Eternally North

  I felt sick listening to him casually drop his past sufferings into his angry tirade. I could feel my eyes misting at the description of his injuries – a chair leg for spilling his drink? Good God! What else must he have gone through?

  I know celebrities sign up for the invasion into their personal lives when they pursue a Hollywood career, but surely there was a line that must be drawn, especially dealing with issues like this.

  I heard a heavy, pain-filled sigh and turned to face Tudor. He was staring at me with regret in his eyes and pulled me closer into his embrace. “I’m sorry, gorgeous. I shouldn’t have lost my cool and told you about my past in such a way.”

  I sniffed. “Why are you apologising to me?”

  “Because I upset you with what I said.”

  “That’s because I find it hard to hear how you were treated when you were a child. I can’t stand what he did to you. What he is still doing to you. It’s like he has this hold over you all, I just feel so helpless. I don’t know how to make it better.”

  His eyes lost some of their tightness, and he whispered in my ear, “You’re helping me, Sunshine. Just by being you.” He shifted back against the chair, tucking me around his body like a comforter.

  Henry coughed to catch his attention. "I'm sick of dealing with all his shit, bro. Tash is right, how long can he possibly do this to us? Maybe if we’re honest and show him to be the scumbag that we know he is, then he'll have to leave us alone, he'll have no hold over us anymore. It might be, I don’t know, freeing."

  Samantha, obviously proud of her husband, kissed his cheek and stared at him in adoration. I had a lot of respect for Samantha; she had been supporting Henry for years and was clearly his rock. We had both fallen in love with the brothers North, and we both simply had to help them get through this. We were both strong, modern women, and I was certain that we could all do it – that we could face the situation with poise and dignity. We would make Emmeline Pankhurst proud.

  Tudor was once again running his fingers through my hair and nodding gently, taking in the advice from his level-headed older brother. Henry stood and cracked his back, Samantha followed suit and they headed in our direction. He bent down, eye-level with Tudor and laid a hand on his head. “Get some sleep, and we'll figure everything out tomorrow, okay? Today has been trying for us all, and I think we need to let the dust settle for a while, sleep on it."

  Tudor pulled him in for a long, manly hug, and Henry winked at me as he walked out of the room, holding his wife’s hand incredibly tightly – maybe he wasn’t as calm as he seemed.

  I looked over to Tink, who cocked his head with a tight smile and pointed to the hallway; he was going to bed too, and he took his silent boy with him. We were all staying under one roof tonight – group support to face the trials of tomorrow as a united front.

  When everyone was out of the room, I snuggled into Tudor’s chest in front of the fire and peppered kisses along his neck to soothe him. He nuzzled the top of my head and sighed. "What are you thinking?"

  "I don't honestly know. I suppose lots of things really: us going public, what Kate will say tomorrow, and of course I'm worried about you."

  He guided my head to face him. "Worried about me? Sunshine, your birthday has been ruined by my problems. Just when one nightmare ends, another begins. Why are you putting up with all of this?"

  "Oh don't start!" I said a bit too aggressively, and lifted myself from his embrace.

  "Start what?" he asked, slightly taken aback at my attitude.

  "Blaming yourself. I chose to be with you, babes, knowing everything, and still you apologise? Your father is the one to blame, not you. I love you and you don’t abandon the people you love when things get tough. In fact, it’s love that gets people through unsteady waters unharmed. I’m not going anywhere and you need to get that through your dense noggin, butch boy!”

  His lip curled in amusement at my ‘dense noggin/butch boy’ dig, but he still didn’t look convinced.

  I settled back into his lap, tracing each one of his protruding abdominal muscles through his T-shirt, trying to measure his mood. “You are not responsible for everything, every problem. I love you, I support you, and I am staying put – I’m freakin’ cement!

  “I've dealt with a traumatic childhood too, granted it wasn't exactly like yours, but I have some idea what it's like to lose your innocence to something out of your control, and yet still, I'm determined to make us work. I can't fight for us on my own though, Tude; you need to be in this with me. Our road to happiness was never going to be easy, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to strap myself in and enjoy the ride – bumps, dips and all!"

