Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.

My arm flailed out and after a couple of attempts the alarm was silenced. Urgh, why me? I untangled myself from the duvet, we might be having an extended summer but it gets a bit chilly in the wee hours, then blearily made my way to the en suite. Seven o’clock on a Sunday morning and there’s not even a race involved.

I guess its only fair that I do the kiosk today, I’ve missed so many shifts lately what with one thing and another, Con’s been a regular brick. Its only fair that Con gets today off but it doesn’t make it any easier to get myself up. Of course, last nights party hasn’t exactly helped, it was midnight before we got home and i’m sure some of those fruit cocktails had been spiked with something a bit more potent.

“You want a lift up?” Dad asked joining me in the kitchen half an hour later.
“Think i’ll ride up, clear the cobwebs a bit.”
“Sounds like a good idea, what about after work, you coming straight home?”
That sounds like a leading question, “what else would I be doing?”
“Manda needs a ride, thought maybe she could meet you and come the long way back.”
“I’ll be kernackered.”
“A few miles should help then.”

Damn, he’s got me there, a good ride after school or work always seems to clear my head and recharge the batteries.

“I guess, if she’s up for it,” I allowed, “guess i’d better change then.”

Yeah, I might get away with street togs for a few kilometres but a proper ride needs the right gear.

 
“later!” I called to anyone who was listening, I readjusted my mini backpack and pushed off for the short ride to the kiosk.

It was a bit cool in the shadows but by the time I got along to Rech I’d warmed up enough to not take notice. Of course, nine o’clock on a Sunday morning is pretty quiet on the Weinstraße, makes a nice change to the stream of traffic during the week. I hadn’t really intended to but I was soon slipping along at thirty Kph, humming along to the last song on the kitchen radio this morning, bizarrely ‘A Day In The Life’ by The Beatles.

How many times have I travelled this road? More than a few, sometimes several times a day, certainly enough to know every lump and bump, turn and junction between Dernau and Altenahr. Its barely seven kilometres, fifteen minutes usually but it barely felt like five before I was propping my steed up against the kiosk’s back wall.

Strictly speaking I don’t start for a while yet but by getting here early I can get changed and started up ahead of time. Kris and Nen are in today but i’ve got about thirty minutes before they, and Herr Thesing arrive’s with the bread and cake. It was the work of moments to secure the bike in the bin hole before getting changed for the day’s graft.

“Gott, did you see Rudi?” Nen’s voice queried.
“Who was that with him?” Kris asked in return.
“The blonde?”
“Yeah, that bikini was a bit tiny.”
“No kidding,” Nen agreed, “morning Gabs!”
“Morning, Phamie.”
“Eh?” she replied.
“It was Phamie,” I reiterated.
“Never!” Kris opined.
“Straight up.” I confirmed.
“Guess she’s been dieting,” Nen suggested, “I certainly wouldn’t have worn that.”
“Me either,” Kris added as she tied her apron, “so we ready?”
“Apart from the Brötchen, Mr T is late.”
“I’ll do the shutters,” Nen volunteered.
“Guess i’ll do the tables then,” Kris sighed.

 
Those few minutes make all the difference, I’d got the hot plate on, till started and garden furniture unlocked and got a cup of coffee out of the machine before the others arrived. I was just about to ring the bakery when on the stroke of nine, along with the church bells, Connie’s dad arrived with our day’s bread order.

“Sorry i’m late girls, everything okay?”
“So far,” I told him, might be busy if it stays like this.”
“Lets hope so,” he agreed as he tipped the rolls into the bin under the counter. (Dur, not rubbish bin, we keep them in a couple of plastic boxes.)
“So what torte do we have today?”
“Schwarzwald, mandarin, double chocco and i’ve put you a couple of custard and apple strudel in.”
“Can’t go wrong with strudel,” I observed.
“Indeed, you want to fetch them, I need a coffee.”
“’kay,” I agreed, the price of having a close relationship, for Con literally, with your suppliers.

 
Of course, being Sunday there’s no visit from Max, maybe that's as well as we were quite busy from about ten thirty all the way through to about two. Maybe we didn’t have the Dutch tourists but we did have plenty of more local trippers making the best of the weather. We even had Hen and his mates stop by, sounded like they’d been over Mayen way, you know, where Con’s starting college tomorrow.

