Eternally North (33 page)

I smiled inwardly,
knowing that my dad would have approved of us as a couple – every
girl wants her father to like the one she loves, err...
likes
,
I mean
likes
, people!

The next ten days at home continued
in a blur of food, wine and laughter, going by far too fast but I
loved every minute of it. Way too soon, it was time to get back to
normality. Well, whatever normal was these days…

So there we were, back
in Calgary. The third of January and minus twenty degrees – toasty!

Tink had parked
Bumblebee (now sporting some excellent new snow tyres) at the
airport, and we were settled in our heated seats ready to head home.

Tink was bouncing with
excitement at seeing Tater-Tot again, who had already been back in
Calgary for a week and was meeting us at the condo. I, on the other
hand, was not looking forward to hearing their reunion all afternoon,
but as Tink had already told me on the flight, "You have to like
it or lump it, I’m still scarred after seeing you get pummeled
against the wall by Tudor’s mammoth thighs. A little bit of fairy
sex-singing you can take, think of it as penance!" He did have a
point, I guessed.

As we hit the highway,
I decided that I had better switch my Canadian phone back on. I was
surprised to see several missed calls and voicemails in my mailbox
from Tudor, the latest listed two days ago. I took a deep breath and
pressed my phone to my ear, bracing myself to hear his voice once
more.

"Hey,
Sunshine."
Shit, he didn't sound too good.
"I’ve
tried calling a few times but I suppose you’ve switched off your
phone, being back in the UK. I... I just wanted to speak to you, see
if you have had a good Christmas break? I... I'm sorry to call you,
after everything, I probably shouldn't, but… I'm having a rough
time at the minute, family stuff, and you always make me feel better.
Anyway, I... I just want to tell you that I've been thinking of you
and... I miss you... a lot. Okay, well... ‘bye, Sunshine,"
and the message went off.

Tink looked at my torn
face from the driver’s side. "Tudor?" he guessed, and I
nodded, not speaking while I swallowed the lump in my throat.

He was having family
issues? That was the most he had ever told me about what was going
on, how he was feeling. But we weren’t even together and it was on
a friggin’ voice mail! How many times had I begged him to tell me
something, anything, and he finally sheds some light on his problems
to my phone’s answering machine while I’m four thousand miles
away. Frustrating is not the word!

I wondered what he
meant by family issues?
Jesus! Ten minutes back in Calgary and I’m
thinking of the hulking man already – I need professional help!

I decided to file away
dealing with the voicemail until later when I was in the safety of my
own home and I could comfortably cope with the ever present
Tudor-related issues.

We were heading
downtown on Deerfoot Trail when Tink’s in-car Bluetooth phone went
off – ‘Pookie’.

He pressed the accept
button and Tate's gentle voice filled the car. "Hey, baby. You
back yet?" Tate’s dismembered voice asked.

I eyed Tink and saw by
his expression that he too had noticed that his boy sounded off, not
his usual cheery self.

"Hey, sugar tits.
Yep, we are about twenty minutes from the condo. Where are you,
everything okay? Wait, what's that noise?"

There was shouting and
banging in the background, and Tate rushed out his next sentence in a
hushed and panicked tone. "Look, I'm calling as I can't come
around tonight, something’s come up. I'll call you later, okay?"

I could hear police
sirens wailing in the background, getting louder by the second,
obviously heading closer to where Tate was.

Tink looked frantic,
his hands shaking on the steering wheel. "Tatey, honey, what's
wrong? Are you okay? I'm scared!"

So was I.

"I'm fine, baby,
look I have to go–" There was loud shouting, banging and
someone swearing.

"Tudor,
no!
"
screamed a feminine voice, a voice that sounded absolutely petrified.
I gripped the seat belt at hearing Tudor’s name.

"Look I have to
go..." The phone went dead.

I whipped my head to
Tink. "Oh my God, what was all of that about? What if
something’s wrong with Tudor?" My voice was scaling a few
octaves higher and my heart was pounding in my chest.

