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

Chapter Four

"Tickets!" a deep voice suddenly calls out. "Pull out yer tickets!"

I look around the car to find a man in a black conductor's hat combing through the aisle to collect each passengers' ticket. Behind him trails a young boy carrying a bundle of newspapers. When the two step next to us, I hand the conductor our tickets while Lucy asks for a paper. She, being a more seasoned traveler, already has her currency in order.

"How much for the paper, darling?" she asks the young boy. The poor thing can't be more than eight years old. His sandy blonde hair and brown eyes remind me of my youngest brother at home.

"Three pence, please" he squeaks. She digs into her small handbag and places the coins into his tiny palm. "Thank you, miss."

The little boy continues to happily follow the grumpy conductor, the image of which makes me chuckle to myself. I slump back against the plush seat, exhausted and yet incapable of resting.

With a sigh, I give up on trying to relax and hope instead that Lucy can help distract me from my nerves.

"Well, what's new in the world?" I ask her.

Lucy holds up the front page and begins to read aloud.

1 October, 1938.       

                                                                     Peace For Our Time!

Yesterday's speech by Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain took on the tremendous effort of calming the people of this great English nation. War, it appears, is not on the horizon...

Lucy places the paper down in her lap and twists her slight frame towards me. "Well thank heavens. It seems we won't have to worry at least too much with all that nonsense going on in the rest of Europe."

"You know, I've been worried about that," I reply. "My father says that war may break out elsewhere, but that they would never fight in England."

"Well, let's hope he's right," Lucy scoffs, her blue eyes continuing to scan over the paper.

The thought of war has been a dark shadow over this trip. News of Hitler's expansion has been a leading story in nearly every newspaper. And, seeing as Mother warned me that I am to stay for as long as Grandmother deems helpful, I should hope it wouldn't become a problem. It was one of the first arguments Tom threw at me when he'd tried to convince me not to go. I had told him he was being ridiculous, but the fear of not being able to get home before some ridiculous war breaks out did have a way of popping up in my mind.

"Don't worry about a thing, Hazel," Lucy says, picking up on my sudden nerves. "It's going to be alright. Besides, I think we need to focus on the issue in front of us."

"That being?" I ask, one eyebrow raised.

"That lovely gentleman right there," she smiles devilishly, alluding to the puppy eyed man four rows ahead of us.

"Lucy!" I exclaim. She bursts into laughter.

"Oh, just relax. I'm only having just a bit of fun." Then, turning to gaze out the window, she breathes, "Oh, look! How beautiful! "

Together we peer out of the window, watching as we leave the taller buildings of the port city for sprawling green hills. It's a beautiful sight, but it sets my nerves aflutter. It's been nearly a decade since I met Grandmother and Grandfather.

"You've got that look about you again," Lucy says.

"What look?"

"The look of I've just eaten the stew on a gusty night at sea," she teases. I roll my eyes at her sly grin.

"I'm just nervous to meet my Grandparents, I suppose."

"You've had letters with them, no?"

"Yes, but meeting them in person is a whole different thing. My mother seemed most nervous for me to meet them."

"Oh?" Lucy asks, touching up her make-up in her little compact mirror. "Why's that?"

I pause to chew on my answer.

"Mother left England for my Father, an American soldier she'd met after he was stationed here in the Great War. From the few stories Mother had allowed me, I'd gathered that it wasn't the most blessed of unions."

I know that Mother would not want me to tell this story to Lucy, though. Lord knows she gave me a laundry list of things I was not to tell Grandmother and Grandfather about. My mind flashes back to a month ago, when Mother had told me not to mention how I had never taken formal cotillion classes.

"But who takes such classes nowadays, anyways?" I had asked her. "Plus," I laughed, "Do you really reckon I come across as a genuine debutante?"

"Hazel," she huffed, "you've not been brought up by wolves. I've taught you plenty of fine manners for years. Would you just let your Grandmother think you learned them at school, please?'

"So you want me to lie?"

"No!" she'd yelled. Then, with her hands on her thin waist, added with a heavy sigh, "Your Grandmother is just a particular woman."

It had taken everything in me not to roll my eyes at the irony of the moment.

"Don't give me that look, Hazel."

"Fine, fine," I'd conceded, continuing to wash the dishes in the sink. I handed her one to dry, and I watched as she stood there silently, staring at the small chipped edge.

"Your Grandmother needn't know more than our general welfare and interest," she said after a quiet minute. "I wouldn't want her feeling she needed to do any more than continue to just send her best wishes to us."

Now, sitting here in the car, barrelling towards this strange new family, I'm not exactly sure how to sum all this up for Lucy.

"Well?" she probes again.

"Mother's just told me some stories. Apparently, my Grandmother has a deep love of fancy parties," I laugh. "Guess I'm just nervous to see if I'll fit in."

Lucy pauses to think about this, and tucks her mirror away. Looking back at me, she says, "So what you mean to say is that you're worried they won't like you?"

"S'pose so," I say, glancing down at my folded hands.

"Oh, pish posh," she snorts. "It's money in the bank, toots! No way they don't love you."

I can't help but laugh at her certainty.

"Thanks, Luce," I say, smiling. I lean back against the chair and let out a heavy sigh as I try to let go of the nerves.

"Hey, Hazel." Lucy whispers, nudging me gently from my jittery state. She squeezes my hand and smiles hopefully. "Welcome home."

"Welcome home, Luce." I smile back. "Welcome home."