“Thanks for taking her, Gloria,” Mum mentioned.
“It was no trouble Jenny, a pleasure in fact. I must get on though, Mama will no doubt be causing mayhem and my sister is staying over.”
“We won’t hold you up then, good luck.”
“Thanks, bye, Gaby.”
“Bye, Gloria, tschuss!”
The Cayenne took off down Zaungarten maybe a little quicker than the slushy road covering would indicate.
“So, have a good time?” Mum enquired once we’d dragged my case up to the house and got the kettle on.
“Was okay.”
“It’s alright to admit you enjoy something kiddo, you certainly looked to be having fun with that dark haired girl last night.”
“Sophia Thun und Taxis,” I filled in.
“Only you would be friends with a load of double barrels,” Jenny observed getting up to fill the teapot.
“I hardly know her really.”
“I knew I recognised the name, isn’t that who you guys had dinner with at Stuttgart?”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
“How are things, you know?”
“Bit sore but no bleeding.”
“Good, let’s hope the only blood down there in future is stuff that’s supposed to be there.”
“I’m so looking forward to that,” I grumbled.
“Get used to it kiddo, it’ll be a part of things for quite a while.”
“You certainly know how to cheer me up.”
Mum set the tea to mash, you can’t just add the water and pour, not for a decent cuppa.
“So what’s in the bag?”
“Present from Ana and Johannes,” I dug in the bag and pulled out the red satin bag that held the gift. “It’s a necklace.”
Okay it’s not Cartier but it is Swarovski Crystal, a fine silver chain with a single crystal in a silver setting. Pretty and whilst not super expensive it’s a nice gift for essentially wearing a silly frock for a couple of hours.
“That’s lovely, I hope you thanked them.”
“Yes, Mum,” I sighed, mind you I think I’ll drop them a card.
“Can I go round to Con’s?” I asked after putting my weekends washing to dry in the utility room.
“Hmm I guess so, you staying for dinner?”
“Dunno, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, don’t be too late we need to be at the clinic for eight thirty in the morning.”
I got to Thesing’s a few minutes before they close.
“Gaby,” Frau Thesing greeted me, “feeling better?”
“Yes thanks, Con about?”
“Upstairs, go on up, you staying for dinner?”
“Please,” I beamed.
“Con?”
“Thought it was you,” my BF mentioned, “you want coffee?”
“I’ll make it,” I offered.
“I want to hear everything,” Con told me.
I could hardly expect anything else could I?
“The lingerie, what would I want with the dress?”
“I guess,” Con allowed.
“The stockings are Wolford®,“ I volunteered.
“You and your Wolford®,” she chuckled.
“They are nice.”
“And expensive.”
“And expensive,” I agreed.
“Dinner, girls!” Therese called through.
“Help yourselves.”
“Thanks,” I allowed eyeing the array on the table.
The Thesing’s always have a proper Sunday dinner, it’s sometimes the only time they all eat together. When I say proper I don’t mean like British Sunday roast, well we are in Germany so pork often features and this week it’s the turn of the good old pork hock served with boiled taters, sauerkraut, carrots and gravy. A veritable feast indeed.
“Next Saturday?”
“If you can,” Tomas confirmed.
“It should be okay, I’m not allowed to ride for a few weeks yet so I’ve got no training.”
“Let me know as soon as you can.”
“Sure.”
It won’t hurt to get a few shifts in, Christmas isn’t far away and there are presents to buy and what with Japan my bank account is looking a little thin.
“Relax, Gaby,” Doctor Schindler told me.
You want to try relaxing when you’re strapped in the gynae chair!
“Good, hmm, a little scar tissue but it’s mended well.”
She prodded about a bit more, making me squirm a bit, it’s sensitive down there.
“Well it’s well on the way, it’s still a little swollen but the bruising is almost gone,” the Doc noted standing and pulling her gloves off.
“But it’s alright?”
“No lasting damage, if the scar tissue becomes an issue we can do something about that but otherwise you’re fine.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. I might not be the biggest fan of vagina ownership but as I have it I at least want it in good order.
“So I can go back to school?”
“I don’t see why not, no fahrrad though.”
I’d guessed she’d say that, “Dance class?”
“Next week perhaps, let’s get everything settled before we start pulling it about, that’s what caused the problem last time.”
“Okay,” I sighed.
“It’s only a few days, Gaby, patience is a great healer.”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“Ah, Gaby, Frau Bond,” Sylvie Boxberg greeted, “please, sit, coffee?”
“Please,” Jenny replied.
The Head buzzed through to her secretary.
“Coffee please, Claudia.”
Claudia, as any good secretary would, had pre empted the request and so arrived with a tray of beverages in short order. Once they were each served it was time to get down to business.
“So how is the patient?”
“On the mend,” Jenny volunteered.
“Well that’s certainly good news, you had us all quite worried there, young lady.”
“Sorry.”
“So you are ready to return to classes?”
“I never thought I’d want to come to school, but yes, Miss.”
“Well we’ll be glad to have you back, you’ve not had the best of starts to this academic period have you?”
“Er no, Miss.” I agreed.
“Frau Bond, I think we need to get Gaby back on track, the work we’ve had recently shows a slip behind her classmates so I propose some remedial work to get her back up to speed.”
“We’d support that,” Mum stated.
Great, it’s one thing to be back at school but extra classes.
“Gaby?”
“I guess.”
“I’ve spoken to her teachers and we suggest two one hour sessions each week up until the Weihnacht’s break when we’ll review things,” Frau Boxberg proposed.
Joy of joys.
“That sounds fair,” Mum pretty much enthused.
“Wednesday and Thursday then, after normal classes, if you come and see Claudia, she’ll bring you through to one of the meeting rooms okay?”
“Yes, Miss.”
It’s not like I really had any choice in the matter.
I knocked on the door before sheepishly opening it and going into my homeroom.
“Ah, Gaby, welcome back,” Frau Dürst smiled.
“Um thanks.”
“Get sat down, we’re on chapter eight of the trigonometry book.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Of course I was the centre of attraction for a couple of minutes before Frau Dürst resumed the class.
“Really?” Steff queried.
“Yeah every Wednesday and Thursday until Weihnacht’s,” I supplied.
“That sucks,” Pia opined.
“So we doing the market this year?” Nena queried.
“Dunno,” I shrugged, “don’t you have to book everything months ago?”
“Maybe in Köln, we are talking Ahrweiler here,” Brid scoffed.
“What’d we do?” Con asked before taking a mouthful of her sandwich.
“Same as last time?” Steff suggested.
“I can ask Dad what he thinks,” Pia mentioned.
“You think the lads’ll help again?” Nena put forward.
“Gab can check them out,” Bridget proposed.
“Why me?”
“Duh! Max is your boyfriend!” Steff stated.
Maddy Bell 19.01.16
“Now just remember, no jumping about,” Dad ordered as we got out at the Tanzklub.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Mand volunteered.
Thanks, ‘friend’.
“I’ll pick you up at nine.”
“Yes, Dad.”
We were a little early for Hannah but Pia and Margot were already waiting.
“Hi guys.”
“Feeling better, Gab?” Margot asked.
“Yeah, nearly back to normal.”
“No she isn’t,” Pia put in, “it’ll be weeks yet.”
I smarted at P’s honest appraisal, “But I am feeling better.”
“So what happened to your Aigenbrauen?”
My – bum, I forgot to draw them in, “Oh yeah, someone,” I glanced at Pia, “decided I’d look better without them, they’re taking forever to grow back.”
“Wasn’t me,” Pia stated, “blame Brid.”
“Mand, you got a brow pencil?”
“Probably, I’ll sort it out inside,” she sighed.
“Cheers.”
“Hi girls,” Hannah greeted, “Gab, good to see you, I was running out of stuff to do.”
“Hi Han, I’ve got plenty here,” I patted my move book.
Instead of the natural look that Hilde taught me I ended up sporting a distinctly unnatural single line arch over each eye, which looked faintly ridiculous but was marginally better than nothing. Well nothing would be a fib, they are growing back but being blonde they are very fine and quite sparse, it’ll be months before they’ll look like me again. I’ll get you Bridget, just you wait and see.
“… And two and three and end.”
The assembled dancers were a little ragged, game ready but not competition by a long chalk.
“Okay, that’s it for tonight, keep practicing those turns, it needs to be much smoother,” I pronounced.
The girls all headed to the changing rooms leaving me with Hannah.
“Good session tonight.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “they’re getting the hang of the moves, most of it now is practice.”
“Do you think they’ll be ready for a show at Weihnacht’s, I’d like to put them in the club show.”
“I’m sure we can do a short routine. I meant to ask, is it alright if I ask my old cheer coach in England for some tips?”
“You wouldn’t be stepping on any toes. So really, Gaby, how are you?”
“Better, I can’t do lifting or anything that might pull things for at least another week, it might be Christmas before I can do more than shuffle around or do Garde.”
“Patience, Gab, you’ll be doing stuff soon enough.”
“That’s what everyone says,” I sighed,” I’ll send Fran an email, she might say no.”
Mand and Pia returned to the hall.
“Ready, coach?” Pia queried.
“I guess, see you next week, Hannah.”
“Okay, bye, girls.”
As usual P was catching a lift, we go past her door so it makes sense. We headed out to find Dad, he and several other parent taxis were waiting in a car park slowly turning white under the snow that had started falling whilst we were inside.
“Brrrr!” I allowed.
“Didn’t think this was coming so soon,” Pia observed.
“It only started half an hour ago,” Dad told us as he swung the Mercedes onto the road.
“I hope it doesn’t come to much,” Mand stated.
“You coming to Thesing’s in the morning, Gab?”
“Possibly, I might be getting a lift,” I noted, “If I don’t get can you get my lunch?”
“Sure.”
Nothing in the valley is a huge distance apart, it’s less than ten minutes down to the Sebenschuh place in Rech and only a couple more to Bond Acres in Dernau.
“She behave herself, Amanda?” Mum started the interrogation.
“Yes, she just walked us through the moves.”
“I am here,” I pointed out.
“But you’ll tell me what I want to hear whilst doing the opposite.” Mum accused.
“Do not!”
“I’ve not got the energy to argue with you, Gaby.”
“You’ve set everyone on my case,” I railed.
“That’s enough, young lady,” Dad instructed as he joined us.
“Whatever!” I huffed before stomping up to my eyrie.
In the end the snow didn’t come to much, by the time I set off for school everywhere was just wet rather than white. I say I, Dad took me down to Silverberg although I’d be making my own way home later. Yeah I was nearly late again, how comes when we ride down we can get here on time but get in a car and tardy becomes the norm.
“Bond?” Frau Dürst called out.
“Here!” I gasped pretty much sliding through the doorway with the momentum of my arrival.
Our teacher glanced up, “Really, Gaby, go sit down.”
“Yes, Miss,” I allowed.
Yep, things are back to normal.
“Some entrance,” Con grinned as we waited for the bell for the start of first period.
“I should’ve got the Express,” I muttered.
“P’s dad’s gonna check out the Weihnacht’s stall for us today, can you believe some of the markets start on Friday?”
“Geez, where did the year go?”
“It’s been quite eventful.”
“You can say that again,” I agreed.
“It’s been quite eventful,” she giggled.
“Duh!” I allowed rolling my eyes.
“Hey, Gab,” Marty called over.
“Preiser.”
“Got a letter from Bernie yesterday,” he beamed.
“More baby pics I suppose.”
“Well some,” he admitted, “she wants to come for a visit.”
“That’s good isn’t it?” Con put in.
“With Drea?” I added.
“Not sure, on either count,” he admitted.
“But you want to see her – and the baby?”
“Well yes, I really like her but...” he shrugged his shoulders.
“Does it matter what others think?” I proposed.
“People might think Drea is mine.”
“And?” I queried.
“Everyone we know knows better,” Con observed.
“I guess.”
“What’s the problem with that anyhow?” I asked, “you two are an item, Drea comes as part of the package.”
“You’re right, Gaby, I’ll write her later.”
“Tell her we want to see the kinder,” Con told him.
Further conversation was halted with the first period bell sounding and a need to get to Herr Ansbacher’s room for German history.
“Strechau!” I called down the hallway, “wait up.”
The object of my yell turned to look for his assailant, spotting me he stopped walking to wait for me.
“What’s up?”
“Can I have a word?”
“Sure,” he allowed, “good do at the weekend, eh?”
“Yeah,” I allowed falling in beside him as we headed for the refectory.
“So what’s up?”
“The guys, well the girls, we’re thinking of doing a Weihnacht’s stall again.”
“Cool.”
“I, well we really, wondered if you and the lads could help out like last time, you know with the stall and stuff?”
“Probably, I’m sure Mart and the others will muck in, when is it?”
“Three weeks I think, Helmut Sebenschuh is checking it out today for us.”
“Okay, I’ll sound the others out but I’m sure they’ll be up for it, same sort of thing as last year?”
“Think so,” I allowed.
By now we were at the food hall, it’s not exactly the weather to eat outside so the room was busier than usual.
“I’ll let you know as soon as what’s happening.”
“Okay, liebchen,” he mentioned.
“Max!”
Instead of desisting he dived in and kissed me on the forehead. So of course we had an audience, a now catcalling audience.
“Give over!” I stated forcefully whilst colouring up.
“Laters!” he offered before slipping away.
I wanted to melt into the floor, leave the room, anything but be where I was except of course Pia has my lunch and the girls had already laid claim to a table across the room. I plastered a smile on my face and brazened out the walk across to the Angels.
“Not your boyfriend, eh?” Nena stated with a giggle.
“He was mucking about.”
“If that’s mucking about I want some,” Steff proposed.
“Hmmpf!” I allowed plonking myself into the vacant seat next to Con.
“So did you ask?” Brid enquired.
“Yeah, that my sandwich P?” I asked eyeing the bag on the table.
“There you go,” Pia stated as she passed me my food.
“Cheers.”
“And?” Brid pressed.
“He thinks they’ll be up for it.”
“Good,” Pia mentioned as she played with her handy, “Dad’s got us a cabin!”
Maddy Bell 22.01.16
I’ve been sitting to do my business for so long now its second nature, what I wasn’t expecting was the sudden gush of dark smelly stuff as I sank back onto the seat.
“Con!”
“Wassup, Gab?” she replied from beyond the door.
“I er think I’m on.”
I might be nearly sixteen and the doctors reckon I’ve been having periods for a while, maybe as far back as America but this is the first time it’s had some way of escaping.
“I needed to know that?”
“Er what do I do? There’s stuff everywhere.”
“Haven’t you got any tampons or pads?”
“Er no, ew this is gross!”
“Get used to it, here,” she passed some stuff under the door, “clean yourself with the wipes then put a pad in your pants.”
Even I could work that out.
“Thanks, Con.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
“How long does this go on?” I asked as we walked towards the Express station, we were meeting the others at the weinstube, they’d elected to ride up.
“A few days, depends. Didn’t your mama tell you this stuff?”
“Possibly, I probably wasn’t listening.”
“Make sure you keep a diary then you won’t be caught out again.”
“Yeah, the doctor thinks I should continue with the Pill.”
“You’ve been on the Pill?”
“For a while so I didn’t bleed inside again.”
“Makes sense.”
That line of conversation dried up as we joined the other passengers waiting on the platform.
“I’d best tell Max the good news,” I mentioned fishing for my handy.
“Tell him to come to the Stube.”
“’Kay,” I allowed as the phone started to ring.
“Hey, Gab!”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“Number recognition?”
“On your house phone?”
“Sure, so what’s the call for liebchen?”
“Will you stop saying that,” I huffed.
“Okay, so?”
“So? Oh yeah right, er it’s on we’ve got the cabin, you spoken to the others?”
“Yeah this afternoon.”
Con poked me and mimed getting the lads to the Sebenschuh place.
“Erm we’re having a planning session at the Stube, can you get along?”
“What time?”
“Time?”
Con mouthed six to me.
“Six?”
“Six it is, tschuss.”
“Tschuss.”
The Express arrived and we piled on board.
“Hello, stranger.”
“Hi, Myleen, how goes it?”
“Same old, the girls said you’ve been ill?”
“Er yeah, on the mend now.”
“Good, well I’d best hustle, Fahrkarte to check, take care.”
“And you,” I offered.
I sent a text to Dad and another to Mand, I’m sure she’ll want to be involved. It’s not long on the train, the others only beat us as we’d missed the earlier train due to my ‘visitor’ and had to walk up from Rech station.
“You can use the restaurant, girls, it’s too cold in back,” Eva, Pia’s mum told us.
“Is Dad about?” P asked.
“He’s at a growers meeting, he’ll be back for supper.”
“Oh right, he tell you we’ve got a cabin in Ahrweiler again.”
“Ah, that’s what he was jabbering about, so this is a planning meeting, eh?”
“Yes, Eva,” Nena agreed.
“Get yourselves warmed up, I’ll do you some spätzle.”
Now we’re talking!
“How about we have a sit in, there were a couple of stalls in Köln last year,” I suggested after we’d seen off the noodles.
“So like a café?” Brid queried.
“Sort of,” I replied, “we have the counter at the front but in the back we have some chairs and tables, we could do choco and coffee.”
“Dad’s got boilers we can use,” Pia put in.
“We could do coffee and cake in back and the biscuits at the street,” Con added.
“Sounds good to me,” Steff agreed.
“One thing,“ I interrupted, “no elf or angel costumes.”
“Spoilsport, Bond,” Nena mentioned.
“We will need a theme,” Brid opined.
I had an evil thought, “How about Mittelalter, we get long dresses the lads wear hose and doublets.”
“Like at the wedding?” Con enquired.
“You saw them?”
“They caused a bit of a sensation,” Steff mentioned.
“You reckon they’ll go for it?” Nena questioned.
“Max’ll do whatever Gab* says.” Pia suggested.
“He will?”
“He’s in lurv,” Nena stated, “of course he will.”
“With who?”
“Geez, Gab, you could never pretend to be a redhead,” Con observed.
“You lot are making something out of nothing.”
“Half the school saw you two at lunch,” Bridget advised.
“And the other half have heard since,” Con added.
“So,” Mart started, “we need to decorate the inside and the front?”
“Yep,” I confirmed.
“We can do it at the schloss,” Max volunteered.
“Not sure about these costumes?” Ralf noted.
“Max wore it at the wedding last Saturday,” Steff pointed out.
“You did?” Freddy asked.
“Er yeah, it was this sort of Mittelalter theme, Gab had the dress and everything.”
“Well I guess it’s okay,” Ralf allowed
“It is for charity,” Mart added.
It was after eight when we finished planning, when we started arguing over costume colours it was time to stop. Time is kind of in the essence so Eva agreed to check out the costume shop when she goes to Mayen tomorrow. We decided on a more gingerbread than rustic look, just because the medieval was a time of peasants and princes doesn’t mean we have to be realistic, a bit of fairytale goes a long way.
Manda had ridden up on her town bike so she returned to Dernau with Connie, Eva dropped me back home using the Stube’s skate, I mean Smart Fortwo.
“Everything sorted?” Dad enquired.
“Er toilet first,” I told him making a beeline for the cloakroom.
At least I was ready for the mess this time and Mum keeps the house facilities stocked with the necessaries. To think, all the fuss the last few weeks has been for this – I could happily have foregone this delight of womanhood. I cleaned up and returned to the lounge, Mand was making cocoa; the rents were snuggled on the sofa.
“Alright, kiddo?” Mum asked.
“Yeah, it’s er moon time.”
“Everything okay, you feeling okay?” Mum was more interested now.
“Think so.”
“When did you start?”
“This afternoon, I had to borrow a pad from Con, talk about embarrassing.”
“You’ll learn.”
“She did the same in Wales,” Mand volunteered as she arrived with the tray of drinks, “we couldn’t find her, she was holed up in the hotel’s toilet.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“You never told us,” Mum stated.
“It wasn’t a big deal, Caro knew.”
“What about this market stall,” Dad mentioned in an effort to refocus the conversation.
“We’re doing a sort of café, Weihnacht’s biscuits at the road, coffee and cake inside.”
“Sounds interesting,” Mum opined.
“No costumes this time?” Dad queried before sipping at his hot chocolate.
“Fairytale medieval right, Gab?” Mand supplied.
“Yeah, something like at the wedding, the lads get to wear the tights for once,” I chuckled.
“And they’ve agreed?” Mum enquired.
“Ralf and Freddy weren’t keen but we talked them round.”
“So I suppose you girls get the long frocks and wimples,” Dad suggested.
“Maybe not the wimples, we’d look like nuns.”
“We’ll have nun of that around here,” mum quipped.
The rest of us groaned, how bad can you get?
“When is it?” Dad asked.
“The week before the BLCA,” I supplied.
“Three weeks? You gonna be ready in time?” Mum petitioned.
Maddy Bell 23.01.16
Wednesday was my first make up class, which, on top of my period and some cold blowey weather, hardly put me in a good mood. So of course Thursday it rained to add to my woes, I got drowned waiting for the train home, at least riding I’d ’ve been out in it less. The good thing was, that riding was another week closer.
“How’d your Mum get on with the costumes?” Brid asked Pia Friday lunchtime.
“Not great, they didn’t have anything in our price range at all, she did get some patterns and material so we can make them.”
“Make them?” Nena yipped.
“I can’t sew to save myself,” I offered.
“Where’s Anna when you need her?” Con asked no one in particular.
“I can give her a call,” Steff suggested.
Anna of course was our chief costumer but since she left Silverberg and started college we see much less of her, it would be great if she could help out.
“I might know someone who may be able to help,” I cryptically put in.
“Who?” Steff asked.
“Let me sound them out first.”
“You coming on the Express?” I asked Con as we headed towards the bike store.
“Guess I can keep you company,” she agreed.
Of course I’m still on foot and in skirts, just because I’m a de facto girl doesn’t mean I have to like wearing the things all the time, especially as the weather is cold now.
“Where we going, Bond?” Con enquired a few minutes later as I led the way towards the town centre.
“You’ll see, hopefully we’ll sort the costume issue out.”
“If you say so,” she huffed.
It’s not a big place and the walk to the centre from the Gymnasium doesn’t take long so we stopped outside our destination barely ten minutes later.
“Here?”
“Yup.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nothing ventured,” I proposed.
“Whatever,” she sighed before parking up her bashed up Batavus.
I waited for her to set the lock then pushed the door open and stepped through. The bell over the door jangled to itself before the interior returned to a hushed silence.
“Won’t be a moment,” a familiar voice called from the back room.
“Okay.”
We are hardly typical patrons of this place but well, you have to look don’t you.
“How much?” Con whispered when she looked at a pair of fancy Wolford hose.
“Nice though.”
“Sorry, just had to sort out an order, ah, I thought I recognised the voice.”
“Er hi,” I allowed.
“So what brings you here? Bit early for New Year, your frock hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Er frock? New Year?”
“Of course, you need something special for Harburg of course.”
How the heck does she know about New Year? At least she doesn’t know about York!
“Er okay, no it’s not that.”
“Well are you going to tell me?”
“Erm, you know the Weihnachtsmarkt? We are doing a stall for the Kinderhaus again.”
“Of course, you were the Weihnachts Fee, you looked delightful. So you are collecting money yes?”
“Actually no, we need some different help, more hands on,” I told her.
“Well spit it out, gel,” Gerta suggested.
“We, that is I, wondered if you could help us with the costumes.”
“This isn’t a costume shop.”
“I know that of course,” I placated, “we are doing a Mittelalter theme this year but we can’t find any costumes so we need to make them and we aren’t exactly seamstresses.”
“I can do buttons,” Con supplied.
“We’ve got material and patterns,” I added.
“So you want us to make your costumes?” Gerta clarified.
“If you could, it is for charity.”
“How many are we talking?”
“Eleven? Seven dresses and four lads.”
“Hmm, wait here.”
She headed into the rear again leaving us alone in the showroom of Eloise Couture.
“That went well,” Con stated.
“I thought so.”
“You think they’ll go for it?”
“Fingers crossed.”
Gerta returned to the shop, “I’m not saying yes, be here at nine tomorrow with the patterns and material and we’ll see.”
“Thank you, that’ll be brill!” I enthused.
“I didn’t say yes.”
“You think they’ll go for it?”
“They haven’t said no,” I pointed out.
“You are a cheeky moo, Gaby Bond,” Con stated as she propelled us towards the train stop, me sat sidesaddle on the rear rack.
“She who dares!”
“I can’t believe this,” Pia opined as the three of us reached the door of Eloise Couture a few minutes before nine. Con wasn’t here – she was working this morning at the bakery but Anna was enthusiastic about being involved so joined our delegation.
“Nothing ventured,” I mentioned.
Of course the shop wasn’t actually open at nine, they open at ten like most sensible stores in these parts, so I knocked on the door’s glass. Gerta arrived to open it so quickly she must’ve been watching our arrival.
“Ah, von Strechau!” she greeted as she relocked the door.
“Morning.”
“And these are?”
“Oh right, er Piasena Sebenschuh and Anna Pilsen.”
“You’ve brought the patterns?”
“Here,” Pia tapped her shoulder bag.
“Let’s get you through to Dot in the workroom.”
We followed Gerta past the fitting room into a room full of stuff but feeling quite spacious at the same time.
“They’re here, Dot.”
“Ah good,” said Dotty mentioned joining us from a hidden corner.
“I have stuff to do out front, I’ll leave you ladies with Dot,” Gerta told us before departing.
“Find seats, coffee?”
“Er please,” Anna replied, well anything to calm the nerves.
It must’ve been already brewing as we were quickly nursing the caffeine.
“So, Gerta says you need seven dresses and four men's Mittelalter costumes, yes?”
“Eight dresses,” Anna corrected – well she’d need one too.
“Patterns?”
Pia got the packets out, two dress designs and a third for the lad’s outfits. Dotty took them and started to examine what she had to work with. To be honest I’m more a facilitator here so my attention drifted off around the room, the walls lined with rails, some with completed orders, others half finished jobs. I’m guessing the filing cabinet had their own patterns or something and we were, of course sat at the worktable.
Dot spent ten minutes going over the patterns before doing the same with the material Eva bought for us.
“And you need them in two weeks?”
“Two weeks yesterday,” I told her.
“Hmm,” she consulted a notebook, well it might‘ve been a diary, “hmmm, I need to talk to Gerta, won’t be long.”
“She doesn’t seem very keen.” Anna opined.
“She can be a woman of few words,” I noted in the hope of keeping everyone’s hopes up.
“She tutted at the material,” Pia observed.
“Yeah,” I agreed, my earlier confidence severely dented.
It was close on ten minutes before Dotty, with Gerta in tow, returned to the workroom.
“Okay, ladies, we can do the dresses but you’ll have to sort the men’s outfits yourselves,” Gerta advised.
“I should be able to do those,” Anna stated.
“Thanks, ladies, we’ll put up a board on the kaffee Haus, something like ‘sponsored by Eloise Couture’,” I volunteered.
Greta actually smiled at my suggestion, well it was actually Dad’s but whatever, she smiled which has to be good.
“What we need from you is some help with cutting and everyone’s measurements – we have yours of course, Gabrielle.”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
“No problem,” Pia told our benefactors, “I’ll bring Steff down after school Monday.”
It was close on two before we joined the others in the commandeered bakery coffee shop.
“Well?” Con asked.
“Looks like you’ll need to practice your skills, Steff,” Pia noted.
“They can do the frocks but we, or rather Anna will have to do the lads stuff,” I advised.
“You are just so jammy, Gab,” Nena proposed.
“Just thinking big,” I allowed.
“We need everyone’s measurements,” Anna prompted.
“Except Gabs,” Pia put in, “they have hers on file!”
“You need ours too?” Ralf asked.
“Dur!” Anna started, “how am I supposed to make them fit otherwise?”
“I’ll get a tape,” Con volunteered.
Maddy Bell 30.01.16
The Weihnacht’s cabin was serving as a great way to distract me from my health woes and my forced bike lay off. My period had thankfully not been a protracted affair, honestly the whole thing was a nightmare, the sooner I’m back on the Pill the better. A distraction yes but I’m still aching to get back on the bike, I’m sure I’ve put on weight and some of it in places I’d rather not have.
“What do you know about New Year?” Dad asked when we sat down for dinner Saturday evening.
“New Year?”
“Seems we are invited to a bash at some castle?”
“Castle?”
“Not ring any bells?”
“Sounds intriguing,” Mum opined.
“Apparently someone has connections in high places,” Dad stated.
“Me?”
“Well I don’t think it’s your sister.”
“Come on, Dave, don’t keep us hanging,” Mum chivvied.
“Your friend Sophia’s parents, Gaby.”
It came back to me then, Sophia had mentioned something about New Year last week.
“The Duke?”
“The Duke and Duchess, let’s see,” he picked up a card and read from it, “The Thun und Taxis family cordially invite the Bond family to join them for New Year at Schloss Harburg.”
“She did mention something last week,” I admitted, “so um, are we going then?”
“Up to your mother, Jen?”
“Mum’s coming over remember,” Mum pointed out.
“She can come too, I’m sure she’d enjoy staying in a castle.”
“Dave?”
“I’ll RSVP.”
Yay, we’re going to the Taxis bun fight!
“Looks like I’m gonna miss all the fun,” Mand noted as we did the washing up, Mum had cooked the lamb chop dinner we’d just consumed, so we got jankers.
“You are invited,” I replied, “wouldn’t you rather be with your family than with a load of strangers?”
“You don’t know my family.”
“They can’t be that bad,” I proposed.
“Think Addams Family and you wouldn’t be far off.”
I hope that was meant as a parody.
“Well I think I’d prefer to be with family,” I supplied.
I was allowed to join the Apollinaris ‘cross team this week but strictly as a spectator! We were an almost three hour drive from the event which was not far from Antwerp in Belgium. That of course meant an early start, the three of us departed at six; we met up with the others at the Aachener Hof services where we had a second breakfast.
“How are you doing, Gaby?” Anita asked, “You had us all worried.”
“Fixed I hope.”
“So when are you riding again?” Erika queried.
“Don’t encourage her, girls, she’s under strict orders,” Dad told them from the table he shared with Carsten who, I noted, now wore an Apollinaris jacket similar to Dad and George’s.
“If I’m lucky about two weeks,” I supplied.
“Thought the Doctor said six weeks,” Mand opined.
“Okay, three weeks then.”
“The trip to England?”
“I won’t be fit enough to race,” I mumped.
“Getting better is more important.” Erika stated.
The fans in the Low Countries really are enthusiastic about cross, food vendors, flag sellers and plenty of sponsors, all a bit different to plugging around Markheaton Park unobserved. Mand was ‘officially’ our lap timer so I really didn’t have a role to play, I bought one of those rattle things and went to find somewhere to watch, hopefully not far from a pommes stall. I found a good spot overlooking a steep run up and staked my claim with the folding chair Carsten gave me.
The girls were warming up on the course when a familiar voice spoke behind me.
“Bond?”
I turned to find the source, “Er hi, Michael.”
“Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Supporting a couple of our girls,” I allowed.
“Same here, well not girls, some of the guys on my team.”
“Riding much?”
“It’s close season,“ he shrugged, “only a couple of hundred a week, you?”
“Nothing at the moment, er women’s problems.”
“That must suck.”
Don’t I know it.
“Yeah, I’ve not had so long off the bike in years.”
“Good spot, mind if I stay?”
“If you like.”
So the two of us cheered, clapped and shouted through first the women’s then the men’s. I paid but Michael fetched the frites between the events, I actually had a good time as we chatted about the summer and bikes. The men’s event finished and we each went our own way.
“Where’ve you been?” Mand asked when I reached the cars.
“Watching the races.”
“That mayo on your jacket?”
“Shit, where?”
“Ha, got you, you had chips.”
“I had chips,” I admitted.
“Anita said you were with a lad,” she fished.
“I met that Desgrange lad, you remember from the summer.”
“Oh aye, some coincidence.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing,” she stated feigning innocence.
“There you are, ready to go?” Dad asked.
“Hi, kids,” Mum offered in greeting when we finally reached home not much before six, there’d been a pile up near the Dutch border so we’d diverted but then got caught in more hold ups getting around Aachen.
“What’s for dinner, I’m starving.”
There was a distinct lack of cooking smells in the house, she knew we were delayed cos I phoned when we got on the E40.
“Thought we’d eat down in Ahrweiler, I booked a table at Der Mühle for half six so get yourselves sorted, toot sweet,” she instructed.
“Did I hear something about The Mill,” Dad asked joining us from the garage.
“We’re eating there,” I offered.
“What are you two still doing here?” Mum queried, “Scoot!”
Mum drove us in her A Klasse, for Mum it was quite sedate, we stayed below Mach 2 and I only had to close my eyes once – not bad for under five kilometres! I take my hat off to Dad, he barely flinched when Jenny Schumacher did a one point turn in the tiny car park without slowing and straight into the only vacant parking slot. Yeah, they really shouldn’t let her out on the road with anything motorised.
The last time I ate here was after Switzerland, when the BC – Apollinaris partnership was announced, I think the senior team come here quite often though. That was confirmed when we made our way inside.
“Ah, Jenny, good to see you, and the family,” Eva, the owner greeted.
“This lot’ve been up in Belgium all day and I didn’t fancy cooking,” Mum related.
“That’s where we come in eh, I’ve put you in your usual corner, I’ll send Christina through in a minute or two.”
“Thanks, Eva,” Mum mentioned before leading us through, not into the function room but the smaller, cosier public bar cum restaurant.
We navigated our way to a table with a ‘Reserviert’ card on one end. We lost our coats, Dad hanging them on the hooks next to the seat he claimed.
“Nice dress, Gab!”
“Hi, Chris, thanks, Mum insisted.”
“Hi, Jenny, Herr Bondt,” she mentioned.
“You remember Amanda?”
“The English yes? We met at Martin’s party I think.”
“What have we got on tonight?” Mum enquired.
“Oops, sorry, Mama is always complaining I talk too much, the special is beef roulade with boiled potatoes and vegetables, the pasta selection tonight is lasagne, tortellini and Tagliatelle or of course the a la carte. Drinks?”
