DUNKIRK | HARRY STYLES

[Scene Three]

I took a quick shower to wash off that typical airport smell, revelling in the tiny little shampoo bottles, though wishing there were more of them. While drying my hair I looked around for something to wear, not really sure of how formal, or casual, the restaurant was.

In the end, I didn't dress up much, only changing into some black jeans and a pretty blouse. It wasn't like it was a superbly posh place.

However, as soon as I arrived downstairs and found the restaurant, I wanted to scurry back and change into my most formal outfit. All the men were in suits and all the women were dressed to the nines in evening dresses. I looked around, but there was not one pair of jeans to be seen in the whole room.

It was too late now anyway, and I had to brave my way through the looks I was getting from the staff and guests. I let myself be led to the table by a snobby waiter and ordered myself some wine, knowing I was going to need it.

Dad was late. I sat there for half an hour, people watching and playing with the napkins, wishing there was free wifi. He finally turned up at quarter to seven, full of apologies and excuses. I politely accepted them all and he sat down opposite me. We looked at each other for the first time since the awkward get together at Christmas and both of us had not a word to say to the other.

Silence blanketed us, and I searched my mind for at least one conversation starter.

"So, how's school?" He said, and I cringed.

"I don't go to school anymore Dad, I'm on my gap year remember?" I said, though it was obvious how little he knew about me.

"Oh yes." He pretended, nodding his head and hastily directing his attention towards his apparently wonky cutlery. "But surely you're going to university soon?"

"Hopefully, I just don't know what to major in." I shrugged and was grateful when the waiter appeared, a lot less snobby now Dad was here, looking all powerful in his expensive suit.

We got our drinks and thankfully he moved on from the subject of my life and onto my brothers. They were easy to talk about and at this point the conversation flowed easily- that is, until I ran out of funny stories to tell and moments to explain. We'd worked our way through the starter and had ordered our main by the time the next awkward silence hovered between us.

"And how's your work going? I heard that you're doing really well now." I said and he ducked his head modestly.

"I've been very lucky, which is unusual in this business. I think I'm just so passionate about it that I managed to work my way up." He said and my heart ached inside my chest at this well meaning comment. He was more passionate about his work than he ever was about his family.

"That's great." I said through gritted teeth and stabbed my delicious steak.

"India, darling." He said softly and I chewed less harshly, actually looking him in the eye for one of the first times that evening. "I know this is hard for you, seeing what I left for. I get it."

This made me angry, because there was no way in hell he 'got it'. No one 'got it'. Especially not him.

"I don't think you do get it." I said, surprising myself at my words. I didn't mean to let it slip out, but I was so angry all of a sudden. I could feel my heart beating furiously against my rib cage.