Eternally North
Page 91
“I did see the photo, and I can assure you that the girl in question is just a friend, I know her quite well. We’ve all had a great laugh over all the confusion. I’m seeing Tudor this holiday, and can I just say that he will be very excited to unwrap his Christmas present, if you know what I mean!”
Well, there you have it folks. Keep tuned for more festive make-ups and break-ups after this break…’
Tink and I sat staring at the screen in the waiting lounge of Calgary International Airport and watched the entertainment report in silence. When it was over, Tink took my hand and stood, smiling a big smile. “Come on, sausage. Let’s go home.”
I swallowed my hurt, slapped on a determined grin and made my way to the plane bound for the UK.
There’s no place like home.
Chapter 25
The truth will set you free
Being home was exactly what I needed. I got to spend time with my parents and my best friend, and that kept my mind from thinking about Tudor... well, too much anyway.
I had decided on our arrival at Manchester Airport that I would switch my Canadian phone off until I got back. Tudor probably wouldn’t call anyway, but it helped me cope with the whole crazy situation better knowing that I was detached, at least electronically. I wanted my time at home to be stress-free, fully focused on catching up with those closest to me and moving on from the most turbulent – albeit shortest – relationship of my life.
My parents knew nothing about my relationship with Tudor, and Tink and I agreed to leave it that way. My mother suspected I was pining for a man, somehow she always knew the score, but due to their lack of interest in the world of celebrity, the danger of the ‘rents learning about ‘the photo’ was small. I said that I had met someone but I didn’t think it was going to go anywhere due to his personal issues. Her only concern was she didn’t want me to have another disastrous relationship. My mother wouldn't have cared if my chosen significant other was a chimney sweep or the President of the United States – if he hurt her baby girl, then he had better get ready to feel the wrath of her rolling pin!
My father was in his usual fettle: rude, brash and hot-headed as hell, but it wouldn't have been Christmas without his affectionate swearing and hate-filled monologues against the English and their inferior celebratory festive traditions of 'Yule Tide' and 'Hogmanay'
Tink had proudly announced his relationship status to my mother, who already had him married off with kids (I was to embrace my ‘Fruit-Fly’ duty and be the volunteer surrogate, apparently). She beamed like a lighthouse at the thought of planning a civil partnership, and she made Tink promise to bring Tate over as soon as possible to meet the ‘in-laws’. Even my dad was happy for the clearly-besotted Tinkster, going so far as to promise him that he would honour the occasion by going 'full Scottish' under his kilt at the assumed future wedding.
On Boxing Day, a contented Munro clan gathered around the TV, over-stuffed with food and drink and having a lazy family day. My dad was switching through the movie channels at a dizzying rate, dismissing each film as ‘Pish’ or ‘for eejits’ and eventually settled on one he could stomach: the Sky premiere of The Blade Reaper, starring none other than (dun, dun, duuunnnnn!) Tudor North.
Tink and I were having a little tipple with my mam on the sofa when we recognised Tudor's familiar raspy-rough voice (minus his strong Canadian accent) through the very expensive surround-sound Dad had just got for Christmas. Tink, unable to disguise his shock, proceeded to spray his mouthful of Bucks Fizz all over my mother as she was polishing off her sizable third extra-strong Snowball of the afternoon.
I had never seen any of Tudor's movies – purposely, I might add – since I’d met him, and I definitely didn't want to start now, but watching him on screen, playing someone else so well was something to behold. I ended up sitting next to Dad, mesmerised, right through until the credits. Pamela was right, he was so talented and he completely blew me away, and my God, did he look fit…
Damn you, weak willpower!
There was an awkward moment when my father pointed at the ripped and bare-chested Tudor and proclaimed, "Feckin' hell, wud ya look at the size of that bugger! I betcha he would pack a few punches tae ya mooth and yer wud'nae even ken before ya lost ya teeth! At least he's not one of these namby-pamby wee snotty-nosed shits that usually poison ma screen. He cud've stood b'side Wallace and took off a few Sassenach heeds! I'll tell ya noo, he'll be from gud Scottish stock! That’s the kinda man ya need, Natasha, one that can scare the shit outta folk!"