“My usual,” Mum stated, “Dave?”
“Large beer for me.”
“Gab?”
“Radler for me, Mand, drink?”
“Cola, bitter.”
“So large beer, dry white wine, Radler and a cola,” Chris confirmed before heading off to fetch them.
“Dunno what I fancy,” Mum mused.
“Think I’ll try the beef,” Dad decided.
That sounded good to me too, “same here, Mand?”
“What were the options?” she asked in English.
I forgot she’s not exactly fluent in der lingo, “Sorry Mand, pasta, beef roulade or anything off the menu.”
“They do that Hawaii thing, you know, with the pineapple?”
“We can ask,” Mum suggested.
Christina arrived with our drinks, which were quickly assigned.
“So, decided?”
“Can you do Puten Hawaii?” I asked.
“Sure, with boiled potatoes or pommes?”
“Boiled or chips Mand?”
“Any chance of rice?”
“Rice, for sure,” Chris noted.
“Same for me,” Mum decided, “and these two want the roulade please.”
“Okay,“ she allowed, “two beef, two turkey Hawaii.”
“Oh I forgot to mention,” Mum started, “had an email, from the BBC SPOTY people, I’ve been nominated again.”
“When’s that?” Dad asked.
“Two weeks before Christmas I think.”
“Cool,” Mand noted, “the rents always watch that, I remember seeing you when you won the other year.”
Good job she didn’t remember seeing me, mind you I did go in a frock.
Maddy Bell 27.01.16
At the mention of the BBC email by Mum at Der Mühle reminded Gab she hadn’t checked her own for a few days. When they’d first moved to Germany the gang back in Warsop sent mail nearly daily, it was almost like being there. But of course over the weeks and months it fell away on both sides, what was important in Germany wasn’t in England, experiences were no longer shared.
The electronic messages still flew between them, just less regularly. The computer buzzed and clicked into life eventually, a new one would be nice, maybe a laptop – maybe drop a few hints for Chrimbo. The mailbox opened and she started the chore of weeding the seed from the chaff.
She hadn’t sent one to Bern about coming over yet and Mart had given her the news – ages ago. Her fingers flew over the keys, short but wasn’t that the point?
Hey Bern,
Mart said you’re coming in the New Year, that’s brill. Everyone’s looking forward to seeing you both, even Goth Gurl!
Making a flying visit to York for some dinner thing in a couple of weeks so I’ve arranged for Caro to get everyone’s Chrimbo prezzies to Warsop.
Still not riding which is a pig, I’m sure I’ve put on kilos!
We’re doing Ahrweiler Weihnachtsmarkt for the Kinderhaus again, it’s all a bit last minute but it should be well cool. Con and me are in charge of the food, we’re doing Weihnachts biscuits and coffee and cake inside. I saw a stall like that in Koln last year, it should be pretty neat. We’re wearing medieval style dresses, well obviously not the lads; they’ve got these short things over tights and a jacket.
I never told you about the wedding did I? I was a bridesmaid, yeah I know; so I got to go on the hen do with Sophia, you know, the girl I shared with at the other wedding? Anyway she had to wear this daft costume and sell cheese, Analise that is, not Sophia, it was a right riot! I’ve attached a picky.
Speak soon; give Drea a kiss for me
Gabs.
I attached the picture, a slightly blurred selfie of the hen party, great photography it isn’t but I was hardly aiming at a perfect portrait. I clicked send and returned to the incoming messages.
You could hear the yell throughout Schloss Bond.
“I got one!”
“Gaby!” Mum admonished from the landing below.
I went to the top of my stairs, “I got one!”
“One what, kiddo?” Dad enquired joining the congregation at the foot of my stairs.
“A SPOTY invite thingy!”
“Let’s have a look,” Dad suggested as he clambered up to my eyrie.
“You’ve been nominated…blah, blah, blah, it’s the junior version, hmm.”
“Well done, Gab,” Mand offered.
“When’s that, Dave?”
“Eleventh, yeah it takes place before the main event.”
“That’s the week before England,” I suggested.
“Erm, Gab, isn’t that when we’re doing the market thing?” Mand observed.
“Sugar!”
“I’ll contact them tomorrow kiddo, can you forward this to me?”
“’Kay,” I agreed, my sails well and truly deflated.
“Enough excitement,” Mum stated, “you two have school in the morning.”
“Before you two go off gallivanting can I have a quick word?” Dad asked as we gathered our stuff to go to cheer practice.
“Kay,” I agreed following him into the office, the epicentre of everything Bond.
“Sit yourselves down.”
“Have we done something wrong?”
“No, if anything the opposite, Mand,” Dad told us. “Firstly, Gabs, I spoke to the SPOTY people earlier, they are keen to make sure you don’t miss out so they will be sending a camera crew to do a resume cum interview, we’ve not sorted the details but it’ll be next week sometime.”
“Uh huh,” I allowed.
“By coincidence I got a call from the Federation this afternoon inviting the team to the National presentation ceremony the week after York. Apparently someone won some sort of pot and they need to collect it. I know you are going home that weekend Amanda but you can tag along if you want, we can get you a flight home from Frankfurt on the Sunday.”
“I’ve only just joined the team.”
“But you are part of it, Roni, Josh and Tali will be going.”
“Not Gret?”
“It’s a bit far from Cottbus for the night,” Dad pointed out.
“I guess.”
I don’t need to know now but let me know as soon as,” Dad addressed Mand.
“That it?” I asked.
“For now, I hope you aren’t thinking of breaking your exercise curfew,” pater queried eyeing up my um cheer uniform.
“Course not but like it’s easier to show the others the moves if I’m dressed properly.”
“Hmm, keep an eye on her, Manda.”
I’m feeling much better this week, none of the period stuff and the swelling has pretty much gone although I’m still a bit tender down there. Once or twice I had to stop myself from launching into a full blown move – my overseer would, I’m sure snitch on me, she might be my friend but her loyalty to Dad is, I think, stronger.
“So you gonna go to Frankfurt?” I asked as we waited for our lift back to Dernau.
“It’s a bit cheeky, I’ve not been here all season.”
“Your point being?”
“I dunno.”
“We won the team event too so there’s a pot to collect.”
“Won’t the others be miffed if I go?”
“Course not, ‘all for one and one for all,’ is our motto.”
“As long as one is Bond?”
“I’m not a prima donna!” I started to huff before she burst into giggles.
“If you say so.”
“Why you!”
“Your face,” she giggled.
The beeping of a horn announced Mum was acting as taxi tonight, glad I’ve not just eaten.
“How’s the dressmaking going?” Con asked Steff as we convened for our pre school coffee.
“Pretty good I think, that Gerta woman’s a bit of a dragon.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “but soft enough to help us.”
“Dottie’s okay,” Pia mentioned.
“So?” Brid prompted.
“Well three of the dresses are cut out,” Steff told us, “Dotty said she’ll pin the first one up today before we get there then we can do the others.”
“I wonder how Anna’s getting on with the lads stuff?” Nena mused.
“That reminds me,” Pia put in, “Anna said we need to get the hose for them.”
“They’re really going to love that,” Bridget chuckled.
“Any chance you could pick some up after school, Gab?”
“I suppose so, I can go to Bruns, what type?”
“Some nice ten den,” Nena suggested with a grin.
“Black with a seam,” Con added.
Well it would be funny but not exactly fair.
“If you can get some bright colours in like fifty or something?” Pia proposed.
“I’ll see what they’ve got,” I agreed.
School is school, it hardly changes, the routine, the timetable – exciting it’s not and we’ve got exams next year so after Chrimbo it’ll be all about revision, oh joy. Of course it was soon common knowledge that the ‘Angels’ were up to something again so it was no surprise that Frau Boxberg sent out a summons.
“Come in, girls,” the head instructed.
We shuffled into her office, Con closing the door behind us.
“A little bird tells me you are collecting for the Kinderhaus again?”
“Yes, Miss,” Steff answered.
“We’re doing a stall at the market again,” Nena supplied.
“Weihnachts biscuits,” Con added.
“And coffee and cake,” I mentioned.
“It sounds very exciting, I’m sure you’ll be well supported but just a word of caution. I don’t want to be a party pooper but you’ve got your Certificate exams in the New Year and whilst none of you should fail I don’t want you ignoring your schoolwork – especially you Fraulein Bond, you’ve missed a lot of school time since the summer...”
“It’s not…” I started to interrupt.
“I know it wasn’t exactly something you wanted but you can’t let things slip.”
“No, Miss,” I allowed.
“That’s all, good luck with the stall and remember your exams.”
So dismissed we headed to the canteen to get our delayed lunches.
Bruns is hardly a Karstadt but they do have a reasonable range of the basics, if you can’t get to Bonn or Koblenz they’ll do. Pia and Steff headed to Eloise Couture, I headed down towards the Niedertor and my shopping destination, it would be so much quicker if I could ride. It started to rain of course so I ended up trying to jog and hold my skirt down at the same time – elegant – not!
“Careful,” a body suggested as I nearly fell through the door.
“Urgh, flippin weather,” I noted as I tried to straighten myself out.
“Think I’ll wait a minute, you want a lift home, Gab?”
It was only then that I realised who I was talking to, Maria.
“Oh hi, would be nice,” I allowed, “but only if it’s not out of your way.”
“Your mother’d kill me if I didn’t take you and I want to see her anyway.”
“Kay, I won’t be long, need to get some stuff for our Weihnachts cabin.”
“Find me when you’re done then.”
You won’t find Wolford hosiery on Bruns shelves but they do some reasonable brands like Falck and Gypsy so there should be something for the lad’s legs. Hold-ups would’ve done the job but they only had flesh tones or black and only black in a thick enough weight. I went with a pair anyhow then struck lucky in the end of line bin, several pairs of seventy D, brightly coloured hose.
In theory we only needed a pair for each of them but let’s face it, they are boys and tights are quite fragile, I grabbed an armful and headed to the Kasse.
“Interesting colours, the hose,” Maria suggested as I settled myself into the passenger seat of her car.
“Long story,” I suggested.
“I’m all ears.”
“Well you remember me and some friends did a cabin at the Weihnachtsmarkt last year? Well we’re doing it again….”
Maddy Bell 02.02.16
Bernie was worried, very worried. Only last week it had been on the news how a local authority down south had seized a couple’s children for adoption and apparently it was legal to rip a child or children from their family if the SS had any doubts over their welfare. SS – they were certainly getting a reputation, not as protectors but as oppressors just like their German namesakes last century.
They were at the Rose house more than her Dad, well it felt that way, Andrea had been placed on the ‘at risk’ register at birth for no reason other than her parent’s misdemeanours. Their social worker, Mike, a tattooed lesbian with no children, hinted every day that they’d take Andrea if they could, there would be no chance to get her back as they fast track infant adoptions – there are apparently plenty of ‘better’ parents waiting to adopt. Over her dead body, no way were they going to get Andrea.
Her parents were on her side and shared her fears and worries but there seemed to be little they could do bar adopting the child themselves. Discrete enquiries suggested that despite being the grandparents they would have little hope of success. They’d all been living on tenterhooks since the baby was born, it could be years before the threat of removal lessened, there really wasn’t anything they could do.
Although she’d been writing to Mart and Gab regularly she’d not mentioned any of this to her boyfriend or birthing partner, they’d only worry on her behalf. No she needed a plan, a plan to get the SS off their backs permanently not just until ‘Mikes’ next unannounced visit. Her computer was getting a bashing as she trawled the web for information and possible help.
There were stories of families fleeing the country but invariably the SS caught up with them and managed to manipulate the law to force their return, it never ended well. Just moving around the country sometimes helped, not all local authorities were so, well vicious, came to mind. She wasn’t even sixteen yet so unless they upped sticks as a family she couldn’t leave and the thought of being on her own with a baby – well it could make things worse.
No there had to be another way.
They’d all watched Gaby’s triumphs in Denmark on Eurosport. There had been highlights of all the events so they’d seen Jenny Bond’s surprise victory as well as the last couple of minutes of Drew, no Gaby’s gold medal effort in the time trial. There had been better coverage of the road race, Bern, with Drea on her lap was on the edge of her seat as the events unfolded that would give her best friend a second World Championship medal.
“Wave to Aunty Gab,” Bern waggled the gurgling Andrea’s puddy at the telly.
“Don’t confuse her, Bern,” Cheryl put in.
“You’re not confused are you pumpkin, that’s definitely Gaby there.”
Indeed, you didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to see the girl on the podium alongside the lads. The outline of her sports bra was pretty obvious through the saturated race wear but most people wouldn’t be looking. The other Brit on the podium, the one who won, wasn’t much taller than Gab; he looked a right cheeky little bugger as they hugged.
“She’ll be having her surgery in a few weeks,” Bern noted.
“I still find it difficult to believe that little urchin was a girl all this time, he was such a tearaway,” Cheryl mentioned getting up to put the kettle on.
“Can you guys look after Drea for a bit please, I need to do my homework.”
“Okay, love,” Jack Rose agreed, “come to Gramps, Drea.”
Watching her friend racing had sparked an idea; she dug through a pile of stuff she’d brought back from her stay in Dernau. It took a few minutes but she eventually pulled her German textbooks out, hmm, ‘Sprechen sie Deutsche, Bernie?’ she mumbled to herself. Maybe it was a harebrained idea but it was worth checking out, first thing though was to improve her German.
It was several weeks later that she had the bare bones of a plan, it would need help from Mart and his parents, her own Mum wouldn’t like it, Dad either but he’d be easier to convince. The Internet had eventually supplied what she needed; her newfound skills with German had been essential and would continue to be if the plan was to work. She sat down and pulled out her writing supplies, email was quicker but she was paranoid that Mike of the SS would somehow get to read her electronic conversations, paper was more secure.
She wasn’t sure how the Preiser’s, how Mart would react to her plan, she wouldn’t entrust that even to the post but hopefully asking if they could visit was the first step. She’d have to get a passport for the baby, there was a chance the SS might be informed – who knows who tells who what, how and why between government departments, but she’d have to take the chance. They have application forms at the Post Office; she’d pick one up when she went to post her letters in the morning.
Gaby’s letter was shorter than usual, she was feeling sorry for herself after the surgery and didn’t have a lot of cycling, shopping or just schoolgirl tales to tell – it wasn’t often Gab got into a fugue but when she did it was usually deep and directly related to bike riding! The other letter, the postmarks were a day apart but they’d arrived together, was the one she really wanted to read – sorry, Gab. She opened it and drew out the folded sheets and began to read;
Dear Bern,
Andrea, she grows so quickly! I showed Mother the pictures, she says she is beautiful. There is a lot happening here….
A lot of the content meant nothing to her really, stuff on the farm, bragging about his soccer skills – well for a lad there was a lot! Then she got to the bit she’d been looking for;
It would be great to see you again; you are more than welcome to come! Will it be just you or will Drea come too? When and for how long do you think? I asked Mama, you could stay at the farm unless you have other plans.
Email me the dates and I’ll get everything ready here.
Hugs and kisses my liebchen, give Drea a hug from Uncle Mart!
Bern smiled to herself, maybe this can work.
“Mum?”
“What love?”
“I’ve got an invite to go to Germany for a visit in the New Year.”
“That’s nice, the Bonds?”
“One of the girls actually, er Martine.”
Yeah, Cheryl didn’t know about Mart and Bern felt it prudent for that to stay the situation for a while longer.
“I take it you want to go then?”
“They were good to me and it would be nice to see everyone again.”
“So I suppose you want me and your dad to have Drea?”
“I was thinking of taking her with me.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Don’t see why not, lots of people fly with babies and she’ll be six months old.”
Cheryl wasn’t keen on the idea but she’d vowed to be supportive rather than interfering, she’d had enough of that with her own mother.
“Won’t she need a passport?”
“Yeah, I’ve already checked what’s needed, just need to get a photo.”
“I suppose you need some money then?”
“I’ll be staying with Martine so I only have to pay for flights, I’ve got some put away.”
“You’ll need spending money and enough for nappies and baby food, you can’t expect this Martine’s family to supply everything.”
“Er no, course not, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“I’ll talk to your dad,” Cheryl told her daughter.
Hi Mart
Dates you wanted, Jan 5th to 19th for two, farm great!
Bern
The email didn’t give potential snoops very much but told Martin everything he’d asked, she pressed send.
Gaby emailed a few days later;
Hey Bern,
Mart said you’re coming in the New Year, that’s brill. Everyone’s looking forward to seeing you both, even Goth Gurl!
Making a flying visit to York for some dinner thing in a couple of weeks so I’ve arranged for Caro to get everyone’s Chrimbo prezzies to Warsop.
There was more about some market thing they are doing, sounded like fun and something about a wedding that didn’t make a great deal of sense – something about cheese? There was a picture attached but the spy ware thing had blocked it for some reason. Most importantly for Bern though the message made no reference to Drea travelling.
She went over the stuff she’d printed off again, it was a bit scary, she didn’t know how Mart would react, it would after all affect him and his family and could have repercussions. But she was becoming desperate, the flippin’ SS came round twice yesterday and the stress was making itself felt on her mother, it’s like ‘Mike’ was hoping she’d foul up somehow. It’s not like there was anyone to complain to – except the SS and that would as likely make things worse rather than better.
The plan was fairly simple, there would be hoops to jump through but it would be worth it and moving to Germany would be a small price to secure Drea’s future. There was only one parent on the birth certificate, a second could be added, one that would give Drea dual nationality. The second part would have more impact but even in Germany you need to be sixteen to wed legally.
Marriage – as children they’d all played dress up weddings, taking it in turns to be the bride – even the boys! There was never a groom of course; it was all about the bride and her maids. Actual marriage was something old people did – these days increasingly rarely, they used to watch the weddings at Meden church, hoping to see the beautiful bride – well it’s the law they’re beautiful at least in their preteen minds.
And now here she was herself, already a parent but contemplating, no hoping that she could marry someone who, in reality, she hardly knew. She did like him, and he her – he did reply to her letters so maybe there was a bit more there. Enough for a formal long-term relationship? She didn’t want to go too far along that chain of thought.
There wouldn’t of course be the dreamy white wedding every girl, well most girls dream about, time and the need for some secrecy put the kybosh on that. Her mother will go ballistic of course, maybe they can do some sort of church thing later? But the important thing was going to be the marriage certificate, the gateway to a new life.
It’s not like it had to be forever, that sounded a bit mercenary but it was true, if it didn’t work out they could divorce but that wasn’t part of the plan. There were residency issues but she’d be sixteen in March, if the Preiser’s agreed, the marriage could take place as soon as, Mart celebrated his birthday back in September, and everything else could start moving. She had nothing against her country of birth but right now it made her tiny family live a precarious existence.
Drea mumbled to herself in her crib thankfully unaware of her mother’s machinations.
It was the middle of December when the postman delivered a recorded letter addressed to Andrea Rose. Bern excitedly opened it for her daughter to reveal her new passport. It was perhaps the most important document she needed, they could at least travel to Germany for their ‘holiday’ now.
The subterfuge nearly ended before it got started, the SS visitor arrived before Bern could put the new travel document away. They’d have to know she was going away in the New Year of course but they didn’t need to know exactly where, did they? Getting her mum to carry the lie she was planning on telling would be difficult but not impossible.
“And how’s Andrea today?”
“The same as she was yesterday and the day before,” Bern supplied as she pushed the passport down the side of the sofa cushion.
“I think that’s for me to decide,” ‘Mike’ stated as she none too carefully lifted the sleeping babe.
A baby who immediately started to cry.
“What’s wrong, eh?”
“You picking her up, she’d only just gone down,” Bern pointed out.
The child was subjected to being stripped so the SS could check her over then handed to Bern to redress. The callousness and hate from ‘Mike’ was palpable, the woman shouldn’t’ve been allowed anywhere near children let alone be entrusted with their protection.
“You here again?” Cheryl mentioned with some venom when she returned home from shopping.
“No need to be like that, Cheryl, I’m here to protect your grandchild.”
“It’s Mrs Rose to you and the only person she needs protecting from is you!”
“Mum!”
“I could take her away.”
“On what grounds? Your hurt feelings?” Cheryl was in the woman’s face now.
“Mum!” Bern tugged at her mothers sleeve, “Leave it, please?”
“I’ll be back.”
“I’m sure you will,” Cheryl spat.
Maddy Bell 27.01.16
“So we going to the market on Saturday?” Steff asked as we settled into our usual lunch seats.
“Sounds good,” Pia stated, “which one?”
“I vote Bonn.” Nena stated.
“What about you, Gab?” Steff asked.
“Don’t see why not, Mand’s never been, she’ll want to come.”
“I might have to meet you there,” Con told us, “I have to work the morning.”
“Mand will have training in the morning too, we can come with you.”
Bridget arrived after a pit stop, “Bonn Saturday Bridg,” Pia advised.
“We should ask Anna,” I suggested.
“I’ll ring her later,” Steff agreed.
“You decided on the cakes yet?” Brid asked, “Not Pflaumkuchen I hope.”
“No,” I defended, “I thought we told you.”
“We did,” Con agreed, “Stollen, Nürnberger, Schwarzwald and some English thing, what was it, Gab?”
“Mince pies.”
“What are they?” Nena asked.
“It’s like currants and stuff in a pie or we could do it as tarts, maybe with sugar glaze.”
“That sounds more interesting than pies,” Con mentioned.
“We could have both?” I proposed.
“So where does this ‘mince’ stuff come from?” Pia queried.
Where indeed, at home, no this is home, back in Angleterre you just go to Sainsbury’s and get a jar, everyone has a jar in the cupboard. Which is just as well, I only suggested doing the MP’s after I found two catering size jars in our larder – they must’ve come when we moved here. It’s a good job the stuff keeps for like, ever!
“We have some at home,” I allowed.
Mand was less enthusiastic about going to Bonn Weihnachtsmarkt than I was, when I told her of the plan as we made dinner.
“It’ll be fun,” I suggested.
“Some of the girls have been, it’s all beer and candles.”
“Hardly, oh go on, Mand, show you my skating skills?”
“You aren’t supposed to do strenuous stuff,” she pointed out.
“Bumbling around a tiny rink is hardly strenuous. Please?”
“Geez, alright I’ll go but it better be fun,” she cautioned struggling to keep a straight face.
“So how’s the decorating going?” I enquired; you’ll remember she’s on the work team for decorating our cabin in Ahrweiler.
“Okay I guess, the lads should have all the panels finished tomorrow I think. I’ve been washing the chairs and tables that Pia’s dad donated, they were disgusting, must’ve been in those cellars for donkey’s.”
“Or longer, I hope the coffee maker and stuff is better.”
“Yeah,” Mand agreed.
“Dottie’s put the first two dresses together,” Steff announced as we waited for the laggards in Thesing’s Thursday morning.
“That was quick,” Con suggested.
“Together I said, not finished,” she pointed out. “Anyway, can you and Gab come this afternoon for a fitting?”
“Guess so, Gab?”
“After my extra class I suppose.”
“So we’ll have couture costumes,” Con chuckled.
“Not exactly, we just need to get the lengths right, shortie here would need twenty centimetre heels to not trip over the hem.”
“Hey!”
“Yeah, she’d never balance on twenty,” Con snorted.
“Why you!” I mentioned before chasing her around the table.
“Girls!” Therese admonished.
“Sorry, Mrs T,” I offered.
“You needing the kitchen later?”
Bum, we are supposed to be cooking biscuits this afternoon.
“We have a dress fitting first mama so we’ll be late.”
“I’ll tell your father to leave the oven then.”
“Thanks,” I told Con’s mum.
The others arrived together; there was an accident just outside Rech, which meant they’d had to go the long way round. We were a bit tight time wise so we set straight off for the Express, Con electing to walk with me rather than ride with the others.
“So when can you ride again?” Con asked as the Zug joggled along to Ahrweiler.
“Hopefully next week, I have to go to the Klinik again Friday afternoon to be poked about, you know, down there.”
Look, I might have all the equipment but it doesn’t mean I’m comfortable talking about this stuff. Real girls, well obviously I am one; but girls who haven’t spent fifteen years being a boy, well they’re less inhibited. I never wanted to have an ‘innie’, I liked having an outtie even if it wasn’t a real one, it was so much less, I dunno, messy.
“I hate the stirrups,” Con mused.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I agreed.
We sat in mutual silence the rest of the journey, each contemplating having our bits poked by doctors.
“I told Manda we’d do the skating rink Saturday,” I told the assembled flock of Angels at lunch.
“At the market?” Brid queried.
“Yeah, there’s always one in the Friedensplatz,” I stated.
“I’m not taking skates,” Nena mentioned.
“We hire them there, dumbo,” Pia pointed out.
“Was just saying,” Nena replied.
“Not been skating for an age,” Steff opined.
“We went in the holidays,” Con put in.
Guess I missed that, being in foreign parts all summer.
“I forgot about that,” Steff noted.
“Well I’m in,” Pia confirmed.
“You reckon we can get some glühwein?” Nena proposed.
“Not if we go looking like school kids,” Pia mentioned.
“Best not look like school kids then,” I allowed.
“We know you can pass, Gabs, despite your size,” Nena stated.
“We all can, lay off the makeup a bit, wear some frumpy long skirt and flats – oh and don’t talk about school.”
“We should do it,” Con grinned.
Now we’re talking!
“You are wearing flats at the market?” Dot queried.
“That was the plan,” I confirmed.
“I think maybe a five centimetre heel would be better, the dress will hang better.”
“She’s right,” Pia observed as they both looked me over.
I looked in the mirror; maybe I do look a bit, erm, squat. I lifted my heels to simulate the proposed increase in height, it was better, when I pushed up to my toes it was spot on.
“That’s it, Pia pin it there,” Dottie instructed her apprentice.
“I’m on my toes,” I pointed out.
“Platforms,” Pia suggested.
“Whatever,” looks like I’ve been stuffed again.
The dress was something like the pattern Eva had bought, like but not the same, Dottie had added a twist or two. Instead of a zip the back laced up and whilst we wouldn’t be corseted she’d somehow added some boning into the dress itself giving it more shape than the pattern suggested. She’d also replaced the plain wide sleeves with a slashed mutton design that would be more practical for the catering but also complimented the lad’s costumes.
It hadn’t really been discussed but I was quite pleased with the light blue of my costume, the slashes filled by a dark yellow shiny material. Con’s garment was a light green with darker green in fills, it worked on her but it wouldn’t’ve on me.
“Not sure how warm those dresses’ll be,” Con stated as we walked back up the town towards the rail line.
“Have to dig out the thermals.”
“I wonder if anyone’s got a heater we can borrow?”
“Dad’s got one of those mobile radiator things in the workshop, I can ask if we could use that.”
“Might be a good idea.”
We had a lot of biscuits to make but at least they are quite easy to do, Herr Thesing has the moulds and cutters of course so it’s mostly about making the batter. Con has more experience with the bakeries machinery so I landed the job of getting everything into the ovens and of course out again without burning anything, me included. We soon had a production line going, once Con had the batters ready she moved to removing biscuits from moulds ready for me to refill.
We ran out of materials about six thirty, by seven we were clearing up as the last batches cooled.
“You staying to eat?” Therese asked.
“What’re we eating?”
“I’ll take that as a yes, Kalbleber with pommes?”
“Oh yeah!”
“Clean up properly, food on the table in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, mama,” Con agreed.
It felt a little impolite leaving for home just a few minutes after being fed but one lucky girl has homework to do tonight. The liver was beautiful, just caramelised, the onion slightly browned but still soft, we might’ve had gravy at home but it would’ve swamped the flavour.
“Someone looks happy,” Jules observed when I poked my head into the lounge.
“You eaten, kiddo?” Dad enquired.
“Heya, kalbleber,” I advised.
“It’s allowed then,” Jules admitted.
“Did you get your baking done?” Mum asked from the comfort of Dad’s lap.
“The biscuits, we’ll do the cake next week. The dresses look cool.”
“Never thought I’d hear her say that,” my sister mentioned.
“Well they are, where’s Mand?”
“Getting paint out of her hair I think,” Mum supplied.
“Sounds like fun, I’ve got homework to do.” I stated.
“Don’t stay up too late,” Mum instructed.
“I won’t, nite!”
Maddy Bell 05.02.16
I don’t usually check my email in the mornings but I needed a reference for my history homework – which I didn’t finish last night. So anyway I clicked on the mail and read through the message.
Hi Gaby
It’s good to hear from you, sorry I didn’t reply earlier, my Internet was down until yesterday. So the lure of the poms was too much eh? I’ve put some links to BCA coaching information below, hope they prove useful. If you can send me some video I might be able to offer some direct advice.
I watched the big race, everyone here is so proud of you – and you’ve been put up for the junior sports personality as well – is there no end to your talents?
Well I bake a mean biscuit!
If you get over, it would be nice to see you again, maybe exchange coaching notes!
All the best
Fran
I can hardly remember most of my teachers back at Warsop College but Fran Cowlishaw was more like a friend than a teacher. It might only be an email but hearing from Fran made me a little homesick, homesick for Warsop that is and everyone there. How are Bern and Drea getting on, I’ve not heard from my cousin for a few weeks, Ally and Helen longer still.
“Are you going this morning, Gaby Bond!” Mum yelled up to the eyrie.
The moment was broken.
“Yes, Mum, coming.”
“Don’t forget I’m picking you up from school this afternoon.”
“How could I,” I mentioned.
“With you anything’s possible,” Mum observed, “clean knickers?”
“Muu-um!”
“You are not showing me up, young lady!”
“No, Mum,” I sighed.
“There’s some of yours on the airer,” she instructed.
“Yes, Mum.”
The joys of womanhood.
“So we’ll meet you at the rink,” I mentioned.
“Two thirty,” Pia confirmed.
“Remember the glühwein,” Steff added.
“Oh yeah!” I agreed.
We have had glühwein, of course we have, it’s Germany but the stalls on the markets are pretty hot about selling alcohol including glühwein, to minors. We had a try last year but failed miserably, this year we are so going to get some on the markets – well not Ahrweiler, everyone knows us there but at Bonn and we’ll likely get to Koblenz and perhaps Köln. The bell for the end of lunch sounded and students dispersed like ants across the campus.
“Ah, Gaby, how are we?” Doctor Fischer enquired.
“Pretty good.”
“Any pain or discomfort?”
“Only when I’m, you know, doing the thing.”
“Dilating,” she filled in the word I’m embarrassed to say.
“Yeah that, it gets a bit sore sometimes,” I admitted.
“Well it’s still early days; the soreness goes?”
“After an hour or so I guess.”
“Good. Well I guess we’d better take a quick look then hadn’t we?”
Oh joy, time for the flippin’ torture chair.
“Can I ride yet?” I almost pleaded once I was decent again back in Dr Fischer’s office.
“I said six weeks.”
“But everything’s healed isn’t it?”
“Gaby!” Mum warned.
“It’s alright Mrs Bond, if it was me I’d be going stir crazy too. Okay how about we compromise, you can ride but no jumping on and off in what was it, cross biking?”
“Cyclo cross,” I corrected.
“Cyclo cross. If you feel any discomfort you are to stop, the wounds might look to be healed but inside they might take another month. So the watchwords are ‘be careful’ okay?”
“Yes! What about dancing?” I pushed.
“A gentle waltz yes but no jumping about, eh?”
“That includes cheerleading, Doctor?” Mum clarified.
“Especially not all that jumping about,” the Doc confirmed.
Bum, I’ll never get fit again.
“I know she said you can ride,” Mum started as we started the journey home, “but that doesn’t mean going straight out on two hour rides up the Nurburgring, I mean it, Gab.”
“I can ride to school though?”
“Yes you can ride to school.”
“And I can wear trousers again!”
Wearing nothing but skirts and dresses for like a month, well it’s been a nightmare! Cold, draughty and everyone can see your legs – well you know what I mean. Sometimes a dress is appropriate but early December, in the snow, ut uh, just totally wrong.
I thought it best not to press to go to Garde Friday evening so instead I tried the buttering up tack on Dad. It wasn’t my turn for cooking but I volunteered for the job, we haven’t had sausage and mash for a while, one of Dad’s favourites, I went one better and made Toad in the Hole . Of course English style sausages are not easy to come by in Germany but there’s a butcher down the valley who makes a fairly good impersonation of them.
“Okay, what are you after?” Dad asked when confronted with my culinary expertise.
“Er nothing.”
“I haven’t lived in a house full of women all this time without learning a thing or two and near the top of the list is being fed ‘special’ meals without reason – there is always a reason.”
“Can’t I just make a nice dinner, there’s onion gravy?”
Mum snorted and Mand chuckled to herself, Dad just gave me a look.
“Mash? Oh alright, you know the doctor said I can start riding again?”
“Yes,” Dad allowed.
“Well can I take a bike when we go to England?”
“You are not riding the Leeds cross.”
“No, no, I didn’t mean for that, the BLCA have a ride on Sunday morning though.”
“And you want to show off your rainbow stripes perhaps?” Dad really can read me like a book.
“Well yes, sort of,” I admitted.
“I guess we might be able to squeeze in some extra bikes, I take it you two will ride too?” Dad queried of Mum and Mand.
“It would be a shame not to,” Mum pointed out.
“Mand?”
“Well if everyone else is.”
I didn’t go out with Amanda on Saturday morning but instead I got a gentle ride down to Remagen and back, Dad made sure it was gentle, he rode with me. Yeah I know, he looks after bikes and carts us around all the time but riding – not his thing at all. The fact that he dragged his bike out to ride with me meant, even to me, that I wouldn’t get away with ignoring instructions.
You wouldn’t think you could lose fitness so quickly; Dad was having to wait for me!
“I’ll never get race fit again,” I moaned as I coasted to a stop next to pater when we reached Singen after looping along the river to the Linz ferry before heading back.
“You will, you haven’t ridden for a month remember.”
“Maybe York isn’t such a great idea.”
“You’ll be fine, we just need to ease you back into riding slowly.”
“I don’t think you can ride any slower than this and stay upright.”
