Chapter 13

Later that day, Harleen stood in front of her full length mirror, buttoning up her freshly pressed black tea dress. Her bedroom was an absolute mess, with Pam's old hair magazines thrown haphazardly all over the floor. But as a result Harleen had found the perfect hairstyle to try out for tonight.

She wasn't quite sure what made her care so much about the state of her blonde curls, but knowing that Jack would be popping in, gave her a whole new boost of confidence.

Harleen released a deep sigh she pulled out the stool that was neatly tucked into her vanity dresser. Placing the open page of a glamour magazine on the side, she picked up a hairbrush and studied it intensely. "Let's give this a try." She muttered to her reflection.

Parting her hair in the middle she took to the left side first. Starting at the top she split the hair into two pieces, and gently rolled them around each other creating a tight twist, adding new strands of hair as she carried the style down. Once she reached the nape of her neck on the left side, she looped a tie around the base. Satisfied, she repeated the whole process again on the right side, making sure that she twisted her blonde hair away from her face give the appearance of braids. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she leant forward and began teasing the tight twists that lay flat against her head. Using her fingers she gently pulled on her hair, creating a playful texture. Grabbing some stray pins that were laying around her bedroom floor, she secured her hair firmly.

Finished, Harleen gave herself a once over in the mirror, analysing her two completely symmetrical pigtails that lay flat against her neck, with the added twist and her natural curls, it gave the affect of victory rolls without even trying.

"Judy Garland, eat your heart out." Harleen giggled, shutting her magazine on the advertising poster of the Wizard of Oz, that she had just copied.

Getting up from the vanity table, Harleen slipped on her patent kitten heels and reached for her matching purse. She scolded herself for caring about her appearance. She'd never really given a thought about it before, so why had it all changed because of some passing American?

"Silly." Harleen muttered, shaking her head. But she still couldn't help herself reaching for the tube of rouge that Pamela had left sitting on her chest of drawers. Applying it quickly she pouted her lips and smoothed off the edges.

After one last and final look over, Harleen left the room. She scampered down the stairs, skipping every other step. "Mum, I'm leaving now!" She shouted, before she reached the bottom.

Mary sighed, walking out from the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a tatty old tea towel. Her eyes widened at Harleen's changed appearance. "Is that lipstick you're wearing?" She asked.

"Urmm... " Harleen stuttered.

"And your hair, it's different?" She added.

"I just...well...I'm trying something new." Harleen replied.

Mary paused for a moment, before brushing one of Harleen's low pigtails over her shoulder. "Mmm… Okay, well, just be safe sweetie, and ask Mr Gilbert for another lift, he was awfully kind taking you home last night."

"Yeah...yeah he was ma'." Harleen lied, pretending to distract herself by fishing around for her gas mask.

"Maybe you should give him some of your tips, petrol isn't cheap nowadays." Her mother suggested, now also hunting the coat rack for Harleen's mask. She found it almost instantly and handed it to her daughter. "Now give your father and I a kiss."

"Of course mother." Harleen smiled, reaching up on her toes to give Mary a quick peck. She then wandered into the living room, clutching her purse, mask and coat tightly. "I'm going now dad." She told her father who was currently lounging in his armchair. He raised his head to give her a gentle smile as she kissed his forehead. "I might be back late, so don't wait up."

"Okay dear." Her mother interrupted, join them both in the living room. "Just make sure you get a ride home. Keep the dogs here tonight too, I passed Mrs Gilbert in the village today and she mentioned they were getting distressed last night."

Harleen opened her mouth to protest, but her mother held her index finger in the air to silence her. "Don't even argue with me Harleen. I do not need the Warden marching down here making a complaint, he already has an issue with the kitchen blackout curtains."

"Okay mum." Harleen said in defeat. "Just don't shut them outside if they wine, it will make it worse. Shut them in my room instead."

Mary nodded, gently leading her out of the living room towards the front door. "They'll be fine. Now off you go or you'll be late."