  He stroked my face with his finger. "I am, gorgeous, I'm totally in, but I can't help but think that all my shit is having a negative effect on you - your job, your life, everything. Are you sure I'm worth it?" he looked apprehensive.

  I flicked my hair like a L’Oreal advert, stared into his eyes like I was smouldering down the lens of a camera. "You're worth it."

  That at least got a wee chuckle.

  He took a final swig of his bourbon tea and asked, “What do you think I should say tomorrow?”

  I thought about it for a second. “I think what Henry said made sense. If you expose your father for the bastard that he is it may liberate you in some way, make it easy for you to move on. Will it bring attention to you? Yes, of course, but you became an actor, and fame and press go with celebrity hand in hand. It’s how you handle the topic that needs to be considered.”

  He played with the fingers on my hand. “And what how would you handle it? If it was you and your family?”

  I sighed in sympathy at how lost and vulnerable he seemed. I straddled his waist and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Who were your idols growing up?”

  He looked at me, surprised. “Erm… James Dean, Paul Newman, Clint Eastwood – I suppose people who could handle themselves, didn’t take any shit.”

  “And why do you think that was? Why was it those types of actors that inspired you?”

  He sighed. “I guess it was because I had no control at home, I couldn’t fight back against my dad, and I wanted to be like them. It’s why I got so big, you know, why I body-build, and why I got the tattoos and shaved my hair. I wanted people to look at me and see someone strong, someone who could handle himself, not someone who got beat up every day for most of his early life. I suppose how I look – big and menacing – is like my armour, impenetrable. At least to most people,” he said, poking me in my side, making me jump and giggle.

  I loved how he was gradually revealing more about himself, opening up and trusting me. I held back the tears welling in my eyes and kissed the tip of his nose. “So imagine little… Johnny in, I don’t know, Hogsville, Montana, who gets hit every day by his father and watches helplessly as his mother takes repeated beatings so his wanker of a dad doesn’t go for his baby sister and him, over and over. Imagine if Johnny adores Tudor North, ‘The Blade Reaper’, and he woke up one morning to his hero on TV, confessing how he was abused as a child and how he was putting his energy into raising awareness of the issue and that he wanted to help other victims of abuse. It could give him hope.”

  Tudor was staring at me slightly dubiously, but I continued. “The press will hound you, that’s a given, but is it not worth it to help even one child? To show even one person that there is more to life than the end of a fist? At least that’s how I feel about it. It might be a bit naïve, but surely this is your chance to do what every celebrity says they’re going to do. Give back, make a bit of the world right through the power of their art. All that crap.”

  He smiled at me in disbelief and pulled me into his embrace, looking at me with love. “How did I live before you? Without you?”

  I shrugged teasingly. “In a constant mood, from what I can gather.”

  He chuckled and kissed me. “Before I got Sunshine back in my life.”

  He was such a mush!

  I stood and held out
my hand. "Come on, big boy, how about we go to bed and I'll make you forget all this for a few hours?"

  His eyes lit up as he slowly lifted himself from the chair. "And how exactly will you make me forget, Ms. Munro?" he teased.

  I put a hand on my hip disapprovingly. "Erm... Scrabble you num-nut, what did you think?"

  He swept me off my feet and began to carry me to his basement. "I've got a Scrabble word for you. It’s spelt S - E - X."

  I put a finger to my cheek and tapped. "Hmm? You used an 'X', isn't that a triple letter score?"

  He pulled my ear to his mouth. "You're gonna get a triple score," and he began to pick up speed, until he threw me on his bed and proceeded to strip.

  Scrabble quickly became my new favourite game.

  CHAPTER 29

  “Life is more than how many breaths you take,

  but the moments that take your breath away.”

  Anon

  Kate, Tudor’s viper publicist, was a stiletto-heeled-force to be reckoned with. She was forty, had bright red hair, was about five foot nothing and scared the absolute shit out of me! Even Tink had some verbal restraint around her – something I had never seen happen before. She was all business and got straight to the point as we gathered around the dining room table to discuss Tudor’s options.