“Welcome to the world of mere mortals,” Dad chuckled. “Come on, think you can manage the ride home?”
“It’s a long walk,” I noted.
“Come on then, we’ll pickup some strudel at Thesing’s, we’ll’ve earnt it.”
We must have made a strange sight, me with all the gear struggling to keep up with Dad who, let’s face it, isn’t exactly the build of a racing whippet. In fact I had a chuckle to myself, he looked like, what is it the press call them? Oh yeah a Mamil .
“What are you grinning at?”
“Er nothing, just remembering something I read.”
“Tag!”
“Tag,” Dad replied as we were overtaken.
The chap sailed past on his city bike, dyno humming and work boots pointing almost sideways. Yeah, I felt a right plonker.
Whilst trousers were back in my useable wardrobe, after an hour and a half ‘riding’ this morning I was feeling a little er, tender. So reluctantly I went with plan Z, a knee length denim skirt that I teamed with Mum’s knee high black boots – yes I did ask if I could borrow them. Instead of my usual ponytail I used a barrette to put my hair up in a more sophisticated but still everyday style, I reckon I could pass for at least eighteen – which of course was the intention.
“What are you girls up to?” Therese asked as we prepared to set off for Bonn.
“Just going to the markets,” I offered.
“Hmm, why don’t I quite believe that, hardly any makeup, no short skirts.”
“It’s cold outside Mama,” Con supplied, ”and you always complain about how much makeup we wear.”
“We best make tracks if we’re gonna get the next Zug,” I suggested.
“Don’t be too late,” Frau Thesing called after us.
It was true about the cold, since this morning it’s gone from quite cool to damned cold and I’m sure there were a few flakes of snow as we’d walked round to collect Con.
“She suspects something,” I supplied as we waited for the Express to arrive.
“What’s she gonna do? Follow us?”
Mand as usual just listened as we jabbered away in German; we really should try using English a bit more.
“You okay Mand?”
“Cold,” she allowed.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “the train should be warm though.”
“Hope so,” she noted stamping her feet for warmth.
The Express appeared up the line, we watched as it wobbled its way towards us before coming to a halt. There was a small exchange of passengers and we found seats on the, thankfully, warm train. It was definitely snow falling beyond the glass as the train, with a throaty roar, set off for its junction with the mainline thirty or so minutes away.
Maddy Bell 06.02.16
“You sure this is a good idea?” Mand asked as we waited for the slightly delayed Rhein Express on a wind and slightly snow swept Remagen Gleis Drei.
“It’ll be fine,” I stated, “the market will be really er seasonal.”
“She’s right, Mand,” Con agreed.
“It never comes to much down here,” I added as the delayed train swept into the station sending snow in every direction.
Bonn, as you might expect on a December Saturday, was busy although we had at least run out of the snow somewhere around Bad Godesberg. We’re meeting the others at Friedensplatz that, if you don’t know Bonn, is at the other end of the shopping area from where we’ve arrived. Despite the number of times I’ve been here I don’t know of any short cuts to avoid the crowds so we cut around past C&A and it’s but a short distance along to Friedensplatz.
I got my handy out and sent Steff a quick text.
‘? R u? @ p/mid’
“They’re probably at the rink,” Con suggested.
“Yeah,” I agreed as I scanned the crowds.
My phone buzzed, a reply.
‘Behind u’
“‘Bout time,” Pia mentioned, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Don’t do that!”
“It was snowing at Remagen,” Con advised.
“There were a few flakes here earlier,” Bridg mentioned.
“So we gonna skate or what?” Steff queried.
“No Anna?” I asked as we headed down towards the rink.
“Said she was busy,” Nena told us, “something about costumes and having been to the market last week.”
We had to wait to get on the ice, compared to the acres at Köln; Bonn’s slipperiness is quite small. Once on though we were soon sliding around happily, for once someone was worse than me, Mand was doing the baby giraffe thing. In fact, once I got going I started to enjoy myself, Jayne Torville I’m not but coaching from Jess has given me more confidence.
Jess, I wonder how she’s getting on? I really should get in contact with her; we had quite a time at Lilleshall back in the summer.
“Watch it, Gab!” Pia prompted as she dragged me sideways.
“Eh?” I managed as a bunch of lads whooshed past in the other direction.
“You were away with the fairies,” my self appointed guardian mentioned.
“Er yeah.”
The buzzer signifying the end of our session sounded far too soon, well okay we’d had our thirty minutes but you know what I mean. By the time we’d recovered our own footwear and exited the skating emporium it was gone three thirty, the bright lights over the ice had hidden the daylight’s retreat. Instead of the grey December sky above us it was now almost black and as I noted that flakes of white started to descend.
“So where are we gonna, you know?” Brid quizzed as we passed the Friedensplatz pyramid with its bright lights but limited clientele.
“It’s busier up in the Domplatz,” Steff suggested.
“Better food up there too,” I opined.
“Well how about we get some Kartoffelpuffer here first, I’m starving,” Con suggested.
To be honest I’m not that keen on the things but everyone else seemed keen so a plate was ordered.
“What is it?” Mand hissed eyeing up the stack of fritters and lake of applesauce on the paper plate.
“It’s a bit like that Rösti we had in Switzerland but without as much flavour.”
Now I like my pommes, a good dose of mayo and I’m in heaven, imagine dipping your chips in cold apple sauce and you sort of get what eating Kartoffelpuffer is like. You get where I’m coming from? The others were tucking in and it is food so I started on the plate I was sharing with Mand.
“It’s a bit bland,” she offered as she polished her first fritter off.
“Be better with a spoon of Branston®,” I suggested.
“Think I’d go for that,” she agreed.
Fed, we headed past the Sterntor pausing only briefly to look at the nativity display and soon the bright, busy and noisy Domplatz market was ahead of us. The snow wasn’t heavy but it was getting persistent, settling on cabin rooves and untrodden footpaths. We joined the crowds and started our trawl of the delights of the market.
“Well?” Nena queried as we approached the busiest of the beer and glühwein cabins, almost opposite the Dom’s entrance and its much bigger, well life-size nativity.
“It’ll look a bit dodgy if we all buy our own,” Pia mentioned.
“What’s going on?” Mand queried.
“Just gonna get some hot drinks.”
“I’ll get them,” Steff volunteered, “come on, Gab, you can give me a hand.”
Great.
“We’ll get a Stube,” Nena suggested.
Steff led the way, squeezing us through the static drinkers to the bar. The staff were busy, they seemed to be working around the long counter, we’d be waiting a minute or two to be served. I checked the pricelist, glühwein €3, pfand €2.
“You got enough, Steff?”
“Think so, €21 yeah?”
“Plus the deposit, that’s another €14,” I pointed out.
“Sugar.”
“Hang on, I’ll get it, I’ve got a fifty,” I mentioned fishing for my wallet.
“Ladies?” the barman enquired.
“Seven red, please,” Steff requested.
“Get a flask, you save €5.”
“Done,” I agreed as Steff was dithering.
With practised ease he filled one of those thermos jugs with glühwein, found a tray and added mugs to complete our order.
“€30 please.”
I passed over the fifty note and he went to make change.
“I’ll take this over,” Steff stated, picking up the tray of contraband.
By the time I reached the others’ mugs were already being filled.
“Here you go, Gab,” Con passed me a mug of steaming beverage.
When everyone had a mug Pia offered a toast, “Here’s to us!”
“To us!” the rest of us cheerfully returned before turning our attention to the drink.
I wasn’t the only one who nearly choked as the combination of heat and alcoholic fumes hit my throat! That caused laughter, and not just from our little coven. A more measured approach is needed, sips rather than mouthfuls, the warming effect almost immediate.
We chatted about our cabin, the costumes, skating, Mand and my trip to England – even Analise’s wedding. We had a nervous moment when a couple of Polizei strolled past but they weren’t looking for underage drinkers, well not ones that had at least fooled the bar staff.
“Anyone want the mugs?” I enquired when we were done.
“Something else to collect dust,” Brid suggested adding hers to those already returned to the tray.
“Mand, you want the mug?”
“We can keep them?”
“Well you lose the deposit but yeah, if you want.”
“I will then, it’s a bit different.”
You could say that, this particular example is a stylised pyramid with a traditional Christmas scene and the year emblazoned on the side.
“Okay, I’ll take these back, I’ll catch you up.”
“We’ll only be at the crystal stall,” Con suggested.
Being er, small you sometimes have to think big but my way back to the bar was trouble free and I was soon reunited with my hefty deposit.
You’ve been to a market right? Weihnachtsmarkt’s are the same but better, stalls full of stuff you don’t really need, everyone keen to enjoy themselves. We made our way along the alleyways but I kept getting whiffs of something good, despite the fritters earlier my stomach was rumbling.
“We gonna eat?” I queried.
“Geez, is that the time?” Steff announced.
“What?” Nena asked.
“Ten after five,” Steff supplied.
“Definitely food time,” I stated.
“The next connection is the six fifteen,” Con mentioned.
“Plenty of time,” I cheerfully put in, “sit in?”
The stall providing the enticing odours did indeed have a sit in facility that we all squeezed into, the atmosphere warm, bright and aromatic, the former welcome as it was getting chilly out in the still falling snow.
“What you having, Mand?”
“No idea, I don’t recognise anything on the board.”
The options were not exactly restaurant, Grünkohl, Bratkartoffeln, Pilz, various sausages and combinations thereof.
“I’ll get you something and me something different, we get a bit of everything then.”
“Er okay, Jamie*.”
We ended up with bratwurst, frikadel, mushrooms, fried cabbage and the fried potato, the portions were generous and the quality excellent. The others of course had their own favourites and conversation dropped as we all tucked in. it was ten to six when we returned to the cold and snowy exterior, the snow seemed to dampen the noise but the atmosphere was as seasonal as it gets.
It’s not far back to the Hauptbahnhof, the biggest problem was not getting distracted by the still open stores; it was a wrench not to go into Puppenkönig as we passed. We did gain a little by being later; the crowds at the station were less – which isn’t to say they were small just smaller. The Zug was pretty full when it arrived from Köln but there was a fair exchange of travellers and somehow we all got seated together above the bike carriage area.
“I need a wee,” Mand mentioned.
“I’ll come too, look after our stuff,” I requested.
These trains are at least fairly standard; the toilet is next to the bike area so we didn’t have far to go. The toilet was literally vacated as we arrived, we both piled in and the automatic door whooshed shut. I hadn’t given it a thought, Mand just peeled down to do her business.
“Er sorry.”
“Eh?”
“I should’ve waited outside,” I went to open the door.
“Don’t you dare!” Mand barked.
Boys, urinals, I wouldn’t’ve thought twice about it but girls, well having a wee isn’t the communal thing that ‘Drew’ was used to. As Gaby I know that but I just came in anyway. Mand didn’t however seem bothered by my presence, just by my intention to expose her to the rest of the train.
By the time we returned to the others we were halfway back to Remagen, outside, the carriage lighting revealed an even coating of white blanketing almost everything except the swirling waters of old Father Rhein.
Maddy Bell 06.02.16
* As in the TV chef Jamie Oliver
My Handy chirped from my handbag, “Mum?”
“Where are you?”
“Er,” I looked out of the window but couldn’t see anything past the reflection, “just coming to Remagen, why?”
“It’s chucking it down here, complete white out.”
“Great,” I sighed.
“You catching the Express back up?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Your dad’ll meet you at the station.”
“’Kay,” I agreed, there was no point in arguing that I do that same walk everyday.
“See you soon, kiddo, ciao!”
“Er ciao.”
“Your dad?” Steff asked.
“Mum,” I corrected, “apparently it’s blowing a blizzard up the valley.”
“Great,” Nena, who has the longest walk from the train, moaned.
“Glad I borrowed Inge’s coat,” Pia mentioned.
“We’re here,” Brid stated as she reached for her own jacket.
The train was slowing but even so it takes a couple of minutes for it to pull to a halt, we were at the door by the time it jerked to a stop. The platform was wet, the snow swirling about but not settling under the canopy. The Express was on gleis four waiting with the doors open, we weren’t the only ones who hurried across to travel up the Ahrtal.
“Come on, girls, don’t hang about,” Myleen told us when we got to the Zug.
Well there was no danger of that, we were on and in our preferred seats in a trice, Myleen waved her stick thing, the doors closed and we were off.
“Been to the markets?”
“Bonn,” Con confirmed.
“Good?”
“Busy,” Steff advised.
“All the usual stuff, hats are big again,” Nena opined.
“I’ll have to go for a look,” Myleen told us.
“We’re doing a cabin in Ahrweiler next week, you should come and see us,” Pia promoted.
“You did it last year yes? I think Gaby was the Engel?” Myleen queried.
“Our Engel Gabrielle!” Brid chortled.
“We have Mittelalter costumes this year,” I put in.
“We are doing a coffee house,” Con told our audience.
“In that case I shall be sure to visit, I’d best check these other folks’ tickets.”
The train chugged its way up the line.
Mand tugged my sleeve, “Dernau.”
“This is us, catch you Monday,” I told the others.
“Take care,” Pia offered.
“And you guys,” Con replied.
“Tschuss!”
“Tschussie!”
“Bye!”
“Tschuss, Mand.”
“Be careful, girls,” Myleen suggested as the three of us stepped onto the platform.
“We will, nite!” I replied.
The platform was white over, about five centimetres of white stuff coating the surface with more falling in a determined fashion. I spotted Dad over by the bike park and prodded Mand in that direction.
“You didn’t have to come,” I advised.
“True but it’s what fathers do when their daughters are out, alright Connie?”
“Sure, Mr Bond.”
“Come on then, don’t want to catch a cold.”
The wind wasn’t strong but it was cold and even with the long skirt it got to places I thought insulated. By the time we’d walked to the road, waited for the snow plough to pass and crossed into the village one big draw back to not being a boy was making itself evident – yep, a need to empty my bladder! It might not’ve been useful for much but my thingy was convenient for emergency wee’s, I hope I can get home.
Dad of course had his full winter gear on including boots with those anti slip things on, we laughed when he bought them but he wasn’t the one slipping about in boots with a five centimetre heel. At one point all three of us were hanging onto him, okay maybe we were being a bit over dramatic but it was hardly a stroll in the park. There was a distinct lack of traffic; the only car that passed us was a Polizei 4X4 slowly making its way through the narrow streets.
“You round tomorrow, Gab?”
“We need to do the mince pies,” I noted.
“Come after lunch, Mand?”
“Think I’m supposed to be painting chairs,” she mentioned.
“Okay, thanks for walking us, Herr Bond.”
“No problem.”
“Good night!”
“Tschuss!”
We trudged the remaining distance to Bond Acres, the flicker of Advent candles in several windows giving a surreal look to things. Short as our walk has been we were well covered by the white stuff, removal of which delayed our entry.
“Hang those coats up in the laundry,” Mum instructed.
“It’s pretty mucky out there,” Dad mentioned.
“I need a wee!” I announced as, barely pausing to remove my coat, I dived into the loo.
“I told Boris to stay over,” Mum advised as I returned to the kitchen to take off my borrowed footwear
Dad grunted at that, I’m pretty sure Jules is erm, sleeping with Boris but the rents don’t have to like it. They’re safe with me; there is just no way I’m doing anything like that with anyone, ever!
“You two eaten?” Mum enquired.
“We had stuff at the market,” Mand allowed returning from the laundry.
I gave Mand a look, “Something on toast?” I suggested.
“Ask Jules and Boris if they want anything.”
The lovebirds were in the lounge sharing one of the chairs.
“You guys want anything to eat?”
“Hi, Gabs,” Boris offered.
“Nice look, Sis.”
“Served a purpose, so you want food?”
“What is it?” Jules asked.
“Something on toast.”
“Please,” Boris requested.
“Yeah go on then,” Jules added.
By the time I returned to the kitchen Mum had the frying pan out and Mand was manning or is that girling the toaster.
“You’re in charge of drinks,” I was told.
“’Kay, where’s Dad?”
“Clearing the drive.”
“What for, it’s still snowing,” I pointed out.
“Er should I help, Frau Bond?” the Goth lover asked from behind me.
“You’re alright, Boris, no point in two of you getting cold and wet,” Mum opined, “you can take the eating irons through though.”
“Sure.”
With impeccable timing Dad came back in just as Mum shovelled the eggs onto his plate.
“Smell’s good, I’ve got an appetite now.”
“We’re eating in the lounge, Wallander is on in five minutes.”
Great, I’m sure it’s fine in Swedish but badly dubbed into German…
The light wasn’t right when I woke up, bright but somehow muted. After doing the morning business I opened the Dormer and gave a very unladylike yelp as a cascade of white stuff dropped on me.
“Flippin’ snow!”
The muted light was the result of the coating of water crystals that coated everything outside, the sun was out but with the temperature distinctly the wrong side of 0°c the accumulation wasn’t going anywhere soon. The vineyards looked very – decorative with the sun glinting off the wintry covering, I could hear some kids playing but otherwise there was little beyond the cooing of the doves in next door’s dovecote. I carefully lowered the window so no more cold wet stuff dropped into the room – no bike ride this morning that’s for sure.
“What are you up to today?” Mum enquired when I made my way into the kitchen.
“Baking mince pies with Con,” I advised finding a plate to put my breakfast on.
“This morning?”
“No, after lunch,” I speared a couple of slices of Bierwurst.
“Manda with you?”
“Painting chairs I think she said, no Dad?”
“Taking Boris down to Remagen for the train, they left just before you came down.”
“Never heard them.”
“Your dad took the car round to the square last thing last night.”
Well that answers that then.
“Turbo session?” she continued.
Well it is riding and if yesterday’s ride with Dad is anything to go by it will at least be less embarrassing than out on the road.
“Why not.”
The noise in the garage was intense; Mum was on the rollers, Mand and I on the static trainers, there was no way to hold a conversation. We’d only been going for ten minutes but already I was quite warm and pulling my jersey off exposing my BH to the still cool air. So of course Mum was spinning away happily, Manda, by the tone of her set up, was doing a steady pace too – by comparison I was struggling to hold 25kph.
I had to give it best after forty minutes, my legs were like jelly and my breathing ragged – it’s going to be a long road back to full race fitness. As I sagged over my bars I vowed that I’d be back, better and stronger than before, yeah I might be a girl but I was a girl before wasn’t I?
Maddy Bell 09.02.16
“I suppose I can get your Gran to bring some more,” Mum suggested.
“It is for a good cause,” I mentioned.
“I wish you’d ask before promising stuff,” mater sighed.
“Sorry.”
Well how was I to know she’d got the mincemeat earmarked for her own bakeathon?
“Get on with you, you back for dinner?”
“Probably not,” I suggested – let’s face it, Tatort and Therese cooking, it’s a no brainer really.
There was of course plenty of snow on the ground still so instead of taking the Schauff I was on foot, the supplies in Mum’s wicker basket.
“See you later.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
Famous last words, I nearly landed on my bum twice before I got down to the road!
“I’m fine, honest!”
“Sheesh, Gab, you’ve brought the cold in with you,” Con chimed a few minutes later.
“Yeah, it’s not exactly warm out there,” I noted.
“Coffee?”
It’s at least forty minutes since I’ve had a cup.
“Thought you’d never ask,” I grinned back as I followed my BF up to the apartment.
“You want this oven?” Herr Thesing requested from the kitchen door.
“Oops, yes please, Papa.”
“Okay, I’ve left you a tray of eggs on the side, you know where the flour is?”
“Yes, Papa,” Con allowed rolling her eyes, “come on, Gab.”
“Looks disgusting,” Con opined after opening and sniffing the big jar of mincemeat.
“You’re supposed to eat it not look at it,” I observed.
“If you say so,” she shrugged as she screwed the lid back on, “so how many are we making?”
Mum, when pressed, suggested that the amount of filling we have would make something like two hundred and fifty mince pies – that’s a lot of pastry! Having the use of the bakery’s facilities we can at least make stuff in bigger volume so I started breaking eggs whilst Con prepared the baking trays. It would actually be the pie trays that would be restricting us, they don’t use any in the bakery, Therese has one but thankfully Mum found four, we can cook the cases in batches of thirty.
“Last lot,” I sighed, pushing the last pieces of pastry into the baking tray.
“That was a marathon,” Con agreed, “what are they for?”
‘They’ were a tray of tartlet cases which we’d be having later.
“I thought we could have them with coffee later.”
“Always thinking of your stomach, Gaby Bond!”
“Your point being?”
Con just shook her head.
We hadn’t been idle between batches of baking, flat baking trays were full of now filled and topped pies ready to be finished. All in all we’d been at it for over three hours and I was bushed – and we’ve got another hour to do, I hope our efforts are appreciated.
“Dad said he’ll do the Stollen and Nurnburger mixes, we’ll just have to make the loaves.”
“That’ll save a lot of time.”
This baking lark takes longer than you think!
“How are you girls getting on?” Tomas, Herr Thesing enquired joining us.
“The last cases are in,” I told him, “then they all go back in to finish, should be done in two batches.”
“Therese has started dinner, how long shall I tell her?”
I checked the clock, “Five o’clock?”
It was nearer ten past when made our way upstairs, there was still a bit of washing down to do but the pies were all stacked and stored. The tartlets for our own consumption had come out really well, instead of a solid lid I was a bit artistic and made a lattice top with a drizzle of icing as a finishing touch. The smell of something good wafted down the stairs, you can get quite an appetite doing all this baking.
Dinner with the Thesings is always excellent and this evening was no different. Veal schnitzel is a rare delicacy and served with a mixed bean salad, potato wedges and a cheesy sauce it hit the spot. As did the mince tartlets, a generous blob of squirty cream didn’t detract from the exotic dessert.
By the time we’d eaten and me and Con had cleared up, Tatort’s opening titles were already running. Okay, I know, it’s pretty sad, it’s not like there’s a brilliant plot or anything but I’m hooked. This week they were looking for a missing child who eventually was found unharmed and oblivious to the search after riding the U-bahn all day – like I said—not exactly high action plots.
“It’s snowing again,” Therese mentioned from the window.
“Great,” I sighed, “I probably should head home.”
“Huh! Leave me to clear up,” Con mentioned.
“Oh sugar, I forgot about that.” (They had already cleared up – ‘By the time me and Con had cleared up...’)
“’S’all right, I’ll do it, you need to get home while you can.”
“I’ll stay and help.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Gaby,” Tomas instructed, “now off home!”
“Okay.”
“You gonna be alright?” Con asked as I pulled my hat down against the swirling flakes.
“Yeah, it’s only round the corner, get inside, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Tomorrow, nite!”
“Tschuss!” I allowed giving a wave.
The fresh snow was falling in those huge flakes that quickly coat you, by the end of the square my coat was covered and several had landed on my face, coating my lashes before melting in rivulets down my face. It wasn’t late, half eight I think, but the village was silent, cars coated in a second layer of snow transformed into amorphous lumps, the streetlights struggling to give even a small pool of light. Schloss Bond was just visible at the end of the village, the low path lighting just visible as tiny pricks of light in the grey swirling darkness.
“Lock the door, Gab,” Dad called from the lounge.
“’Kay.”
I pulled my boots off and hung my coat in the laundry before going through to the lounge.
“It’s snowing again,” I offered.
“Mand came back early when it started,” Dad advised.
“She in her room?”
“Said she was feeling a bit off,” pater supplied.
“Get everything done?” Mum enquired.
“The mince pies, we’ve still got the Stollen and stuff to do.”
“You gonna get it all done?” Dad queried.
“Herr Thesing’s going to make the mixtures for us which will save a bunch of time.”
“Make sure to thank him.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“You got all your homework done?”
“Yes of course, er oh sugar, I forgot Herr Ansbacher’s family tree thing.”
“Best get to it then kiddo, don’t be up too late.”
“Try not to; see you in the morning, nite!”
I gave them each a peck on the cheek and headed upstairs.
“You awake, Mand?” I queried through her door.
“Yeah, ‘s open.”
I pushed the door open, Mand was sat on her bed reading.
“You alright, Dad said you were ill.”
“If you call the Visitor being ill, just a bit off.”
“Er right,” I’m not good at this stuff, “so how did the painting go?”
“The lads had pretty much done it all, we were just doing some twiddly bits. What about you guys, get the baking done?”
“Two hundred and fifty mince pies.”
“So that’s yours, how many did you make for the stall?”
“Ha de ha.”
“It still snowing?”
“Yeah, it must be a good twenty centimetres deep.”
“Can’t remember having more than a thin dusting back home.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “we had quite a bit here last year but it doesn’t usually hang around for long.”
“Not looking forward to the trip to school if it’s still here in the morning.”
“You and Jules might escape but us locals won’t.”
“You can ski there,” she suggested.
“Don’t give Dad ideas!”
“Anna’s finished the lads’ costumes,” Steff told us as we sipped at our coffee in Thesing’s.
“Great,” Brid allowed, “the furniture’s all done.”
“We’ve got most of the cooking done,” I told them.
“We should finish Mittwoch,” Con added.
“When do we collect the costumes?” Nena asked our seamstresses.
“We don’t,” Pia advised.
“Don’t? Something the matter with them?” Con queried.
“No they’re brill,” Steff enthused, “they want us to go to the shop to get ready, in case anything needs adjusting.”
“We gonna have time?” I put in.
“We can do it in shifts I guess,” Nena suggested.
“Gab, can you let the lads know?” Steff requested.
“Why me?”
“She’s still in denial,” Brid mentioned.
“She’ll come round,” Pia proposed.
“What?”
“Just do it, Gab,” Con stated.
“But you don’t need to do tongues in the cafeteria this time,” Steff added.
I'll not be allowed to forget that in a hurry will I?
Maddy Bell 10.02.16
“Max!” I hissed.
“Wassup, Gab?”
“Shush!” I didn’t want the whole room to hear.
“So what’s up?” he asked again in quieter tones.
“Friday, we’ll be changing into the costumes at the dress shop.”
“Lads too?”
“Uh huh, is there much to do on Friday?”
“Shouldn’t be, we take the cabin on Thursday, Mart’s dad’s bringing everything down on his trailer so we’ll get it all put together after school, just need your kitchen stuff sorting out and the frilly bits.”
“Could we do that on Thursday?”
“Later on I guess.”
“I’ll talk to the others, so Friday, make sure everyone knows about the costumes.”
“Sure, bum!”
“Eh?”
“Fraulein Bond,” Frau Dürst started, “when you’ve quite finished.”
Not again! There were titters from around the room.
“Sorry, Miss.”
“That was so funny,” Con mentioned as we headed to Herr Boltt’s room for Geography a few minutes later.
“It was so not!”
“Oh lighten up, Gab.”
“It’s not you everyone’s talking about.”
“I’m not dating Max von Strechau.”
“Neither am I,” I huffed.
“You guys seen Stern?” Brid enquired when we arrived in the lunchroom.
“Not yet,” Con supplied.
Me, I’m not exactly an avid reader of the celebrity gossip mag anyway.
“They’ve got pics from Bonn,” our head of gossip advised.
“The market?” I suggested.
“Sometimes, Gab,” Pia allowed with a shake of the head.
“What?”
“The wedding,” they all chorused.
“What, oh sugar!”
“It’s not like you’re in many pictures,” Nena noted, “only two more than the bride!”
“Noo!”
“Let’s have a look then,” Con demanded.
“It’s alright, Gab, they haven’t named you,” Steff told me.
“And that makes it better?”
Of course I should have thought about the possibility before, especially after the whole ‘who’s that girl?’ business after Munich. I suppose I was lulled into a false sense of security with it being a smaller low-key affair and being rather more involved. And now the spectre of another round of ‘hunt the blonde’ looms.
I couldn’t help myself, I had to look. It must’ve been a slow week; despite the lack of impressive titles marrying or in attendance Analise and Johanne’s (not on Cast list) nuptials scored a full double page spread. I wasn’t hard to spot, just look for the smallest bridesmaid, so there we were on the walk to the Dom, inside, not just at the altar but on Max’s arm getting there and then more afterwards. Apart from a couple of phone pics from the girls they were the first pictures I’ve seen of the wedding, it really did look like something out of a fairytale.
I’m not even sure why I’m even that bothered, Max has got more to worry about even before he reprises his outfit at the market! Me, I’m just one of the girls in a fancy frock and intricate hair do, I don’t even look that much like me. So what the heck am I worried about?
“I want a wedding like that,” Pia sighed.
“What? In Bonn Cathedral?” I suggested.
“Well maybe not in the Dom but with the carriage and the costumes and all that stuff.”
“We already have the dresses,” Steff opined.
“You just need to snag a toff like, Gabs,” Brid teased.
“He’s yours if you want him,” I offered – it would get me out of a relationship that I don’t want or that even exists.
“Who says I haven’t?” Pia posed.
“Have you?” Con pressed as she flicked through the rest of Brid’s Stern.
“Well no – but I could.”
“Ot oh!” Con allowed.
“What?” Nena asked.
“You’re not gonna like this, Gab.”
“Like what?” I queried leaning over to see what she was looking at.
“‘Is this the mystery blonde’,” Con read out, “’could this bridesmaid at the Heinemann nuptials be the mystery girl we saw at the Habsburg wedding in the summer? If you know who it is ring blah blah’.”
Above the text was that picture from Munich and another from Bonn, you could see they were both me.
“Sugar!”
“How much they offering, Con?” Steff enquired, “We could split it five ways.”
“Five?” Pia mentioned.
“Well Gabs already knows who she is!” Steff chortled.
“Only a thousand,” Con supplied.
“I’m doomed.”
“The hidden price of fame,” Nena noted.
The snow was still very much in evidence when I emerged from my eyrie Tuesday morning – joy. Let’s put that into context, I enjoy mucking about in the snow as much as the next er girl but when you’ve got to get somewhere, vis a vis school, it can be a pain. A lot did melt yesterday but it was cold last night and snowing again when I left Con’s after another epic baking session, Margot took the cheer session.
Mand and Jules both thought it was hilarious, the Stern ‘who’s that girl’ thing, Mum went as far as to suggest claiming the money myself. Thing is, it’s not them in the frame, would being exposed end the attention or just garner more? I mean, why are they so keen to put a name to the face?
“You alright, kiddo?” Dad enquired.
“I s’pose.”
“The magazine thing?”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“Are you sure you aren’t blowing it out of proportion?”
“Why do they want to know who I am, Dad?”
“Curiosity? They see a beautiful young woman and want to put a name to the face.” He surmised.
“Beautiful? Ha!”
“Well I’ll admit to being a bit biased, but yes beautiful, you, and your sister take after your mother who most certainly is a beauty.”
I couldn’t argue with the last bit but me and Jules, pull the other one, Dad.
“How can I be beautiful, I’ve only been a girl six weeks,” I snorted.
“Not according to your birth certificate and passport.”
“Huh?”
“Did your Mum not tell you? They’ve issued a new certificate and your passport came back last week, as far as the records go you’ve been Gabrielle Bond for the last sixteen years.”
“I’m not sixteen yet,” I pointed out.
“Okay, miss pedantic, fifteen and three quarter years. If anyone looks into you it will only show you as you are, my and your mother’s youngest daughter.”
“Hmmpf! So you think I should contact Stern too?”
“That decision’s yours to make but apart from grabbing fifteen minutes of fame I can’t see the harm. Otherwise what happens the next time, a bigger finders fee? Your friends falling out over it? Take the bull by the horns, kiddo, don’t let them control you.”
He did talk a lot of sense, I guess a lot of my fears were based on being found not what I appear but if I’m officially Gaby, well I am what I seem. I am a girl so what’s my problem?
“Well?” Mart enquired.
The lads and assorted parents have been here, at our Weihnachts’ cabin, all afternoon and it’s looking well pukka!
“It’s brill,” Steff allowed.
And indeed it is, Stefan, that’s Mart’s dad, used his jig saw to good effect so we have a sort of fairytale version of a middle ages hostelry, all scroll work and fancy cut outs. Inside is a bit cramped but there’s room for maybe a dozen customers to take coffee and cake. Our kitchen, grand name for a tiny counter, was already adorned with a cake cabinet and the small Gaggia Herr Sebenschuh was lending to us.
“We’ll put the name boards up tomorrow,“ Max informed us.
“Come on then,” Nena chivvied, “let’s get this stuff sorted.”
Most of what we had to do was decoration, pictures on the walls, tablecloths and so on. Con and me organised the ‘kitchen’ – Pia’s dad has been really generous lending not just the Gaggia but cutlery and crockery too. Only being able to cope with a small number of patrons at a time meant we didn’t need a lot, Eva at Der Mühle offered the use of her dishwasher – it really was turning into a sort of community project.
It was rolling on eight before we were done, well we finished earlier but we decided to christen the cabin with coffee and biscuits for the volunteers. Tomorrow we do this for real, they’ve forecast more white stuff, I hope it doesn’t put people off coming.
“Right, ladies,” Gerta instructed, “in and change, Dottie will help.”
Me, Steff and Pia were the last to get into costume, me because I’d been unloading and stocking supplies, the others because they’d been helping everyone else get ready. Anna had excelled herself with the lads, they might feel like prawns but they look brilliant. Gerta had shut the shop early to sort us out, for a cheeky request they’d done us proud.
“You ready, Gaby?” Dot asked.
“Uh huh.”
I raised my arms and Dottie dropped the dress over my head. It was the work of moments to tug everything into place before the side zip sealed me inside the costume. The pattern was for a fairly basic dress but Dot had lined them, which not only helped the hang but also added some much needed insulation – the Wolford thermal tights were an extra unexpected bonus, hopefully we won’t freeze to death!
“Okay, that you done.”
“Thanks, Dottie, I’ll wait outside, guys.”
I went out into the shop to wait for the others to dress.
“Ah, Gaby, ready for action?” Gerta enquired.
“As we’ll ever be, thanks again for this.”
“It’s a good cause, now then, New Year.”
“New Year?”
Maddy Bell 11.02.16
“You are going to Harburg?”
“Er yes,” I agreed.
“I’ve ordered your dress, should be here midweek, fitting Friday four o’clock.”
