Eternally North (Eternally North 1)

Tash! You are in a mood with him, remember?

He was smiling tentatively, his eyes regarding me warily. “Hey Tash, thanks for doing all this for me.”

I simply nodded, pretending not to see his out-stretched hand. His face fell. Ha! Good!

The door behind him flew open dramatically, and in poured Tate and Tink, snapping me out of my Tudor-filled haze. My fairy godmothers here to save me.

My face broke into a huge smile. “Hi, Tate.” I quickly hugged him before heading for my amazing and absolute best friend.

“Tink, you big fibber! You said you had to work,” I chastised him whilst I grabbed him for a hug, loving his white three-piece suit with pink tie and crystal cane.

Fab-u-lous!

He just laughed. “Gotcha, sausage! As if I would miss your show. I never have before and I am not going to start now.”

He kissed my head and I sighed, calming down some. “Love you, Tink.” I really did; just like the real Tinkerbell, he was always there when you needed him.

“Love you too, Wil. Now, where are our seats, Director-Bitch?” he demanded, slapping my arse with the sharp end of his cane.

We began to walk up the back stairs leading us to the highest point of the theatre, where it was quiet enough to help Tudor stay incognito.

“How is she feeling?” said Pamela, obviously referring to her daughter.

I beamed. “She’s great, very excited. It’s a fantastic show, and her voice will knock your bloody socks off!”

Everyone laughed. “Can’t wait!” said the proud mother.

I led them to their private box and made sure they were all seated. Tink immediately reached for the complimentary binoculars and demonstrated to Pookie how to use them. I suspected he already knew, but I was discovering that Tate tolerated Tink’s dramatics out of pure adoration, and I for one loved seeing the look he had in his eyes when he was around my best friend – complete happiness.

I clapped my hands to get everyone’s attention and said, “I will have to go on stage after the show but I’ll come and get you when it's over. There’s an after-party in the grand hall if you’d like to go. I can’t hide you there though, I’m afraid, so just let me know what you want to do later on.”

I never once looked at Tudor, although I could feel him staring at me.

“Enjoy the show!”

I turned to leave, nodding at the thank yous and wishes of good luck. Tudor grabbed my hand discreetly as I walked past. “Break a leg, Tash,” he whispered, quickly rubbing his thumb over my knuckles.

I stopped dead and nodded once, avoiding his direction. I snatched my hand back and made a speedy exit.

“Wil,” Tink shouted from behind. He had followed me out and witnessed me holding the wall for support.

“You okay, hot dog?”

I stared at the floor, unable to speak for fear of crying, the emotional lump in my throat bobbing higher like a buoy.

Tink pulled me in to his chest and cuddled me tight. He knew.

“Pookie asked me to sit with them tonight, and I swear I just want to slap the beefcake silly every time I see him, and I have developed some pretty inventive suggestions on how to use this cane on the sod. Just ignore that he is here and have a fabulous show, yes?”

I nodded silently and he sighed, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You still like him, don’t you, porky?” he whispered, gripping me harder.

I bit my lip and nodded against his chest. “I can't help it, I've never felt this way before about anyone, but it doesn’t matter does it? We are nothing, remember?” I croaked, wiping away a stray tear. “Every time I ever think of him fondly, that memory snaps me right out of it.”

I kissed Tink on the cheek and pulled out of his embrace. “I’ll see you later, babe. I can’t think about all this right now and do my job.”

He squeezed my hands and headed back to the private box, but not before I saw Tudor peering through the privacy curtain with a grief-stricken expression upon his face, obviously having heard everything we had said.

I stared back for what seemed like an eternity, then sharply twirled away, desperately trying not to be buried by the mountain of hurt he had made me feel for the past several days.

The show was a huge success, and Boleyn was outstanding. The production received a well-deserved standing ovation, and the cast had me in tears as they presented me with a huge bouquet of red roses on stage after the show.

As I made the thank-you speeches, Tink and Tate whistled and whooped from the private box, causing curious looks in the main audience as they tried to work out who was up there. I announced the start of the after–party, and the audience gradually began to file out, making their way to the French Revolution-themed hall.

After making sure everything was settled backstage, I made my way up the back staircase to the Norths. I pulled back the curtain to the excited sounds of the family chattering, and Tink and Tate huddled close, whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears.

As I entered, Tink – always my biggest fan – screeched and ran over, picking me up and spinning me around. “Wil, that show was amazing, the best yet, in fact. I’m so proud of you! Big G and Glyn-Glyn would have loved it too.”

I laughed as he grounded me, and welcomed the congratulatory hugs from Pamela, Tater-Tot, Samantha and Henry. Tudor came towards me, and Tink, seeing my body freeze in anticipation of his embrace, grabbed my hand and jerked me towards him, leaving my heartbreaker the only option to simply pat me on my shoulder awkwardly and compliment me on a good show.