Tink bit the nails on
his right hand. He must be really worried if he was putting his
Shellac at risk. "I-I don't know," he said in a quiet,
shaky voice.

I narrowed my eyes –
the little liar! "What do you know? And don't lie. I can see
you're hiding something by the way you can't keep your perfectly
polished talons out of your mouth," I demanded.

Without checking his
wing mirrors, he pulled over onto the hard shoulder, ignoring the
horns and name-calling from the other drivers on the road. He laid
his head on the steering wheel and groaned. "He made me promise
not to tell!"

My breathing grew
laboured. "Tell me what?" I screamed, shaking Tink's arm.

"Look, he didn't
go into detail but when we were away, Tatey flew back to Calgary and
something was going down with Tudor and his family."

"What was it?"
I pushed, my heart now moving from a steady canter to a full-blown
Seabiscuit gallop.

"I don't know but
I think it's bad, my boy was so scared," he whimpered.

"Of what?”

"I don't know what
of. Look, Wil, Tate takes his job very seriously and he signed a
confidentiality agreement when he took the position, so I have no
details. Believe me, I’ve tried but he won’t crack, he’s like
the freakin’ Enigma Code!"

Was this what Tudor
had been keeping from me? It had to be. What else could it be? What
the hell was going on?
I had to go and find out once and for all.
I needed it to move on.

I looked to Tink and he
began preemptively shaking his head. "
Tink
…” I
threatened. “Take me to the Aspen/Spring Valley area, at the end on
Seventeenth Ave South West. I know that’s the area he lives in,
and, by the sounds if it, if we follow the sirens and flashing lights
we'll figure out which is his house pretty damn quick."

Tink stared at me like
I was crazy. "Wil, I don't thi–"

I cut him off. "Just do it,
Tink, for fucks sake!" I screamed, and he quickly pulled back
onto the highway and floored it all the way to the commotion at the
exclusive and wealthy neighbourhood.

It didn’t take us
long to find the right place.

When we got there,
emergency service vehicles were spread out along the long driveway of
a house situated on its own in about four acres of land, completely
segregated from other properties nearby. I could only assume was the
residence of the Norths.

At the sight of police
cars and ambulances, my fear kicked into overdrive and before the
Camaro had even stopped, I was out of the door and running towards
the scene. I could hear raised voices in the house from the driveway
and I could make out crying, it was full of pain and anguish. My eyes
began to fill up with tears in fear of what I would find.

I reached the end of
the long graveled road and began sprinting up the brick stairs only
to see Tate, head in hands, hunched over and crying against the side
of the huge white-with-black-beams mansion – Tudor-period style (go
figure).

He saw me running his
way, eyes wide, and he rushed over to meet me. "Tash, what the
hell? You can't be here right now," he cried, trying to usher me
away.

I stood stock-still.
"Where is he? What's happening?" I could hear Tudor’s
voice. I had to get to him, check he was okay.

"Tash, now is not
a good time. You need to go." He tried to physically turn me
around.

"No! I won't
leave. Tell me what’s going on," I bellowed.

Tate's face crumpled.
He broke down and began to cry. He laid his head on my shoulder,
unable to stop his torrent of emotions.

I kissed his head.
"Shhhh, it’s okay, sweetie, what happened?"

He let out a painful
groan. "He got to her just in time, it was awful. He just lost
it, and I called the police. I was in my study working on the other
side of the house. It was… it was awful!" he sobbed and
sobbed, drenching the shoulder of my coat.

I heard Tink running up
from behind me and Tate looked up, unwrapped himself from my embrace
and took off in the direction of his boyfriend. I watched him throw
himself into Tink’s shocked and worried arms. Unshackled, I set off
in the direction of the front of the house. I turned the corner and
my path was immediately blocked by an ambulance. I moved to the open
doors, and inside was a young girl, bloodied and clearly shaken,
clothes ripped and crying.

No!
It was
Boleyn.

Pamela North was
hovering over her, fussing and petting her outstretched hand, clearly
in emotional pieces. The paramedics worked on Boleyn’s injuries and
one of them was injecting something into her arm. I was frozen in
place, I couldn’t move or speak.