“But…”
“We’ll not have you shown up by the Taxis,” Greta blustered on.
I wonder how much it’s going to cost me this time?
Dot and Greta joined the three of us for the walk back to the Weihnachtsmarkt in the shadow of the St Laurentius Kirche.
“Can I get some photographs for the Chamber of Commerce please?”
The questioner was a chap encumbered with numerous cameras and associated paraphernalia.
“Don’t see why not,” I allowed, “guys, photo’s!”
Today would be the only time all twelve of us would be here together so we made quite a crowd and attracted one. Mr Photographer took quite a few shots including some with the ladies of Eloise Couture. The market officially opens at four thirty, so we pulled the shutter down and our posse and assorted helpers headed over to the stage where the local luminaries were gathered for the usual round of platitudes before the Mayor does the honours.
“Who’s that woman at the back?” I asked Max; well he was stood next to me.
“Which one?”
“Blonde, light coat, boots.”
“Looks like Freja, why?”
“Freja?”
“Freja Topfler, she’s on the tourist board I think.”
“Oh right, saw her in town the other week, thought I recognised her from somewhere.”
“Probably at some function or other, I think she’s related to the Preiser’s.”
“’Kay.”
“So without further delay I pronounce the Ahrweiler Weihnachtsmarkt open for business!” the Mayor pronounced.
“Cue us!” Pia mentioned.
We hurried, well the others hurried, I’m wearing heels, back to the cabin, the lads soon had us opened up and with me and Con manning the counter we were ready. With so many bodies available Mart had suggested doing flyers so half our merrie bande departed to promote our wares and charity. The first customers weren’t long in arriving and we started doing steady business with the takeaway stuff, it was nearly an hour before we got our first sit in sale – and that was Frau Boxberg!
“Milk coffee and I’ll try these mince pies please Gaby.”
“Coming right up, you want the pies warm?”
“However you suggest.”
She sat herself down and removed some of her winter wrapping, that flippin’ snow’s back, but thankfully only a few flakes. We’d decided that two mince pies were equivalent to a slice of gateaux or Stollen, Con sorted out the food whilst I made the coffee.
“Here we are, coffee and mince pies,” I placed everything on the table.
“Danke, well don’t they look good.”
“Hope you enjoy them.”
I retreated to the counter cum kitchen area.
“Should we put more in the warmer?” Con asked.
The warmer I should point out, is effectively just a glass box with a halogen lamp, another one of Herr Sebenschuh’s equipment donations.
“Lets see if we sell any more, don’t want to waste them.”
“I’ll eat them,” Con stated.
“But that’s not taking money for the Kinder Haus,” I pointed out.
“Everything okay?”
“Very,” Frau Boxberg allowed, “in fact I’m very impressed, getting sponsorship was a very good idea, I take it the pies are your idea Fraulein Bond?”
“Er guilty,” I admitted.
“And Herr Thesing made them for you?”
“We’ve done all the baking,” Con told our guest.
“All?”
“Biscuits, Stollen, the lot,” I confirmed.
“I’m more than impressed, I’d best try a bag of Spekulatius then.”
“On the house,” I proposed.
“Whilst I appreciate the gesture Gabrielle, you are here raising money for a very worthy charity, you can’t go giving your wares away, now how much?”
“Two for the biscuits and four for the coffee and cake please Miss.”
“That’s better,” she passed me a ten euro note, “put the change in the pot.”
“Thanks Miss.”
“I’ll see you on Monday no doubt, good luck girls, have a good evening.”
“And you Miss.”
“Who was that?” Mand enquired coming into the hut for a warm having been outside with Mart and Ralf on collection duties.
“Frau Boxberg, our headmistress,” Con advised.
“Thought you said she was a right dragon Gabs.”
“I might have.”
“Seemed alright to me, put a twenty in the collecting tin.”
“How’s it going out there?” Con asked.
“Slow and cold.”
“It’ll be busier tomorrow,” I suggested.
“I hope its warmer at least, it’s quite cosy in here.”
“My feet are cold,” Con complained.
“You want a coffee?”
“Best not, it’ll go straight through, I’d best go back out.”
“Ask the others,” I requested.
“Will do.”
It might have been coincidence, the fliers or just the snow but whatever the cause, after Frau Boxberg’s visit we had a steady stream of visitors for coffee and. The extra bodies, the Gaggia and a stream of warmed mince pies all contributed to making the tiny cabin quite cosy. Okay, we had some parents, mine, Nena’s and Mart’s mum, but the rest were genuine punters and the feedback was mostly positive.
The market was open until nine, we had customers up to the last, which had at least made the evening pass quicker, we actually had to recruit Pia and Max to serving the takeaway stuff, we were so busy.
“Glad that’s over,” Brid opined.
“How’ve we done?” Steff asked.
I counted down the notepad page (we’re counting how many of what sells), “thirty three sit ins and…twenty six bags of biscuits – nearly two hundred euros.”
“Not bad,” Pia mentioned.
“Remember we have to pay for the ingredients,” Con told the assembled collective.
“Still, when word gets out,” Nena suggested.
“We need to get off,” Mart told us, “Mum’s waiting.”
“See you Sunday Mart,” I offered as he left with Max in tow, I’m guessing von Strechau’s conned a lift.
That was the signal for everyone else to depart, Nena’s rents still have the Sharan so Pia and Brid joined them, Freddy and Ralf both live in Ahrweiler anyhow so that left the Dernau contingent.
“How are you getting home Anna?” Dad asked as he checked the cabins locks for the second time.
“Taxi I guess, Mum was supposed to come but one of her ladies has gone into labour.”
“Don’t be daft, we can squeeze you in.”
Which is how I discovered that Mand has bony knees and the back of a C Klasse isn’t really big enough for four girls in long frocks.
Apart from two cups of coffee and half a mince pie I hadn’t eaten since lunch so when we walked in to the unmistakable aroma of a good old English stew I was nearly in ecstasy.
“Thought you guys might be cold and hungry,” Mum advised as she checked the slow cooker’s contents.
“Dumplings?”
“Of course, now get those dresses off and something warm on.”
It wasn’t so much that the dresses are cold, Dottie’s extra lining makes them reasonably warm but after being out in the cold, well they sort of suck up the cold. Getting the things off is another matter, Mand had to help me although she squirmed out of hers without assistance. A sweater dress and fluffy slippers warmed me up; I left the thermal tights in place as my stomach was now rumbling.
“What time do you need to be there tomorrow?” Dad asked.
“We’re doing two until close,” I advised around a mouthful of stew.
“Which is?”
“Eight o’clock.”
“Really?” Mand queried.
“I did tell you.”
“Well its not like I’ve got anywhere else to go.”
“I’ll do you a thermos of soup to take, can’t have you getting cold again,” Mum stated.
“We can get a sausage or something off the market,” I suggested.
“And what if you are busy and can’t leave your cabin?”
“Soup would be good Jenny,” Mand mentioned.
Saturday arrived crisp but dry and with a wall-to-wall blue sky. The overnight fall of snow had come to nought; if it warms up a bit the accumulation will probably all melt by mid afternoon. Once again I joined Mum and Mand in the garage for an indoor session on the bikes, once more it nigh on killed me – I really, really need to get some bike time this week or I’ll look a right plonk next weekend.
Of course, Mum’s off to London this afternoon for SPOTY tomorrow evening, wonder how I’ll do in the junior edition?
“Right, I’ll see you guys Monday,” Mum told us as we decanted from her A Klasse just after one thirty.
“Okay, good luck.”
“I’ll need it! Tschuss!”
“Bye Mrs B,” Mand added.
She’d barely pulled away before my Handy started doing its thing.
“Hello?”
“Gab, has your Mum gone?”
“Just, wassup?”
“I just got a call from the Beeb, they’ve arranged a local TV crew to come and do a slot with you, bit of background for the SPOTY tomorrow.”
“But I’m supposed to be here.”
“Leave it with me.” He ended the call.
“Your Dad?”
“Yeah, looks like this afternoon’s gonna be interesting.”
Maddy Bell 11.02.16
“You want to get a Brat?” I suggested.
“We’ve only just had lunch.”
“We might not get anything later,” I pointed out.
“Soup?”
“Yeah but it’s not…”
“…A sausage,” she completed my sentence, “go on then.”
“Danke,” I allowed taking delivery of my sausage in a bun.
“So,” Mand started, “what was that with your dad then?”
I finished chewing my bite of sausage, “Sports Personality? Apparently they are sending a camera to interview me this afternoon.”
“You what?” she exclaimed.
“Precisely,” I noted as we walked towards our cabin.
“You’d’ve thought they’d sort it out sooner rather than the day before.”
“Yeah,” I agreed before taking another bite from my second lunch.
The market was quite busy, not Bonn or Köln busy but enough visitors for queues at the various food and drink stalls and a good smattering looking at the other wares on offer. Not being a big commercial market the majority of stalls are run by local businesses, clubs or entrepreneurs so the stuff available is different to what you see at the big markets. We picked our way through to St Laurentius, arriving at our domain at ten to two.
“Coulda done with you two an hour ago,” Brid mentioned.
A quick glance inside revealed our café was full and we seemed to have a queue waiting to go inside, bum!
Two things happened an hour later, the early shift finally got away and Dad turned up with a chap with a camera on his shoulder and, shitza, Gertie Schmidt from Rhein Abend ! You remember, back in the spring, she was at that fitness run thing I did? Well she was here now with Dad.
“Hi, Mr Bond,” Max intercepted the delegation.
“Hi, Max, Gaby about?”
“She should be inside.”
“Thanks.”
Of course I knew they were there, we only had one table occupied inside so I’d been propping up the counter.
“Manda, can I borrow Gaby for a few minutes?”
“Dad, we’re busy!” I hissed.
“I can cope, I can shout Max if we do get busy again.”
Oooo!
I gave Mand a look as I straightened myself out before going outside.
“Ah, Gaby, Gertie Schmidt, I think we met earlier in the year?”
“Er yeah, the Tauglichkeitweg opening.”
“It was a bit warmer then, eh?”
“Much.”
“Gertie’s got some race footage,” Dad put in, “the Beeb need a bit of chat to go with it.”
“Don’t look so serious, Gaby, we’ll get set up and we can do it out here, I mentioned to your Papa I’d like to do a slot for Rhein Abend as well if you are up for it?”
You can do this, Gab, you’ve nothing to hide, you are a girl!
“Um okay,” I agreed.
The Beeb stuff really did only take ten minutes; it was just a set of straightforward questions about my riding and ambitions. I’m sure the editors will make some sense of it; I think Gertie said the finished segment will only be two minutes long. The light was going a bit so, with the cabin unoccupied for the first time since our arrival we headed inside.
Of course I had to spruce my makeup a bit and Mand had a quick tidy of the cabin before I sat down with Gertie, two cups of coffee and a plate of mince pies.
“We’ll do some outside shots and my intro afterwards, okay?”
“Er sure,” I allowed, some of my nervousness had gone, I wouldn’t say I was confident but just less nervous.
“I’ve come inside for a warm,” Gertie started, lifting her coffee cup, “and I’ve found a local celebrity, Junge Weltmeisterin, Gaby Bond!”
Local celebrity my foot! I tried to emulate how I’d seen others talk in Gertie interviews.
“Hello, Gertie, welcome to our cabin.”
“We’re used to seeing you in more sporting surroundings but this is a little unexpected, why are you in Mittelalter costume here at the market?”
“It started last year, a group of us from Silverberg Gymnasium volunteered to do a stall here at the market in support of the Kinder Haus, here, in Ahrweiler. We raised some money, sang some carols and had a good time doing it, we wore elf costumes, and it was a great success.”
“A little bird tells me you weren’t in the same costume?”
Who told her that?
“Er no, my friends decided I should dress as my namesake.”
“James Bond?”
“No the Angel Gabrielle.”
“I’m sure you made a great angel.”
“So I’m told.”
“And now?”
“We decided to repeat our effort but take it up a level.”
“And so we are here in your coffee house?”
“Yes, friends and family have worked hard over the last two weeks to get everything ready, a local business, Eloise Couture made our costumes and my friend Connie and I have been baking nearly every day.”
“So everything you are selling has been made by your group?”
“Yes, from Spekulatius to these mince pies.”
“Which I have to say are delicious,” Gertie told the camera, “so why the Mittelalter theme?”
I decided to twist the truth a little, “We were up in Bonn a few weeks ago and saw a wedding at the Dom, the bride and her maids and the groomsmen were all in costume. It was very colourful and unexpected so we stole the idea for our stall!”
“Ah, we saw a young man outside in the doublet and hose, what do they think to this.”
“That’s Max, I don’t think he and the other lads were too keen to start with but we convinced them.”
“Well I’d best let you get back to work, I can see customers coming in, thank you for the coffee, Gaby.”
“Goodbye, Gertie!”
“And cut!” Gertie announced, “That was excellent, Gaby, thank you.”
“Er no problem.”
“You really made these pies? They are delish!”
Gertie and team left a few minutes later, we had a sizeable donation in the pot and Dad had a grin as wide as the Humber Bridge.
“That wasn’t too bad, eh?”
“I guess not.”
“I’ll be back down to pick you up about quarter to eight, you want a lift home, Max?”
The third member of our team had just come inside for a warm.
“That would be great, Herr Bond, I’ll put Mum off.”
“I’ll get off then, see you all later.”
“Later.”
“Bye, Mr Bond.”
“So what was that all about?” Max enquired as he cupped his coffee.
“Which?”
“Well all of it.”
“She’s famous,” Mand supplied.
“Thank you for pointing that out, Mand, the first bit, outside was for a TV show in England.”
“England?”
“It’s, well it’s to celebrate sporting achievements during the year, I got nominated so they wanted an interview.”
“The footballer will win.”
“How do you know?”
“These things, there’s always a footballer and they always win,” Max stated. “What about after?”
“Gertie wanted to do a bit for Rhein Abend.”
“About you?”
“Well not specifically, it was mostly about doing this, some free advertising” I pointed out.
“You two want anything fetching, I’m going to the wurst stall.”
It was tempting, very tempting.
“We’ve got soup,” I regretfully told him.
“Hmm, need something to warm up, don’t know how you girls cope wearing hose all the time.”
I hoisted my skirts, “Thermal hose!”
“Won’t be long.”
“He mumping about wearing tights?” Mand asked.
“Complaining his legs are cold.”
“Wimp!”
By the time Max got back brandishing his half metre sausage the teatime lull was over, people were back out to meet friends and family in the atmosphere of the Weihnachtsmarkt. No snow tonight but cold it was and that meant we weren’t short of customers for the remainder of the evening. Max was back and forth to Der Mühle with the crockery, Mand was becoming a dab hand at serving cake and of course my skills with the Gaggia are recognised on two continents!
When Dad arrived the market was already emptying, a few stragglers perused the stalls and a livelier group were propping up the glühwein stand.
“How we doing?” Dad enquired.
“Max is doing the last crockery run, we just need to tidy up a bit and we’re done.”
“Okay, sausage? Frikadel?” he offered.
I’m not turning down an offer like that a second time.
“If they’ve got anything left.”
“I’ll be back!”
With that, Dad disappeared.
Maddy Bell 12.02.16
The door went behind me.
“Just put them on a table, Max, you can put the shutter down then.”
“Er, Gab,” Mand supplied, “it’s not Max.”
“Not Max?” I queried turning around.
“Geld! Hand it over!”
Facing us, scarf over his face and knife in hand was a youth apparently out to rob us. Sugar, where’s Max when you need him?
“Hand it over!” he repeated.
“We haven’t got much,” I told him.
“Liar, seen loadsa people in here.”
“It’s for charity.”
“People give loads for charity, come on hand it over,” he was clearly nervous and kept looking between us.
“Gab, just give it to him.”
“I can’t,” I hissed back.
“Why not?”
“Stop mucking around! Give it me!” he demanded again, waving his blade menacingly at us.
“The box is behind you.”
“What you saying? Hurry up!”
“Just getting it,” I allowed as I sidled over to Mand.
Mand felt behind her for the cash box afraid to take her eyes off of our assailant.
“Faster!”
“Give it here, Mand.”
She placed the quite heavy box onto the kitchen counter.
“On the table.”
“Okay,” I allowed, geez, there must be like five hundred euros in there and this toe rag is going to nick it.
“On the table!” he told me with another jab of the knife.
“Okay, okay!”
I grabbed the handle and picked it up which might not have been the best idea as it wasn’t locked and as I lifted the contents tipped out in a cacophony onto the floor.
“Why you!” he darted forward.
What happened next I’m not entirely sure; I closed my eyes and tried to make myself smaller.
“Gab, Gab? You alright?” Max enquired from very close by.
I cracked an eye, “What happened?”
“Looks like matey here cracked his head on the counter.”
“He, he was coming with the knife,” I got out.
“The police are coming,” Mand told us, her voice as wobbly as mine.
“Knife?” Max mentioned.
“He was waving it at me, I dropped the money and he was coming at me and,” I descended into tears before feeling Max put his arms around me.
The Polizei arrived before Dad, they were on the market already and the ‘perp’, having come round was taken into custody.
“We’ll need statements from each of you, we’ll do that tomorrow though,” the officer told us before he left.
“Thank you, officer,* Dad mentioned, come on Max, lets get this place locked up.”
I was still a gibbering fool but Mand had recovered enough to pick up our spilt takings as we waited for Dad and Max to finish outside. It probably wouldn’t’ve been quite so bad if the Polizei hadn’t found the knife, embedded in the wall just a few inches to the side of where I’d been crouched. It hadn’t hit me but if I’d moved or it had gone at a slightly different angle or he’d fallen different or…
“Come on, Gab, time to go home,” Max told me, once again holding me close.
“You sure about this?” Dad asked for the umpteenth time since I’d got up.
“No yob is gonna stop me doing stuff,” I stated with more bravado than I actually felt.
“Mand?”
“I’m fine, really,” she assured him.
“Okay then, but I’m staying.”
I wasn’t going to argue that.
We went to the Police station first of course, I’d never had to give a statement or anything before so it was a bit intimidating but the officer, a woman was sympathetic and I left feeling somehow better than when I arrived. Apparently our assailant was known to the authorities, this wasn’t the first time he’d graced their cells. There will of course be a trial but we’d only need to attend if he went for not guilty, the knife and circumstances were not in his favour.
“Max!”
“I didn’t think you’d be coming, I rang round, Pia and Con are coming a bit later.”
“I should’ve rung.”
“You shoulda stayed at home; hi, Herr Bond.”
“Hi, Max, let’s get inside.”
Of course inside was as we’d left it, after the plods visit it was a bit of a mess. Furniture askew, the sausages Dad had fetched last night lying forgotten on the table next to the crockery. Okay it wasn’t a lot to do but it needed doing before we open, which today isn’t until twelve.
The organisers paid us a visit; they hadn’t expected us to open today. Other stall holders called by to offer their moral support, I’m sure they were thinking that it could so easily have been one of them being attacked and robbed. Dad fetched us waffles as soon as they were ready, not my favourite but I wasn’t buying!
Word had obviously gotten about; when we did open we were glad of the extra hands as we were inundated! Ghoulish fascination or support, their euros all went in the box and whilst not cleared out, it looks like me and Con will be baking again this week. Busy doesn’t give you time for thinking about stuff so it was only when Dad dragged Mand and me to Der Mühle for some late lunch that it came back.
“Why did he choose us?” I asked, pushing peas around my schnitzel.
“He thought we were an easy target,” Mand supplied, “two girls on their own, threaten us, grab the money and go.”
“But we didn’t really have that much money.”
“You had some, easy pickings if he had got away with it,” Dad opined, “let’s talk about happier things, eh?”
“Like?”
“Your Gran’s coming for Christmas and New Year.”
“She’s coming to Sophia’s party with us?”
“If that’s where we are going to be.”
“Gerta’s got me a dress,” I noted.
“You never said,” Mand mentioned, “what’s it like?”
“No idea,” I admitted, “but apparently it’ll be perfect.
“As long as it’s the perfect price,” pater put in.
“Damn.”
“What now?”
“I’m gonna miss Tatort tonight.”
“It’ll be repeated,” Dad suggested.
“It’s not the same.”
“You’re missing SPOTY too.”
“Do you think Jenny will get it, Mr Bond?”
“It’s probably a long shot to be honest, someone else might have a chance though.”
“You mean, Gabs?”
“Well none of the other nominees have got particularly compelling cases.”
“How’d you know that?” I challenged.
“The BBC website? They’ve got a synopsis on each of you.”
“Max reckons a footballer will get it.” I noted.
“Have a job, none are nominated, if I remember rightly there’s a swimmer, gymnast, some kid driving go karts – can’t remember the rest but no footballers.”
“How come Mark didn’t get nominated?”
“Not my call, maybe it’s because you’re a girl beating the boys?”
“And all the girls,” Mand added. “Plus you got two gongs.”
“I guess, I’d have put him up for it though.”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough, your Gran’ll be watching, she said she’ll ring with the result. Are you going to eat that or just play with it?”
It was a little cold but I ate it all the same.
“Wondered where you’d got to,” Con told us, “can you have a look at the coffee machine, it’s making some funny noises.”
“Let me at it then.”
Although it was cold, it was sunny which kept people outside, Marty and Max moved two of our tables outside and soon they were working table outside whilst the hut became the girls kingdom! I think they were enjoying themselves, more than once I saw them posing for pictures – I think they look good in tights and those short things.
It got quite busy as the light of day was replaced by street lighting, it seemed to be more families out today, we had to get Dad to go beg some soft drinks from Eva at Der Mühle. To be honest we hadn’t really thought of kids coming, you know, coffee and cake, adults, perhaps a few teens but not kidlets. Maybe we can do some gingerbread for next weekend; after all, we are supporting a kid’s charity.
“Gab, can you come outside for a moment,” Dad requested from the cabin door.
“’Kay,” I allowed as I dried my hands – the Gaggia will need stripping down before next weekend.
“There you are.”
“Here I am, hello again, Gertie, more stuff on the market?”
“Hi, Gaby, sort of, you’re papa was telling me you had some unpleasantness last night.”
“Yeah, some scumbag tried to rob us, I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Well I’m glad you’re okay.”
She seemed to have more people with her than usual, more like an outdoor studio, cameras on tripod thingies and those furry microphones.
“What’s going on?”
Gertie put her hand to her ear listening to something, “Just a moment, Gaby.”
“What’s going on, Dad?
“Live in ten!” someone called out.
“Can you stand over here for me please, Gaby?” Gert requested
“Er sure.”
A chap dived up to me and clipped a microphone to the neck of my dress before retreating.
“In five, four, three, two, one and live!”
Maddy Bell 12.02.16
Dad’s phone chirped somewhere behind me only to be sharply cut off, what is going on.
“And we go live now to Germany where Gertie Schmidt from our colleagues at RTL is with our winner, Gaby Bond, hello, Gertie.”
“Hello, Gary, welcome to a chilly evening here in Ahrweiler.” Gertie replied in accented but good English.
“I understand you have our winner with you.”
“I do, we’ve just dragged her away from working a charity stall here at the Christmas Market, I think it’s a bit of a surprise for her.”
Winner? What’re they on about?”
“Hello, Gaby, I know you can’t see me, it’s Gary Lineker in London.”
Gary Lineker? Oh shi uger!
“Er hi, Gary.”
“Gertie was saying that you are working on a charity stall there?”
“Um yes, we’re raising money for the local children’s home.”
“And that’s why you couldn’t come to London?”
“Er yes we, I mean I, thought this was more important.”
“I think we’d all agree with you, Gaby, well the people have chosen so I’ll ask George Müller, head of Gaby’s cycling team to present her with the trophy, George?”
George appeared wielding said trophy, “Hello, Gaby, it’s with great pleasure that I present this to you,” he must’ve been practising his English.
We did the hand over and creepily he did the old cheek kiss thing.
“So there we have it, our junior sports personality of the year, World Champion cyclist, Gabrielle Bond!” Gary enthused from the speaker.
There was lots of clapping and cheering at both ends of the transmission, Gertie came and gave me a hug and I hammed it a bit with the trophy.
“Aaand cut!”
The next couple of hours were anything but what I’d been expecting. Gertie wanted another interview, George wanted to take us for dinner, I wanted to finish my shift in the cabin. Things at least calmed down somewhat after the TV crew departed.
“Sorry for all this,” I told the others.”
“You were on telly,” Pia enthused.
“In England,” I pointed out.
“It’s still telly.”
I’ll give her that.
“George is taking us to dinner so we’ll have to leave you to it.”
“Me too?” Mand queried.
“Course,” I told her. Well if I’m going she is.
“Sure we’ll cope, we’ve got M & M to look after us,” Con advised.
“See you in the morning then?”
“Don’t be late,” Pia admonished.
“Ready girls?” Dad asked through the hatch.
“What I don’t get,” I started as Dad drove us home to change, you don’t think I’m going to a restaurant dressed like this do you? Well anyway, “Is if it was voted for this evening how did they know I’d win?”
“Search me,” Mand offered.
“Double jeopardy,” Dad supplied.
“What?”
“Double jeopardy, they had a shrewd idea who’d be top three so they set things up just in case, if you’d been second they’d still want an interview.”
“What about the trophy?”
“Just a duplicate, no one’s looking too hard at that after all, the real thing will be in London.”
“What a swizz!” Mand opined.
We didn’t have much time; we had to be back at the Akropolis in Bad Neunahr for eight so it was a quick turnaround once we got to Schloss Bond. After wearing the Mittelalter gown for a good chunk of the last three days I felt positively naked in my LBD. I can do smart, I’ve just won a big award so I made the effort, ten den hose, strappy sandals, hair up and restrained but dramatic makeup, oh yeah.
“Whoa! Who are you trying to impress?” Mand exclaimed.
“No one.”
“I think you need an armed guard looking like that.”
“You two ready?” Dad called up.
“Coming,” I led the way downstairs.
“Maybe a bit much?” Dad suggested.
“I can’t win, if I don’t dress up I should if I do it’s too much!”
“Fine, fine,” Dad allowed, “coats, it’s started to snow again.”
Great, I grabbed my boots as well as my coat, I had a feeling I might need them.
The Akropolis, as the name might suggest, specialises in Greek food and as we approached looked to be somewhat busier than you might expect for a Sunday evening. When we went through the door, the reason was evident, pretty much all of Team Apollinaris, well those that live nearby at least were already ‘celebrating’.
“Here she is!” Maria announced.
We did get down to some food, I had a mixed grill kebab, you know, bits of meat on a skewer. You don’t get a lot of lamb on German menu’s, which I think is a pity, yep, I’m a fan! I’d almost finished my second skewer when a muted buzzing from my handbag attracted my attention.
“Hello?”
“Hi, kiddo.”
“Mum!”
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
“I guess, George has got everyone at the Akropolis, how’d you get on?”
“The footballer got it,” she supplied.
I giggled down the line.
“What’s so funny?”
“When I told Max about SPOTY yesterday he said the footballer would win.”
“I see, well it was an outside chance what with the Olympics and stuff anyway.”
“That’s what Dad said.”
“He there?”
“Hang on, Dad!”
He was on his phone, “Wassup?”
“It’s Mum.”
“In that case you’d best take this, it’s your Gran.”
We made the swap.
“Gran!”
“Gaby! Congratulations love.”
“Thanks, Gran, I wasn’t expecting it.”
“I think everyone could see that.”
“I looked a right mess, I didn’t get a chance to do my hair or anything,” I complained.
“You looked lovely,” she paused, “your dad told me about last night, you okay?”
“I was petrified, Gran, he was waving a knife at us, I thought he was gonna stab me.”
“But you’re alright?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night, I just don’t want to think about it.”
“That’s alright love, your mum didn’t win.”
“I know, I was just talking to her.”
“You win some, you lose some.”
“Dad says you’re staying here for New Year.”
“Apparently I need a posh frock?”
“Yeah we’re going to stay at Sophia’s castle.”
“Sophia?”
“You’ll like her, her dad is a Duke,” I advised.
“A duke?”
“They usually live in Stuttgart but they have like this big party at the castle every New Year.”
“Sounds like I need to go to Debenhams before I come.”
“They’re not stuffy or anything.”
“I’m sure they’re not. Look I have to go, you can fill me in on everything when we come over.”
“Okay, thanks for calling, Gran.”
“Look after yourself, Gab.”
“I will, bye, Gran.”
“Bye, Gaby.”
I might have been the ‘guest of honour’ but it had quickly become an unofficial pre Christmas team party. In fact it was getting a bit raucous around George, Maria seemed to be the ringleader there.
“Heya.”
“Hi, Kat, good party.”
“Mom’s getting a bit loud.”
“She’s not the only one,” I pointed out.
“So you all fixed now?”
“I suppose so, the doc reckons everything is working.”
“Your mum said you’d had your time.”
“Yeah, lovely.”
“You’ve escaped for too long, girl.”
When you look at it that way I guess I have, most girls have been ovulating for five, six years by my age so I suppose I’ve had a short reprieve. I guess.
“You coming to our Weihnacht’s party?”
“Dunno, when is it?”
“Twenty third I think.”
“Mum’ll know, we probably are.”
“Ot oh, best save Mum!”
Kat took off across the restaurant to where Maria was climbing onto a table – parents, who’d have ’em?”
Maddy Bell 12.02.16
“And how are you, Bernie?” Dr Gove enquired, “You look like you’ve lost some weight?”
“Not getting a lot of sleep.”
“Drea?”
“No, well not directly, she’s sleeping through. No it’s my Social worker, she’s round every day, twice last Thursday, Mum had a go at her but I’m sure they’ve got it in for me.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” the Doctor opined.
“I can’t eat, can’t sleep, I’m on edge all the time and I’m frightened Mum might make things worse.”
“You’re still breast feeding, yes?”
“Yes.”
“There’s not much I can give you to help then I’m afraid, there is a group you might want to try,” she scribbled something on a card and passed it over the desk, “they do yoga and the like, it helps some people relax.”
“Okay,” Bern allowed.
“In the meantime make an appointment with Janet to do a set of bloods, best check there’s nothing else, eh?”
“Uh huh.”
“In that case I’ll see you in a month.”
Jack Rose wasn’t any sort of computer whizz but he could manage to buy and book stuff on the interweb. Bern of course could have done it herself except her bankcard was restricted so she couldn’t make such a large purchase.
“So January the 5th you fly out and the 19th you come back,” he advised his daughter, “you sure about this, love?”
“Definitely!”
“Okay then,” he hit the ‘book this’ tab on the screen and the site flashed up the confirmation.
It was really happening, well the first part at least!
“Thanks, Dad!”
The printer clanked and hummed for a moment before spitting out the booking confirmations.
“Can I watch the rugby now?” Jack asked getting up from her computer.
“Of course, you want a cuppa?”
Hi Mart
Our tickets are booked; we are both looking forward to coming!
Any chance of getting picked up from the airport?
Speak soon
Kisses, B.
She pressed send, it had seemed a bit distant, even up to this morning but now, well it was barely three weeks away. Three weeks before seeing the Bonds and the girls again, three weeks until Mart met ‘his’ daughter – well that was the plan at least. She looked over at the oblivious babe in the crib; she really would do anything to keep the child, her baby.
“I’m a bit concerned about one of my patients on your list,” Dr Gove told Ann James, the lead social worker for Warsop at their monthly meeting.
“And who might that be, Doctor?”
“Bernadette Rose, fifteen with a six month old baby.”
“The arsonist,” the James woman mentioned.
“It’s not for me to judge and I’m sure that’s all behind her, I’m concerned that her health is being affected by your departments, um, attention. She’s not eating or sleeping well.”
“And she’s blaming us?”
“No, not as such.”
“So why mention it, close supervision is standard practice in these situations.”
“Even if it adversely affects the client.”
“That’s not our concern, the child’s welfare is however.”
‘You cold bitch,’ Sarah Gove thought to herself not for the first time.
“The mother’s only a child herself.”
“Life choices.”
‘And you wonder why people call you the SS.’
“Can you perhaps give her a bit more space? A few less visits perhaps, she’s here at the mother and baby group twice a week after all.”
“The baby is on the ‘at risk register’.”
“Put there by you, I’ve not seen anything to suggest Bernie is doing anything other than the best she can for young Andrea, I can’t see any reason for her to still be on the register.”
“That’s not your decision Doctor.”
‘No it’s not.’
“Hi, Bern!” Helen called over the road.
“Hi.”
The Rose girls were on the way back from the mother and baby group, Bernie wasn’t the biggest fan of the sessions. The other, older mothers were a bit ‘off’ from day one, it’s not like they were all saints or even in relationships but Bernie seemed to rub them the wrong way.
“How’s our favourite munchkin today?”
“Sleeping a lot.”
“That’s good, right?” Helen asked as she reached mother and pram.
“It’s better than crying.”
Helen looked in at the still tiny form snuggled under the copious blankets.
“She’s still so tiny. You heard from Gaby lately?”
“I got an email the other week, she seems to be getting on okay.”
“Did you see that she and her mum were up for the Sports Personality awards?”
“She never said.”
“I think they were only announced this week,” Helen mentioned.
“Oh right, look Hel I need to get on, this one’ll be wanting her lunch soon.”
“Right, it is a bit cold, you should come round for tea one afternoon,” Helen suggested, “I’m sure Mum and Gran would love to see Andrea.”
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Bern agreed.
“I’ll let you know when then, see ya!”
“Yeah, later.”
There had been other supposed invites since the summer, well intentioned but never confirmed and seemingly quickly forgotten by her one-time friends. This would be like the others, her isolation compounded at each forgotten rendezvous, maybe she’d give that relaxation group a try.
“Isn’t that young Bond?” Jack enquired.
“Oh look Drea, it’s Aunty Gab,” Bern told her daughter as they settled in front of the box.
“Didn’t I read somewhere that her mother was up for the adult award too?” Cheryl queried.
“Helen said something like that when I saw her the other day.”
“You didn’t tell me you’d seen her love.”
“Well the SS were here when I got home, forgot about seeing her.”
“She okay?”
“Think so.”