“Looking forward to Canada?” he asked as I took the dirty crockery from him.
“Sort of,” I allowed, “bit nervous actually.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Hope so.”
“Me and the lads’ll be rooting for you, we’re hardly a hotbed of racing around here and to have you on the national team really means something.”
“Er thanks,” I think, “i’ll try not to let you down.”
“Gaby, you can’t let us down, just by one of ‘ours’ being selected you’ve made it in our eyes.”

it would’ve been churlish to point out that i’m not exactly what I appear and that just a few months ago I was riding for the ‘old enemy’, Groß Brittania!

“Thank’s, i’ll do my best.”
“We know you will, however things turn out you’ll be a winner in our eyes.”

I felt my face start to flush, damn hormones.

“Come on lads,” Hen turned to his mates, “three cheers for the next Weltmeisterin! Hip hip.”
“Hurrah!”
“Hip hip.”
“Hurrah!”
“Hip hip.”
“Hurrah!”

Talk about embarrasing. Of course all the other patrons decided to join in, just on principal, not only that but my friends were quite vocal too.

“Thanks guys,” I stammered before my emotions got the better of me.

 
“You alright Gab?” Nen enquired a couple of minutes later having ‘found’ me in the store room sat on a box sniffling.
“Yep,” I squeaked.
“You want a drink?”
“Please, just water.”
“Coming up.”

I dried my eyes, good job I didn’t do the mascara this morning, nothing worse than red Panda eyes, red’s bad enough.

“Here you go,” Nen returned and handed me a glass of H²O.
“Thanks.”
“They’re right you know,” she stated.
“About?”
“About the valley being behind you.”
“Be daft,” I suggested with a forced chuckle.
“I’m not, the Ahrtal doesn’t have a lot going for it.”
I interrupted, “lets see, a couple of castles, a spa, the Villa, the Altstadt.”
“Come on Gabs, that’s hardly unique even round here, yeah we get a few tourists but we’re hardly world famous. The football team is strictly local, our main export is water, more people know Apollinaris from the cycling than the water. Like it or not you are the poster girl for the Ahrtal.”

What’s the point of arguing, whilst I might not agree with the latter she’s pretty much right about the rest. I sipped at the water.

“What about you, don’t tell me i’m your hero too?”
“Okay I won’t.”
“Nen, really?”
“Gab, you might not realise it but even Frau Waldesch next door follows your results, local girl made good.”
“But i’m not, local that is.”
“Where do you live?”
“You know very well where.”
“So who was Weinprinzessin? Who has got the Tal on the TV more times in a year than the last ten? You do charity stuff, the Weihnachtsmarkt, the Tanzklub.”
“I’m hardly the only one.”
“True but stuff happens around you Gab, oh they know you don’t come from here originally but that just reinforces the feeling of Heimat you instill in the valley.”

Well I guess that’s me told.

 
“You’re quiet,” Mand opined as we turned towards Effelsburg a couple of hours later.
“Eh, oh soz, just something that Nena said earlier.”
“The local hero stuff?”
“How?”
“She told me while you were changing, she’s right you know.”
“Not you too?”
“Be daft Bond, but you hear stuff in the Mühle and on the Express, you might not see it but they are proud of the team and you in particular.”
“Just what I need, a hidden fan club.”
“Don’t mock it.”
“I’m not, not really its just, well having it pointed out ramps up the pressure for Canada.”
“Just do your best eh.”
“Can we talk about something else, hey we could go see Bernie?”
“We’re going the wrong way,” my companion pointed out.
“We can cut back across through Lind to Ahrbrück, its only a few K up to Staffel.”
“I guess, is it okay just to drop in?”
“I’ll ring if you like.”
“Whatever.”

 
“Mart?”
“Yeah, who’s that?”
“Gab dumkopf, is it okay if me and Mand stop by?”
“Its a bad line, what was that about Mand?”
“Soz, I’m on the bike,” I swapped my Handy to the other ear, “can we stop to see Bern?”
“Oh right, yeah I guess, what time?”
“Half an hour ish?”
“I’ll let her know you’re coming.”
“Cool, see you in a bit, tschussie!”
“Tschuss.”

I closed the phone and slipped the Handy back into my pocket.

“There, done.”
“Come on then,” Mand sighed, "lets get this over with."

Maddy Bell © 28.09.2018