Three Willows {Harry Styles - One Direction Fan Fic}

Chapter 2:

Harry had checked into a backpackers hostel on landing in Darwin and slept. Waking early the next morning he headed out for breakfast at the closest café with free wifi and started searching online for any mention of Kate Murphy. It was something he had done many times before, without luck and today had the same results.

 His next search was for a listing of Cattle Stations in the outback. The list consisted of hundreds of them and once again he wished he’d pressed her for more information about where she worked. When he’d made his decision to follow and find her, he didn’t realise that the Aussie outback covered parts of five out of the eight States and Territories.

 Kate had been rather closed off about her life. She had told Harry little about it. He had gotten out of her the fact that she had lost both of her parents and had no immediate family. An Aunt, Uncle and some cousins that she rarely saw and that was about it. She had mentioned a good friend called Lou a few times, but apart from that, whenever Harry had asked about her life back in Australia she would either change the subject, dive into the pool or go to the bar to order another drink.

 After a couple of days Harry stopped pressing. He knew what it was like not to want to talk about his family. As far as they went, his was pretty fucked up.

 He hadn’t spoken to his father since leaving England. His mother had kept in touch with him, calling every month, until he told her he was thinking of settling in Bali. He remembered the pained tone in her voice as he had told her and then her rejection.

 “Mum, it’s so unbelievably beautiful here.” Harry was laying in his bungalow in the resort they had booked into. 

 He had just returned from a trip to Ubud in the mountains and had about an hour before he’d agreed to meet his friends on the beach for happy hour and to watch the sun set. Just enough time for a shower and to check in with his mother. He’d calculated the difference in the time zones and knew that his father wold have left for the office. His mother would be in the small room off the kitchen with the weak winter sun warming her as she sipped her tea while reading the morning paper. His parents were creatures of habit.

 “That’s lovely Darling.” She had replied. “And how long will you be in Bali for?”

 Harry had shrugged even though she couldn’t see him. “We’re booked in here for another week, but.” He paused as he was speaking the idea out loud for the first time. “I think I want to stay here Mum.”

 “Stay?”

 “Yes mum, Stay. I think I want to make my home here. Stay indefinitely.” As Harry had said it he’d felt a weight lift from him. He had finally found a place he wanted to be. He’d never felt that in England.

 “Oh Harry. When are you going to give up this folly and come home? Your father is relying on you to one day take over from him.” Throughout all of the arguments and fighting Harry had always thought his mother had taken his side, but just hadn’t stood up to his father. To hear her go down this path was so disappointing.

 Harry had sighed as he rubbed at his brows. “Mum I don’t want that. I’ve never wanted it.”

 “Your father won’t accept this Harry.” She warned.

 “What’s the worst he can do mum?” Harry snapped irritated. “He’s already cut me out of his life. He stopped access to my trust fund and he made it abundantly clear that he was having me written out of his will. I have nothing left to lose.”

 “Harry.” She had pleaded. “All of that will be forgiven if you just come home.”

 “And be what mum? A replica of him and only shadow of myself?” He’d been washed over by a sense of Déjà vu. How many times would he have this conversation with his parents before they realised for Harry to be what they wanted, would kill him inside.

 “It’s for the best Harry. You belong here with us, not in that place.” Her voice was firm again and full of distain.

 “You know Mum, I may not belong here, but I do know that I never belonged there.”

 After a prolonged silence Harry nodded understanding. “I’ve got to go. I love you Mum.” Harry had waited a few seconds and when there was no reply from the other end, he’d ended the call.

 Walking to the glass doors of his bungalow, he’d pressed his forehead to the glass and looked out at the family who had been poolside as he’d returned. He’d watched as a toddler of about three climbed from the pool and run alongside the edge. Once he reached the spot where his father was standing in the water he stopped a moment and clapped his hand excitedly before jumping into his father’s arms, squealing as his father tossed him in the air before splashing down while being safely cradled in his arms. Harry had shook his head sadly as a single tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

 The girl serving him had come to clear the table and had brought him back to the present. He felt the moisture on his check and swiped angrily at it. His father didn’t deserve his tears. He long ago realised that he was on his own when it came to his family.

 Harry had no really fond childhood recollections that involved his father. His father had always been a very busy man, something that Harry had just always accepted. The Styles family for generations, had run a successful law firm. They had offices in Manchester and his father would make the commute to and from daily. A young Harry would sit by the high Tudor style windows of the drawing room waiting for him to arrive home in time for supper each night. Most nights it would just be his Mother and he supper. After dinner the nanny took him upstairs for his bath before his mother would tuck him in with a bedtime story.

 This had become the norm for him. Mummy and Harry would spent hours together making blanket forts and playing games, especially during the months when the weather outside was inclement. Every afternoon at 4pm they would call on one of the housekeepers to come and clean up in time for Daddy to come home to supper.

 As Harry grew older the forts were replaced with riding lessons. Archery lessons. As well as extra time learning how to play chess or studying the classics in the enormous library on the family Estate. His tutor Mr Taylor was old and stuffy and smelt funny. A mixture of mothballs and boot polish. He was slightly odd in his methods, but he had opened up the world to Harry.

 Harry’s favourite lessons were those when they would spin the large world globe, Harry jabbing his finger at it to stop it and then rushing to look up the destination in the huge picture atlas. Reading all about the country he had selected. Hearing tales about its history and also current standing in the world. It was during those lessons in particular that Harry had decided he wanted to see the world. He wanted to be an explorer.

 Holmes Chapel was too small for him, he was only seven and had already explored all of it and most of the county around it too. He and Mr Taylor had taken packed lunches and would pretend they were the first ones to discover that particular section of England. Harry would return home and regale his mother with tales of his day. She would sit and listen for hours, her eyes sparkling with joy as her son acted out the best parts of his day.

 During one of the few times his father had joined them for supper Harry had informed him of this fact after his father called on him to update him on his days activities. He had explained animatedly how Mr Taylor had taught him that day about the small island of Rottnest which was just off the Western Australian coast. Harry had gone on to explain how the island was inhabited by tiny little marsupials called Quokka’s and how they were about as big as missy their cat.

 His father had smiled offhandedly at him until Harry had told him how when he grew up all he wanted to do was to travel to all of the places Mr Taylor was teaching him about. A scowl covering his face, his father had then pressed him about what he had learned in his Mathematics and Science lessons. Harry had fallen quiet before admitting they had run out of time for those that day.

 The next time Harry turned up for his lessons Mr Taylor had been replaced.

 Shortly after Harry had been sent to boarding school. His strongest memories of that horrible day were of his father standing with an iron rod straight back and his mother pressing a handkerchief to her eyes as Harry was lead from them to his dormitory.

 And that night when the lights went out and although he was surrounded by boys the same age, he was hit with an overwhelming feeling of being totally alone.