“… And hopefully I’ll get selected for the next Olympics,” Gaby finished her answer.
The other nominee interviews were so carefully staged it was almost ironic, not Gaby though. Well for starters she wasn’t wearing sports gear, it looked like she was doing a play or something. Not just that but her enthusiasm just bubbled out – like her chest in that dress, not the ‘look enthusiastic’ of the others but real, genuine love of what she does.
“We voting?” Jack asked.
“Why wouldn’t we,” Cheryl returned.
“And we go live now to Germany where Gertie Schmidt from our colleagues at RTL is with our winner, Gaby Bond, hello Gertie.”
“Hello Gary, welcome to a chilly evening here in Ahrweiler,” the blonde smiled back with a bit of an accent.
“That’s the woman off the local news,” Bern advised her parents.
“I understand you have our winner with you.” Mr Lineker went on.
“I do, we’ve just dragged her away from working a charity stall here at the Christmas Market, I think it’s a bit of a surprise for her.”
The camera panned to the left onto a bemused Gaby Bond.
“Looks like it’s trying to snow there,” Jack mentioned.
“I’ll need to remember my gloves when we go,” Bern stated.
“Hello, Gaby, I know you can’t see me, it’s Gary Lineker in London.”
“Er hi Gary.”
“Gertie was saying that you are working on a charity stall there?”
“Um yes, we’re raising money for the local children’s home.”
“And that’s why you couldn’t come to London?”
“Er yes we, I mean I, thought this was more important.”
“I think we’d all agree with you Gaby, well the people have chosen so I’ll ask George Müller, head of Gaby’s cycling team to present her with the trophy, George?”
A chap in a slightly crumpled suit came into shot with the trophy, “Hello Gaby, it’s with great pleasure that I present this to you.”
They did the exchange thing; Gab didn’t look impressed when ‘George’ kissed her mind.
“So there we have it, our junior sports personality of the year, World Champion cyclist, Gabrielle Bond!” Gary enthused.
There was lots of clapping and cheering in Germany and the London studio, the Gertie woman gave Gab a hug and the new junior SPOTY winner hammed it up a bit with the trophy.
“You’ll have to send her our congratulations,” Cheryl suggested to her daughter.
Heya Gab
Congrats on the award, I’ll collect on payment for our vote when I come over! Hope you didn’t get too cold in that dress. Have you got snow there? Will have to bring our big coats.
Don’t know if Marty has said, our tickets are booked, can’t wait to see you guys!
I’d like to see Gloria whilst I’m there, could you speak to Anna for me?
Tschussie, Bern
Maddy Bell 13.02.16
Monday morning was cold, no it was COLD, dry, bright but definitely COLD, the white encrusting everything frost rather than snow (well except for a few accumulations in the edges). Gab snugged her hat down over her ears and adjusted her gloves before launching the Schauff down the drive and onto the road, the first time she’d used it for school in weeks. It was only a couple of minutes before she squealed to a halt outside the bakery, her steed soon lined up with the others waiting.
“So how much did we take?” Brid enquired.
“Er,” Con checked the sheet again, “one thousand and twelve.”
“Wow.” Nena allowed.
“That’s as much as we got in total last year,” Pia told us.
“We have to pay for materials yet,” Con pointed out.
“And we need to do a load more baking or you’ll run out next week,” I added.
“I thought you guys had done enough?” Steff opined.
“So did we,” I sighed, “we need to do a stock count, we probably need more coffee and we def need some more cola.”
“We need to pay Chris’s mum for what we had already, we can get more from Dad I think,” Pia suggested.
“Well I need to get some stuff in town this afternoon, I can check the stock at the cabin, can you check what we have left here, Con?” I suggested.
“Sure,” my BF agreed.
“Here, you’ll need these,” Steff told me dangling the keys to our hut.
“You girls are gonna be late,” Therese told us.
We were all on bikes today and it turned into a frantic dash along the cycle track, picture six girls on huge city bikes giving it all the slipstreaming and so on more usually associated with the Tour de France!
Screeeeeeech!
“Beatcha!” Nena crowed as I rolled to a stop.
“Not huh, been huh, riding for huh, weeks,” I pointed out.
“Give it a week, Nen and we won’t get near her,” Steff suggested.
“Pah!”
“Ah girls,” Frau Boxberg greeted us as we entered the building a few minutes later.
“We’re not late,” Steff mentioned.
“Well not quite,” the Head allowed, “how did the stall go?”
“You mean apart from the robbery?” Pia posited.
“Robbery?”
“This guy attacked Gab with a knife after we shut Saturday.” Brid embellished.
“Are you okay, Gaby?”
“It wasn’t that bad, he tripped over and bashed his head.”
“So he didn’t steal anything?”
“Only his freedom, the Polizei were after him for some other stuff so he’s locked up.”
“Trouble seems to find you eh, Gaby?”
“Sometimes,” I allowed.
“You’d best get to registration, you’ll be late.”
Grrr, we wouldn’t be if you hadn’t stopped us!
School was school, nothing more or less, unless you were at the market last night my new title would’ve passed you by, we are in Germany after all. We are definitely into revision for the exams in the New Year; Herr Viessner even had us doing a mock paper – aaargh, English verbs!
“Wait up, Gab,” Max yelled after me as I pushed my steed out of the bike sheds.
“Wassup?” I queried as I waited for him to join me.
“What’re you up to?”
“Up to?”
“Well you know,” he gabbled.
“Well I need to check some stuff at the cabin then I’ve got to get some presents to take to England next weekend.”
“You want some company, we could get a coffee or something.”
“Or something?”
“Could run to a burger,” he allowed.
“It’s not a date,” I stated.
“No, no, of course not, just er in the same place at the same time like.”
“Here,” I thrust my bike at him, “you can push Stella for me.”
“Stella?”
“She’s a right star,” I giggled.
Actually the model of the bike is ‘Stellar’ so it’s nothing weird, all my bikes have some sort of name after all.
We went to the cabin first, the council have employed a security company to patrol the closed market, Max went to clear it with them while I opened the door. It seemed a bit weird being here without loads of activity, the smell of coffee – oh bum I need to sort that out.
“Gab?”
“Over here.”
Max flicked the lights on, “what were you doing in the dark?”
“Eh? Oh just thinking. The Gaggia needs stripping and I need to audit the stock.”
“I’ll do the coffee machine.”
“You know how?”
“Work in restaurant? Coffee boy? Course I do.”
“Whatever, I think some grounds have got inside somewhere by the noises it was making.”
“’Kay.”
To say we worked in silence would be a lie, I was humming to myself – Bohemian Rhapsody for some reason and Max was clanking around as he dismantled the Gaggia. The takings certainly only told part of the story, we had sold a good number of biscuits but it was interesting what the split of cakes was. The mince pies had certainly done well, we had two containers of fifty left, I liberated a couple for the workers, even cold they are yummy.
The fruit cake was hardly touched but we only had one full Stollen bar left, the gateaux of course was all gone, they’d actually run out yesterday afternoon. It wasn’t too bad, Stollen and gateaux were straightforward, they’d just have to run out of pies as there wasn’t any more mincemeat. I scribbled the numbers down – we could compare them to the sales ledger later.
“A ha!” Max announced.
“What?”
He held something up, “this was in the inlet.”
“What is it?” I asked going over to where he had bits of machine strewn on a table.
“Looks like a St Christopher, must’ve dropped in when someone had the top off.”
“Might be one of the girls I suppose.”
“Best get it back together, five minutes.”
So jobs done we locked up and headed to Niederhutstraße for my shopping.
“Christmas prezzies?” my guardian enquired.
“Uh huh,” I allowed as I eyed up some trainers, “wait here a minute.”
I left Max with Stella and dived into the shoe shop.
“I thought you were buying for other people?”
“I am but I’ve had my eye on these for weeks.”
“Girls,” he muttered.
It was after four by the time we got to Maccy D’s, I had got a couple of bits, looks like I’ll be hitting the duty free on Saturday for the rest.
My Handy went while Max was at the counter getting our food; I’d commandeered a table as far away from the playpen as possible.
“Bond.”
“Gab, where are you?”
“In Maccy D’s,” I allowed.
“Thought you were cooking tonight,” Mand suggested.
“Mum knows I was staying in town, I’ll be back in time for cheer.”
“Guess it’s beans on toast then,” she sighed.
“Here you go, Gab,” Max stated as he slid the tray onto the table.
“Who are you with, Gaby Bond?”
“No one.”
“That sounded like Max.”
“Max? Don’t be daft,” I told Mand whilst motioning for Max to stay quiet.
“It sure sounded like him,” she pressed.
“Must be someone on another table, it’s quite busy in here.”
“Hmm, whatever, see you in a bit.”
“Yeah, tschuss.” I closed the call, “Mand,” I advised my companion.
“I guessed, you want mayo?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
“Eh?”
“Yes.”
“Oh right, I get it, I’ll fetch some.”
Boys!
We walked back to Dernau station, well Max hadn’t got his bike and it wasn’t fair to leave him on his own. Of course we talked a load of rubbish, school stuff, market stuff, wedding stuff – well you know, just stuff.
“This is me,” I stated, “this wasn’t a date.”
“Of course not, see you tomorrow?”
“Probably, we both are in the same class.”
“Yeah.”
“Well er, bye then.”
“Bye.”
Then he took me by surprise diving in for a hit and run kiss.
“See you!”
“Um.” I readjusted my woolly hat and hoped that the cool night air would return my face to a more natural shade before I got home.
Maddy Bell 13.02.16
“You’re late,” Dad noted when I let myself in.
“We walked back from town.”
“We?”
“Er yeah,” sugar! “Stella had a flat.”
“I’ll have a look while you’re at cheer, talking of which you’d best shake a leg.”
“Um yeah,” I agreed.
“You have eyebrows!” Margot announced not quietly.
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
Is it really that long since I’ve been here? It must be, I think I had those ridiculous drawn on things last time after Brid’s ‘accident’, they aren’t back to full strength but I do have something resembling facial furniture.
“So you’re all fixed?” Hannah queried.
“Pretty much, might be a few weeks before I’m doing the splits though.”
“You ready then?”
“I guess,”
“Okay people, warm ups,“ Hannah ordered.
I was mindful of doing too much stuff that pulled at stuff down below but mostly I was just out of condition. Much like my bike riding it’s gonna take a while to get back to where I was before but the rest of our ‘squad’ were certainly improving.
“Did you get anywhere with your teacher friend?” Hannah queried when I returned to the hall after a ‘visit’ post session.
“Fran? Well she sent some web links but without seeing where we are it’s a bit difficult.”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Han allowed.
“She did suggest sending a tape of one of our sessions.”
She brightened at that, “We’ve got a video camera, we could do that next week.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“So come on, spill,” Mand demanded.
“What am I missing?” Pia queried.
We were waiting for our lift; Herr Sebenschuh was doing the honours tonight.
“What?”
“This afternoon, what were you up to, Gaby Bond?”
“I told you, I did some shopping, caught a burger then I had to walk home because of a puncture.”
“Why didn’t you ring for a lift?”
“I er, it didn’t seem worth troubling Dad.”
“She was with Max,” Mand told Pia with authority, “I heard him when I rang.”
“I wasn’t with him.”
“Ah but he was there?”
“Might’ve been.”
“Aha!” she crowed.
“Look, we bumped into each other, he fixed the Gaggia,” I rushed out.
“Sounds like a liaison to me,” Pia put in.
“You know I was going to the cabin P.”
“Now we know why, Gaby Bond, you hussy!”
“It wasn’t like that!”
I was saved from further discussion on the matter by the arrival of the Sebenschuh’s asthmatic bus arriving.
“So like four gateaux’s and six Stollen?” Con confirmed.
“Uh huh,” I agreed, “Do you reckon we could do some gingerbread for the kinder too?”
“I’ll ask Papa.”
She departed to find her dad; we need to do some of the baking this afternoon.
“So come on, Gab, what happened?” Steff asked.
It was too much to ask for Pia not to spill about last night so the others were keen for a first hand account.
“It wasn’t a date,” I insisted.
“Well let’s hear about this ‘not a date’ then,” Nena prompted.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Con, you want to hear this, she claims nothing happened,” Brid suggested as Con returned to our table in the coffee shop.
I wasn’t going to get out of this easily, Mand you blabbermouth! With a sigh I prepared to give an edited account of events, they’ll keep on otherwise.
“…And he bought the burgers? Sounds like a date to me,” Steff opined.
“It was only a burger.”
“It’s never ‘only’ anything with you, Bond,” Nena stated.
I felt something in my pocket, the chain, “We found this in the machine.”
“I wondered where that had gone,” Brid told us,” must’ve caught it when we were decorating, thanks, Gab.”
“Thank Max, he found it,” I mentioned.
“So your bike is fixed?” Con queried.
“Uh yeah, just needed some air.”
Stella. I’m sure Dad saw through that fib, there certainly wasn’t a puncture, yeah maybe a little low on air but not enough to warrant the walk.
In the end I never admitted to anything beyond the Maccy D, hopefully Max can keep schtum. School was school then afterwards Steff volunteered to help with the baking, many hands and all that. I’m not sure it helped much but we did the oven bit, we just need to put the Schwarzwalder’s together for the weekend.
All in all a quiet week in the making.
“You sorted out for the weekend?” Mum enquired when I slumped on the couch.
“Sort of.”
“There’s no ‘sort of’, if you’re intending riding on Sunday your Dad needs your kit Thursday night, he’s off to pick up the girls first thing Friday.”
“I thought the ferry’s at like eight o’clock in the evening?”
“We have to get there,” Dad pointed out.
“Okay,” I sighed.
“What about the ‘do’, you sorted out what you’re wearing?”
Life was so much simpler when I was Drew, or maybe it wasn’t?
“No idea,” I admitted.
“What about you, Amanda?” Mum asked as she joined us.
“Hmm?”
“You got a dress sorted for Saturday?”
“The one I wore Sunday, it has at least got short sleeves.”
“Does it need washing?”
“Possibly.”
“Well go fetch it, we aren’t having any last minute rushes,” Mum stated.
“’Kay,” Mand agreed before getting up to fetch her frock.
“And you, young lady…”
“Alright, I’ll go find something,” I mumped.
When I got home on Thursday, late of course due to my remedial session, the Apollinaris minibus was reversed up to the garage door.
“There you are, leave that out there for now,” Dad suggested indicating my daily steed.
“Okay.”
“Which bike are you riding Sunday?”
“Er one with wheels?”
“Gabrielle!”
“Sorry, Dad, the winter bike?”
“Thought you’d want to show off on the race bike.”
“I don’t want to get covered in cack, it’s England after all, the roads’ll be covered.”
“Never used to bother you,” he mentioned.
“Yeah well I don’t want to get my new kit covered in muck,” I supplied – and it’ll ruin my makeup.
“Fair enough, winter it is.”
Of course with Dad mechanicing my winter bike is hardly the bucket of bits, dirty hack that a lot of people associate with winter riding. So yeah it has heavier tyres and mudguards but Dad keeps all the bikes spotless and in tip top order, it looks as good as my race bike – well from a distance. Dads, no self-respecting girl should be without one!
“You aren’t on the market tonight are you, Gab?” Mum asked as I collected my school stuff together.
“Not working, we need to finish the gateaux’s then take them down.”
“What about Garde?”
“Nah, not this week, I still ache a bit from Monday,” I admitted.
“Oh?”
“It’s nothing, Mum, I just haven’t done it for a few weeks, it’s bound to hurt.”
“Hmm,” she allowed, “just don’t be too late tonight, we’ve an early start in the morning.”
“No, Mum.”
“Sure you don’t want to swap?” Steff queried.
“It’s tempting but no,” I replied as we bowled down to Silverberg.
“You’re no fun, Gabs.”
“On the contrary, I do intend to have fun.”
“Well don’t forget us toiling away here on the market,” Nena called over her shoulder.
“How can I? I’ll be thinking of nothing else.”
“But there’s no Maxie,” Brid supplied.
“We’ll look after him for you,” Pia giggled.
Instead of saying anything my face turned an interesting shade of pink, look, it wasn’t a date and it wasn’t a kiss, all right?
Maddy Bell 14.02.16
You’ve all been there right? The upcoming trip or whatever and unlike the wait for the dentist appointment, time goes into super slow down. It didn’t help of course that Frau Dürst sprang a mock paper on us, truthfully, how much use will Pi be to me once I leave school? By the time the final bell of the day sounded I was hyped like a hyper thing!
“We’ll be down as soon as,” I advised Pia.
“Guess we’ll make do until you arrive,” she grinned.
“You coming, Gabs?” Con encouraged.
“Yeah, yeah,” I agreed, “tschussie!”
We were both blowing when we reached Thesing’s, we hadn’t been exactly racing but given our steeds, even the slight gradient up from Ahrweiler can get the blood pumping.
“Hi, Dad!” Con greeted her parent a moment later.
“Hi, girls, I suppose you want my kitchen again?”
“We have to finish the gateaux,” Con advised.
“Just don’t make too much mess,” he called to our retreating backs.
“No, Dad!”
There’s only four cakes to do, we got a bit carried away with the mixture so it’s more than we’d planned but I’m sure there won’t be any BFG left on Sunday! If you’ve never made gateaux from scratch I won’t bore you but a four-layer Black Forest is quite a complicated construction. How do I know what to do? Try working in a bakery, even part time without learning some of this stuff – I actually enjoy doing it as you might’ve noticed.
Con set to on preparing the cream etc whilst I started assembly with the kirsch. By the time I was done Con had the cream ready, we swapped jobs at that point, I started slicing the cherries, then grated the chocolate as my colleague had fun with the dairy content. It was nearly five before we were done, the gateaux boxed and everything washed and cleared away.
“Coffee?” Con offered.
“No, I’ll get one at the cabin.”
“’Kay, you sure you don’t want me to come?”
“I’ll be fine, no point two of us getting cold.”
We loaded two of the boxes into my basket, geez they weigh a ton, Con’ll take the others down tomorrow afternoon.
“Well have a good weekend, you at school Monday?”
“Yeah, couldn’t wheedle any more time off!”
“See you Monday then.”
“Yeah, tschussie.”
We exchanged a BF half hug and I set off in the darkness back to Ahrweiler.
Did I mention the gateaux were heavy? After nearly coming a cropper twice in as many minutes I took a more measured approach to the ride and completed the distance without further issue. Of course I had to push Stella through the market itself, my stomach rumbled just smelling the food on offer.
“Hi, guys!”
“Heya, Gabs, coffee?” Nena offered.
“Yes please, it’s turning cold again eh. The machine working okay without its extra parts?”
“So far,” Pia advised.
I parked the Schauff up and proceeded to unload the precious cargo.
“I can’t believe you guys made these,” Marty mentioned as Pia unpacked one to go in the cabinet.
“Hidden skills our Gab,” Nena mentioned.
“Yeah well,” I allowed, feeling the colour rise in my cheeks. “Er hold the coffee Nen, I’ll go get some food first.”
“’Kay.”
I pulled my gloves back on and headed out into the bustle of the market, I’ve not had a chance to look around really, we didn’t exactly get a lot of downtime last weekend. I said before I think, it’s a much more local affair than the big markets so the generic stalls are not here which is refreshing. Instead it’s local artists and so on – maybe I can find more Chrimbo presents here instead of hoping to get stuff in duty free.
First though food. I followed my nose to the bright lights and smells of the sausage stall (where else?) but decided on a frikadel in a bun rather than the wurst option. That was a joke right? Okay I’m a better dancer than comedian, anyhow it was a suitably impressive size in its brotchen holder, quick squeeze of ketchup and I was in gastronomic heaven.
Food in hand I started to wander around the market, I mentally listed who I still needed gifts for – too many – oh bum, I forgot Caro! Oh well, remembered now. I’m not really one for jewellery, I have some bits of course, a few earrings and necklaces but this stuff makes good presents – and it doesn’t take up much space.
“Thought you’d gone home,” Pia noted when I returned to the cabin.
“Bit of shopping, prezzies for England.”
“On the ball as usual,” Nena chortled, “I suppose you want coffee now?”
“You could twist my arm, how’s business?”
“Bit quiet at the moment but they’ll be here soon, the choir finishes in five minutes.”
Choir, I’m glad we decided not to do that this year, that was so embarrassing last year.
“So wotcha get?” Nena enquired.
I spent the next fifteen minutes showing the girls my spoils and drinking my coffee, could do with a bit of work Nen!
“I need to get off, we have to be at the airport like eight o’clock.”
“Which one?” Nena asked.
“Düssel.”
“Yowch!” Pia allowed.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Take care, Gab, see you Monday,” Nen offered.
“Will do, say bye to Mart for me, tschussie!”
“Byeee.”
I located my bike and after walking back across the market mounted up for the ride home.
“What time do you call this?” Mum demanded.
“Er,” I checked my watch, “seven thirty?”
“I hope you’re packed.”
“Yes, Mum,” I sighed, “did it last night.”
“Hmmm, I hope so, we need to leave at six.”
“Six, that’s like the middle of the night,” I mentioned.
“Whenever it is that’s when we’re leaving daughter mine.”
“Yes, Mum,” I groaned.
“You eaten?”
“At the market,” I advised her.
Of course, whilst I’d told Mum I was packed, she and I both knew otherwise so after making everyone hot choccy I went up to the eyrie to finish what I’d started last night.
“We’ll get breakfast at the airport,” Mum told us when Mand and I arrived in the kitchen.
“Coffee?” I suggested.
“In the flask.”
“Mand?” I enquired.
“Please.”
“I’ll put the bags in the car,” Mum advised heading down into the garage.
“It’s dark out there,” I mentioned as I stood looking out of the window.
“It is still night,” Mand opined.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
The roads were quiet as we started our journey north to Dusseldorf, which is just as well the way Mum drives. Mand dropped off and despite my terror I found myself dozing too, the change of engine tone, from all out scream to slowing down brought me around.
“We there?”
“Next junction, best wake Manda.”
“’Kay,” I allowed.
By the time we found a spot in the multi storey, Mand was cognisant and I was happier, Mum’s driving doesn’t improve! We unloaded the cases and started the interminable walk, ride (the monorail to the terminal), walk that eventually took us to check in.
“Here you go, kiddo, Mand,” Mum handed us our passports.
Like you do, I flipped it open.
“Gab, you coming?” Mand queried.
“Er yeah.”
This is it then, my passport doesn’t look that different, but the name now reads Gabrielle and the sex now says F. everything else is the same – even my photo. I have travelled as a girl before but that’s always been on my German ID card or that time I ended up with Jules passport. But today, today’s the first time I’ve officially travelled as a girl with all the right paperwork.
The desk had only just opened for our flight so we didn’t wait too long to unload our bags and exchange them for boarding cards.
“This is the first time I’ve flown,” I told the others when we found a café for breakfast.
“Don’t be daft, you flew to Japan with us,” Mand pointed out.
“You’ve flown a few times,” Mum agreed.
“Yeah but this is the first time I’ve been Gaby, like really, passport and everything,” I told them.
“Ah,” Mum allowed, “a milestone then.”
“Could say that.”
“You okay, Mand?” Mum asked.
“Uh huh, I think Japan got me over the fear, it’s the taking off bit I think, I’m okay once we’re up.”
“Know what you mean,” Jen mentioned.
“On the other hand, I don’t think I could do their job,” Mand indicated a brace of flight attendants heading through the concourse.
Breakfast – well it was the airport, cost a fortune. It wasn’t even that good, two hard rolls, bierwurst and Gouda, but it filled the time before our flight was called. We headed for the gate, each thinking our own thoughts of take offs, landings or in my case, being a girl.
Maddy Bell 17.02.16
Of course flying from CET to GMT you gain an hour, our ten twenty departure from Dusseldorf touched down in Manchester a little after ten thirty. The eagle eyed will have spotted Manchester there, the original plan was to fly to Leeds but we couldn’t find a flight that didn’t involve changing planes with long layovers turning a one hour flight into four plus. Dad hadn’t been too chuffed but we’ve sorted a workaround for tomorrow’s return flight.
“Dave? We’re just waiting for our bags,” Mum left the message – Dad was still clearly on his way from the ferry, it’s about a two-hour drive so they probably aren’t far away.
“Last time I was here Chris Hoy insisted on carrying my bike,” I told the others.
“Playing the useless girly, eh?” Mand chuckled.
“No, I had two bags and the bike,” I said in my defence.
“Here we go,” Mum mentioned as the luggage belt started up.
Our bags must’ve started off together so how come mine took ten minutes longer than the others to arrive? Clearly the God of luggage has it in for me. Mum’s phone sounded as we made our way through the labyrinth to escape the airport.
“Where are you?…okay, five minutes, tschuss!” Mum re-stowed her Handy in her bag, “Your Dad’s in the short stay just outside arrivals.”
“If we ever get there,” I noted, was it really this far when I came in the summer?
We did finally emerge into the arrivals hall and locating the exit, emerged into the cool, nay freezing Cheshire sunshine.
“There’s the bus,” Mand enthused as she pointed across the roadway where, sure enough, the Apollinaris minibus was waiting for us, Dad already opening the side door.
“Come on then,” Mum encouraged leading the way.
We were heading up the M60 when Dad addressed us.
“We’ve got some time so we’ll go the scenic route.”
“How scenic?” Mum enquired.
“Up to Skipton then across to Harrogate,” Dad told us.
“Go for it.”
“We were talking last night on the boat,” Dad noted, “Ani and Erika are keen to get in a few miles today, anyone else interested? We were thinking from say Harrogate across to the hotel.”
“Count me in,” Mum grinned.
“Girls?” Dad prompted, “it’s not that far, Gab.”
“I’m up for it,” Mand agreed.
“Go on then,” I added, not that I’m very confident of keeping up.
And so we enjoyed a circuitous route through east Lancashire before entering Yorkshire a handful of miles short of Skipton. Back when we lived in Warsop this was a sometime daytrip destination just a couple of hours drive from home, now the bleak, open hillsides, snow lying against the dry stone walling seemed more alien than ever. Anita and Erika seemed enthralled by the English upland scenery and the Rollercoaster ride along the A59 across to Harrogate.
We passed through the spa town stopping instead a couple of miles further on at Knaresborough.
“We’ll get something to eat here,” Dad announced, “then you guys can ride to York.”
“Joy,” I allowed.
“Oh come on, Gab,“ Mand encouraged, “you rode to Ahrweiler twice yesterday.”
“Not in one go,” I pointed out.
Dad seemed very specific about where we were headed to eat, leading us past three likely looking establishments before crossing the market place to the Old Royal Oak.
“Why this one, Dad?”
“Apparently they do excellent Yorkshires,” he replied ushering us inside.
We hadn’t even got inside before Mum excitedly called out, “Caro!”
“Jen!”
Aunt Caro? What’s she doing here?”
Of course the fact she was sat at a reserved table on her own let the cat out, Dad had arranged this beforehand. Introductions were made, people seated, food and drink ordered all before Caro spilt the story.
“Dave rang last week, I suggested here as I can get a train from Wakefield up to here.”
“What if it had been wet?” Mand posed.
“Worst case, the trains go through to York.”
“You’re going to the dinner?” I queried.
“Could I miss that? The cream of the UK lady riders in one place, and you three.”
“Why you!” Mum nearly choked on her Black Sheep , “Just you wait, Alexander.”
Dad was right, the filled Yorkshire puddings were excellent, huge and filled with a full dinner, I had the roast lamb that arrived with enough veg and tatties on board to feed – well I didn’t need the dessert menu. It was rolling on two thirty when we were done.
“Where’s your bike, Caro?” Dad enquired.
“Round the back, you by the castle?”
“Yup,” Dad confirmed.
“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
Caro’s riding with us, bum, she’ll see how crap I am since I took on full girldom; I’ll never get the chance to ride on the team again.
Once we reached the bus Dad and Carsten, after unloading the bikes, made themselves scarce as our transport became a changing room. Caro arrived having, I guess, used the pubs facilities to change but trailing an overnight bag.
“So where we going?” I enquired conscious that the direct route wouldn’t be an option.
“Boroughbridge then the lanes down to York, we should have enough light.”
“I’ll be following so laggards can get a ride,” Dad joked.
Well he thought it was a joke, me, well it was cutting.
The six of us set off, Mum and Caro taking the lead as we navigated onto the Boroughbridge road. Once out of the town the oldies set a comfortable pace, around twenty five k’s, Dad and Carsten following our little group maybe twenty metres in arrears. We looked a motley group, a couple of senior Apollinaris jerseys, a pair of rainbow striped tops, Mand’s junior squad top and Caro sporting a GB team top – well she is a coach I guess.
Mum signalled for rotation once we’d warmed up a bit, so far so good, just hope the pace doesn’t go up. The A6055 isn’t flat but it’s not mountainous, a series of short sharp ups punctuate the route but I managed to hold my place okay, in fact I was feeling quite good really.
“This is a bit of a treat,” Caro mentioned as we rode alongside through Minskip.
“What?”
“This, riding with you guys.”
“You’ve done it before,” I pointed out.
“Ah, but not this exactly,” she went on, “here I am riding along with two current World Champions, both Brits, both friends, not many people can boast that.”
We rotated before we could continue that conversation but it got me thinking. I guess to an outsider it might seem something special but in the Ahrtal, on Team Apollinaris, no one thinks twice about the same thing. No special treatment, we’re just members of the squad. Caro called out instructions to get us on the right road; she seems to know these roads quite well.
Once across the River Ure we were onto quieter lanes and Dad dropped back a bit, we didn’t need the traffic protection so much.
“This makes a change,” Mand observed.
“No twenty K climbs.”
“Or sixty k descents,” she added.
“Not round here anyway, some of those roads earlier look troubling and there’s some corkers over there,” I indicated the North York Moors almost directly in front of us.
“We don’t go up there do we?”
“Nah, we have to turn south somewhere to York, you can see the White Horse up on the end there.” I added.
“Where’s that?”
“Kilburn,” Mum mentioned from behind, “you’ve got Sutton Bank a bit to the left.”
“Isn’t that where the camper broke down?” I opined.
“That’s the one,” she agreed.
“It’s a right climb that, like something in the Tour.”
“Can you imagine that, the Tour de France riding around Yorkshire?”
“Are you sure that was only cola at lunch?”
“It would be kinda cool,” Mand went on.
“But a bit unlikely,” Mum added.
“I guess,” Manda admitted.
“You feeling okay now?” Anita queried.
“Better, I’m well out of condition though.”
“You’re doing okay today?”
“So far.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll soon be tearing our legs off again,” she suggested.
“Wish I had your confidence.”
“We saw you on Rhein Abend the other night, almost didn’t recognise you in that fancy Kleid.”
“I missed that but they were all ribbing me at school next day.”
Did they! I didn’t mention it before but I had the Mickey taken something chronic, apparently the camera angle was revealing rather more Gaby than Gaby would’ve liked.
“They’re just jealous.”
We turned at the Ouse bridge and whilst not fen flat the Vale of York is not known for its iconic climbs, Tour de France, here on these roads, they’d laugh all the way to end! That’s not to say it’s not got some ‘texture’, but its machine knit rather than cable. The similarity to Lincolnshire was accentuated when we passed a windmill as we picked up the East Coast mainline – yeah, nowhere near the coast but who cares.
“We alright to pick it up a bit?” Erika suggested.
“Good for me,” Mum told us.
“Gab?” Caro queried.
“Don’t let me stop you, I can always get a lift,” the embarrassment of it.
“Okay, just let us know if you’re dropping, same for you, Amanda.”
“Let’s do it!” Anita pronounced.
It wasn’t going to be a race just an increase from the steady pace we’d been riding at to – well thirty kph. It’s not a huge increase but for me at least, today, it was a conversation stopper, I needed all my energies just to hang onto Erika’s wheel as we rotated. Mand was still looking comfortable, well more so than me at least, the speed was creeping up and I was starting to lose it.
“Next village!” Mum pronounced.
Well I didn’t last much longer, the elastic snapped and I sat up, no point in chasing, nothing but my pride is at stake. Caro didn’t last much longer dropping quickly back to me as I recovered my breath, the surprise, well to me at least, was Mand – the last I saw of Team Apollinaris she was still hanging in there. The looming outline of York Minster dominated the horizon, it’s one of the biggest churches in Europe, you can’t fail to be impressed.
Maddy Bell 18.02.16
“Okay, Gab?” Caro asked sliding in beside me.
“I guess.”
“They really get a clog on, eh?”
“Uh huh,” I allowed.
“Don’t worry, girl, you’ll get it back.”
“Will I?”
“Course you will, you’ve not ridden for what, five, six weeks, you’re bound to have lost fitness and strength,” she pointed out.
“Maybe, I feel such a fraud though, wearing this,” I picked at my jersey, “and not even being able to keep up with Mand – not that Mand’s a bad rider or anything but like I was better?”
“I know what you mean, Gab and I’m sure Amanda wouldn’t be offended either. The main thing is that you’re back riding, it’ll take time but I’m sure you’ll come back fitter and stronger.”
“The goalposts have moved now though haven’t they?”
“Moved?”
“I’ll be competing for the girl’s prizes,” I pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean you stop racing the lads. Gab you’ve got the potential to follow in your Mum’s wheel tracks, help take women’s racing to a new level. Tonight at the dinner there will be girls, women who look to your mother and you as icons of the sport, heroes who inspire their dreams. And you, Gaby Bond, you are the future, you inspire people, just look back to Switzerland, to Roskilde, you and Mark, you’re both game changers. Last year we had a high finish in the road race of 48th, this year we got 2 podiums, three in the ten.
So the girls’ racing isn’t fought as hard but there are riders like your friend Roni, even Manda, who are, as you put it, moving the goalposts. So yes, you’ll be chasing the girls’ prize but that doesn’t mean you can’t compete for the lads too, at least until you’re eighteen. That’s two more years of honing your skills, there’s new optimism in the sport, new money coming in – we’ve had so many false starts over the years but that will change, it must change and you are part of it.”
By now we’d caught up to the others, Caro’s pep talk was ringing in my ears.
