No Matter What // Harry Styles AU -- Dunkirk inspired

Chapter Five

Just about two hours later, the conductor announces my stop. The train eases to a slow pace as I grab my luggage from beneath the seat.

"You be good, you hear?" I command Lucy as she stands in front of me.

"Me, trouble?" She laughs off my advice. "And besides, I'm just a hop and a skip away in London. If I get into any trouble, I'll be on the first train to bring you along with me." We hug each other tightly.

"Lucy, you're a godsend." I hold her hands and lean back to look her in the eyes. "I cannot thank you enough for being my friend these past few days."

"Oh hush, Hazel." Lucy swats away the comment with the flick of her wrist. "Just make sure you write to me and some weekend we will meet to go dancing or do something fun," she beams.

"Of course!" I hug her tightly again. Lucy grabs my hat and gloves from the seat and places my hat smartly upon my head. I put on my gloves and pick up my suitcase, letting out a sigh as Lucy and I share one last smile.

"Last call, ladies," the mustached conductor calls dryly.

"You've got this," she encourages me.

"Bye, Lucy!" I turn and walk towards the train door. I hurry past the stern conductor. He stands perfectly still, but I can still feel his eyes judging my American ways. I run off the train and turn to wave back at Lucy through the window.

"Give 'em hell, Hazel!" She calls out the window. As the train pulls out, I am overcome with a sense of loneliness. I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing.

"Relax, Hazel. You've crossed an entire ocean to be here, you can do this," I say to myself to settle my nerves. Holding my bag with two hands in front of me, I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and open my eyes. I turn towards the ticket station, but there is only a young woman and her child waiting. I take a seat on the benches, and wait for someone, although who I am not sure.

Grandmother, did know that I was to arrive today?

Before the panic starts to set in, a man appears.

"Hazel? Is that you?" The man's voice is soft and gentle. I look down the station line at the man. He's dressed simply in a tweed suit and hat.

I stand up to meet the stranger. "Uncle Ben?"

He lets out a chuckle, "I was worried you'd forget a face like mine."

Truth is I had. Despite the kindness of his soft brown eyes and his comforting smile, it had been Mother's incessant plea that I memorize old photos that came in handy.

"You're all grown up! Why I was half expecting a little gangly thing like the sprout you used to be."

I nervously shrug, unsure of what to say.

"I'm so appreciative of your hospitality" I stammer.

"Nonsense, you're here on account of our troubles, so really I should be thanking you. Now, I've got a car for us to head back into the village." Uncle Ben points back towards where he walked from. "Here, let me help you with your bag," he offers as he clumsily picks up my bag. He shakes his shoulder a little bit as he gets a better grip on the suitcase. As he begins to walk towards the road, I notice he has a small limp on his left side.

"Thank you again, so very much." My voice is rushed, too polite, as I try to assuage the guilt of having a burdened man carry my bag. He doesn't speak, but instead simply nods and smiles.

The drive through the village is a quiet one, but I enjoy having the silence to process the scenery around me. The town is quaint, with cobblestone nearly everywhere. The lush green fields and autumn trees are a stark contrast to the New York City that I know. However, as we continue down the wide road, the landscape becomes more rural. Tall trees dressed in thinning red and orange leaves line the road.

"So you work at a radio factory?" I ask Uncle Ben over the sound of the purring motor. Mother quizzed me for ages on different family facts so that I wouldn't seem rude, but I can't help but feel awkward carrying on a conversation in front of Uncle Ben's driver. He's a young lad with scruffy hair tucked behind a green cap, perhaps maybe just a few years older than me? I'm unsure, all I know is it's odd to be doted on in this way.

"Yes. The family business is in radio," he says. He lifts a thin finger and points to the left at a distant factory. "That there is our factory. Your grandfather owns the business, I run the day to day projects. We're usually based out of London, but as you know, country air is good for the lungs. We used to stay out here, your mum and I, as kids in the summers. First time we've lived here year round."

"How very exciting," I quietly exclaim as I look more closely out the window. My nose is practically pressed to the glass. I shift back towards him, "I've always thought it would be such fun being on the radio." At the sound of my own voice, I hear my mother's voice in my head chastise me for making such a childish statement. I look down at my hands, twisted together.

Uncle Ben doesn't seem upset though. Instead, he lets out a little laugh. "Well, we are more into the creation side than anything. But yes, it would be great fun."

Don't be dumb, Hazel, I remind myself. The car makes a slight turn and we find ourselves on a winding road. We pass several beautiful country homes before finally stopping in front of a beautiful house. The car comes to a halt when my Uncle cuts the engine.

As I open my door and step out, my heart flutters at the sounds of small birds chirping and the sight of such a lovely home. The house is grander than anything I've ever seen. My mouth drops slightly as I gaze at the aged brick that's adorned with lush green ivy. A bed of flowers line the pathway to the door inviting me every step of the way.

"Welcome" Uncle Ben says, smiling. He walks past me up the path towards the front door. Tiny pebbles crunch under the weight of his heavy shoe. I stand there awkwardly for a moment, taking in the view. The home I had visited in London as a child was beautiful, but it had been urban, much like what I had grown up seeing when I would visit the city. This, this was paradise.

"Hurry now," Uncle Ben calls. "Your Gran is quite excited to see you."

"Coming!" I say, scurrying behind him up the steps.