Five Years Later (2016)

I was already awake when my alarm screamed, I hadn't slept all night. Insomnia was becoming a fast friend, and I couldn't remember the last time I had slept fully. Stress filled my mind constantly and I couldn't have one moment of peace to myself.

Trying to turn the light on, I realised that I hadn't paid the electricity bill and my small flat (if it could even be called that) was completely pitch black.

I barely managed to get out of the house that morning, but I had a job to go to and I didn't know what would happen if I lost it. The streets of London were as busy as usual, and I weaved my way through the constant stream of people until I saw the bright exterior of the restaurant I worked in.

"You're late," George, my boss, snapped as I walked through the doors and I looked at the clock to discover I was only one minute late, "Last warning Matilda."

Nodding feebly, I scurried to the back of the restaurant like a mouse and splashed some cold water on my face to wake myself up. The day had barely begun and all I wanted to do was fall straight back into my bed, curl up, and never wake up again.

***

Night was slowly creeping over the city but that didn't stop the stream of people flocking to the restaurant meaning I was swept off my feet with work; families with crying babies were constantly asking where their food was, men wearing suits clicked their fingers impatiently and rudely and pompous, rich teenagers sneered at me.

The restaurant had a reputation of being for the elite, and it was not uncommon for a D list celebrity to stumble through the doors demanding a gin, already drunk. I had learnt to become numb to the blatant rudeness of some customers and instead focus on the clock, seeing how long I had until I could get out of the hellhole.

A man walked through the door and broke me out of my thoughts; he was wearing a dark hoodie and sunglasses, keeping his head firmly looking at the floor. My manager pointed in his direction, indicating that I had to seat him. I approached him with a friendly smile but still he didn't look up.

"Table for one?" I asked, finding his behaviour slightly odd.

"Yep," he replied back sharply and I was instinctively put off by his rudeness, but still I sat him at a table and gave him a menu.

Before I left, he placed his hand on my arm and I turned back around to see that he had finally lifted his head. His obnoxiously large sunglasses covered most of his face and stubble carpeted his chin- I had no clue as to who this man was.

"Is there anywhere more private to eat?" He asked slowly, looking around at the other diners.

Straightening up my skirt, I wondered how strange his request was, "There is a room reserved for large parties, I can see if I can move a table in there seeing as it isn't being used tonight..."

"Great," he murmured before sticking five twenty pound notes into my hand and indicating that I show him the way.

Stuffing the money in my pocket, I walked my way to the reserved room which had one large table in the centre. Unfazed by this, the man simply sat at one end and removed his sunglasses and hood to reveal a very familiar face.

Sitting in front of me was a man who I had obsessed over for years, a man who had infiltrated my dreams and stopped me sleeping. And he was sat, staring expectantly at me.

"Go on, scream. It's obvious you know who I am. I don't want to take pictures today, okay?" He sounded tired, and averted his eyes to the menu while I stood in shock.

"Big fan?" He asked when he looked up again and I wasn't quite sure how to reply. He didn't recognise me- how could he have not recognised me? I hadn't changed that much.

"Harry," I choked out and he rolled his eyes, obviously tired of people reacting in the way I did. I could tell that he had suffered through a long day and was overly fractious and annoyed.

"Can I have the soup of the day, the spaghetti and just a Diet Coke," he handed me back the menu and I felt my chin wobble slightly. I had pictured our reunion so many times in my head, what we would say. How he would react.

"You don't remember me?" I asked, looking into his eyes which I had fallen so in love with.

"Should I remember you?" He asked curtly, meeting my stare.

It hurt me to hear him speak, it hurt me to see how much he had changed. I had stayed frozen in time while he had moved onto bigger and better things.

"Look I'm sorry," he scratched his head awkwardly, "I've had a long day. You've got to understand that I see a lot of fans everyday, I can't remember them all. I appreciate the love and support you have given the band, I really do. I'm sorry for being such a jerk..."

Still he didn't recognise me. I hadn't changed much in the seven years we had been apart, I still had the long brown hair I did when we met. The same sparkling eyes and pale skin. I had always hoped that I wasn't as forgettable as he was making it out to be.

"It's me," I replied, hoping to jog his memory.

"I'm sorry," he squinted to read my name badge, "Matilda, I don't remember who you are."

"It's me- Matilda!" I was getting more and more frustrated at him, "From Cornwall, from running away, from hitchhiking. From your Cardboard Kingdom."

Ooohhhhhh so they've reunited but Harry doesn't recognise her! What will happen now she has told him who she is?

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