DUNKIRK | HARRY STYLES

[Scene Five]

"One cappucino, two lattes and an espresso." I placed the steaming mugs on the plastic table which rested between two rocks on the windy beach. It was lopsided and one cup began to slide towards the sandy floor before Christopher (Nolan) grabbed it, sending me a quick thanks before rushing off to another corner of the set.

Set wasn't what I'd been expecting. In my head I had an image of a large warehouse full of green screens and half erected scenes. In reality, I was standing on a French beach with hundreds of men in uniform filing past and explosions going off noisily in the background. A few trailers were littered across the road leading to the shore, the stars slipping in and out between takes. Gazebo type shelters were pitched on the unstable sand, leading to a few being quite lopsided but they were a haven to me as that was where the warmth, coffee machines and chairs lived.

I darted into one of these gazebos and realised I had nothing left on my agenda for the day. That morning a busy lady had handed me a crumpled piece of paper with lists of things to do written in sloping, messy handwriting. Once I'd deciphered what it had said, I'd been hurrying around all day carrying props, putting mud on the extras faces and delivering coffee to much more important people than me.

Once I took in my surroundings and worked out where things were, I found myself happy to be busy again. For months I had been lounging around at home, doing nothing else apart from eating and sleeping and that had taken a toll on my health. I had started to break out, put on weight and become unhappy 99% of the time. But in the bracing French air I felt better already.

I got myself a coffee from the machine, burning my tongue on the awful liquid. It had to be the worst coffee I'd ever tasted but I gulped it down, grateful for the caffeine that would get me through the rest of the day.

It was starting to get dark outside, the sun slowly descending over the grey, rolling sea. They would stop filming soon and once everything was packed up again, I could collapse into my comfortable hotel bed and fall asleep. It was a comforting thought to my exhausted brain and when Dad came lolloping into the shelter, buzzing, I smiled tiredly at him.

It was nice to see him happy, doing what he loved. It made everything a little clearer for me; I could see why he had to leave us behind and put himself first for once, it was because he adored this job and you could see it in his eyes. The pure unadulterated happiness. 

"Well hey there chicken." He sat down opposite me, grinning. "How's your first day going?"

"Good." I said, sipping the remnants of my coffee out of the polystyrene cup, emitting an embarrassing slurping noise that echoed around the flimsy gazebo. "It's very different from what I thought it would be."

"I thought that too, when I had my first job on a movie set." His eyes drifted to the outside, latching onto a couple of shots they were taking of some explosions on the sand. "The set varies from film to film though."

"I like it. It's so interesting."

"Maybe you'll find the job you want to do. Your Mum told me you're having trouble deciding."

"You've been talking to Mum?" I was shocked. Mum could barely talk about Dad without ending up crying, let alone talk to him on the phone.

"We're trying to talk more. For you and your brothers." He fidgeted with the label on his coffee cup, tearing the edge to pieces.

"That's good." We ran out of conversation then, an awkward silence settling over both of us. His eyes lit up as he seemed to remember something and leaned forward, a wide smile on his face.

"Remember Harry? From yesterday?" As if I could forget the wringing tightness at the bottom of my stomach every time his eyes met mine. He was a dangerously good looking heartbreaker, something I had to keep reminding myself of.