White Eskimo ~ Harry Styles

Now

August 21st, 2010 

"Shove off!" Lou mocks me, after I fail at pushing his bum off my leg.

"Well, mum's already here so I would appreciate it if you let me get up and say hello."

Wriggling until I can get out from under his weight, I rush over to my mother and embrace her in a tight hug. I do miss her, even if I tell myself I don't. Just holding mum - clutching her blouse, rubbing my head against the crook of her neck - brings back memories I don't want to relive. Shocked, I am, when the memories seem to float around instead of slamming me to the ground with their weight. The pain just seems to linger there, tapering away as mum starts to greet the others - the first time she actually gets to have a decent conversation with them. Listening in to conversations, I find, is a great distractor, and instead of wallowing in pain, I listen as my band mates chatter on about how awesome the X Factor experience is and how they can't wait to watch the first episode which airs tonight. I find myself smiling; I'm glad that they all seem to get along well, though it's not surprising since my band mates are amazing and mum's great at conversing with new people.

"So have you boys got your suitcases?"

"Yep!" They chorus, their bags already in tow. Zayn tugs at his red cardigan, slipping it down over his knuckles to protect them from the chilly weather. He seems rapt to go to Cheshire but ever since seven in the morning, he has kept moaning about how cold it's going to be. Niall finds it hilarious because, a. Zayn isn't even attempting to be warm in his thin knit; b. it’s only August; and c. Bradford tends to be colder than Cheshire.

Mum pushes the boot open, banging on the vehicle so that it responds even if that means it creaks open rather than swings. We place our bags in and then hop into her car, squishing up close and personal in the seats. I jump in the front, my body sinking into the familiar leather which has, now that I think of it, a rather peculiar smell. I've always thought that cars smell strange in comparison to this one, but now that I've been away from home so long, the scent is off. It's almost as if I've forgotten the regular patterns of life in Holmes Chapel. 

Settling in, I prepare for the two and a half hour long drive. 

I watch the passing view intently, trying to remember the places we had driven past when I first went to London for the X Factor. Some places I remember instantly – like St John the Evangelist Church with its spires peeking over the trees – but there is a frightening amount of things that seem different; the house that was always lit up at night like a mini sun has been demolished and builders are constructing a completely different monument, a paddock seems smaller than before and a car on sale that was always left untouched has been sold.

For some reason, it saddens me. The drive seems so different from the drive when I first came to Hyver Hill - bar the lads. I've changed so much and I don't know whether that's good or not.

Mum taps her fingers on the steering wheel as she muses, "I'll go back home with the bags and leave you all to go out in the village. Gem's not going out tonight Harry, so make sure that you come back for dinner with the whole family."

"Sure mum." I nod, resting my head against the cool window. "We can get out here if you want."

"Alright, have fun!"

As soon as my feet touch the damp ground outside mum's car, I know where I want to go. Every Saturday since I was sixteen, Nick and I would work for six pounds an hour behind a counter serving locals. W Mandeville was dubbed the best grocer and bakery in Holmes Chapel by Nick and I, ever since we first started working there. Simon, our boss, was kind although occasionally harsh; like when we had been at a party on the Friday and therefore believed it fit not to show up. We worked with the best employees and would have countless conversations out the back, the sweet smell of freshly baked bread distracting us every second. The only people using the bakery would generally be locals too, so it made it easy to get along with the customers since we knew them so well. Once I had even been singing in the bakery and a visitor told Nick that I should be signed.