly, it wasn't right."

  I tutted and went to pour more coffee from the pot – I was going to need it!

  Tudor’s phone dinged, and he began pressing buttons, replying to someone’s text. When he put it back in his pocket I slammed my mug down on the breakfast bar. "And who was that?"

  "No-one," he said, avoiding my eyes.

  "Oh, so you're texting no-one? Really? Mr. Invisible sends you a message, and you reply back with a blank screen?"

  He looked at me snarling. "Don't be sarcastic, Natasha."

  Oh, I’m Natasha when I’m being reprimanded, but Sunshine when I’m in the sack and sucking his dick! Nice to know!

  "I'll be anything I bloody want! Who do you keep calling? It's making me nervous, Tude. I hate to sound so stereotypical, but is it another girl?"

  He recoiled back on the chair, hurt written all over his face. “What? Do you really think that?"

  Deep down, I really didn’t, but what else was I supposed to think? I threw my hands in the air. "I don't know, okay?! You won't bloody let me in! You’ve been getting calls in the middle of the night, you never take me to your house, I don't even know exactly where you live, after a month of being together and you are evading every single question I have about your mystery caller. Your mother doesn’t know we are together, we never go out, and if we do, it is never out in public and you are acting so incredibly weird. What do you expect me to think?" I was getting irate.

  "I expect you to trust me, especially now," he stated calmly.

  "Yeah, trust. You want me to trust you but you won't trust me with what it is that’s bothering you. Bit of a double standard don't you think?"

  He held out his hand, his face looking torn. I hated seeing him like this, but I had to know what was going on. I stared at his outstretched hand. "Tash, please. Come here."

  I reluctantly moved over to Tudor, and he pressed me to his chest, kissing my hair and pulling me up on his lap. "Don't lose faith in me, Sunshine, please. Just trust me on this. It won’t be forever."

  I drew back, taking hold of his face, searching his eyes for... something, anything, some kind of divine sign.

  "Trust you with what?"

  He glanced down, then up at me through damp lashes. "Protecting you."

  "Protecting me? From what, babes? What should I be scared of?" I placed a hand on his cheek. It was cold and pale.

  He shook his head, drawing my hand back down to kiss my palm. "Trust me,” he whispered, and pulled me back into his embrace, running a hand over my head like he was relishing any time we had left together.

  We stayed like that for a long time, until I was abruptly thrust back to a standing position as Tudor jumped from his chair and ran over to turn up the volume on the TV. When I looked to the screen, there was a full-sized shot of me and Tudor from our walk a few weeks ago at Forget-Me-Not Ridge. I was on his back, and we were laughing. I smiled to myself; we looked very happy. However, my warm and fuzzy moment was interrupted when my oh-so-romantic boyfriend started screaming expletives and pacing from one side of the kitchen to the other while listening to the presenter, a ridiculously thin and bronzed anchorwoman who was enthusiastically sharing the details.

  ‘Well done, Tudor Chicks. We have managed to find the missing Tudor North, and in Calgary, Canada of all places! What he’s doing there is a mystery. This photo was taken by Melissa Brown, who happened to be in Kananaskis National Park a couple of weeks ago. She claims that her attention was caught by the flirtations and affectionate games of this couple and she followed them back to Cowtown after realising who it was. The man is none other than 'The Blade Reaper' himself, Mr. North, but the bigger question is: who is the girl? Sources say that she is not in the business, but it is clear that Tudor looks quite smitten with this voluptuous beauty. Could this be a real-life Canadian 'Notting Hill' storyline? We are on tenterhooks waiting for a statement from Tudor’s people, but have no doubt that the news to come back is that the infamous Tudor 'Bad Boy' North is officially off the market. Pictures in this case really are worth a thousand words!’

  Tudor was pacing, panicking, and just plain freaking out! "Fuck! Why now?" he bellowed.

  Howay, man! I know you’re private, but this reaction is a bit over-the-top!

  I moved over to where Tudor was creating a worn-out patch on my pristine and much-treasured marble flooring and stopped the nauseating back-and-forth movement by holding his huge, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame in my arms. "Tudor, it's fine, they would find out at some point anyway. At least now we can live a somewhat open life. Is it so bad if we announce it to the world?"

