"Mmm?"

"I think you love him too."

I froze and then, quick as a snit, jumped from the couch. "You want a drink, you slut of a fay?"

Tink tutted loudly at my avoidance of the topic. "You can't lie to me or yourself forever, piglet!"

I cranked up Fears on my iDock and motioned that I couldn't hear him over the music. I knew Tink’s words were dangerously close to being the truth, and I wasn’t ready to acknowledge it.

I went to school as normal on Monday and Tuesday, and again, I didn't see Tudor on the evenings. We spoke on the phone, though mostly it felt strained and contrived. He had agreed to come over on Wednesday to see me before I flew home on Thursday night for Christmas – it was something, I supposed.

For my final lesson of the term, I had the Grade Ten World Religions class, and in it was Boleyn Jones, who had quite quickly been taken out of ‘Destiny’s Delinquents’ and placed back into normal, mainstream classes. I was still at a loss as to why she was ever there in the first place, and Tudor wasn’t cracking, so as ever, I was none the wiser.

I knew for a fact that Tudor had never informed Boleyn of our relationship, but I was slightly nervous that she may have seen the photo of us together on the internet or the TV, like the rest of the world – in fact I was convinced she had. If the snickers and whispers that followed me through the school corridors from her fellow classmates were any indication, she had definitely seen me aboard the back of the Tudor Express.

From the moment she walked in, I knew something was up. I stood at the door and welcomed in each child as normal. Boleyn was the last through the door. “How are you Boleyn, excited for Christmas break?” I asked cheerily.

She simply and muttered. “Oh yeah, ecstatic!”

O-kay!

“Well, someone’s in the festive spirit! Cheer up, it may never happen!” I joked, trying to improve her stinking attitude whilst I turned to the board writing ‘The Five Pillars of Islam’ across the centre.

I heard a screech of a chair, and snapped around to face the class at the sound.

Boleyn was standing near her desk, face full of thunder. “May never happen? What the hell do you know? Believe it or not, you're not always right.”

My head shot back to look at her. What did she just say to me? "Erm, Boleyn, please do not take that tone with me. Let’s discuss this calmly." I said firmly.

Her eyes began to fill with water. "Why, are you struggling to understand me? What's wrong? Can't you understand my accent? ‘Cos that’d be rich, coming from you!"

"Boleyn, this is your last warning. Reel it in, now and tell me what the problem is!" I stared at her expression, and her bottom lip began to tremble, tears streaming down her face. She was becoming hysterical.

I moved around my desk pushing my arms out, trying to calm her down. “Boleyn, settle down. What’s wrong? Come outside, come on,” I offered as I ushered her out of the door and into the quiet corridor, using the calming voice that we were trained at University to use to soothe an irate child.

I craned my head back into the classroom. “The rest of you, create five questions that you have about the Islamic faith in the back of your books. I’ll be back in a few minutes, and no talking!" I shrilled.

Boleyn was against the wall and was angry as hell as she used the sleeves of her shirt to mop up her wet cheeks. I turned to face her. “Right, what is going on? If you have a problem you can talk to me about it. Lashing out in class is not like you.”

She laughed scarily. “Oh, I do have a problem…you!”

Ah, so she did see the photo then. Get yourself out of this one then, Tash!

I nodded, trying to be a calming presence. “And why is that?”

She moved from the wall to get right in my face. “Because you came into this school like Mary f**king Poppins and tried to make everything better, but you can’t, can you? You’re just like everyone else, helpless to do anything!”

I pinched in my brows, confused. “Boleyn, you can talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, I’m sure I can help.”

She walked away for a few steps then turned back, furious, and shouted, “Why? ‘Cos you’re screwing my brother?”

I stepped back in shock. “W-What?”

“I know it’s you he keeps disappearing to. I saw the photo, even if he won’t admit to it!”

“Boleyn–” I stepped towards her.

“No! Get back. You know nothing about me, my family or my brother! Why don’t you just go back to England for good? No-one wants you here! I don’t want you here. I thought you would make things better but you have just f**ked them up more!” She began walking backwards.

“How? How have I made things worse? Boleyn, I don’t understand?” I tried to placate.

She scowled. “Just go away and leave us alone! I hate you! You’ve made it all come back! It’s all going to happen again, and it’s your fault!” And she fled out of the building.

Running back into my classroom, I quickly informed Ms. Thomas via the phone in my office, and was told that everything would be sorted without my help. She wouldn’t tell me any more than that, and I was left reeling.

With that, school broke up for the holidays.

Merry bleeding Christmas!

As soon as school was done – literally on the bell – I went straight home. I opened the door aggressively, ruthlessly taking out my anger on the eight-foot contraption, and there was Tudor, waiting on the couch.