“Okay?” Mum queried.
Dunno, am I?
“We’re fine,” Caro offered on our behalf.
The light was starting to go now but from Poppleton to our hotel was only a handful of kilometres, Dad took the bus ahead to get us checked in while we navigated the cycle route into the centre. The Park Inn sounds grander than it is but it sits right on the river a stones throw from Lendal Bridge. We actually arrived before Dad and Carsten having missed the traffic on our ride along the riverside.
Clearly we weren’t the only BLCA attendees staying, when we asked about bike storage we were shown to a storeroom already containing a dozen or so bikes.
“How’re we getting to the venue?” Mum enquired as we clopped back to reception.
“It’s only about a ten minute walk,” Caro told us.
“In that case, what, meet here at seven?”
“Works for me.”
Dad translated for Erika and the Pilz family and we headed for our rooms.
“You two okay?” Mum queried when we arrived at 605, the room we’d be sharing.
“Think so,” Mand told her.
“Gab?”
“Just a bit bushed.”
“Maybe you can catch thirty winks before we go,” she suggested.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“You want to shower?” Mand asked.
“You go first if you like.”
“Okay.”
As Mand prepared her toilet I dropped onto the bed, ah! Mand hit the bathroom and I lay looking at the ceiling for a minute before groping in my jersey pocket for my Handy. Let’s see, hmm, Cav, Con oh here we go, Davis, I hit dial and held the phone to my ear as things set themselves in motion for conversation.
It only rang three times before it was picked up.
“Hello, I’m not here just now, please leave a message after the tone.”
Sugar, “Er hi, Mary, this is Gaby Bond, just ringing.”
“Oh hi, Gaby, sorry it goes straight to messaging, I’ll have to get someone to sort it out for me.”
“Just touching base, thought I’d let you know we’re in York, at our hotel.”
“Oh brill, this is so exciting!”
“Er yeah,” I allowed.
“Did you bring your medals? It’s so cool you’ve come!”
“Both of them and Mum and Manda brought theirs too.”
“Of course, Amanda got the bronze didn’t she?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. Of course it was all a bit confusing, my medals are actually not for the girls’ events of course but for the boys’, I grinned to myself, yeah, I can kick boy butt!
“Look I’d best get myself ready, I’ll see you at the Royal.”
“Er yeah – oh what’re you wearing, just so I know who to look for.”
“Mum got me a new dress for tonight,” she bubbled, “it’s black and covered in sequins.”
“Black sequins, got it. Okay, I need to get ready too, see you later, tschussie!”
“Bye.”
“Who was that? Not Max?” Mand asked, returning to the main room.
“Not you too, no it wasn’t Max, why would I ring him?”
She shrugged, “To exchange phone spit?”
“Eww! Mand that is, like, so disgusting!”
“So?”
“Eh?”
“Who was it then?”
“Oh, Mary, you know the girl who sent the invite?”
“’Kay, bathrooms yours.”
“Cheers.”
I’d worked on the basis that everyone would be dressed to the nines tonight and selected my own outfit on that basis. Maybe it was a little over the top but I’m only little so anything to give me an edge is acceptable. Oh what is it? My red number of course complete with heels and a pair of silly expensive Wolford glossy hose.
“Whoa, sexy lady!” Mand crowed.
“You don’t brush up so bad yourself,” I noted, she was in her spangly black number, you remember, she wore to that disco when we were at Lilleshall.
“I suppose you want a hand with your hair?”
“Pretty please?”
Well I can do pony tails and a scrappy braid but beyond that I’m lost.
“So what am I doing?” she sighed as I sat myself on the chair.
“You have a licence for that?” Erika smirked when I exited the lift just turned seven – look it wasn’t my fault, Mand laddered her tights so it wasn’t even me this time.
“Dave, you need to keep her on a leash, eh?” Carsten suggested.
“A shorter one than her sister I think,” Dad chuckled.
“Coats?” Mum suggested.
“Tada!” I grinned, brandishing my long coat, see, I can plan ahead.
“You might need it on? It’s freezing out there.” Dad pointed out.
Look, I wasn’t the only one in heels, maybe mine were a bit more vertiginous than the others but I’m smaller than them! It doesn’t mean that walking in ten centimetre heels on uneven paving is easy, it’s not and I ended up hanging onto Dad to save my ankles. The Royal York loomed ahead of us, the huge front edifice brightly lit with spotlights, and as we walked up through the gardens we could see others arriving for the do, long frocks and suits the order of the day.
It might be the British Ladies’ do but there were plenty of chaps in attendance like Dad and Carsten either parents or partners. But there was a definite bias to the fairer sex. We reached the entrance and our eight strong party soon joined the queue for the cloakroom.
There was a definite hierarchy of dress, the men – well they were all besuited but the ladies and girls were a different matter. Generally the younger the wearer, the shorter the dress, well Mum’s showed her knees which bucked the trend and mine doesn’t show my underwear but you get the general idea. I’m no snob, I’m not, but I reckon some of those long frocks get rolled out for every do and have done for years.
I spotted black sequins as we waited to enter the function room, has to be Mary.
“Gaby!”
“Mary?”
“Yes, yes,” she enthused, “er this is,”
“Mandy Jones , hi Jenny, long time no see.”
A camera flash went off capturing World Champions old and new.
“I wondered if you’d be here,” Mum noted.
“When I heard you were coming, well there was no way I wanted to miss seeing you, or your offspring, hello, Gaby.”
“Er hi, erm this is Amanda de Vreen,” I offered as further introduction.
“They’ve brought their medals, Mandy,” Mary put in.
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Amanda, Gaby, I hope you don’t mind,” Mandy went on, “we’ve had to split you and your party up, Jen, you and the girls are on the top table, we’ve put the rest of your party on a table nearby.”
Top table? Oh boy.
“Enough, we’ll talk later, bar’s at the far end.”
“Er yeah, I’d like that,” Mum allowed as Mandy departed in a waft of scent that could maim at fifty metres.
“Hasn’t changed,” Dad noted.”
“That’s for sure,” Caro agreed.
“I can’t believe you came,” Mary bubbled.
“I like a good bop.”
“That’s a nice dress, Gaby.”
“Thanks, yours makes a statement as well,” I really am not being bitchy but you could tell her mum had bought it, it certainly wasn’t anything a teen would pick, it was definitely more Mumsie than fashionable. Sparkly yes but in that very, er, long way, the fact that Mary was a streak of nothing didn’t exactly help.
“So erm, what’s the programme?” Mand asked our hostess.
“Oh right, yes well we eat at eight then after it’s the speeches and stuff, there’s a band for later.”
Maddy Bell 19.02.16
At some point Mary got called away and was replaced by drinks. Mum of course was in her element, holding court with her assistants and meeting acquaintances old and new. That left Mand and me on our own so we explored the room a bit.
“Hey isn’t that you?” Mand suggested pointing to a picture in the gallery that occupied one corner of the room.
“Nah!”
“Looks like you,” she insisted.
I looked closer, it did look like me, I read the caption, “it’s Mum, like twenty years ago!”
“You could be sisters.”
“Well duh, mother,” I pointed at the picture, “daughter,” I concluded pointing at myself.
“I always said there was more to you than just a pretty face,” Mand chuckled, “hey look, they’ve got the World’s on that big screen.”
A little crowd were watching the footage, we moved across and joined the watchers.
“If she hadn’t come off she would’ve beaten him.”
“Such a tiny thing.”
“Must be in the genes.”
“I remember when her Mum was turning things upside down.”
“And still only sixteen.”
“Come on, Mand,” talk about embarrassing.
“Hang on, this looks like your crash,” she mentioned perhaps a little too loudly.
“Where’d they get this from?” I asked somewhat quieter.
Indeed it was my spill, I guess taken by a spectator, despite myself I was captivated as the screen showed me speeding towards the camera, dabbing the brakes then turning in before literally sliding off across the road, Mike sprinting across, me remounting and with a push from my mechanic, me setting off again. From start to finish, no more than thirty seconds.
“Ouch!”
“That must’ve hurt!”
“Think she overcooked it.”
No kidding.
“Wow, Gab, you hardly even stopped!”
Heads snapped about, damn, rumbled!
The remainder of the wait before being called to table I found myself the star attraction for cameras, pens and opinions. I know Mum thrives on this stuff but for me, well it’s a whole new ball game as they say. It seemed like half the room came to meet me, the other half were with Mum.
Cycling dinners, they all have one common thread – tradition, with a capitol T. that of course extends to the menu, I’ve never been to one yet where it wasn’t some variation of a roast dinner, the soup is invariably that watery stuff passed off as minestrone in the UK, dessert is often the highlight but something with a dollop of cream seems favourite. By the time the coffee arrived, hmmph, cheap beans, I was feeling quite upset for the organisers, tickets weren’t cheap but the food was mediocre and somewhat lacking in volume.
Ting, ting, ting
An older woman, at least Gran’s age stood and waited for the hubbub to die down.
“Good evening ladies…and gentlemen,” the pause raised a few titters, probably from the same people every year.
“I’ll keep it short, I’m sure you are dying to hear from our guest of honour. We have much to celebrate tonight, not one but two World Champions, five medals – six if you include young Mr Cavendish’s contribution. But not just that, we’ve seen international success from both our junior and senior ladies as well as hard fought domestic competition. I’m pleased to say that many of those riders have been able to join us this evening here in York.
So to all of you, national, international and world champions, please stand,” there was a scraping of chairs as people, winners stood, “Gab,” Mand prodded – I guess that includes me then!
“We honour you all!”
The hall reverberated to a round of cheering and applause before we returned to our seats.
“We’ve seen, this year, many great performances across all disciplines and with riders like the two youngsters at the end of this table, it looks like a new era is beginning, instead of just single very talented riders representing us we can look forward to the sort of strength and depth our European cousins enjoy.
So, if you’ll raise your glasses, to the future!”
“The future,” came back the reply.
“Our guest of honour tonight I don’t think requires much of an introduction, two time world champion, multi national champion and top of this year’s UCI ranking, I give you Jenny Bond!”
She never said anything!
“You’ll have to forgive my daughter’s fashion sense, teenagers eh, come on up you two,” Mum told us.
Dad had dropped our respective gongs over our head’s; Mum had hers around her neck when she started her little spiel. The pair of us made our way up to the middle of the table and stood either side of mater.
“Roskilde!” Mum declared.
I felt a bit of a prawn to be honest, as we stood there waving our medals about for our ‘adoring’ fans to photograph.
“Thank you, Jenny, girls, I’m sure all of your performances will only serve to inspire future generations of girls entering our sport. If I can prevail on you to stay with us Jenny, we have the small issue of some awards to present.”
You’ve been there, the annual club awards, winner of this trophy for winning that obscure event and so on. Being a national organisation did little to change that scenario, only difference was a larger pool of talent.
“And lastly we honour a rider who has, almost single handed changed the rules for female riders’ ambition. This rider has raced against and beaten all comers, male and female, brought glory to our country and her team and yet is still not sixteen,”
Wonder who’s got this?
“I give you ladies and gentlemen, the boys world time trial champion, winner of over twenty national level races in her adopted home of Germany, junior Tour of Switzerland winner, junior Sports personality winner and if her mother is to be believed, excellent cook,” there was a round of laughter, “this year’s BLCA rider of the year, Gaby Bond!”
“Gab, it’s you!” Mand hissed from beside me, “go on dimbo!”
Me? Hang on ME!
The presentation was embarrassing, what with Mum handing out the pots, I blushed nearly as bright as my frock! Of course there were more photographs of the pot and me and then with all the other silverware winners.
I thought I saw a familiar face earlier but I couldn’t be sure, but yes there she was, “Kristen?”
“In the flesh,” she agreed.
“I thought it was you, long time no see.”
“So, like, you’re a girl.”
“All the way through,” I admitted.
“But back then, you were a boy, you won the boys race and everything.”
“I thought I was a boy but apparently I was wrong.”
“But how?”
“Not in here, outside.”
To be honest departing the dance floor would be a relief, the band were naff, it was all bad eighties’ covers and most revellers were actually sat about talking. Mand was talking to some people she knew from ‘darn sarth’ so I was doing the handbag bit.
“Geez it’s cold out here,” Kris stated as we huddled by the hotel entrance.
“Not many,” I agreed.
“So how come boy Drew Bond is now girl Gaby Bond? You some sort of cross dresser?”
“That would be simpler than the truth,” I started, “like I said inside, I’ve got the full XX package but back then I didn’t know.”
I gave her an abbreviated version of the last couple of years, moving to Germany, everyone assuming I was a girl, the rupture in Hamburg, the diagnosis.
“… So like they sorted my plumbing out a few weeks ago,” I finished.
“It has to be true, no one could make that lot up,” Kristen opined, “can we go back inside, I’m freezing my tits off here.”
Not the words I’d use but I got the sentiment, my own dress was doing an inadequate job of keeping me warm.
“So you going on the ride tomorrow?” I enquired as we returned to the festivities.
“Yeah, you?”
“Supposedly, we did about forty K this afternoon and it nigh on killed me.”
“Getting a chance to feel like we all did, do up against super Bond.”
“With knobs on as I am that Bond,” I admitted.
Mum and Caro got no further than outside the door before rushing back and chorusing “Taxi!”
“It that cold?” Dad queried.
“Colder,” Mum replied.
I know I wasn’t very appreciative of the catering or the band but it had been an excellent evening, I got new silverware to clean, I’ve reconnected with Kristen and I’ve met loads of people that I’ve only read about in the Comic . It’s not just been a one-way thing, people have met me, I’m not just a name in the Comic, a rider never seen in the UK. I hugged my jacket close, we had to wait a couple of minutes for the taxi bus which of course then took literally two minutes to transport us back to the Park Inn.
“I wasn’t that sure about coming,” Mand admitted as we divested ourselves of war paint and finery back in room 605.
“Why’s that?” I queried as I struggled to undo my dress.
“Well, not knowing people and all that but like Georgie was there, your friend Kristen, I’ve raced against her a few times so there were people I knew.”
“And you got your picture taken,”
“And you didn’t?”
“Okay, maybe a couple of times,” I agreed.
“This ride tomorrow, should be good fun.”
“For you maybe, I still hurt from earlier.”
“I’m sure they’ll wait for you,” she chuckled.
“Hmmph!”
“You need a hand with that?”
I still hadn’t got the hook undone.
“Please, I wonder how come Kristen didn’t get on the BC squad, she was quite a handy rider.”
“Lack of ambition?”
“Maybe.”
“There you go, you’d got it caught in the material.”
“Thanks.”
Maddy Bell 19.02.16
“Gab, get up.”
I lifted an eyelid, damn that’s bright.
“Time is it?”
“Breakfast time,” Mand suggested.
“Already? Only just gone to sleep.”
“It’s nearly eight, come on we have to get to the Minster place for half nine.”
“How’d you know all this?”
“I actually listened to your Dad last night,” the clever moo told me.
Nothing for it I guess, have to get up.
As usual everyone else beat me to breakfast, even Mand deserted me as I searched for clean socks.
“Morning,” I proposed.
“Only just,” Dad replied.
I stuck my tongue out at him, juvenile I know.
“Coffee’s coming,” Mum advised, “it’s a buffet for food.”
“’Kay,” I allowed and set off for where several others seemed to be loading plates.
The buffet wasn’t groaning under cheese and ham but being England it was loaded with the makings of a Full English, which is quite a treat for us Germans, well inhabitants of Germany. I joined the queue and started loading, sausage, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, beans, eggs fried, eggs scrambled, black pudding, fried bread – it was all there but not everything made it to my plate. That said, my platter was well loaded and caused some raised eyebrows when I returned to the others.
“What? I’m hungry.”
“Never said a word,” Mand mentioned.
The actual German contingent were tucking into good piles of food too – well okay they’re racing later but whatever the rest of us are going on this ride thing so I need to load a few calories right?
“You listening, Gab?” Mum queried.
“Er yeah?”
“You need to get sorted as soon as you finish eating, your dad’s taking all the bags when he and the girls set off for Leeds, we’ll meet them over there later.”
“Okay.”
“Mand?”
“I’ll make sure she’s ready.”
“Hey!”
“Just make sure you have everything you need,” Dad advised.
“Yes, Dad.”
Anyone would think I forget stuff all the time.
I don’t know quite what I was expecting but the motley collection of bikes and riders already waiting when the four of us rolled up to the Minster was not it. I’ve got used to doing my group riding with other ‘elite’ riders, it must be a couple of years since I’ve ridden with such a mixed collection. Elite, that’s a laugh, at the moment this lot are more my level.
Mum and Caro were soon chatting away, Mad and I waiting patiently that is until Kristen and Mary both turned up in short order.
“Morning, Gab, Mand,” Kris allowed.
“Hi,” I returned, “good turnout.”
“Judy said there’s been up to a hundred,” Mary supplied.
“Thought you guys would be riding some fancy race bikes,” Kristen noted.
I glanced at my spotless machine – Dad found time to clean our bikes after yesterday’s ride, dunno when but I know there was a dollop of cow poo on the front fork when we arrived at the hotel. Anyway, back to now.
“Not for training and stuff,” Mand offered.
“Cool jersey, Gaby,” fan girl Mary opined.
“Have to make the most of fame whilst I’ve got it.”
“She hardly makes an appearance in one of these,” Mand indicated her own Apollinaris top.
“How come? Don’t you have to wear team strip in Germany?” Kris queried.
“Unless you have a special jersey like series leader,” Mand spouted.
“I wore team kit in Japan.”
“Sort of,” Manda agreed.
“You’ve been to Japan?” Mary gasped.
“We did some promo races at half term,” I told our audience.
“Cool,” Kris allowed, her attitude softening a bit.
Sunday runs never depart at the advertised time and today was no exception, we eventually rolled away from the Minster forecourt at nine forty five. We had quite a peloton, riders across a wide spectrum of ages and although it’s the ladies association, a few of the less fair sex boosted the numbers. I’m not sure why I’d felt so passionately that riding this morning was important but the actuality of it hadn’t lessened that.
I had no idea where we were headed other than our destination was expecting to supply food and drink to a ravening pack of – genteel lady cyclists. Yeah, that’s likely.
“So where are we headed?” I enquired of Mary, who seemed determined to ride with me as much as possible.
“The Black Swan in Helmsley, we’ve got a room booked,” she supplied.
I vaguely remembered Helmsley, I’m sure we went to a castle there and there’s an abbey or something? It was a few years back now, school holidays I think – of course Mum was teaching back then.
“So you live in York?”
“Heavens no, Swindon,” she supplied.
“Oh right, so like how’d you get involved with this?”
Well you have to show some interest right.
“My aunt races, she got me into it, not that I’m any good. What about you?”
Valid question I guess. The pat answer would be it’s in the genes but my sister is at best a reluctant rider so that’s hardly plausible.
“Dunno, I just enjoy riding I guess.”
“Didn’t your mum want you to race?”
Did she? I don’t think she did particularly, I wasn’t discouraged, it was probably Dad that did the encouraging. Mum was racing herself of course so I was exposed to the whole cycling thing, I don’t think I was even that interested in racing to start with.
“Not really, I mean she wasn’t against it or anything but there was no pressure to do it, my sister played badminton for the county.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister, you the oldest?”
“Younger, she’s eighteen in August.”
“I’m seventeen in June,” she put in.
There was some movement of the women ahead of us but no one seemed very concerned that we kept station at the back of the bunch. We rolled through the North Yorkshire countryside at a steady twenty, twenty-five kph, it was steady enough for conversation without feeling it drag. The day was brightening even if it wasn’t warming much, not a bad day for a ride, particularly a leisure ride with no mention of the T word.
Mary wanted to talk bikes; Kristen wanted to hear about Japan, the miles disappeared under our wheels seemingly effortlessly. The villages were straight out of those period drama things set in Yorkshire, very picturesque. The rolling countryside became more corrugated and then we were descending to Ampleforth where a signpost claimed five miles to our destination.
However we didn’t take that turn, instead passing through Oswaldkirk before climbing again before dropping into Ryedale from Nunnington. Those five miles ended up being closer to ten before, in a screech of brakes, we pulled up at the Black Swan at the top of the market place. We hadn’t done bad on time, the church clock was striking twelve as we stacked our bikes in the hotel yard.
“Gab? Amanda?” called from the hotels steps.
“Wassup, Mum?”
“We’re on a bit of a tight timetable, we need to be off for one, we’re getting a train from Thirsk just after two.”
“How far’s that?”
“Caro reckons the direct route over Sutton Bank is about fifteen miles, you gonna be okay with that?”
“Guess so.”
“Well let’s get inside and fed.” She suggested.
The hostelry were well organised, we had a pre-booked meal, apparently we’d selected before leaving York – I guess Mum decided for me and Mand, anyhow ‘Bond, two chilli, one soup, one quiche’ arrived almost as quickly as we were seated. I wasn’t upset by chilli, I’d have probably picked it myself but it would’ve been nice to have had the choice. Caro fetched drinks, disgusting pub lemonade – at least back home it comes out of a bottle.
To be fair the chilli wasn’t bad, the accompanying chips were real chips and the food filled a hole I didn’t realise I had. As you might imagine, with a room full of women there was a constant buzz of chatter as twenty, thirty different conversations crossing the room. People came to our table to exchange pleasantries, we were just finishing our food when our attention was gained by the older woman from last night.
“Ladies, can I just have your attention for a minute or two?”
The hubbub reduced and the woman went on.
“I know some of you, including our guests from Germany, are leaving us here so I’d just like, on behalf of the BLCA I’d like to thank you all for coming to York this weekend, I think we’ve all enjoyed ourselves.”
“Here, here!” someone called out.
“I think you’ll all join me in thanking our World Champions, Jenny and Gaby Bond for taking the time to travel over to be with us and wish them every success for the future. So if you’d please show your appreciation.”
There ensued a bout of not always ladylike cheering which Mum enjoyed and I endured. I felt a bit put out on Mand’s behalf that she hadn’t been mentioned, she got a medal and came from Germany too, she didn’t say anything but I’m sure she felt perhaps a little sidelined.
“Thanks for the invite,” I told Mary.
“Thanks for coming.”
“It’s been a good weekend, I’ve enjoyed it,” which certainly wasn’t a lie.
“So you going straight to the airport then?”
“No we’re meeting Dad and the girls at the Euro League cross at Roundhay in Leeds, then they go with the bikes to catch the ferry and we go to the airport.”
“Hope you make it,” Mary noted.
“Me too.”
“Bum,” Caro pronounced after checking her timepiece, “we need to make tracks.”
Of course we couldn’t just up and leave, we had to go through the niceties with our hosts and other well wishers, by the time we’d extricated our bikes we had fifty five minutes to reach Thirsk station. It was going to be eyeballs out to make it and my legs are still feeling the ride out from York.
We set off and I was in trouble as soon as we crossed the river, the A170 climbing quite steeply up to Sproxton where the others waited for me.
“I think we’d best go around through Ampleforth, Jen, Gab is gonna struggle up to the top of the Bank, it’s a bit further but without any big climbs.”
“You know the way, Caro,”
“Sorry, my legs are like jelly.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo, we’ll get there.”
Maddy Bell 22.02.16
Of course that didn’t mean there was no climbing just a lot less. Mum and Caro took turns pushing me up the rest of the climb then we dropped to Ampleforth, the road climbed steadily but at a low grade through Wass, past Byland Abbey (I knew there was an abbey around here somewhere!) and on to Kilburn, the white horse invisible from below the escarpment. We dropped through Bagby into the wide basin of Swaledale, we had fifteen minutes to cover five miles – it was gonna be tight!
Mum took the lead and got her head down, I was tucked behind, Mand on my wheel with Caro acting as sweeper. The road was flat and we were all puffing as we rode onto the platform literally seconds before the 15.05 local drew to a halt. We loaded ourselves on board with some assistance from the conductor guard chappy.
“Where to ladies?”
“Crossgates please,” Caro requested.
“Singles?”
“Please,”
He busied himself with his ticket machine, “hard ride?”
Well duh!
“Up from York to Helmsley, took us a bit longer than we thought across to Thirsk,” Mum noted.
“That’s a fair old ride, takes me all my time to ride to work, that’s twenty six eighty please.”
It wasn’t the newest train, a two-car diesel but there were seats available for which I was grateful.
“You okay Gab?” Mand asked.
“I think so, I am so out of condition,” I admitted.
“That last bit was pretty intense.”
“No kidding,” Caro agreed.
“We made it didn’t we?” Mum pointed out.
It only took fifteen minutes to get back to York, after a brief stop we were on our way once again. Even with stops it only took another twenty minutes to reach our stop, once outside it took another fifteen minutes to get to Roundhay. It was almost spot on four and not far off dark when we reached the Apollinaris bus, once more out of breath and decidedly dishevelled.
“I was just gonna ring to see where you were,” Dad observed, “everyone okay?”
“Just about,” Mum told him, “Gab is a bit the worse for wear.”
“How’d the girls get on?” Manda asked.
“They both podiumed,” Dad beamed, “Anita top and Erika bottom, Carsten’s with them at the post race.”
“Cool!” I allowed.
“There showers Dave?” Caro enquired.
“Some of those Porta shower things,” he advised.
“Come on then girls, don’t want to be stinky on the plane!”
Dad dropped the three of us off at Leeds Central fifteen minutes before our train was due.
“I’ll see you two in the New Year,” Caro told us.
“You’ve got the presents?” I asked.
“I’ve got the presents, they’ll have them before the day, don’t worry.”
“Good to see you again Caro,” Mum mentioned.
“Go on or you’ll miss your train,” Dad opined.
Dad was dropping Caro off then they were straight down the M62 to Hull and the ferry home. It’s a bit weird that they leave Hull at almost the same time we leave Manchester, we get home tonight, they’ll get back about lunchtime tomorrow!
We hadn’t got as much luggage going home, Dad was taking our cases so it was literally just coats, handbags and ourselves. It seemed a little weird heading to the airport with no luggage, there was us and then there were the multi case passengers filling the doorways with luggage. I fell asleep on the cross Pennine journey, not that you could see anything with the darkness beyond the window pretty complete.
I woke when we reached Manchester Victoria then sat in a nervous state the rest of the way out to the airport. Why did they build the station so far from the terminals? We had time but you know what its like, everyone wants to get checked in as soon as possible. I had a panic when I couldn’t find my passport but of course it was hiding in that safe pocket – grrr!
After all the rushing our flight was then delayed – it was annoying but it did give us time to get a burger and fries, we haven’t eaten for hours! Eventually, well about forty minutes late, our flight was called and it felt like we were going home.
It was of course now after ten when we finally cleared customs in Dusseldorf.
“I need some coffee before we set off,” Mum advised.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“There’s a place just along there,” Mand pointed.
“Come on then.”
We walked along to what turned out to be a restaurant.
“Anyone hungry?” Mum enquired.
I didn’t see much after we joined the southbound autobahn an hour or so later, talk about dog-tired.
“Gab love, we’re home,” Mum’s voice broke through my torpor.
“Hmm?”
“We’re home kiddo.”
I stretched and looked around me, “where’s Mand?”
“Already inside, we left you until we had the place open.”
“Time is it?”
“Nearly one.”
I gathered my stuff then followed Mum into Schloss Bond. I needed no encouragement in heading to my eyrie; I was asleep again almost as my head hit the pillow.
“You look like poop,” Steff observed as I slid into the booth.
“Thank you for pointing that out.”
“Just saying,” she defended her statement.
“Take it you got back late?” Nen suggested.
“After one,” I told them, “the flight was delayed and then we ate before we set off from the airport.”
“The jet setting life,” Brid mentioned.
“Good trip though yeah?” Con queried.
“Different,” I allowed, “How’d the cabin go?”
“We should clear two thousand?” Pia suggested.
“Brill.”
It’s Chrimbo week, we only have school until Thursday and I don’t suppose we’ll be doing much anyway. My legs still feel boneless today, I can’t believe I struggled to ride eighty k’s yesterday and that was so embarrassing coming out of Helmsley, I’m glad no one else saw me.
“Gab!”
“Oh its you, what’s up?”
“Good weekend?”
“Okay I guess, so?”
“Oh right, er dad wanted to know if your lot want to come for dinner next Sunday.”
“I’ll have to ask when I get home, my Gran’s coming over.” I mentioned.
“That’s cool,” Max allowed.
“You helping take the cabin down later?”
“Yeah, we’re gonna store the stuff in one of our stables.”
“Ready for next time.”
“As long as you girls don’t want to change everything, oh yeah what are we doing with the costumes?”
“Not sure, I’ll ask the others, we should probably wear them when we go to the Kinderhaus on Thursday.”
“You’re probably right, thought I’d seen the last of wearing hose.”
‘Wish I had,’ I mumbled.
“What?”
“Er nothing, just thinking.”
“Are we wearing the costumes to the Kinderhaus?” I queried as I unpacked my lunch.
“I think we should,” Steff opined.
“We get the boys in hose again!” Brid cackled.
“Don’t be mean,” Pia mentioned, “they’ve been good sports.”
“And we might need their muscles again,” Con suggested.
“Okay!” a chastened Brid allowed.
“So that’s yes then?”
“Agreed,” Nena answered.
“I’ll let the lads know then,” I proposed.
“We’re invited to the Strechau’s on Boxing Day,” I told my parental units.
“You do remember your Gran will be here?”
“She’s invited too,” I advised.
“Well it would save me cooking,” Mum supplied.
“Who cooking?” I seem to recall I’ve got volunteered to cook on Sunday.
“Okay it’ll save you slaving over the stove.”
“So can we go?”
“You seem very keen,” Dad pointed out.
“Well Wilhelm is a good cook.”
“No other reason young lady? A certain young man perhaps?” Mum teased.
“No way!”
“When do you go home?” I asked Mand as we sorted out the weekends washing.
“Thursday, its gonna be a bit weird.”
“You’re gonna miss the presentation at the Kinderhaus.” I told her.
“Bum! Oh well I’m sure you guys can cope without me.”
“Its not fair, you’re missing all the fun.”
“I promised mum I’d go home for Christmas.”
“Still, it won’t be the same without you.”
Maddy Bell 05.03.2016
Of course Drea Rose was too young to understand what was going on around her, next year perhaps, but it didn’t stop her being entranced by the twinkling lights everywhere. For her part, Bernie was determined that her daughter’s first Christmas would be special, even if it would be restrained. Indeed money was tight, she got some from the SS but she was squirreling away as much as she could ready for Germany.
“What about this?” Cheryl Rose asked of her daughter.
“It’s a lot of money for something she won’t get much wear out of.”
“You’re probably right, oooh that’s nice,” the elder Rose exclaimed pulling the quilted romper from the rail.
“Mum, she’s six months, she’s only just crawling.”
“Mark my words, you’ll soon be wishing she can only crawl, you were walking under a year.”
“Was not!”
“Well okay, not exactly walking exactly but certainly toddling, she’ll be the same.”
Cheryl was frightened for her daughter and grandchild, the Social Services were paying her family far too much attention, there was clearly a hidden agenda. She’d heard the stories of what amounted to State sponsored abduction and adoption – supposedly to protect the children. Protect them from what? Less intelligent parents? Poverty? It was never clear exactly what the grounds were and she’d heard of cases where the adoption had gone bad, the child ending up in care – how was that right?
They weren’t going to deny her at least this, Drea’s first Christmas, whatever happens in the future, they would have their memories. Well nothing is going to happen, things will be fine.
“Come on, gorgeous, let’s get you inside,” Bern told her slumbering daughter as she released her car seat from its restraints.
They’d been out for quite a while, just the women of the Rose household, a trip to do Christmas shopping in Nottingham. Bern bumped the door shut and walked up to the house and inside, Drea still asleep in her arms.
“I’ve put the kettle on,” Cheryl called from the kitchen.
“Okay.”
She’d barely put the sleeping child into the pram when the doorbell sounded.
“I’ll get it,” Cheryl called out.
She must’ve been waiting for them, ‘Mike’ of the SS that is; it was nearly five o’clock, not exactly visiting time.
“Oh it’s you,” Bern’s heart sank as her tormentor let herself into the living room.
“Nice day out?”
“It was Christmas shopping.”
“Andrea’s quiet?”
“She’s asleep, it was a long day for her.”
“Do you think taking her shopping with all those crowds was a good idea?”
“She was hardly the only baby there,” Bern pointed out.
“That doesn’t make it right, let’s have a look at her.”
“Do you have to, she’s worn out, she needs her sleep.”
“Trying to cover something up?” the SS officer leapt on Bern’s words.
“Like what?”
“I won’t know unless I check her will I?”
There was no way of winning, Bern sighed and fetched her daughter.
“There’s a parcel on the side for you,” Cheryl mentioned when Bern got back from the Mother and Toddler session.
“That kettle on, it’s freezing out there.”
“Forecast is snow for the weekend.”
“White Christmas,” Bern beamed.
“Are you not gonna look at your parcel?”
“I’m not expecting anything,” she fetched the parcel, the address was printed but there weren’t any stamps on it.
“Must’ve come while I was doing the bathroom, it was on the back step when I emptied the bin,” Cheryl told her daughter.
It took some getting into; whoever had wrapped it had not meant it to open easily. Once inside she found several seasonally wrapped packages, presents, but who from? A further furtle revealed an envelope that as you might guess held a Christmas card.
“So, who are they from?” the senior Rose mother queried.
“Hang on,” Bern opened the card, “Gaby the daft moo, there’s a note.”
Dear Bern,
Frohes Weihnacht!
The two little packages are for you, one from me, the other from Mart. The other stuff is for the babe, can’t have her without Chrimbo prezzies! The bigger one is from the Angels; I think maybe Mart put in too.
Speak soon
Gab
The small packages were, well, small, those intended for her daughter somewhat larger and by a quick feel, of the clothing / soft toy persuasion.
“It’s just explaining who they are from.”
“That’s thoughtful of her,” Cheryl mentioned.
“I feel awful, Mum, I sent the Bond’s a card but I didn’t even get Gab a present.”
“I’m sure she’s not expecting one, they know things are tight for you.”