Catching sight of me,
Pamela let out a large cry and stepped outside of the vehicle,
shocked beyond measure. I suddenly realised coming here was a
terrible mistake. This was clearly a very personal family matter and
I was intruding, trying to involve myself in something I should never
have done, all because of my own insecurities.

I opened my mouth to
apologise and leave when she spoke, eyes glazed over and replaying
some horror in her head. "He must have snuck in through her
window and I didn't hear. What kind of mother doesn’t hear? And
Tudor, oh God, Tudor… just wouldn't stop. Please go see him, he
needs you... please, do something... it’s too much for him to cope
with on his own."

The paramedic moved to
the doorway and, giving me a polite nod, closed the doors. The sirens
blared and blue lights filled my vision as the ambulance moved
carefully up the driveway.

I looked around, trying
to locate someone I knew to try and grasp some idea of what the hell
was going on, but all I saw were officials and discarded Christmas
decorations thrown on the perfectly landscaped, hilled lawn. With no
other avenues to explore, I moved towards the front door.

Before I could reach
it, two policemen came out of the main entrance, struggling with a
bloodied and heavily beaten man in handcuffs. He had fair hair and
was tall with a stocky build. He looked (at least from what I could
make out) to be in his mid-to-late fifties and he was limping on his
right foot. He exuded an air of malice; it was practically pulsing
around him. I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself as he
passed.

As the police officers
struggled to drag the fighting man to the car, he caught sight of me
watching and smiled, his mouth full of blood, droplets dripping
crimson on his stubbly chin. I felt violated from his grin alone.

He began to laugh,
making me shiver and I backed away. "Well, if it isn't Tudor's
bitch!"

I gasped. He knew me? I
was scared now, and in fear I stepped back several more feet as the
police seemed to lose their grip and had to wrestle to restrain him.
He met my gaze straight on, eyes narrowing. "Now, where have you
been, little girl? I've been looking for you everywhere this past
week but no-one was home. Pity really, you look positively delectable
in person," he licked his lips, lapping on his own blood,
causing my skin to crawl.

My head span and my
heart pounded. I wasn’t breathing. He'd been following me? He knew
where I lived? Who was he? A stalker? A crazed fan? I couldn't speak
through fear. The leer on his face was pure evil. He cocked his head
and spat a mouthful of blood at my feet, making me retch.

He laughed at my
reaction and tried to lean forwards. "The denial statement was
good, by the way, but I knew it was bullshit. I was here, watching,
waiting. I was going to finish what I started years ago before that
bastard mistake of mine stopped me, stopped me from what I am
entitled to do – she’s mine to play with however I wish.
You
were going to be the icing on the cake, the guilt would’ve killed
him. But hey, there's always next time, and there
will
be a
next time. Make no mistake about that!" he threatened as he was
hauled into the back of a police car, the police officer apologising
as he walked past.

As the patrol car
pulled away, the man was staring at me out if the window, smiling all
the time until they were out of sight, leaving me standing alone in
the snow.

Breathe, Tash. There
must be an explanation for all this whacked-out, Stanley Kubrick
madness. Don’t vomit, keep it together… Pamela said Tudor needs
you.

My inner monologue was
broken by noises coming from inside the mansion. I commanded my feet
to head towards the house as fast as I could. Henry, Tudor's brother,
and Samantha, his wife, were sitting on the stairs directly in front
of the large oak door.

Samantha was crying
hysterically and Henry was as still as a statue, staring at nothing,
as pale as a ghost. The door to the left of them was shut, but the
crashing and banging noises emanating from behind it were loud and
unyielding. I came to a halt, unsure of what to do next.

Henry noticed me first,
shock clear on his face. "Natasha, what are you doing here?"

Samantha lifted her
head and wiped the tears from her face. I flinched as something
cracked against the wall on the other side of the door. Henry dragged
a hand through his long, shaggy hair. "He's in there, we can't
calm him down. I think you had better leave him a while. We can
explain everything later."

“He told you about
us.” I said softly. Not a question, but a statement.