It was the last week of term in December, only four days of school left before the Christmas vacation, when the phone calls began and my loving boyfriend began to change.

Tink, Tate, Tudor and I were out at Ristorante Girasoli (once again hidden in the back room) enjoying dinner when my man received yet another mysterious call. Up until that point I had not really questioned who they were from, as Tudor had assured me that I could trust him. I assumed it was his “people” in LA talking business and then I quickly changed my mind. The problem was that he would not give me any information on the matter whenever I asked him, and my inner Miss. Marple suspicions were aroused.

When the ringtone sounded, and he lost the 'nice-Tudor’ personality I adored and adopted the 'bastard-Tudor' I was once victim to, I stilled and prodded Tink's leg under the table to give him a heads up. I had confided in Tink about the strange goings-on of late, and this was the first public call Tudor had gotten, the first opportunity for someone other than me to witness.

Tink winked once to let me know he was paying attention, and we listened as we ate our carprese.

"Hello… yeah, shit, okay... no I’ll be there...when... no, I'll be alone... no, no-one, nothing special… yeah, I’ll call you soon."

Tudor never once made eye contact with anyone during the conversation, and when he was finished he slammed his phone down onto the table top, practically splitting the wood in two.

I stared at Tink, who had his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tate’s head was cast down and he was fiddling with his hands.

I cleared my throat. "Tude, are you okay?" I swallowed back the fear I felt brewing in my stomach.

"What?" he snapped.

I drew back at his aggressive tone. His manner was overtly hostile – whatever the problem was, it seemed to be getting worse.

"She asked if you were alright!" Tink bit back, defensive hackles rising.

Tudor rubbed his hand over his face and looked my way. "Yeah, I'm fine, just stop asking." He was cold and distant.

"Who was that?" I dared ask. I was over not knowing.

He whipped his head up to look at me and sternly shook his head. He stood abruptly, discarding his napkin on his barely-touched food and reached for his hooded leather coat, motioning to Tate that it was time to leave.

"I need to go. I'll call later, okay?" He leaned forward and brushed a meaningless kiss across my forehead.

"You're just going to leave? Leave us sitting here like numpties?" I spat out. Tudor was annoyed, and groaned in exasperation, eying Tink warily. "Tash, I need to go. Can you just get a ride back with Tink, please? This is not the time or the place to start with the questions again."

Well, that told me!

I threw down my own napkin and crossed my arms. "Fine, just bloody go then!" I turned to Tink. "Come on, chuck, I've suddenly lost my appetite."

I grabbed my bag from the back of my chair and stood, linking arms with my fabulous fairy, and stormed past Tudor. Tink tutted, clicked a finger in Tudor’s face, blew a kiss at Tate, but kept up with my pace.

Tudor turned to us, trying to catch my sleeve with his hand. "Tash, please, I have to go but–."

I put up a hand. "But let me guess, you can't tell me why?"

He opened his mouth several times like he was trying to explain, but no words popped out.

I nodded once. "Thought so. Let's just go, Tink."

"Mmm… hmm. Let's split like a banana, Toots!"

By the time I had got to the car, I was shaking with anger, literally bouncing in the passenger seat with fury. I turned to Tink. "What the hell was all that about? I told you the phone calls seemed dodgy. Has Tate said anything lately about what's going on? Even just a hint?"

He shook his head. "No, not a peep! But I agree, how weird was that? Who d’you think called him? ‘Cos whoever it was has royally pissed him off."

I shrugged. "I don't know. You know, over the last week he's been getting these phone calls at all hours, and every time I ask who it is he just tells me not to worry and to just 'trust him'.”

Tink pulled out of the parking lot. "And do you? Trust him, I mean?"

We watched as Tate and Tudor got into the Jeep and sped away in the opposite direction.

"I think I do, but what can be so bad that he can't talk about it?"

Tink hunched his shoulders, and silence filled the car for several blocks.

"Tink, did you hear him say 'No-one, nothing special'…you... you don't think he was referring to me, do you?"

He dismissed my comment with the wave of his hand. "Are you kidding? You’ve hardly been apart for the last few weeks. You’ve spent more time with him lately than most couples do in months. I think we can safely say that you definitely are someone special to him."

I sighed in relief.

Look, let me just put in my two cents worth so you know where I stand. I am not a needy girlfriend; I do not need to know every aspect of my boyfriend’s life. I do however feel that I should at least gain some insight when something weird starts going on. At this point, I would have even been happy to just know how he was feeling in himself, but Tudor was keeping me at arm’s length, pushing me back like the pose on the friggin’ Heisman Trophy.

I’m an independent woman (‘throw your hands up at me…’) and like having my own space. Equally, I thought Tudor should have his, but I was nearing my breaking point. I thought he would’ve confided something by now, but in between the ridiculous amounts of sex and the shower-storms of affection he had been throwing my way, he had been cold and distant, leaving no room for discussion and certainly not acting like the man I had come to know.