Harleen nodded, slipping on her dress length coat, she snuck out of the front door, being careful not the attract the attention of Bud and Lou. Shutting the door successfully behind herself she walked down the pathway, preparing herself for tonight's shift at the 'Fox and Hound'

…

"Harleen!" Mrs Gilbert smiled as she walked through the pub door, bringing the cold brisk night air in her wake. "Just in time, Jonathan's in the stock room, I think he wanted a word before your shift starts."

"Uh, okay." Harleen muttered, slipping off her coat and hanging it up along with her purse and gas mask. "Have I done something wrong?" She asked.

"No, no, gosh no." Mrs Gilbert chuckled. "We've just been having a little talk and I think you've been working here long enough to handle things on your own...You see, Jonathan's mother has been rather unwell, severely in fact and we need to head north for a couple of days to make arrangements for her." She explained calmly. "I'll let Jonathan explain. Off you pop." Mrs Gilbert said, nudging Harleen in the direction of the stock room.

Harleen furrowed her brow, trying to digest what she had just been told. Walking past the regulars and nodding at them politely, Harleen found herself outside the stores. Raising her right hand, she tapped her knuckles on it gently. "Mr Gilbert," she called, "Mrs Gilbert says I should come and see you."

"Ah yes, yes, yes." Mr Gilbert smiled, suddenly appearing from a cupboard. "Nothing to fear Harleen, so you don't need to look so startled." She walked in, knitting her hands tightly together. "Now, unfortunately due to unforeseen circumstances my dear mother has taken ill, and we need to make...we need to make preparations for her, settle the house and finances in case she takes a turn for the worst; given her age, it's entirely possible." He explained. "We can't afford to shut this place whilst we're gone, so we were wondering if you would be capable of holding the fort while we're away. It won't be for long, a week at most."

"Mr Gilbert I'm flattered, really, but I-"

"No. No need to thank me Harleen, it is I who should be thanking you. You've really stepped up lately and we trust you entirely to keep this machine as well oiled as we know it can be." Mr Gilbert beamed. He reached out and grabbed one of the old, tatty hardback books which was neatly stacked to the side. "I'll run over the accounts with you tonight and what-not. And whilst Mrs Gilbert and I are away, we shall be needing you to stay here overnight, just to keep the place looked after you understand?"

"Yes Mr Gilbert, but I-"

"Good, good." He interrupted, slamming the book back down on the pile. "We'll deal with the figures later, but for now if you just go about your normal duties." Mr Gilbert smiled, gently patting her on the back as he passed her to leave the stock room. Harleen stood there completely dumbstruck. For a girl who had only ever been responsible for herself and two pups, this was a massive step. She would be essentially running a business on her own for an entire week.

"Oh god." She groaned.

"Harleen!" Mrs Gilbert suddenly called from out behind the bar. "It's picking up out here, give us a hand." She obeyed, quickly scampering out of the dark room to lend a hand.

When she stepped out, she saw more locals showing their familiar faces, chatting away to each other enjoying a warm pint. Harleen loved these moments, the hour when people were flooding in, smiling to each other and forgetting the hardships of typical wartime Britain. Knowing that every day, every hour that might pass, could be their last. But these men didn't dwell on that, this was their few moments of peace after a long day at work to come and relax with one another.

"Mr Carmichael, what can I do you for?" Harleen asked, smiling as the elderly gentleman approached. He wore a loose fitted tweed suit, accompanied by the most elegant walking stick, which was made out of dark oak with a brass finish. His silver hair was smoothed back, in an attempt to hide the less thick areas on his head and his sunken eyes gave a foggy appearance as he smiled back.

"Harleen, my dear." He croaked. "Could I trouble you for a malt whiskey."

Harleen frowned gently. "Mr Carmichael, I don't think that's wise. Doctor Elliot gave you strict instructions to take it easy on the alcohol because of your heart." She explained, trying to discourage him.

"Oh that man doesn't know my body like I do. I know what it can handle, so just slide over a whiskey." Mr Carmichael repeated.

"I'm sorry sir, but I couldn't carry the guilt if this whiskey did any damage." Harleen said, lightheartedly. "Besides, the stuff we have is awful. I think you would probably prefer a glass of fresh lemonade, and I could even throw in a dash of rum for you. But don't tell Mrs Gilbert."

