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

Chapter Seven

The first month of my stay flies by. My days are filled with the odd ends of household tasks and running errands into town. Most importantly, though, I'm supposed to be keeping Grandmother and Grandfather happy, which is proving to be more difficult than I anticipated.

While Grandmother is warm and high-spirited, Grandfather is distant and cynical. I learned this the hard way during my first week. Wanting to help Margaret, I offered to take tea to Grandfather in his study. On this day, I crept quietly into his room, trying ever so hard not to wake him from his slumber in his oversized arm chair, when he suddenly coughed so loudly and violently that it startled me. I dropped the whole tray, tea splashing on the cold wood floor as the tea cup shattered.

"What in God's name are you doing?" he bellowed. "I didn't realize your mother had raised you to be a stupid girl." His harsh words sliced right through me. I scurried out of the room as fast as I could clean the mess, and I've been walking on eggshells around him ever since.

Grandmother tried to explain later that he wasn't always this angry- that he used to be quiet, gentle even. It's a bit hard to imagine, but as mother had said before I left for England, in the last year, Grandfather had suffered a significant decline. He couldn't really run the factory any more, he didn't have control over his own home, and now he had a newcomer running around his home. I suppose I could sympathize, but it certainly didn't make my homesickness any easier.

It isn't all bad, I suppose. I've enjoyed getting to know my uncle and grandmother. Even though I hardly think I'm as grand as they are, they both make for fine enough company in the evenings.

And, while I've been missing my friends and family something fierce, it's hard not to fall in love with the English countryside. The mornings alone are enough to fill my home sick heart with wonder and delight. Every morning, I fling open my bedroom window to bathe in the cool blanket of the morning air and watch as the rich night sky transforms into a painting of purples and golds.

This morning is no different. I unlatch the window and open both panels to let in the crisp morning air into the room. My small bed is immediately next to the window, so I curl up with my quilt and gaze out at the beautiful sunrise. The melodic chirping of little birds float into my tiny room, reminding me of the beautiful country mornings of home.

As the sun comes up, I slowly let myself start to feel the excitement of this day. Two weeks ago I received a letter back from my dear Lucy. We exchanged phone numbers, and have been able to chat twice a week or so. Last week she rung me up to see if I was interested in going out for a dance. According to good ol' Luce, there's a charming dance hall located right in the middle of our towns, and she was desperately keen on going out. I had to admit, I am as well. Uncle Ben and Grandmother have been good to me, but I'm itching for a night out with a girl my own age. However, Grandmother refused to give me a final word about whether she would let me go out or not. I've been on my absolute best behavior to prove that she can trust me.

Not wanting to ruin my chances on the last day I have to prove myself, I force myself from my warm cocoon and pad across the small room to my dresser. I put on a dark blue skirt that falls past my knees and a simple white blouse. It's more than a bit chilly now that it's November, so I decide to throw on a wool weater, making sure to fix the collar so I'm presentable. I'm not in the mood to wrangle my naturally wavy hair, so I push it back with a headband and hope Grandmother doesn't mind. I now finally know exactly why mothers cared so much about being presentable, and honestly never dreamed that she would be quite relaxed in comparison to Grandmother. With a final check, I throw on my socks and shoes and head downstairs into the kitchen.

The house creaks as I make my way down the old wooden stairs and into the kitchen. I'm sure I'm the only one awake. I look at my brown leather wrist watch- six am. Uncle Ben will be down within the hour and Grandmother will be down by eight am, I think to myself.

"Good Morning," I say to Margaret, who has the kitchen up and running.

"G'morning, Miss," she replies.

"Please, Hazel is more than fine." I smile.

She smiles back kindly.

"Sorry, Miss," she pauses, "Hazel."

"How can I help this morning?"

"I should think a nice warm English breakfast should make your Grandparents content."

"On it!" I sing out. I walk through the kitchen, grab my long tweed coat, and head out the back door to grab some eggs. Even though the chicken coop is close to the house, I move as quickly as I can to hurry back inside into the warmth.

When I come back inside, however, I nearly have a repeat of my first week. Grandmother, who I haven't seen up and about at this hour once, stands right by the door in her housecoat.

"Lordy!" I shout, my heart just about to leap out of my chest.

"Hazel!" she gasps. "The Lord didn't sacrifice himself just for you to be shouting his name at the crack of dawn."

"Sorry," I rush breathlessly. I'm still shocked to see her. Grandmother's one of the most prim and proper women I've ever met, so to see her in her housecoat and with her hair still in curlers only adds to the shock. "I wasn't expecting to see you so early," I try to explain.

"Ah, well," she begins, taking a seat at the small table. "I wanted to speak with you before the house became too busy. You've been such a tremendous help everyday and I do believe a thank you is in order," she says as she pats the table for me to sit with her.

I carefully set the eggs down on the counter before padding over to join her. Margaret continues her work, but I can tell her ears are as open as a front door in spring.

"Grandmother, there's no need to thank me. I am here to help. Family helps family," I tell her.

She takes both of my hands in hers and replies, "Yes, I know. But, everyone needs to hear a thank you every now and then, especially if they have to deal with a crank all day." She makes a funny little twitch when she refers to Grandfather and it's hard not to giggle. "Listen, I know you've been wanting to go to that dance with your girlfriend. So I thought you might like a little surprise."

"A surprise? What's the surprise?" I start to ask too many questions.

"She comes in on the noon train, and you have the car to go shopping for the afternoon," she simply replies and pats my hands.

"Oh, Gran!" I leap across the space between us to give her a big hug. I suddenly realize my error in calling her such an informal name, but before I can say anything, she pulls back and smiles.

"Gran," she says with a short pause, "I like the sound of that." Her smile is a little bit different, a little more genuine than just the polite happy go lucky version of herself.

My heart soars.

We both laugh, and I happily get started on my morning chores, racing to make sure I have everything done so I can see Lucy at noon.