Pamela just stared at me, and I grimaced and shrugged. That was Tink – direct and unapologetic.

She continued. “So how did you two meet?” smiling at both me and the other Geordie gobshite.

Shit! I hate this story.

I went to speak, but Tink beat me to it. “Well Pam-Pam, funny story. We were twelve, it was a typical hard Northern winter, and we were both getting bullied. We met in the school’s ‘Beat the Bullies’ group.”

Tudor looked at me in shock. “You got bullied in school? Why?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but once again Tink dived in. “Because she looked like the arse-end of a truck, that’s why! Can you say ‘Wide-Load’?”

I dropped my fork and it clattered on the plate, making everyone freeze. I glared daggers at my soon-to-be-dead bestie. He looked back at me blankly.

“Thanks, Tink, why don’t you tell them why you were there?” I challenged. His eyes narrowed. “Because the kids at school were homophobic,” he delivered regally, a smug expression on his face.

“Oh, really? Nothing to do with you strutting your stuff in a bikini, fairy wings and a tutu, hiding in the rugby team’s shower offering baby oil rub-downs with guaranteed happy endings?”

He let out a soprano shriek, making everyone flinch in their seats – well, apart from Tater-Tot, who was gazing lovingly at his boyfriend, chin supported on his hand.

“You bitch! At least I wasn’t tied to a goal post and prodded with a stick!”

I laughed sarcastically. “You bloody wish you got prodded with a stick, in fact, you dreamt about it didn’t you?”

He put a hand across his chest and opened his mouth in shock before snapping it shut and nodding in agreement. “True, Boo. Loves ya.”

I winked and smiled lovingly. “Loves ya, too,” and we carried on eating our food.

I looked up after a few silent seconds and noticed several sets of eyes frozen on us, especially Boleyn’s – whoopsy! I just shrugged. This was normal, they had better get used to us, and what’s a family dinner without a bit of friendly banter?

As the night went on, we chatted about all sorts of things. Pamela was very easy to get on with. For the mother of my boyfriend, she was pretty awesome. I think she even got used to Tink and his…unique personality.

Henry proved to be an excellent story-teller, and he was regaling us with a tale about the time he had taken Samantha to Mexico for her thirtieth birthday. At the mention of that, Tudor swung his chair around and gripped my arm. “Shit, Sunshine, I don’t know the date of your birthday. How did I forget to ask that?”

I shrugged and patted his leg. “It’s okay, I don’t know yours either – though I could probably Google it. I’m sure the Tudor Chicks have that date tattooed on their weirdly obsessive little hearts,” I teased.

He leaned towards me, narrowing his eyes and dismissing my dig. “Mine’s April nineteenth.”

“Okay, mine’s January ninth.”

He shot back in his chair, nearly taking the tablecloth with him. “That’s in a couple of days.”

I grimaced. “Ugh, I know; I’ll be twenty-nine, last year of my twenties,” I said in a grumpy mood.

Tink butted in. “Mine’s February fifteenth in case you wanted to put that in your calendar too. And I like diamonds, FYI.”

Tudor held in a laugh. “Oh, yeah, thanks Tink, that was my next question.” The fantastic fairy nodded his head, face smug, completely not getting that Tudor was being sarcastic.

Tudor took my hand. “What are you doing for it?”

I looked at him like he was crazy. “Erm, nothing, except probably crying myself to sleep at the loss of my youth.”

Tink took a swig of his Zinfandel and whistled low. “I hear that sister, I’d be worried too with titties that size. Gravity will not be your friend, and you’ll be tucking your droopy ni**les into your socks in no time, hey Pam-Pam?” He held up a hand for a high five. Pamela paused for a moment before clapping Tink’s hand in an awkward fashion and mouthing 'sorry' to me.

I took a deep, calming breath. Tudor kissed the back of my hand, pulling me from my Tink-induced mood. “We’ll do something nice, Sunshine, and you’ll have a good time.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

We all finished at the table, and before long everyone was ready for bed. It had been one hectic week.

I found out that Henry and Samantha lived two doors down in a smaller three-bedroomed house, and Tate was going to go back to ours with Tink.

Pamela said her goodbyes and headed off to bed, taking Boleyn with her. Tudor whispered in my ear and asked me to stay with him, and I agreed, although I really didn’t need much persuading. Tink’s ‘surprise’ for Tate had arrived that morning, the box reading, ‘Premium Plug Pleasure Pack’. Staying at Tudor’s that night was something I deemed to be essential.

Grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses, we headed down to the basement and curled up on the sofa, listening to Newton Faulkner on the iDock. Tudor placed me on top of him. I had come to realise that he couldn’t be near me and not touch me, and most nights he wrapped me around his body like a curvy Geordie blanket – which was absolutely fine by me!

He had also shown me his newly organized room, which caused the butterflies in my stomach to go all Cirque Du Soleil. Tude, being the sweetie that he was, had cleared some of his closet and drawers and had bought me toiletries and basic clothes for the nights I would stay. I was so beyond happy with everything in my life at that moment – especially my big cuddly bear.