Carmichael rolled his eyes in frustration. "Be heavy handed on the rum and we have a deal Harleen." He smiled, giving her a lazy wink.

"Alright then." Harleen said, turning around to grab the rum and unopened bottle of Mrs Gilbert's signature lemonade. Setting a tall glass down on the table she poured in the lemonade, keeping an inch off the top to fill the rest with rum. Satisfied, she slid the glass over to Mr Carmichael and watched him take a reluctant sip. "Taste good?"

"Not as good as whiskey." He grumbled, smacking his lips together to take another swig. Carmichael then looked up, narrowing his eyes at her. "You look rather different tonight Harleen."

"Yes, she does, doesn't she?" Interrupted a voice, a voice that Harleen's heart couldn't help but flutter at. She looked up to find Jack Napier, coolly making his way over towards the bar counter, carrying a small wooden crate in his hands. His new uniform was still immaculate, as well as rich hair. Besides the stubborn lock that seemed to be persistent on tormenting Harleen.

"Absolutely radiant." Jack added, placing his peak cap on the bar top along with the small wooden crate, he appeared to have a handkerchief draped over it, concealing the contents. But Harleen didn't notice, her eyes were too busy gazing at his deep blue ones. He smiled over at her, staring intensely into her face, consuming ever feature that lay there.

Harleen blushed, moving her gaze away from him, trying to conceal her embarrassment. "Mr Napier, it's nice to see you again."

Without taking his eyes off her, Jack took a seat at the bar and just as he was about to speak, he was interrupted by the elderly man sitting next to him. "Oh, I don't think we've met. I'm Mr Carmichael, and can I assume that you're one of the yanks that's come over to do your country's dirty work?"

Napier raised his brow, turning his head slowly to face the man who had made the blunt comment. "The names Jack Napier, but my friends call me Jack. So you can address me as Sir, since I'm honorary member of the Royal Air Force as well as my own." He replied sharply.

Harleen's eyes widened at Jack's less than discreet snap. Jack looked up at her then, seeing her shocked expression. Stroking back a piece of untamable hair, he blinked, swinging back round to Mr Carmichael. "Didn't mean to snap, it's been a long day." He muttered apologetically.

"No matter my boy, I respect your efforts. You have to excuse my bitter outlook," Mr Carmichael said warmly, "It wasn't that long ago that I was in your shoes. Bloody Germans eh?"

"Yeah," Jack chuckled, "Well, that's what I'm hoping once I get up in the air anyway."

Carmichael grinned. "You just keep your wits about you boy, Jerry can be a devious little bugger at the best of times."

"I hear that." Jack nodded, moving back to face the bar fully. He looked up at Harleen, seeing her face relax into a warm smile. "Say Harley, I'll have whatever he's having." He said, pointing at the man's nearly empty glass of lemonade and rum.

"Oh, I wouldn't. Harleen's given me this instead of whiskey and I have to say, rum and lemonade is no substitute." He laughed.

Jack raised his left brow and studied Harleen as she smiled shyly. He couldn't help but be taken in by her beauty. Her hair was split into two equal parts, flowing softly over her shoulders, tickling the neckline of the black tea dress that hugged every inch of her curves. Jack soon found himself lost in her. Her eyes, her small nose and of course her plump red lips. He unconsciously raked his right hand through his hair whilst trying to tame his mind from the urge to hop over the counter, grab her wrist, drag her into the stock room and slam her up against the wall, finally taking her hot, sweet lips against his own.

"Mr Napier?" Harleen repeated, reaching out her hand to graze her fingers against his arm. "Are you okay?"

Being snapped out of the trance she appeared to have held over him, Jack smiled up at her. "I'm fine, never been better in fact."

There must of been something in his eyes as he spoke because Harleen saw it, causing her breath suddenly quicken in pace. Silence suddenly spread over them like a thick fog. "D...Did you want me to get you a glass of scotch?" She muttered, just barely so only he could hear her.

"Later, first there's something I want to give you…" Jack said softly, allowing his lips to turn up into a slow, lingering smile.