  He just stared at me, face blank, and pulled out his phone. He quickly dialed a number and left me standing facing him with a questioning expression. "Kate, have you seen the entertainment news?" Kate, his publicist. "I want you to issue a statement today about my romantic status, do you have a pen?"

  There was a pause, and I couldn't help but smile to myself. OMG! Tense arguments be damned! In a few short hours the whole world would know about my relationship with Tudor. This was crazy, but maybe it would make everything better. Maybe all the problems had been stemming from him trying to keep us a secret, and once it was all in the open he would go back to being my sweet, loving Tudor and all would be okay?

  Gosh! My mam was going to flip. I jumped up on the stool and sipped at my coffee, waiting anxiously to hear the way he would 'out' us, show the world we belonged to each other. I couldn't keep the huge grin off my face.

  Rose Tint My World!

  "Okay, I want you to squash it, deny it,” he snapped into the mouth piece.

  Yeahhh – Wait, what???

  “Tell them that she is a family friend and we were just messing about. I was in Calgary to prepare for my next movie, but have left. Say, I don't know, that I was there for research or some shit. I met her here and only saw her a few times – in fact say she is in a relationship with someone else, my friend from University, and she was visiting him. Her name and credentials are not important, and there is no story so not to bother delving into it. Tell them that I am casually dating, or some spin like that, but there is no-one special. Shit, I don't care, fluff up the Banks story or something, she won't deny it, and she’ll want the publicity! Just... get them off the scent. You got all that? Yeah, get it out immediately."

  He hung up. What. The. Fuck???

  Tudor turned to face me, his face torn with anguish. My grin had slipped into a grimace. I felt like I couldn't breathe. He held out his hands in a placating gesture. "Tash..."

  "Just get out," I barely whispered, a tsunami of devastation washing over me, crushing my throat and all ability to speak.

  "No, Tash, wait..." He tried to reach for me.

  I slapped his hand away weakly, shaking. "I said, get out!" I finally stated at an audible volume, tears tumbling from my eyes.

  "No! No, Sunshine, you need to listen to me. I said those things so they don't come here looking for pictures of us, for a story. Tash, please. I need you, don't send me away... not now, I need you more than ever. I can’t do this without you."

  I was breathing hard, labored and wheezing, like I'd just run the freakin' London Marathon. I guess a total thrashing of your heart will do that to you. "How could you?" I whispered, gripping the counter to keep myself upright.

  He picked me up like a doll and placed me on the table top, caging me in his arms, forcing me to li
sten. "Tash, I can't have the media here now. I don't want a friggin' circus when we have just started out. Please, this changes nothing, I still want you. You have to believe me."

  I let out a bitter laugh. "You're just embarrassed by me. I get it. Fuck the chunky normal girl, someone to pass the time with between movies, someone no-one would ever believe you would be with, and then go back to the glitz and glam and bloody Raquel Banks! The freakin' Barbie to your overdosed-on-protein-shake Ken!"

  "No! I don't even believe you think that! And for the last God-damned time I am not embarrassed by you. Quite the opposite in fact; you’re the best thing in my life! Give me time and I'll shout it from the rooftops that you're my girl, but not now, not yet!"

  "Why? Why not now?"

  "Trust me, Tash. Just not now!" His voice was gaining volume once again.

  "You told Kate to insinuate you were dating Raquel Banks. What the hell? I thought you hated her? Was that a lie too?"

  He pushed away from the counter, throwing the dish towel off the table across the room. "Argh! To get them away from here and away from you, to get the spotlight off you. Are you not listening to me? She's a fame whore, she'll play it up, give them a hook – she's cannon fodder, that's all."

  "Why is it so bad to admit to being with me? I'm a big girl, I can handle it, believe me. I've taken on a practically unbeatable cancer diagnosis and won; I have fucked-up hormones but deal with it. What's a few paparazzi and psycho blonde Twiglets compared to that? I know my shortcomings, Tudor. I’m not naïve, but I am also super proud of who I am. You will be hard-pressed to find anyone better than me, especially when it comes to you. I adore you, I fucking worship the ground you walk on. I just want to be with you without the lies and secrets. I at least deserve that much. I want happiness in my life. I want the fairy-tale happily ever after… I want it with you." My voice was laced with hurt.