Well, there you have it folks. Keep tuned for more festive make-ups and break-ups after this break…’
Tink and I sat staring at the screen in the waiting lounge of Calgary International Airport and watched the entertainment report in silence. When it was over, Tink took my hand and stood, smiling a big smile. “Come on, sausage. Let’s go home.”
I swallowed my hurt, slapped on a determined grin and made my way to the plane bound for the UK.
There’s no place like home.
Chapter 25
The truth will set you free
Being home was exactly what I needed. I got to spend time with my parents and my best friend, and that kept my mind from thinking about Tudor... well, too much anyway.
I had decided on our arrival at Manchester Airport that I would switch my Canadian phone off until I got back. Tudor probably wouldn’t call anyway, but it helped me cope with the whole crazy situation better knowing that I was detached, at least electronically. I wanted my time at home to be stress-free, fully focused on catching up with those closest to me and moving on from the most turbulent – albeit shortest – relationship of my life.
My parents knew nothing about my relationship with Tudor, and Tink and I agreed to leave it that way. My mother suspected I was pining for a man, somehow she always knew the score, but due to their lack of interest in the world of celebrity, the danger of the ‘rents learning about ‘the photo’ was small. I said that I had met someone but I didn’t think it was going to go anywhere due to his personal issues. Her only concern was she didn’t want me to have another disastrous relationship. My mother wouldn't have cared if my chosen significant other was a chimney sweep or the President of the United States – if he hurt her baby girl, then he had better get ready to feel the wrath of her rolling pin!
My father was in his usual fettle: rude, brash and hot-headed as hell, but it wouldn't have been Christmas without his affectionate swearing and hate-filled monologues against the English and their inferior celebratory festive traditions of 'Yule Tide' and 'Hogmanay'
Tink had proudly announced his relationship status to my mother, who already had him married off with kids (I was to embrace my ‘Fruit-Fly’ duty and be the volunteer surrogate, apparently). She beamed like a lighthouse at the thought of planning a civil partnership, and she made Tink promise to bring Tate over as soon as possible to meet the ‘in-laws’. Even my dad was happy for the clearly-besotted Tinkster, going so far as to promise him that he would honour the occasion by going 'full Scottish' under his kilt at the assumed future wedding.
On Boxing Day, a contented Munro clan gathered around the TV, over-stuffed with food and drink and having a lazy family day. My dad was switching through the movie channels at a dizzying rate, dismissing each film as ‘Pish’ or ‘for eejits’ and eventually settled on one he could stomach: the Sky premiere of The Blade Reaper, starring none other than (dun, dun, duuunnnnn!) Tudor North.
Tink and I were having a little tipple with my mam on the sofa when we recognised Tudor's familiar raspy-rough voice (minus his strong Canadian accent) through the very expensive surround-sound Dad had just got for Christmas. Tink, unable to disguise his shock, proceeded to spray his mouthful of Bucks Fizz all over my mother as she was polishing off her sizable third extra-strong Snowball of the afternoon.
I had never seen any of Tudor's movies – purposely, I might add – since I’d met him, and I definitely didn't want to start now, but watching him on screen, playing someone else so well was something to behold. I ended up sitting next to Dad, mesmerised, right through until the credits. Pamela was right, he was so talented and he completely blew me away, and my God, did he look fit…
Damn you, weak willpower!
There was an awkward moment when my father pointed at the ripped and bare-chested Tudor and proclaimed, "Feckin' hell, wud ya look at the size of that bugger! I betcha he would pack a few punches tae ya mooth and yer wud'nae even ken before ya lost ya teeth! At least he's not one of these namby-pamby wee snotty-nosed shits that usually poison ma screen. He cud've stood b'side Wallace and took off a few Sassenach heeds! I'll tell ya noo, he'll be from gud Scottish stock! That’s the kinda man ya need, Natasha, one that can scare the shit outta folk!"
