When roads cross

Harry's dad is dead and now he lives with his three younger siblings and his mother in a little house in the suburbs of England.
The family is a worker-family and the story takes place in the 60's-70's.
Harry's life is without meaning and he has a hard time finding a job to support the family. That is until he meet the daughter of the richest man in town.
Two different social classes and families, which loathes one another, have their roads crossed and every prejudice get challenged and love must take the ultimate test.


2. First meet

Harry was cold even before he left the house. Outside the snow lay as a fine sheet over the roads and rooftops. 

"Shouldn't you get a new jacket my dear?" His mom asked when she handed him the old leather jacket. 
"No mom. It's fine." But it wasn't. It was ripped at the sleeve and did not provide any warmth. But it had been his dad's and he wouldn't get rid of it. 
"Harry we can afford it. Don't think about it. I lay money aside for clothes and shoes and stuff... You haven't had anything in a long time. We can go buy one next saturday or I could get you one for Christmas." She fuzzed around in the kitchen. 
"Mom I don't need a new jacket. This one is fine. I would rather want another pair of your lovely socks wrapped in an old newspaper." Harry smiled and kissed her on her cheek. 
She smiled motherly back at him. "Well then. I think we will be able to manage just that. Have a good time. Buy a couple of eggs on the way home will you?"
Harry's mother didn't know where Harry was going, neither did Harry, but he just nodded. 

The wind outside went straight through his jacket. He pulled up his shoulders to shield and lit a cigaret. It was sunday and the streets were empty.
He headed for the pub. When he looked in the door he couldn't see anyone he knew.
He sat down at a table near the window. Not many minutes after a waitress walked up to stand in front of him. 
"Whatcha having?" She chewed gum.
"Get out then" 
"Get out. If you're not havin' anythin' you're not sittin' at our tables." 
He looked at her.
"But I don't have… A beer then."
She straightened up a bit now he was a customer.
"We have Watneys Red Barrel, Guiness, Double Diamond, Whitbread Tankard and Younger's Tartan. And an Ale or a bitter?" 

He looked at her again.
"The cheapest." 
"Okay then." And then she disappeared and reappeared with a small glass of beer. 
For the third time he looked at her. She shrugged and left once again.

He sat looking out the window. The town was completely dead and only a few people went by with their heads bend. 
A mom and her sons went from the small supermarket to the butcher's on the other side of the road and a couple sat at the bench snugging and smoking. They were clearly both supposed to be in either school or at work. 
Then a family of three went by. They wore long, big jackets. The father a trenchcoat and a newspaper under his arm, the mother a heavy light-colored fur coat and a small bag in her hand and the girl a light, but woolen and long jacket fitted with a belt in the side. 
The father got an eye on the couple and it was clear he wasn't happy with the situation. He pointed them out for his wife. The wife made a face of disapprovaproval, which made her face look extremely ugly and comic at the same time. The husband walked a little faster and approached the couple. He stood i front of them. At first they ignored them, but then he pointed his finger to the left and they watched him. Apparently Still no response and he hit them both over the head with the newspaper. 
Harry spurted out the beer and laughed. The rest of the pub looked at him, but then returned to their own business. 
The girl an boy leaved their seats fast and ran away while they looked back at the man with disapprove.
​The man shook his head and took his wife under the arm and dragged them along the street. 

If Harry's mom had been there she would have yelled at the rich family from her seat. She was so angry with the rich people. She would say something about who they think they were, raised above other people and how somebody could have the dismoral to break up such a lovely couple. Even though moments before she would have talked about how disgusting they were with their tongues stuck in one anthers throat.

But there was nothing to say to it. Harry didn't blame his mother. Actually she was right. They were always acting like nobody but themself and money mattered. They were snobby and they were the ones guilty for Harry's dad's dead. 

At the bare thought of his father Harry got up and went to the bar. 
"How much?" He searched his pockets for money. 
"0,50" She pronounced it 'o fitty'
"Oh this is what I got" He lay down the shillings he found in his pockets. 
Now it was the waitress' turn to look at Harry. 
"Well let's have a look then. 10, 15…" She counted the coins as she swifter them down her hand. 
"All right then 0,45. That is 5 pence missin' boy. What are we going to do about that now?"
"I don't know man. I have to go home for some more money."
She looked at him. 
"You know what ma' boy? That's alright. You look like a nice kid having a rough time. This time it's on the house, just don't do it again, okay?"
Harry looked at her as she ay down all of the money on the counter.
When Harry didn't take his hand out against them, she took his hand and brushed them down in it, closed his hand around them and then she ruffled his hair.
"Well go on then," she encouraged him. 
Harry mumbled "Thanks. Thanks a lot."
He turned around and out of the door and out on the street. He was surprised with how the at first sour waitress turned into a nice and generous lady. He wonderen, but then he shook his head and thought he had to do something in return or pay back one day.

"What are you doing you fool? Look up will you? Urgh"
"Bloody hell" Was Harry's first outburst when he bumped into someone. 
Then he looked up and now the rich girl form before stood in front of him with a sour looking face while she brushed invisible dust of herself.
"I'm truly and deeply sorry." Harry's tone was flooded with sarcasm.
"Well you should be." She said and stuck up her nose. She stood still. 
"What are you waiting?" Harry asked her. 
"An apology."
"As far as I know you also walked into me. I did walk into you and your, soon to be, worn jacket." He said and reffered to her still brushing it in angry movements. She stopped instantly. 
"You should not be the one to talk." She gave him a loathing elevator-look from his worn-out Dr. Martens, up his dirt-spotted jeans and up to his jacket with the ripped sleeve.
"I'm happy with the way I look. Can you say the same?" She opened her mouth several times but didn't answer. He knew it. Even though he didn't know much about girl's complicated minds, he knew that despite how much money their fathers make, they were never happy with the way they looked. 
He smiled at her, lit a cigarette and said: "Have a good day to you too then." Then he walked past her grinning. 




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