  "Good news is we have found the source of the leak, the little fucker. It was a rookie cop who was paid quite handsomely by a big-time journo who he'd contacted after Boleyn was attacked. He was on the scene and identified you instantly, thought he could make a quick buck. He paid off a couple of doctors from Victoria and Kelowna to get a hold of your medical records, that’s how he got the information on your injuries and accessed confidential files on your father’s history – it was all there for him to piece together. Needless to say, he's being dealt with internally by the police. The bad news is that it's out now and we've got to address it, we are backed into a corner."

  Tudor looked first at me and then at Henry. "I've been thinking, I feel I need to address it truthfully, all of it, full disclosure. Sunshine said something last night that I keep thinking about. She said that by me being open about it I might be able to help other people to know they're not alone and that they are not to blame. I could even work with charities – I’d love to help out. I think that if we can get something positive from all this shit then at least there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. At least, I think that's the way to go. What’s your professional advice?" he asked Kate.

  Kate swivelled in her seat to regard me, her eyes narrowed. "You advised him to do that?"

  I gulped loudly, drawing a sympathy squeal across the table from the fairy. "Y-yes. Don't shout at me!" I pleaded.

  I heard a laugh next to me as Tudor shook his head. Hey, I wasn't kidding, I was deadly serious; she’s scarier than the Bogeyman!

  She raised her abnormally thin pencilled-in brow. "It's good, and it’s what I thought he should do."

  I began to exhale slowly now the threat to my life was averted. "You know, when Tudor told me he wanted to go public about his new little English pet, I tried everything to talk him out of it."

  Really? She did? I looked at my squirming boyfriend’s guilty expression and scowled. Kate clicked the top of her expensive pen in my face to regain my attention. "... But maybe you are good for him, at least in private. Of course, his female fans won't be happy about you, but it’s good that you’re average and fairly normal-looking – non-threatening, you know – but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, you've impressed me, not an easy thing to achieve," and she patted my head, patted my head like a friggin' poodle. I wanted to say something in return, but instead I kind of let out a little yip.

  Kate just smirked – yep, I'm a friggin' poodle, an average, non-threatening and ‘normal’ looking poodle! Goodbye, first place at Crufts!

  Kate the Viper turned to Tudor. "I'm setting up a press conference for later today, the sooner we give them a statement, the sooner we can control it. I loathe lack of control," she visibly shuddered. "Now, you need to do this alone as the press have not seen you go public yet with Little Miss Sunshine here, and we need to give them one thing at a time. Spoon feed the bastards, leave them salivating for more."

  He shook his head, and folded his bulging arms across his chest. "Not happening. Tash will be sitting next to me where she belongs."

  Ha, that told her! Wha–?

  I grabbed Tudor’s arm. "Err... Tudor, I'm not sure I can do that, and if Kate thinks I shouldn't then..."

  "No," he banged his fist on the table, causing Tink to scream in response – his poor nerves had been shot ever since we had found out about the leak.

  Kate clicked in Tink’s face with a "Shh, pansy!" causing him to flinch back and cower in shock. I was still staring at my crazy muscled man, who was trying to argue his case for having me with him at the conference.

  Tudor pointed at Kate. "She's sitting next to me, she's my girlfriend, permanent girlfriend and I want her there. If I’ve got to address all this personal stuff, then I’m doing it with the one I love beside me."

  He turned in my direction, eyes pleading. "I need you there, Tash, please just do it for me."

  Well, what am I meant to say to that?

  I lowered my head in defeat. "Fine! But I'm pissed at you for putting me on TV. I haven't even had chance to apply fake tan!" I teased.

  Tink held up a finger, halting the conversation. “I have some instant dark tone Bronzante in my bag, we’ll turn you from a white bap to a brown baguette in no time, my little ham roll."

  I blew him a kiss and he caught it, bringing it to his cheek but then grimaced and stated, "Next time Wil, leave out the tongue. I don't like air-kiss girly frenchies."