“But I should’ve got them something.”
The kettle started whistling.
Bern opened the card next to her breakfast setting, the Rose’s always had a full breakfast Christmas day, dinner would be late after all.
“Thanks, Mum, Dad!” she fanned out the bank notes, five twenty Euro notes.
“Thought it would be more useful than a new dress or shoes,” Cheryl supplied.
“It is, will be.”
With what she’d already put away this made nearly six hundred euros, not a lot but it was something. Of course she needed some money for January but she wasn’t expecting to be buying much more than nappies and formula.
The packet from Gab turned out to be a pair of pretty silver drop earrings, maybe a bit impractical with a baby grabbing anything in reach but only a mother would think in those terms. Marty’s offering was a nice silver bracelet, plain and simple but definitely a bit classier than the teen trinkets she and the gang had exchanged over the years, this was jewellery to keep.
Of course Drea wasn’t able to actually open her own presents, Mum and Gramps got to do the honours and of course the youngest member of the household had the biggest pile of packages. Well-meaning gifts from neighbours, practical gifts from family, inappropriate stuff from friends. That translated into knitted jackets and mittens, sensible clothing and soft toys of the animal variety.
The baby of course just chuckled and gurgled at everything, the flickering of the TV and tree lights keeping more of her attention. It wasn’t a big event, Christmas in the Rose household, and this year was no different, a diet of TV, overly large dinner, Queen’s Speech before a semi comatose evening in front of James Bond. They’d had their day with Drea, a day to remember, Jack had taken a bunch of photographs, whatever happens in the future no one could take today away.
“You sure, Mum?”
“Go! When was the last time you went out?”
“Not sure,” Bern admitted.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t had invitations, but trips to the pub or clubbing in Mansfield were hardly age appropriate even without the spectre of ‘Mike’ finding out. This invite she could accept, Helen had rung suggesting a trip to Sheffield for a cinema visit.
“Get on with you, enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll try.”
Manda Joyce dropped the two teens outside the megaplex.
“Call when you come out, Jackie only lives around the corner.”
“Okay, Mum,” Helen allowed.
“Enjoy yourselves.”
The girls watched the car drive off before heading into the huge metal clad cube. The place was teeming with families and teens, as busy as any Saturday, everyone trying to fill the time between religious and secular holidays.
“So what’re are we seeing?” Bern asked.
“Not sure,” Helen admitted scanning the options, “Corpse Bride’s on in about ten minutes or the Dukes of Hazard in fifteen.”
“I can’t believe they’ve still got Star Wars on.”
They settled on Corpse Bride, neither girl particularly interested in an hour of car racing and stunts based on a twenty year old TV series. Helen bought a huge cup of cola, Bern got a sack of salty popcorn and they made their way to the auditorium.
“Well that was different,” Bern allowed when they came back out into the entrance area.
“Bit weird,” Helen agreed.
Helen rang her mother to arrange collection.
“She’ll be about fifteen minutes.”
“Fancy getting a burger,” Bern offered.
“Kay.”
They set off towards the BK at the opposite end of the entertainment complex.
“So you doing your GCSE’s at the College?” Helen enquired as they walked.
“Not sure I’m even doing them.”
“You have to do them,” Helen opined.
“I missed a lot of school, I’m not sure I can do them.”
“But you had classes in Germany and you know after,” Helen mentioned.
“I’m still behind though.”
Of course it wasn’t just lack of preparation that might prevent Bern’s exam taking. It was tempting to tell Helen of her plans but common sense said not to do it, it might not happen yet.
The queue at the burger place was silly; Mrs Joyce arrived before they were even close to getting served so the idea was put on ice.
“Good film?”
“It was okay,” Helen allowed.
“What did you see then?”
“Corpse Bride,” Bern offered.
“It certainly sounds different, so you girls want to eat before we get back to Warsop?”
They stopped at the Harvester just outside Worksop, Bern felt a bit awkward, even more so when Amanda wouldn’t let her pay her share.
“No, Bernie, you’re my guest, you need the money more than I do.”
Maddy Bell 23.02.16
“And one and two and three and four…aaand finish!”
Well okay we were far from perfect but we are getting there. Hannah has been filming this evening’s session for Miss, I mean Fran Cowlishaw, she’s going to edit out the rubbish then email the file to me later. The good thing is, that despite my weekend’s exertions I’ve been able to take a reasonably active part for the first time in – well months.
“It’s coming, girls!” Hannah enthused as we all relaxed.
“We took a lot longer to get here with the Foresters ,” I allowed.
“No Garde on Friday of course but we will have cheer on Monday,” Hannah announced, “have a good Weihnachts, see you all next week.”
“You two grabbing a lift,” Pia enquired as I gathered my stuff.
“If we can, Dad only got home just before we came out. I won’t be long, just need a word with Hannah.”
“Kay, come on, Mand, we can talk about the Baroness outside.”
Mand’s German has improved somewhat; I guess she got the drift of Pia’s jibe as the pair departed chuckling.
“So I’ll get this to you as soon as,” Hannah supplied waving the camera as we convened in the office.
“Okay, I’ll get it off to her before the weekend.”
“Do you think we’re ready?”
“Ready?”
“To perform, the committee are keen to see some return on their investment.”
To be honest I hadn’t given anything beyond the cheer sessions at the Tanz club a lot of thought. Of course, from day one the intention was to enter competitions and do ‘entertainment’ slots at local events. Clearly the club hierarchy consider us as some sort of commodity, I guess they are funding us – uniforms and so on but I wasn’t aware of any specific urgency in getting the team up to speed.
“Well we aren’t gonna win any prizes,” I observed, “but I guess we’re passable.”
“Sorry, Gab, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot but there’s a committee meeting tomorrow and they’ll want an update.”
“Kay, I need to shoot, my lift’ll be waiting.”
“Sure, have a good Weihnachts.”
“And you, tschuss.”
“Penny for ‘em,” Mand offered as we loaded the washer - again.
“Oh nothing really, just something Han said earlier.”
“Like?” she pressed.
“Like taking the cheer team to the next level.”
“Which is? These yours?” she held up a pair of knickers.
“Um.”
“Bit racy.”
“I think they’re Mum’s,” I supplied.
She rolled her eyes, “Now we know where you get it from.”
“Get what from?”
“Your fashion sense.”
“Fashion sense? As if! I’m hopeless.”
“Says she with the wardrobe of designer frocks,” Mand mocked.
“What’s that got to do with Mum’s pants?”
“You don’t wear BHS knickers with those fancy togs, I bet you’ve got a collection of lacy undies up there.”
My face started to change colour.
“You have!”
“Only a few, you must have some too.” I stated.
“Never said I hadn’t, anyhow what’s this ‘next level’ thing?”
Geez, she switches about so quickly I can’t keep up sometimes. I don’t think I’ll ever get how the female brain works.
“Er right, erm, oh yeah, the committee want us to start doing some show type stuff? Maybe competitions.”
“That was the idea wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess. I was just expecting to be a bit more polished first.”
“Gaby Bond, you can be such a perfectionist! I’m not exactly an expert but I reckon we’re ready.”
I didn’t say anything but she was including herself in that ‘we’.
“I guess we’re not too bad,” I allowed.
Tuesday. Chrimbo is like four days away, school finishes Thursday lunch, we’ve got the presentation in the afternoon then Gran gets here on Friday. Talk about busy, it only seems like we were in Japan a couple of weeks ago but I guess my issues and the time off school have thrown my internal calendar out. Of course Mand goes back to England on Thursday, to spend the festive season with her family, she really is gonna miss all the fun.
It might be Christmas but for those of us with exams in the New Year there’s no let up, no ‘easy’ periods oh no, we get more revision!
“If I see another sine tangent calculation…” I complained between bites of my frikadel sandwich.
“You should be alright after lunch, Gab’s, Herr Viessner for an hour,” Con reminded me.
“Oh joy,” I sighed.
English – it might be my native tongue but that doesn’t mean I’m brilliant at it. Of course everyone assumes that I am up to and including Herr Viessner so I get picked on for everything.
“When does Manda go home?” Pia enquired.
“Her flight’s Thursday morning,” I volunteered.
“She’ll miss the presentation,” Stef noted.
“What about her presents?” Nena put in.
Bum!
“Any chance of using the Stube P?”
“It’s booked for parties all week.” She advised.
“We can use the coffee shop,” Con volunteered.
“You sure?” I queried.
“I’ll ring but it shouldn’t be a problem, you know Papa.”
“Everyone make it? Say seven?” I proposed.
“Should be okay,” Brid agreed.
“I might be a few after,” Steff told us, “my Oma is coming to eat.”
Well that’s that sorted now we just need to get through English.
“Didn’t think we were doing anything this week,” Mand observed as we got ready to walk round to Thesing’s.
“It was a bit er, last minute,” I admitted.
“Not that I’m complaining about cake,” Mand filled.
“Don’t be too late, girls,” Dad requested, “I’ve got an early start.”
“You going to see the Luchow’s?”
“Won’t be a mo, Gab,” Mand told me.
“Uh huh, I need to sort some stuff out with Dieter.”
“Could you take something for Gret for me?”
“Nothing big, I’ve only got my briefcase.”
“It’s only small.”
“Leave it out on the table then.”
Mand clattered back into the kitchen, “Ready?”
“So when are you back here?” Steff asked Miss de Vreen.
“Day after New Year, back to school on the third.” She sighed.
“At least you don’t come straight back to exams,” I told her.
“More cake?” Con offered.
“I’m stuffed,” Mand allowed.
“I might manage a bit,” I volunteered.
“Might’ve guessed you’d be up for some,” Brid stated.
“Don’t know where she puts it,” Nena mentioned.
“Fast metabolism?” I proposed.
“Hollow legs,” Pia chuckled.
“But so pretty,” Steff added.
“Thanks for the presents, guys,” Mand told the gang as we prepared to depart.
“Thank you for yours,” Steff started, “take care in England.”
“Yeah don’t eat too much of that Yorkshires pudding, Gab goes on about,” Brid put in.
“Safe there, Mum can’t make it to save herself!” Mand supplied.
There followed an exchange of hugs, I could see Mand was getting a bit emotional.
“See you in the Neu Jahre, Fröhes Weihnacht!” Pia offered.
“Merry Christmas!”
“Safe flight!”
“Take care!”
“Thanks, Gab,” Mand told me as we walked back to Bond Acres.
“For what?”
“For tonight, it was your idea right?”
“Guilty as charged,” I admitted.
I suddenly found myself engulfed by de Vreen, “Urgh!”
“I wish I wasn’t going.”
“It’s only for a week,” I pointed out.
“Ten days,” she corrected.
“Ten days, whatever, you’ll be back before you know it.”
We walked the remaining distance in silence, Mand clearly lost in thought.
Three days left to Christmas, I might be nearly sixteen but I still get a bit giddy over the festivities – presents, parties, food. That’s all a given but I enjoy the atmosphere, as we say in Germany, the Heimat of the season, decorations, the markets, family celebrations. Sugar, Gret’s present! I leaped from my bed, found the packet on my desk and crept down to the kitchen, why’s the light on?
I pushed the door open, “Jules? I thought you were in Bonn tonight?”
Maddy Bell 02.03.16
Wednesday dawned – I would like to say bright and sunny but no, it was more like November, damp and murky. The weather reflected the mood in Chez Bond this morning, I was glad when Jules and Mand left to be honest. Apparently Jules and Boris had a falling out so rather than stay with her friend Sarah in Bonn she’d fled back here to Dernau – I’m sure it’ll blow over, it has every other time they’ve fallen out.
Anyway, I felt sorry for Mand who had to put up with the Dark One’s grumps all the way to their school.
“Snap to it Gaby,” Mum chivvied.
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied, “you seen my Handy?”
“Tried in your bag?”
“Looked there.”
“Well look again.”
So of course there it was, hiding in a corner.
“Oops.”
“One day young lady,” Mum allowed shaking her head.
“What’re we eating tonight?”
“Not sure, why?”
“I thought we could have something special as Mand goes home tomorrow.”
“Such as?”
“She likes Leberkase,” I suggested.
“I guess we can run to that, fried taters?”
“What else?”
“Okay, I’m going to the Metzgerie after training anyway otherwise we’ll be eating frozen schnitzel for Christmas. Now shake a leg or you’ll be late.”
“Yes Mum.”
“Dad’s gonna drop us off and pick us up from here tomorrow,” Pia told us as we ate lunch.
“What’re we gonna do about our costumes?” Brid queried.
“Change here I guess,” Steff proposed.
“I’m certainly not coming to school in it!” Con stated.
“Best tell the lads,” Nena mentioned.
“Guess that’s me,” I sighed. Somewhere along the line I seem to have become head of inter gender relations between the Angels and our male assistants.
“You do it so well Gab,” Steff noted with a smirk.
“… So Herr Sebenschuh’s picking us all up straight from school,” I advised the collected lads.
“And we have to wear our costumes?” Ralf asked.
“Well we are,” I pointed out.
“Come on Ralfie, its only a couple of hours,” Marty pointed out.
“You all got hose to wear?” I enquired.
“Shush Gab, people’ll get strange ideas,” Max stated in a stage whisper.
“If you are worried about people knowing you wear hose,” I started, “I’ve got some news – just about the whole valley have already seen you in the costumes.”
“But that was different,” Freddy put in.
“Gab’s right guys,” Mart allowed.
“Its alright for you girls, you’re used to putting the damned stuff on,” Ralf grumbled.
“You could take your time putting the hose on at home so you don’t ruin it, just change the rest here,” I suggested.
“Guess that’s that sorted then,” Max mentioned.
Boys, such wimps! It’s only a pair of tights.
Unusually the Bonn school contingent got home before me today, they finished classes lunchtime so, delayed only by some last minute Christmas shopping, they caught the train home.
“So you and Boris talking again?” I queried as I stowed my coat.
“He’s lucky,” my sister stated, “but it’s the last time!”
“You said that last time,” I pointed out.
“Well I mean it this time.”
‘And it is Christmas,’ I mumbled under my breath. “So where’s Manda?”
“Upstairs packing I think,” Goth Girl supplied.
“Hi girls,” Mum offered pushing into the kitchen, laden with bags of supplies. “Gab, can you fetch the rest from the car, Jules, kettle.”
Dad was going to be late so it was just us girls eating tonight, with three perpetually hungry cyclists in our number it scarcely makes a difference to the quantity needed. The biggest preparation job for the evening spread was of course peeling and chopping the spuds but once done its fifteen minutes tops for the Bratkartoffeln. The Leberkase only needs a couple of minutes in the pan each side and the eggs – well by the time the potato was ready everything else was waiting.
I think I made the right call, its not to everyone’s taste, I can take it or leave it but de Vreen’s eyes lit up when she saw what was on the plate.
“Somebody likes your cooking Gab,” my sister chuckled.
“Just as well considering how often you do it,” I noted.
“Girls, behave!” Mum warned.
“Sorry Mum,”
“Yeah soz,” I added. “So you like Mand?”
“Mmmm? Mmmm!”
I think that means yes.
“I’ve put your prezzies by the tree,” Mand told me as I prepared to leave for Thesing’s.
“You got yours?”
“In my case, wish I didn’t have to go.”
“Its only a week.”
“I s’pose,” she allowed, “don’t have too much fun without me.”
“Try not to, shitza, I’m late!” we hugged for a bit longer than necessary, “see you next year!”
“See you Gab’s, I’ll ring.”
“Make sure you do.”
“Gab, time?” Dad prompted.
“Going, tschussie!”
“Bye Gabs.”
I sort of speed walked around to the bakery – we’re getting a lift from Pia’s dad if you recall, how can one dress weigh so much? My arms were falling off by the time I arrived and my legs were frozen. Why? Well to save time later I decided to wear a skirt and hose, it’s not my fault the weather’s returned to the dry but very cold we had a few days ago.
“I’m glad we aren’t riding,” Steff opined.
“Not many,” I agreed, “wish I’d put Hose on.”
Nena with leggings under her denim skirt grinned smugly. Why didn’t I think of that?
Helmut was talking with Tomas over coffee so we had a few minutes yet.
“Are we taking lunch?” Brid asked.
“Best had, we can eat on the way to the Kinderhaus ,” Steff proposed.
“Come on Gab’s,” Con suggested, “lets get the sandwiches.”
“Usual everyone?” I queried.
The last day, well last morning of term, especially Christmas is always a mixture of excitement and sadness. Excitement to be leaving school if only for a short time, sadness that we’ll possibly not see some friends and classmates until we return. Today that was mixed in with some apprehension over the afternoons visit to the Kinderhaus.
Of course there wasn’t exactly a lot of actual schoolwork going on, well after the first couple of periods anyhow when we returned to Fr Dürst supposedly for maths.
“So you guys doing much over Weihnachts?” Fr Dürst enquired interrupting Con and my discussion.
“Family stuff mostly,” Con offered.
“We’re going to the Kinderhaus this afternoon,” I put in.
“Oh of course, you have the presents to give,” our teacher recalled.
“And we raised €1400 with the Kaffee Haus,” I added.
“As much as that? Very impressive, well done!”
“Thanks,” Con mentioned, “a lot of it was Gab’s idea.”
“Quite the little entrepreneur eh Fraulein Bond?”
Okay so I blushed, it happens!
By the time we emerged from changing most Silverberg Gymnasium pupils were long gone.
“I feel like a right prawn,” Ralf grumbled as we walked through the quiet hallways.
“Give over,” Mart told the moaner.
“Ot oh,” Steff allowed as we reached the doors.
“What?” Nena enquired.
“Max, give Gab’s a hand up the steps,” Pia suggested.
“Sure,” he agreed offering me an arm.
Look I wouldn’t’ve accepted except this dress is long and I’ve got heels on and I’m a midget – it’s only a few steps. If I’d been paying attention I wouldn’t’ve been hanging onto von Strechau’s arm when we reached street level to find maybe a hundred staff and pupils waiting for us. Sugar! Bum!
“Ladies, gentlemen,” Boxberg started, “you continue month after month, year after year to make me, us,” she waved her arm around the small gathering, “very proud. You all have a lot on your plates, hobbies, jobs and your upcoming exams but yet you still found time to not just raise funds for the Kinder Haus but do it with style and panache.”
She paused which seemed to be the signal for some clapping and cheering.
“I know you are even now off to the Kinder Haus to hand over what you have collected the last couple of weekends on the market, we, that is the staff and pupils of Silverberg Gymnasium would like to add this to your fundraising efforts, Fraulein Bond?”
“Um?”
“Come on Gab,” Max prompted.
And so it was that, still hanging onto Max’s arm I ended up front and centre to receive this extra donation from the Head. A camera appeared from somewhere to record the occasion – I’m now immortalised wearing Mittelalter costume on Max’s arm, he of course in his sexy doublet and hose!
Maddy Bell 05.03.16
The staff at the children’s home were, of course, expecting us. There was of course another photo opportunity for which I made sure that I wasn’t hanging onto von Strechau! The kids in the home* are all under twelve and here for many different reasons, they were assembled in the TV room where, much like last year we did a short round of carols with the kinder. Then it was present time, everyone got gifts – excess stuff would be held in reserve or put into the house supply.
It was late afternoon before we returned to the asthmatic Sebenschuh minibus for the journey back up the valley.
Christmas Eve, Weihnachts, is of course the main day, the important day of the holiday here in Germany. Shops and markets close early, families travel to relations, cooks cook, the TV schedule actually improves – not difficult there – yeah, a family day. With decorations up, the dark one helping Mum with the dinner preparations and Dad getting ready to visit the airport for a third day in a row, this time to collect Gran, I was at a loose end.
I sort of suggested I’d go to Con’s for a bit so I dressed in jeans and a chunky jumper, snow is forecast but not until Sunday.
“What you up to, Gab?”
“Just popping round to Con’s for a bit.”
“Back for six, your Gran’ll be here,” Mum mentioned.
“Okay.”
Why walk when you can ride? I chucked my bag in the Schauff’s basket before re-adjusting my headgear and setting off for the bakery.
“Brrrr!” I allowed once inside the Thesing’s place
“Shoulda put your ski jacket on,” Con suggested leading the way up to the apartment.
“Didn’t look too bad.” I opined.
“Yeah, chocolate?”
“You bet!” I agreed.
What did we do? What do teenage girls do at any time? Gossip, sip at our drinks, gossip, play with our phones and as it’s Weihnachts, eat some Christmas biscuits and maybe some Stollen. I’d been there about an hour when the phone rang.
Brrrrng, Brrrrng! Brrrrng, Brrrrng!
“Can you get that, Connie luv,” Therese called through.
“Sure,” Con replied picking it up as the next ring started, “abend Thesing…oh hi Pia…nothing much, Gab’s here stuffing Stollen…yeah…Monday? I’ll ask her,” she covered the mouthpiece, “P want’s to know if you want to go to Bonn Monday, her dad’s volunteered to drive.”
“I think so, have to check though with my Oma here.”
“She says yes,” Con told our friend, “yeah okay, Fröhes Weihnacht.”
Well that’s something to do at any rate, something other than training and cheer practice.
“Fröhes Weihnacht!” I called out.
“Who was it?” Frau Thesing enquired from the kitchen.
“Only Pia.”
“Can you take your dad a coffee, he’s been cleaning those machines for hours.”
Of course for the bakery Christmas is an opportunity for jobs to get done that often get left, Thesing’s is usually open every day, they are closed for a whole day and a half over the holiday! Which reminds me, I can start doing some shifts again in the New Year – that is if they want me. To be honest it’s not just the money, that’s useful of course, no I actually enjoy the work, it’s not school, it’s not bikes but it is fun.
“You girls fancy earning a few euros?” Herr Thesing queried from the door, his Handy gripped in one hand.
“Always,” Con replied.
“Sure,” I agreed.
Tomas spoke into his phone, “Helm? Got two volunteers here…okay, see you later, tschuss.”
“What’s up, love?” Therese asked from the kitchen where the smell of the Thesing’s Weihnachts dinner was setting my taste buds alight.
“That was Helmut,” Tomas told the assembled females.
“I got that, what have the girls volunteered for?” Con’s Mum opined.
“If you’d let me finish, apparently a Reisebusse has broken down in Ahrweiler, they are stranded for a couple of days and need feeding. Helmut has food but needs extra hands.”
“Waitressing?” Con suggested.
“That sort of thing,” Tomas agreed, “he’ll pick you up at five to take you down.”
Sugar! I’m supposed to be home to meet Gran at six!
“What’ll we wear?” I asked my bestie.
“Dunno? Our bakery stuff?”
“Not very Christmassy,” I mentioned, “and before you suggest it, I’m not wearing the Mittelalter.”
“I bet Pia’s doing it too, let’s see what she’s wearing.”
“Yeah,” Con confirmed, “Gab thinks we should make some effort………could do, hang on,” she covered the mouthpiece, “Pia suggested Trachten?”
“Dirndl?” I suggested.
“Uh huh, we have got the Weinkönigin things,” Con noted.
“Okay,” I agreed – well it was me that suggested we make the stranded tourists feel a bit better.
“She says okay…yeah five o’clock, see you then, tschussie!”
“You’re back early, spud,” Dad mentioned when I rushed indoors ten minutes later.
“Er yeah, where’s Mum?”
“Gone to fetch your gran with your sister.”
“Bum! I thought you were going?”
“What’s up, kiddo?”
“Erm, I’ve got a job.”
“Oh?”
“This evening, Pia’s dad needs some bodies for a couple of hours.”
“And you volunteered I’m guessing, what about dinner?”
“I should be back before then.”
“I was meaning cooking it? You’re mother has put the meat on, you were supposed to do the roasts and veg.” He pointed out.
Shitza!
“If you can get them out while I change I’ll do them before I go,” I volunteered.
“What time does Helmut want you?”
“He’s picking us up at five.”
Dave looked at the clock, “Get on with you, I’ll do them or you’ll never get there.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Gaby enthused before bussing him on the cheek and scrambling upstairs.
There is some order to my wardrobe space so finding the red dirndl wasn’t too difficult – it was of course behind the one i was given in Switzerland. But of course there’s more to the outfit than just the dirndl, there’s the blouse, slip, apron and even the right bra. You’d think I could find those rarely used items easily wouldn’t you, they’ll be in a draw neatly folded, waiting to spring into action!
Think again, it took me ten minutes to locate everything and another ten to get dressed. I did a quick job on my hair; Con can put it up when I get back to the bakery.
“I’m off then, Dad, I shouldn’t be late.”
“Ring if you are, I hope you’re wearing a coat?”
“Duh!” I brandished my ski jacket, “See you later.”
Outside there was certainly a chill to the air; if the snow holds off until Monday it’ll be a miracle.
“You look nice, Gaby,” Frau Thesing noted.
“Thanks, I always feel a bit of a fraud wearing one of these,” I admitted.
“Why?”
“Well I’m not even German for starters,” I offered.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Tomas supplied joining us from the bakery ‘kitchen’ with a tray of comestibles. “You speak Deutsche better than the locals, you are part of local ‘society’, you do German exceedingly well for someone who claims not to be German.”
Part of local Society, not sure that’s a positive. Just because I’ve been to a couple of fancy weddings, am friends with Max and spent a year as Weinkönigin doesn’t make me a toff. Let’s face it, the Bond family is pretty ordinary, two working parents, we didn’t even have a family holiday this year.
“Connie!” her dad yelled upstairs, “Get yourself down here.”
Right on cue the rattly roar of the Sebenschuh Weinstube minibus reached our ears as Helmut and Pia arrived.
“Tomas.”
“Helmut,” the two men shook hands.
“Thanks for joining me in this.”
“What are friends for eh? If you tell them I’ll be down with this pair and frühstuck at eight in the morning.”
“Will do, what have you there?”
“Thought some strudel would go down well eh?”
“Spot on I think.”
It didn’t take long to drive down to Bad Neunahr and through to the Hotel Grüner Jäger just outside Ahrweiler’s town wall. Helmut got out and went inside.
“Let’s sort the stuff out,” Pia suggested.
“Only if you tell us how you got that rack, Miss Sebenschuh,” Con stated.
“What this?” Pia indicated her impressive looking chest.
“You know damned well that’s what I mean.”
“Oh alright, I borrowed my sister’s Büstenheber.”
“Büstenheber?” I queried, “That some sort of falsies?”
“Hey, these puppies are all mine!”
“I think I saw one of those at the Trachten shop in Mayen, is it like a BH without cups?” Con asked.
“Uh huh, you put it on over your BH to enhance your assets.”
“Well it certainly does that!” I allowed.
Helmut came out as we started unloading boxes to take inside followed by a young woman with almost white blonde hair in a cute pixie cut.
“Girls, this is Nena the Reisemeisterin.”
“Hi!” we chorused.
“The one in the bus ist mein Töchter Pia und dieser ist ihr freund Connie und Gaby,” Helmut indicated each of us in turn.
“Nice to meet you all, thanks so much for helping,” the Nena woman told us in only very slightly accented German.
“Thank us afterwards,” I suggested.
Maddy Bell 05.03.16
We quickly got the food inside to the kitchen where Helmut explained to Nena what we would be serving up.
“I’m afraid it’s nothing fancy, Grießklößchen suppe to start, Wiener schnitzel, Rotkohl und croquettes for main with strudel for dessert, I’m guessing you have access to Getränke?”
We’d moved into the dining room which as you might expect had semi rustic décor, hunting paraphernalia mixed with some farming equipment – well what would you expect in the Hotel Grüner Jäger?
“It all sounds good to me,” Nena smiled, “we can do coffee and I bought beer and wine so I think we’re covered.”
“You have shop wine?” Herr Sebenschuh, the vintner queried.
“Er yes, what’s wrong?” Nena looked panic stricken whilst the three of us tried to hide our amusement.
“We can’t have that, let’s get the girls organised and we’ll sort it out.”
“Erm, okay.”
“Get the fryers on, Pia,” the boss man instructed, “Gab, Connie if you can make a start on the tables, how many have we?”
“With Dennis and myself, forty?”
“So I think four tables, you will eat with the passengers?”
“Sure,” the still bewildered woman agreed.
“Let’s shuffle some furniture then.”
“I’ll get Den.”
“She’s got a funny accent,” Pia mentioned after Nena and her father left the kitchen a few minutes later, once they’d found the cutlery and table linen.
“And an apple,” Con told us.
“Eh?” I queried.
“You know, Adamsapfel,” she pointed to her throat.
“I didn’t notice, so she’s a he?”
“Well I don’t know any madchen with the apple,” Con pointed out.
“Cute haircut,” Pia offered as she checked the oil level in the fryers.
“You girls okay?” Helmut asked a few minutes later.
“Sure, what’s up?” Pia asked.
“I need to pop back home, I’ll be thirty minutes so put the soup on, bread in baskets on the tables, Pia you know the routine.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Okay, I’ll be as quick as possible.”
It took him a bit longer than the half hour but we weren’t much behind the planned six o’clock start time.
“Ready, girls?”
“As we will be,” I opined.
“Pia, drinks’ orders, you pair start on the soup then help Pia with the drinks, let’s go!”
It made sense for Connie to carry the tray of ready filled soup bowls out to the diners, she’s bigger and stronger than me after all I then delivered them to table. Pia meanwhile started on the drinks’ orders, a limited choice of cola, lemonade, beer or red wine, her father moving to act as barman after the soup was all decanted. Pia isn’t great at English, Herr Viessner despairs at some of her pronunciations, but she managed to make herself understood.
It didn’t occur to any of us until much later that I should’ve been tasked with the job – after all I am English and do have a reasonable grip on the language! We were actually enjoying ourselves and the diners were soon laughing and cracking jokes as the atmosphere relaxed.
The Wiener sauce was happily bubbling away, Rotkohl simmering beside it, only the croquettes and schnitzel needed flashing to be ready to serve.
“How we doing, girls?” Helmut asked as we returned to the kitchen with more dirty dishes.
“Just a couple left, Papa, a few empty glasses,” Pia reported.
“Fine, food first then refills,” Helmut told us.
The first fryer dinged announcing the first batch of schnitzel was ready.
“Okay, Connie if you clear the last suppe please.”
“Sure,” she agreed heading out to the dining room.
“Right, Pia, you do the kohl and sauce, Gab if you can serve to table.”
I got myself a serving cloth; the plates will be hot having been warming for nearly an hour. Helmut started the line with the croquettes and schnitzel, Pia adding cabbage and sauce in a fashion that didn’t say dumped on the plate. There was nearly a disaster when Con nearly collided with my first plates as she returned with the last soup bowls, I barely managed to pull them out of the way in time.
“Oops!” Con mentioned.
“Next time,” I mentioned.
“More speed, less haste,” Helmut suggested.
“Uh huh,” Con agreed.
“Last plates!” Helmut announced ten minutes later.
“Thought we weren’t ever getting there,” his daughter stated.
It seemed never ending, twenty laps, the next plates were waiting by the time I got back to the kitchen each time.
“Glad that’s over,” she sighed as Con took the last delivery out.
“Not yet,” Pia noted, “refills.”
“Urgh!”
“I’ll get the vanilla sauce started,” Helmut added.
We had a further fifteen minutes before we got a chance to catch our breath with a glass of Sprite®. Not that we got long of course, we now had to clear the main course before doing the dessert.
Tomas’ strudel was a simpler job for plating up, Helmut had half of it done before we started the main course clear up began which meant the sauce was all that needed adding on the way to the tables.
“You want to do the coffee, Gaby?” Pia’s dad suggested.
“’Kay,” I agreed – I like doing coffee okay?
“Last round, let’s go!” Helmut enthused.
I hurried into the house, well aware I was late.
“Gran!” I exclaimed.
“Whoa! Calm down, Gab, you’ll knock your gran over,” Dave opined.
Gran held me at arms length.
“Gis a hug.”
I didn’t waste any time in wrapping myself around her.
“I’ve missed you, Gran.”
“And me you.”
“Can we eat now?” Jules interjected.
This is our second German Christmas and the rents decided we’d go native – well up to a point. No turkey, no pigs, no heavy pudding, nope we’ve gone native big style at least as far as the food goes, present opening is still going to be Christmas morning. I was now more normally attired in a skirt and jumper although Gran insisted I keep my dirndl on for dinner – no way am I spending the rest of the night in it though.
It was brilliant having Gran here, it’s like she’s a calming influence on everyone – oh me and Jules still argued but less seriously. After the food and washing up it was time for a board game – nothing too cerebral, just snakes and ladders! It’s simple fun and keeps everyone involved, the rules are simple and Gran trumped the rest of us!
The telly went on for a bit but as it’s all in German – and fairly crap, it wasn’t fair on Gran so we ended up trying to play Mum’s old Mousetrap® game. None of it works of course, there’s more entertainment watching Dad trying to put it together! We were just assembling to walk round to midnight mass when Dads mobile started trilling.
“Bond, oh hi, Helmut… just off to mass…oh that’s alright…tomorrow morning?…ten o’clock, should be fine…I’m sure she will, hang on.”
“Gab? You want to work tomorrow?”
I stopped trying to get my jacket sleeves untangled – I’d got it all twisted up when I got home earlier.
“Tomorrow?”
“After your presents, Helmut’s entertaining your coach people up at the Stube.” Dad told us.
“I suppose so.” Well a few extra euros won’t go amiss; maybe I can buy a coat with anti tangle sleeves.
“Yes or no,” Dad pressed.
“Yes, I’ll do it.”
“She says yes Helmut,” Dad told the caller. “The Grüner Jäger at ten…see you then…I’ll tell them…Fröhes Weihnachts.”
“Everything okay, Dave?” Mum asked.
“Sure, I’ll tell you later, come on guys let’s sing some carols.”
You don’t have to be exactly religious to go to midnight mass, most of the village turn out for it, one of those Heimat moments in life here.
“You working tomorrow?” Con asked as we shuffled into St Johannes Apostel.
“Yeah, I take it you are too?”
“Well it saves me from the telly.”
“I suppose we need to wear the dirndls again?”
“We set a standard tonight,” Con chortled.
