Tate came running into the room at that moment and saw the mess on my bedspread and carpet. He picked up the pictures one by one, his face full of horror.

Tink lifted me up on the bed, and spoke to his lover. “Get him on the f**king phone now!”

Tate put his hands out. “Tink, wait, I can’t call him for you. What the hell happened? What’s wrong with, Tash?”

“He screwed her over, just like I knew he would! We all saw that he liked her, and we all knew he’d do something like this. Now I’ll ask again, get him on the bastard phone, now!” he commanded.

Tate headed back to Tink’s room, looking slightly unsteady on his feet, and returned seconds later scrolling through his phone, holding out a hand in a placating manner.

“Let me speak to him first, please. I’m not allowed to give his number out, it’s in my contract. This is way out of my job description.”

Tink turned a bright shade of red. “You have ten seconds, Tate. I mean it. I'm so friggin' angry with him.”

I flipped on my side and put my hand over my mouth to muffle the hysterical giggles cascading out of me, causing the paper to crackle under my weight. Tate was pacing the room, running his hands through his hair and glancing up at Tink, who was still as a statue beside my bed, radiating pure rage.

Tate held the phone to his ear. “Tudor, it’s me. Listen, erm… I’m at Tink’s. Tash is in a bit of a... situation and Tink wants to speak to you… erm… she’s had a lot to drink and is not doing too good.”

Tate winced listening to Tudor’s response.

Tink, in his fury, stormed over to his boy-toy and snatched the phone out of his trembling hands. “You total arsehole! I warned you! I told you not to do this to her!” he yelled down the phone.

Wait! He did? When?

“What the hell have you said? She is a mess and keeps talking about a song, and saying you called her nothing. How could you?” he shrieked, his voice inching up an octave.

I could vaguely hear Tudor raising his voice in response on the other end of the phone. I couldn’t take the fighting. I had an idea.

As quickly as Natasha-possible, I catapulted myself off the bed and snatched the phone out of Tink’s hand, ran to the bathroom and locked myself in.

I was still laughing at my scheming when I began to look for the quiet voice saying ‘Tash’ that I could hear coming from somewhere in my en-suite. I looked under the toilet seat – maybe it was a gnome? I looked behind the shower door – maybe a leprechaun searching for his lucky charms? But nope, it was nowhere. Oh! Duh, it was the phone, silly drunken me!

“Helloooooo???” I sang into the mouth piece.

“Tash?” Tudor sounded relieved.

Tink was now hammering on the door, but I wasn’t going to open it. No, sir-ree! I made myself comfortable on the toilet seat.“Mr. North, how nice to talk to you again. How are you this fine evening? Still a cold-hearted bastard with no regard for anyone’s feelings?” I inquired.

“Tash, please don't. What have you had to drink? I don’t know what to say,” he sounded upset.

I almost – almost – had sympathy for him.

“Well Mr. North, I have had a few sips of amaretto and I am still trying to figure out who drank the rest. The bottle is empty and I don’t know how; it was full a few hours ago. I'm suspecting goblins, but who the hell knows, eh?”

“Tash, are you drinking, well, drunk, because of me? Did I do this to you because of today?” he groaned sadly.

“Of course I am, you clueless knob!” I laughed harshly, all tact gone, and feisty Geordie Tash taking over. “You have crushed me, absolutely crushed me… don’t you remember, you silly man? Let me remind you then,” I coughed and mimicked a deep Canadian voice, “‘I don't like you like that, don’t read anything into it, it was nothing, we are nothing’. I paraphrase, but I reckon you remember well enough!”

“Please, Tash. Stop,” his voice cracked. “Can I come over? Can I come and see you?”

That stilled me, all humour gone. “Come over and I’ll break your legs.”

His breath hitched at the end of the line.

“You were right, Mr. North. From this day we shall no longer see each other, and I don’t think I can keep on liking you like this. You know what’s funny? I have been falling for you, like big-style falling for you – the laughs, the time spent together, the touches, the smiles, just... you for you, not the movie star, just you. Just my Tudor. I thought you were special to me, I thought I was maybe special to you, too. You sometimes act like I am, you lead me on. How funny does that sound, right? Mr. Superstar liking little old me? It was stupid of me to even think it. Mr. Unattainable, Mr. I-live-to-torture-Tash. What a fool I am, but hey, at least I know now that you are the emotionless twat that I first suspected, and that you think me less than shit on your shoe – just another man to disregard me, and toss me aside. If you try to come over I swear I will go Newcastle on your arse and–"

The phone was ripped from my hands by Tink, who must have finally gotten through the lock. “Tudor, I heard everything she said. Leave her the f**k alone or I’ll be forced to intervene, and don’t fool yourself into thinking that a fairy can’t hurt you. When it comes to Wil, I’ll take on anyone or anything to protect her. You got that, butch?” and he hung up.

He knelt down in front of me, putting a hand on each knee, and asked in a soothing voice, “Are you okay, my little sausage?”