  Most of the table, now used to our antics, ignored us but Kate sat there shaking her head, muttering something to herself about "Fucking weird Brits!"

  So that was that, a press conference was going to be held later that day and I would be sitting next to my man. My man the movie star… with the abusive past that he was about to discuss with the entire world. That wasn’t intimidating at all – Not. At. All.

  Five hours later, and the press were waiting two doors down from our dressing room where we had been told to sit and wait (like Kate's good little bitch poodles).

  The publicist-extraordinaire had managed to get a conference room large enough for all the press at the Saddledome stadium. I was wearing a fitted black silk vest top, stilettos and skinny high-waisted trousers, with my hair down – oh, yeah, and Tink’s instant fake tan (two coats, FYI).

  To say I was nervous is not exactly accurate but to save some ugly descriptions involving a high dose of toilet humour, I’ll leave it at that! Tudor, at least was amused at my expense and therefore not as freaked out as I thought he would be.

  He motioned for me to join him on the sofa, and I scurried over and sat down, throwing my legs over his and using his presence to calm me down. "You'll be fine, gorgeous. I'll do most of the talking. I have your back." I nodded in comprehension, obviously not convincing him.

  "Tash, look at me." I met his loving gaze. "I really appreciate you doing this for me, I know it's gonna be hard but I'm truly thankful."

  That soothed me some more and I smiled up at him. Tudor North, Tash Munro’s personal Prozac.

  In the hours leading up to the conference, Kate and the legion of lawyers she had commanded onto a conference call had briefed Tudor on what he should say, what he should and should not answer and what aspects he should discuss, particularly as the trial was still pending.

  They had decided to stick to the facts – his father’s abuse (no details), his life moving around and how that affected his family (excluding names and any mention of Boleyn) and also his involvement in the recent incident.

  Pamela had been informed by phone, and she was happy with the road Tudor was taking, and he seemed relieved that this whole fiasco would be dealt with before he left for LA.

  During the painful wai
t before our public debut, I was keeping myself occupied by looking around the dressing room, wondering how many stars had sat there waiting to perform. I chortled when I saw the obligatory movie-star mirror with light-bulb surround –very Hollywood. The last time I had seen one of those frames was last year outside the cinema after Nathan's sexual showpiece, where the bulb had nearly exploded in my face. Bloody hell, I had come such a long way since then!

  Wait a cherry-picking minute! Glamorous cinema posters, asking for a sign, an exploding light bulb, one hot and muscled bad boy... could it be? Was that the message all along? Mighty Zeus! It must have been. Why didn't I put it all together before now?

  I suddenly sat bolt upright and shouted, "Oh My God!" My hands covered my mouth as I tried to believe what this all could mean.

  Tudor jumped beside me, worry etched on his face. "What, Sunshine?”

  I turned to gawk at him. Why had I never thought of it before? I asked for a sign all those months ago, and I always thought it was everyone’s favourite author, Jane, from beyond the grave, but... I grasped Tudor’s handsome face in my hands. "It was you." I whispered in shock.

  He looked at me like I had sprouted another head. “I'm confused."

  I laughed hysterically and kissed his pouting lips. "Last year when I found Nathan with his PA, I took a walk and, in my despair, asked the universe for a sign, something to guide me, a sign that something good would happen in my life, that I would find true love.

  “I saw a Jane Austen quote in a book shop window, and I thus took that as my message to live more care-free, you know, ‘Carpe Diem’, and that decision ultimately led me to Calgary."

  Tudor nodded at me slowly like he was witnessing me losing my mind.

  "Bear with me, babes," I urged.

  He motioned for me to continue.

  "Just before I saw the quote, I was looking at movie posters, thinking what it must be like to live such a fantastical life.” Tudor snorted loudly at that ridiculously incorrect assumption. I continued, “… anyway, a light bulb surrounding a poster popped, just like that one," I pointed to the mirror in the room. "At the time I put it down to bad electrics, but it wasn't, that must have been the message I was meant to receive, it was a sign about you."