“I’m gonna have to get one of those Büstenheber things.”
“Your girls look big enough already.”
“No harm in having extra ammunition,” I suggested.
“I thought you weren’t interested in boys?”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t play with their heads!”
“You are a wicked woman, Gabrielle Bond!”
A few heads swivelled in our direction.
“Gaby.” Mum noted.
“Sorry,” I nearly whispered.
There is of course a religious bit to the evening’s proceedings but most of the congregation were there for social reasons and a bit of a sing-song. The sermon was short and of course its subject matter pretty much pre ordained, I’m pretty sure everyone knows the story. The choir led the carolling, not skilful singing for the most part but enthusiastic at least.
I’ve told you before I’m a crappy singer but I just about carry a tune although I can get a bit carried away. Problem is I really get into it so when the church went silent and I could only hear one voice, mine, I knew I’d mucked up.
“Freut euch, Völker dieser Erde,
Daß er in sein Herz uns nehm'!
Hört der Himmelsbotenlied,
Heil dem neugebor'nen Herrn!
Selig jubelnd nah und fern.
Betet, daß uns Rettung werde,
Christ erstand in Bethlehem!”
My voice trailed off and the assembled mass clapped enthusiastically, look it’s not my fault I blush easily!
Copyright Madeline Bell 18.03.16
I looked out of the Dormer, no snow but the sky looks full of something wintry, oh well, no escaping the training schedule. Sports bra, thermal bibs, merino socks, jersey, phone – everything else is downstairs. Mum was already in the kitchen similarly attired when I got there, coffee already dripping into the jug.
“I thought you were going out later?” I queried.
“I got a better offer, you don’t mind company?”
“As if, I’m only doing an hour though.”
“Suits me.”
“Morning, girls,” Gran offered joining us.
“Morning, Mum, you could’ve stayed in bed, we’ll be out in a few minutes,” Mum advised.
“I’m guessing you’ll want breakfast when you get back?”
“There’s sausages in the fridge,” I suggested.
“Done, now can I get a cup of that coffee?”
The two Bonds, resplendent in their rainbow jerseys, headed up the valley at a steady pace, it was to be a tempo ride, yeah they might do a couple of sprints but the intention was for endurance rather than speed.
“How you doing?”
“Okay I guess. You?” I posed in reply.
“So so, not getting any younger,” Mum mentioned.
“Not sure I should be out with such an old lady!”
“Why you!”
I sprinted out of Mum’s reach with a giggle, it was all in fun and we were soon chatting away about nothing in particular.
The aroma of sausage, bacon and mushrooms greeted the Bond girls when they returned to the schloss.
“Full English?” I queried as I stripped off a couple of layers in the kitchen.
“Ew!” Gran exclaimed.
“Gabrielle Bond down here now!” Mum ordered.
“Yes, Mum,” I sighed, returning to the bike cave.
“How many times have you been told?”
“Too many,” I agreed.
We did the present thing after Gran’s breakfast effort, I had a small pile of gifts to open – maybe not as many as I’d like. Of course some of that is because of what I have been given prezzie wise, no big parcels but the rents main present is a necklace, Gran gave me earrings to match it. The girls – well gift cards and CD’s don’t make a big impact size wise do they?
Jules got me a jumper, a thick woolly with a cowl neck, I was more surprised by Mand’s offering though. There wasn’t much weight to it and it rattled slightly, I was expecting choccies but inside were five model cars for my collection, well cool! She must’ve got them on one of her trips with the girls when I was out of commission; they were some of the new models - a little Citroen C2, one of those BMW Mini’s, an old school Volvo estate car, an Audi A8 limo and a Lamborghini Police car.
Presents opened it was time to get ready for whatever we are doing at the Weinstube for the stranded tourists.
“I can’t wear this, it’s got sauce all over it,” I complained to anyone listening.
“Let’s have a look,” Gran suggested, “and put something on in the meantime eh?”
“Er okay,” I agreed. It’s not like I wasn’t dressed at all, I had my under stuff on which for wearing Trachten is quite a lot. I mean to say I had my dirndlbluse on over my BH and an unterrock so it’s not like I was just in bra and pants. Still, I hung the dirndl over a chair and went to find a dressing gown to appease Gran.
When I returned downstairs Gran was inspecting my frock. There certainly was a quantity of sauce decorating the skirt, a splash of custard too, Gran gave it a quick wipe with a cloth before declaring, “It’ll wash.”
“Not time, Herr Thesing is picking me up in half an hour, I’ll have to wear something different, sugar!”
For something different read my other dirndl, the one from Switzerland, you remember, from when I did the thing with the Alpine Horn? I swapped blouses, the Swiss one is a bit fancier but as the two dirndl are the same length I kept the under skirt, tie the apron in place and slip my shoes on. I was already wearing my new necklace and earrings but I added the Edelweiss ohrstucker in my second holes, a quick dab of face paint and I was ready.
“My you look beautiful; Jen, doesn’t she?” Gran stated when I reached the lounge.
My face was turning pinker by the second, “Gra-an.”
“Well it’s true.”
“What’s all the…fuss about,” Mum enquired joining us in the lounge, “what have you done with my daughter?”
“Mu-um!” I complained again.
“That’s the one isn’t it?” Jen suggested.
“One?”
“From Switzerland, don’t play coy with me, I’ve seen the photo’s, Gabrielle Bond.”
“That one, “I allowed, “yep, it’s that one.”
I’ve only actually worn it once since Switzerland and that was just to show Steff when we were bored one afternoon. I mean realistically it’s not something I’m gonna wear a lot is it?
Beep, Beeeeeep!
“That’s me.”
“I’ll bring your jacket.”
“Thanks, Mum, tschussie!”
“See you later!”
“And she says she’s not German.” Tomas muttered to himself as the tiny blonde climbed into the back seat of his car, looking the complete works, hair braided, dirndl perfect.
“Sorry, dear?” Therese queried.
“Nothing, love, talking to myself.”
“Sauce?” I enquired.
“Coffee,” Connie supplied, “you?”
“Vanilla sauce and Wiener.”
“Sucks,” Con stated.
As you know it isn’t far from Dernau to Rech, a couple of kilometres so the drive was over almost before it started and the Thesing’s Mondeo was soon parked outside the Stube.
“Hi, guys,” Ingrid, that’s Pia’s older sister greeted us as we climbed out
“Hi, Inge, not here yet?” Tomas enquired.
“Papa is down there now, should be here about quarter past.”
“I’ve brought Spekulatius and so on.”
“Great, we’ve got glühwein ready for when they arrive, I’ll give you a hand, Gab, can you and Connie give my sister a hand inside?”
“Sure, come on, Con it’s freezing out here.”
“Nice Kostüm!” Inge called to our departing backs.
With Ingrid in nominal charge, well she is nearly twenty; we prepared to receive the visitors.
“Nena and Steff are coming after lunch,” Pia mentioned.
“They dressing up too?” Con enquired.
“I did suggest it,” Pia supplied.
“Did I miss something?” I asked.
“Papa asked if we could sing a few carols like we did for Claudia.”
Not more singing, I made a right fool of myself last night!
“Oh right.”
An unrighteous racket announced the arrival of the Stube bus, closely followed by four more assorted passenger carriers.
“Action stations!” Ingrid announced.
She is such a drama queen!
You don’t really want to know every detail so I’ll skip to the highlights. We greeted the Englishers with glühwein (or coffee if they preferred) along with Tomas’ Weihnacht biscuits, which certainly had them in the mood. Then whilst we cleared the debris from the restaurant Helmut and Inge took them on the cellar tour.
Mum, Gran and Jules arrived at some point and found themselves helping Eva with the snack lunch.
“It’s snowing,” Con observed.
I looked outside, “Barely, it’s not even settling.”
Yeah-famous last words.
The von Strechau’s, well Max and his parents, the Baroness has gone to his aunts for Christmas, arrived shortly before one, they certainly looked the part in their Kostüm. But I’m getting off the point, Steff and Nena arrived with their families not long after - we had our choir even if the white stuff was still falling. The party really got going when the visitors returned from the cellars, we were soon distributing the snack foods and the wine was flowing well.
“If you can please find seats,” Helmut suggested in his best English, “we have some entertainment for you, I’ve convinced my daughter and her friends to sing for us, I give you the Ahr Angels!”
We waited for the audience to settle down before running through a medley of traditional Christmas numbers, I’ll always be a reluctant public singer but I was feeling more relaxed by the time we paused for a change of pace. Hark the Herald always goes down well and I do know the words.
We got the first verse out and then I moved forward in preparation for my solo as we enthusiastically murdered the next verse. At least it was sort of planned this time – not like last night! The others rejoined me on the chorus and we finished with much gusto and some applause.
After that we mangled several more carols before finishing with Silent Night – guess who ended up soloing again; I’m sure our audience thought it was planned. We had a very enthusiastic ovation during which we agreed to do Jingle Bells as a reprise this time in English – well we tried but no one seemed to care if some of it was ad libbed!
After our little concert it was time for some party games, thankfully the staff got to have a break during those jollies.
“Heya, Gab, want a drink?”
“As long as it’s not your punch, Strechau.”
“I’m wounded, fair maiden, Sprite®” he plonked a glass in my hand.
“Thanks, it’s getting quite warm in there.”
“You look gorgeous in that dress.”
“You don’t look too grubby in your Kostüm either,” I replied – well he doesn’t.
“It’s getting a bit steamy in here,” Con pronounced.
“Maybe we should go outside, eh, Gab?” Max suggested.
“As if!” I declared, “It’s snowing out there.”
“In that case,” Max leant in and planted a kiss; I had to turn my head at a weird angle to reciprocate – it just happened okay!
“Get a room you two!” The others chorused before falling about in hysterics.
“You ready, Gab?” Mum called into the cloakroom.
“Minute,” I allowed breaking off from my lip lock with Max.
“See you Sunday?” Max suggested.
“Guess so, I know Gran’s looking forward to it.”
“Gabrielle!” Mum insisted.
“Yes,” I replied, “best go before we get the full name.”
“Whoa!” whilst we’ve been having fun inside the snow has been falling outside, not like feet thick but enough to cover everything including the main road.
“Come on, kiddo, Jules and your Gran are in the car already, we’ll follow the Thesing’s back to Dernau,” Mum instructed, “and sort out your lipstick before your gran sees it.”
Oops!
Maddy Bell 08.03.16
I slept like a log, it’s been quite a busy few days after all, the waitressing, training on the bike and it just being Christmas so I wasn’t amused when Mum demanded my appearance just after eight Boxing Day morning. Except of course here in Germany we don’t have Boxing Day as such, if it wasn’t for it being Sunday a lot of businesses would be open pretty much as usual. Anyhow, reluctantly I crawled from my pit, had the shower I missed last night and dressed in a denim mini and my new jumper.
“About time,” Mum huffed.
“It’s Christmas,” I moaned, “where’s Dad?”
“Not here,” she told me; she’s certainly in a mood this morning.
I poured tea into my mug, “How come?”
“Your Dad and Helmut got stuck down in Ahrweiler, an accident or something closed the road.”
“At least it’s not snowing this morning,” I noted looking out across the gardens white expanse.
“It only stopped twenty minutes ago.”
“We having cooked breakfast?” I posed in hope, I like a fry up but we rarely have one these days.
“No, you’ll have to make do with your usual frühstuck.”
Bum. I set to laying the table, cheese, meat, choccy spread – they all found homes on the table.
“How come I had to get up and Jules hasn’t?” I complained.
“She has, she’s fetching the brotchen.”
“Oh right.” Of course, the Thesing’s will be busy today.
“Morning, kids,” Gran greeted as she joined us in the kitchen.
“Morning, Mum.”
“Hi, Gran, you want tea?”
“Love a cup, that your new jumper?”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Looks nice and warm,” she told me as I poured her tea.
“Uh huh, it’s a bit itchy though.”
“Haven’t you got anything underneath?”
“Only my BH.”
“Your what?”
“She means bra, Mum,” Mum cut in, “the German is Bustenhalter, BH for short.”
“Ah,” Gran allowed, “you need to put a vest on.”
The sounds of Jules coming in through the garage alerted us to impending eating time.
“Geez it’s cold out there,” the Dark One opined when she joined us.
“How are the roads?” Mum asked.
“I saw a plough on the main road, it’s a bit dodgy around the village, Dad rung?”
“He sent a text, he’s getting breakfast down there before coming home.”
“Any washing, kids?” Gran asked once breakfast was done with.
“My dirndls,” I mentioned.
“Will they go in the washer?”
“They’re cotton, Mum.”
“Okay, go fetch them then, Gaby, we’ll have a look,” Gran prompted.
I took the opportunity to put on a cami under the jumper whilst I was upstairs, it certainly eased the itching. Two dirndls and the underpinnings make quite an armful, I had to take my time returning to the ground floor. Am I glad we don’t wear this stuff all the time, it might look ‘decorative’ but it’s a bit of a pain.
“The whites need a boil,” Gran pronounced inspecting my underskirt and blouses, “not sure I want to put the dresses in the machine with the ribbons and buttons, dry clean I think.”
“I’ve got a dress that needs the cleaners,” Mum put in, “I’ll take them in tomorrow.”
That decided I ended up helping Gran with the washer, well washers – we have one for bike kit and the ‘house’ machine, we used one for the boil wash, the other for a cool wash for everything else.
“What time are we supposed to be at Wilhelm and Gloria’s?” Dad enquired after finally getting home close on ten.
“Between twelve and one,” I advised – well that’s what Max said anyhow.
“That’s okay then, the roads should be clear by then.”
“So you two are an item then.” Jules stated as she flopped onto the other end of the sofa.
“In his dreams, I am so not interested.”
“Coulda fooled me, looked pretty hot and passionate at the Stube last night.”
Oh yeah, the Stube.
“It was just a Christmas kiss.”
“Christmas kiss? You believe that if you want.”
“It was,” I protested.
“A peck on the cheek is a Christmas kiss not five minutes without coming up for air!”
“It was not five minutes!”
“Okay, six.”
“Why you!” I grabbed a cushion and laid into her.
“GIRLS!” Mum called from the kitchen.
“Gaby’s got a boyfriend!” Jules taunted.
“I have not!” I huffed.
“I know what I saw, sis, and what I saw was you and Maxxie having a full on snog.”
I tried a different tack, “Okay, we kissed, it doesn’t mean we’re a couple, I was tired and he caught me unawares.”
“So it wasn’t you I saw leading him out to the cloakroom then?”
“I didn’t.”
“There are other witnesses,” she suggested.
Shite!
“I was caught up in the excitement,” okay, that sounds pretty lame even to me.
“I saw what I saw,” Jules stated.
“Well it won’t be happening again.”
“If you say so, Baroness.”
“You!”
I laid into her with the cushion again.
“Mum, Gabs is attacking me!”
“Just you wait!”
“GIRLS!” Mum shouted again, “Will you give over!”
“She started it.”
“Did not,” Goth Girl riposted.
“You can both stop,” Mum ordered coming across to the lounge, “what are you wearing to go to the Strechau’s?”
“What I’m wearing?” I suggested.
“You have got to be kidding if you think you are going to show me up dressed like that.”
“I was going to put some tights on,” I mentioned.
“You can put a dress on,” she stated, Jules smirked. “You too, Jules.”
“But, Mum…”
“But nothing.”
Anyone would think we’re going to a fancy do rather than family friends.
“Yes, Mum,” we chorused.
“And Juliette, go easy on the makeup eh?”
“Whatever.”
My turn to snigger, Jules can get a bit carried away trowelling on the slap, I’m more au naturel, less is more!
“Well hop to it, we leave in an hour,” Mum chivvied.
Hmmph, if she thinks I’m getting too dressed up she’s got another thing coming, besides it’s the middle of winter. I climbed wearily up to my eyrie; I bet none of the others have got to get prissied up today. Surveying the contents of my closet didn’t help in selection of something suitable – there’s so much in there!
What do you wear for such a soirée? I really do need to sort out this lot, Cosplay outfits jostle with formal gowns and posh frocks hang side by side with summer fripperies. I started to play musical dresses just to find something suitable.
“Your mum asked me to see how you were getting on.”
Jump? I nearly had a heart attack!
“Gran!”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump,” Gran told me.
“I was a bit engrossed I guess.”
*
“So you found something in there?”
“I need to get rid of some of this stuff.”
“I’ve still got stuff in my wardrobe from when your mum was your age,” she admitted.
“I dunno what to wear, any ideas, Gran?”
“Let’s have a look.”
I was only a couple of minutes behind Mum’s schedule when I joined the rest of the clan clad in what I’d guess you’d call a cocktail dress, it’s one of my LBD’s, not too glitzy but still quite dressy.
“You seriously wearing those?” Jules queried.
‘Those’ as my sister so eloquently puts it are the slightly ratty flat ankle boots I wear for school this time of year. High fashion they are not but reasonably warm and comfortable trumps style for me – I’m not alone, all the girls have some, not the same of course but ankle boots.
“There’s snow out there,” I pointed out, “I’m not wearing heels.”
“I presume you are taking something to change into?” Dad enquired in a bemused tone.
“She’d better,” Mum cautioned.
I held up the carrier bag I’d brought down, “Uncomfortable shoes, one pair, for the wearing of.”
“Come on then,” Dad suggested.
Guess who had to sit legs akimbo in the middle? I might be the smallest but seriously, every time there’s more than the four of us? I had to hitch my dress up just to sit in the car, very ladylike, not that I want to be but I also don’t want to expose my knickers to everyone either. I draped my jacket over my knees to maintain a degree of decency.
Normally we would head straight out to Rech but with just a set of 4x4 tracks heading that way Dad took us into Dernau and out onto the main road. The road was surprisingly busy but it was clear and we were soon turning into Rech whose roads were white over. There was a dodgy moment on one corner when the car slipped sideways but we made it into the von Strechau’s courtyard safely, I was surprised to find we weren’t the only guests.
Maddy Bell 12.03.16
By the time Dad had the Mercedes parked Wilhelm was out to greet us.
“Afternoon, come on in guys.”
“Thanks for inviting us,” Dad offered as he waited for us ‘ladies’ to descend from the transport.
“No problem Dave, a quiet day for the girls after all the Weihnachts fuss.”
The courtyard’s cobbles are awkward in heels at anytime, throw in some frozen water and its well dicey! I was chuckling to myself as both Wilhelm and Dad assisted the others to the entrance, boots rule. Of course you can be overconfident and I nearly ended up on my bum when I strayed from the semi-cleared path.
“You alright kiddo?” Mum asked
“Er yeah,” I supplied, steadying myself against Gloria’s Cayenne.
Inside, de-coated and in my case re-shod it was time to meet and greet. It wasn’t the crowd that attended the Baroness’ birthday bash – not by a long chalk; by comparison it really was quite intimate. Besides clan Bond and the von Strechau’s, Gran Strechau is still with Countess Schillingsfürst down in Bavaria, there was Gertrude Schmidt from the TV and her hubby Axel, the Heinemann’s and an elderly chap I recognised as being involved with the local Lions, Stefan Schröder and his daughter, Lotti, I think he owns some agricultural equipment dealers.
After the intro’s, I knew everyone except the Schröder’s, there was a flow of bodies, men to one side, ladies the other leaving the under twenties to their own devices. Jules and Lotti were quickly ‘best friends’ which left me with Max. Gott, this is gonna be fun – not.
“You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
“So you um got home okay then.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“About last night,” I started, “it was a one off okay?”
“Sure, one off,” Max agreed with the start of a grin.
“I mean it Max, I got caught up in the day and everything.”
“My sexy landesmode,” he suggested.
“Something like that, so its not gonna happen again right?”
“Unless I wear my lederhosen again,” he stated, “by the way, did Pia have a boob job?”
Okay, that’s standard.
“Absolute, she had time from Thursday until yesterday, really Max, you’ve got a one track mind.”
“So how…”
“Did she grow so big? She borrowed her sister’s Büstenheber.”
“What’s one of them?”
“Its like special BH to lift your boobs up,” I demonstrated by hefting my girls.
“Certainly works,” he noted, “not that you need it!”
I rolled my eyes, boys!
I hadn’t realised that Wilhelm had been absent until he announced that the food was ready. We went through to the dining room that felt a lot more intimate than the last time I was here; maybe it was the screens or just the smaller table. There wasn’t the usual contrived seating plan, I found myself squeezed between Axel Schmidt and Analise, thankfully away from Max who had my Gran and Lotti do keep him distracted.
The soup, butternut squash with chilli, was waiting for us so once seated we tucked straight in, pretty tasty and the still warm brotchen were absolutely delish.
“Er, how’s married life?” well it’s the sort of question girls are expected to ask.
“Still fun,” Ana replied with a wink, “I think Jo is getting a bit tired though.”
“I er, right,” I allowed taking some gammon from the platter now doing the rounds.
“I was late for work last Tuesday because we did it twice.”
Too much information thank you.
“So how are you and my cousin doing,” she went on.
“Not exactly ‘doing’,” I offered.
“No? He’ll catch up.”
I don’t want him to catch up!
Conversation thankfully moved to other subjects as the meal progressed, a meal that you really would pay top dollar for in a restaurant, beside the aforesaid gammon we were treated to new potatoes, carrots, leeks, peas, red cabbage with some sort of Hollandaise sauce. It was perhaps a little salty, but that was probably due to my liberal addition rather than the food itself.
Wilhelm rolled out, with Max’s occasional help, the full works. After the gammon we had a berry compote before cheese and coffee rounded things out. Certainly not a typically German menu but Wilhelm’s restaurant menu runs to a pan European mixture – he still hasn’t cracked Yorkshire pudding though despite Jules occasional master class’s. Jules, Max and me sort of got volunteered to clear up, my sister mumped through the process of course, it didn’t bother me – I got out of cooking today after all.
“So how much did you raise?” Gertrude asked having cornered me.
“Fifteen hundred in the end,” I supplied.
“We got a lot of interest after the interview went out, seems you are becoming quite a local celebrity.”
Just what I need.
“Oh?”
“Apparently you made the pages of Stern, young Ana’s wedding.”
“Really,” I feigned ignorance, “I never read it.”
“My bosses might be interested in following your career next year, an occasional spot on Abend. ”
“Really?” I was interested despite myself.
“Like I said, you are news Gaby, you think you might be interested?”
“Maybe,” I allowed, after all if I’m gonna be the next Jenny Bond I need to get used to being in front of the camera.
“I’ll talk to the powers tomorrow.”
“What are you two plotting?” Axel asked, “no don’t answer, I don’t need to know but we do need you for the quiz.”
Looks like its time for the entertainment.
“We’ll talk soon Gaby,” Gertrude suggested.
“Er yeah.”
By seven the other guests had departed, more snow was falling and only our neighbourly address kept us from joining the others – well that and the insistence of Gloria and Wilhelm that we stay for supper. Max, to be fair to him, hasn’t tried anything today, not as much as a surreptitious touch when we were cleaning up.
“You wanna check out Ansbacher’s homework?” Max suggested.
I looked around the room, Dad and Wilhelm were deep in conversation and Gloria was just starting the guided tour for Gran, Jules and Mum tagging along.
“I guess.” Well I haven’t even had a chance to look at it yet what with one thing and another.
“Just going to the study,” Max advised his dad, “history homework.”
“You know the rules Max.”
“Yes dad, door open, no porn.”
“Gab?” Dad queried.
“Yes Dad,” I agreed to his unasked query.
I followed von Strechau junior out into the corridor and along to the study.
“What a day!”
“Its been okay,” I put forward as he turned on the computer.
The grey box beeped and whirred into life.
“Er Gab?”
“Yeah,” I replied a bit distractedly, I know you shouldn’t but I was trying to read upside down a letter on the desk.
“I um, look I didn’t get a chance yesterday, I got you something, for Weihnachts.”
I turned away from my espionage, “eh?”
“Here!” he thrust a neatly wrapped package towards me, “Fröhes Weihnachts.”
It would be bad manners not to take it wouldn’t it?
“Um thanks, I didn’t get you anything,” I admitted, damn.
“‘S’all right,” he allowed, “go on, open it.”
Drew would’ve just ripped into it, but there again Drew wouldn’t be receiving a present from Max, no it’s me, Gaby now and Gaby takes more care with the unwrapping business. Inside the paper was a jewellers box, inside that was…
“It’s a charm bracelet,” Max enthused, “you can add more things.”
“Charms?” I suggested.
“Yeah charms, look there’s one on it already.”
Indeed there was, predictably a bike.
“Thanks Max.”
“Here, let me put it on for you,” he volunteered.
Quite how we got from securing the bracelet on my wrist to making out I’m not sure. I could get used to this. Approaching voices warned us of impending interruption, I pulled away and started to straighten myself out.
“What’s up?”
“Visitors?” I suggested.
“Oh bum!”
We did what teenagers do in these situations, tried to make it look like nothing had been going on all the time making things look distinctly, well you know.
“Hi you two,” Gloria greeted us, “what are you two up to in here?”
“Er nothing,” Max replied with more than a hint of guilt.
“History homework,” I put in as my family joined Max’s mum in the doorway.
“Yeah, research, we needed the computer,” Max filled.
Jules gave me a look, a look that said ‘I know what you’ve been up to’.
“Max got me a present,” I blurted, “a charm bracelet.” I thrust my arm out to show them the shiny chain around my wrist.
“Making history,” Jules mumbled.
Of course it had to be inspected by everyone and commented on, did I see a twinkle in Gran’s eye just now?
“Well don’t be too long, supper should be ready in a few minutes,” Gloria told us before leading my family away towards the lounge.
“Phew, that was close!” Max stated.
“Not many,” I agreed.
“I suppose we’d best go back.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, “this, you know, stuff never happened right?”
“Like last night.”
“Even more so, we most certainly didn’t make out or anything,” I proposed.
“Nada, I’m saying nothing.”
“That’s settled then.”
Maddy Bell 12.03.16
The snow was crisp under foot as we made our way back to the car sometime after supper. Additional white stuff had ceased to arrive a while back to be replaced by clear skies and plummeting mercury.
“Beautiful night,” Gran offered joining me in surveying the glittering heavens.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “not bad at all.”
“You sit in the front, Mum, I’ll go in with the girls,” Mum instructed.
“You getting in, Gab?” Jules prompted.
“Right,” I allowed ducking into the car.
Loaded, we set off, waving to the evening’s hosts who wisely stayed at the door given the sub zero temperature. Dad negotiated the snow covered streets of Rech with care, not a lot would be out tonight now but it never hurts to be careful. In fact we did pass a few pedestrians before we crossed the river and headed up to the level crossing.
“Max gave Gab a charm bracelet,” my mouthy sister advised Dad.
“I hope you thanked him,” Dad told me over his shoulder.
Jules snorted.
“Yes, Dad,” I sighed - well I might not have actually said the words but I think Max sort of got the gist.
“I take it he’s a good kisser,” Jules suggested as she followed me upstairs thirty minutes later.
“Maybe.”
“But of course you aren’t interested in him.”
“Not at all, why would I be?”
“Because he’s a hunk?”
“Yeah, right, like I’m bothered about that.”
“Whatever you say, sis, but you need to use a fixer on your lippy.”
That stopped me in my tracks, “Mum and Gran know?”
“Well unless Max has started wearing pink lipstick I think they might have worked it out.”
“Sugar.” That’s twice in two days Mum’s caught me making out with Max.
I stared at the ceiling, ‘I’m not supposed to like boys, like Max, but he keeps, no don’t blame him, Gaby, you keep wanting to, well kiss and stuff. He is pretty buff I guess. No, I’m not interested, we are so not a couple, there won’t be another lip lock session, not with Max or anyone.’
“You still going to Koblenz today?” Mum asked when I descended from my eyrie Monday morning.
“As far as I know, Pia’s dad’s taking us, he’s picking me, Steff and Con up at the bakery.”
“Just you girls going?”
“Uh huh.”
“Make sure you dress warm.”
“Yes, Mum, what are you and Gran doing?”
“Thought I’d take her to Linz for lunch, she’ll like the little shops, I don’t want to go too far, there’s more snow forecast for this afternoon.”
“Regular white Christmas,” I opined.
With no messages to the contrary I set off for Con’s just after nine, the Stube bus is picking us up at half past. With instructions to dress warm I have, at long last managed to get something other than strumpfhose on my legs. I know, jeans aren’t exactly the warmest things which is why I’ve got thermal tights on underneath, layers are the thing so I feel a bit like the Michelin man – but I’m warm.
There might not have been more snow but what there is seems determined to hang around, the temperature is well into minus, the garage thermometer said minus four when I went down for my rucky. The paths and roads were still fully loaded with white stuff although the sounds of council snow clearing were distinct harbingers of later clearance.
“Warm enough for you?” Tomas enquired as I unwound my scarf.
“It’s not quite bikini weather, maybe this afternoon,” I quipped.
“Go on up, Stephanie is already here.”
“’Kay.”
I made my way up to the apartment, my second home!
“That you, Gab?” a voice called out.
“Uh huh, where are you?”
“Bedroom,” Con directed.
I lost my coat and appendage covers then went through to Con’s slumber zone.
“Wassup?” I greeted.
“Morning, Gabs,” Steff offered.
“Just showing Steff my new computer,” Con preened.
“You got it? You never said.”
“We did get a bit sidetracked,” she pointed out.
“Yeah I guess,” I agreed.
“Looks like someone got some new bling,” Steff mentioned spotting my new bracelet.
“You like?” I queried presenting it for inspection.
“Nice,” Con allowed, “now we know what to get you for presents.”
“So who’s it from?” Steff demanded.
“Max,” I whispered.
“Max?”
“That’s what I said, we went round yesterday.”
“I smell some lip locking here,” Con mentioned.
“There was not,” I denied.
“You fibber, Gaby Bond, you’re blushing like a traffic light,” Steff observed.
Flipping blush switch!
“Okay, we might have kissed, but it was just a thank you, it didn’t mean anything.”
“Like Christmas Day didn’t,” Con suggested.
“If you say so,” Steff proposed.
“The others’ll be here soon, I’d best turn this off,” Con told us.
“So where do you get those Büstenheber things?” I asked Pia as we headed down the E31.
“No idea, I think Inge got it down in Bavaria somewhere, apparently you see lads in lederhosen all over down there.”
“I like a bit of lederhosen,” Brid put in.
“You needing some help, Gabs?” Nena proposed.
“Just curious, I never knew they existed.”
I’ll have to have a look on the Internet later; I don’t even know what one looks like.
Helmut, Herr Sebenschuh that is, dropped us off outside the Löhr Centre.
“I’ll pick you up here at four, okay?”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Thanks, Mr S.”
“Tschuss!”
The asthmatic bus pulled away leaving us at the roadside.
“So where we going?” Nena asked.
“Altstadt?” I suggested.
“Sounds like a plan,” Steff agreed.
“Come on then,” Brid told us leading the way to the crossing into the town proper.
For me today is just a day out with my friends, I don’t have a shopping agenda – let’s face it my wardrobe is full to bursting. Maybe I should get a card or something for Max, I mean he did buy me this bracelet – not that I want to encourage him of course but it’s good manners. Yeah, I’ll look for a card in Karstadt or wherever.
“Gab!”
“Hmm?”
“Come on,” Nena chivvied.
“She’s away with the fairies,” Steff offered.
“Am not!”
“Well what were you doing stood there with a grin on your face then?”
“Just remembering Weihnachts.”
“Remembering someone’s kissing,” Pia snorted.
“Was not.”
“They’ve got a sale on in Pimkie,” Con enthused.
“There’s sales on everywhere,” Brid mentioned.
And so we started the fun that is ‘not shopping’.
It was close on twelve, we’d been through four fashion stores and thoughts were turning to some lunch when I spotted a shop I must have passed dozens of times.
“Pizza Hut®?” Pia suggested.
“I’m in,” I volunteered.
“Suits me,” Con affirmed.
There was no dissention so we headed back towards the restaurant.
“I’ll catch up with you guys, I just want to look at something,” I told the others.
“Kay,” Steff confirmed I’d been heard.
I wasn’t being secretive but like I didn’t really want them knowing where I was headed. At the shop I found myself looking at the window display, an array of not exactly flattering ladies wear, I guess you call it foundation wear, granny knickers and BH’s of epic proportions. Well it’s worth a pop, I pushed the door open.
“Hello, can I help?” a middle aged woman enquired from the counter area.
“Not sure,” I admitted.
“I guess it’s not for you?” she suggested.
“I was wondering, do you sell Büstenheber?”
“Not been asked for one of those for a while,” she admitted, “you do mean the enhancer support?”
“Er yeah, my um friend wants to er look a bit more, erm full,” I fudged.
I’m sure she saw straight through my subterfuge, heck I couldn’t believe it.
“Let’s have a look in the catalogues, I’m sure we can find something for your friend.”
Fifteen minutes later I was headed back to the pizza parlour, a card for Max in my bag but more importantly, a business card for the foundations shop with a product code and price. My handy trilled, it’ll be the girls wondering where I am.
“Gabs,” I cheerily stated into the handset.
“Miss von Strechau? Good,” a familiar voice stated, “can you come in tomorrow?”
Maddy Bell 12.03.16
“Where’ve you been? The waitress has been giving us funny looks,” Con advised when I found the others in the pizzeria.
“Sorry, took longer than I thought,” not helped by the phone call from Gerta of course.
“So what took so long?” Nena demanded.
Before I could offer any kind of reply the waitress was at the table, “Ready?”
We shared a pepperoni and a quattro stagione with a go at the salad bar, with drinks it only worked out at seven euros each – bargain. My tardy arrival was forgotten and we returned to Löhrstrasse refreshed and ready for an assault on the remaining stores of interest.
“Everyone going to the fireworks on Friday?” Pia queried.
“Where else would we be,” Con allowed.
“It’s not like there’s a lot of alternatives,” Steff mentioned.
“Er, I’m gonna miss it,” I told them.
“How come?” Brid asked.
“We’re going away for New Year.”
“Somewhere exotic?” Pia enquired.
“Er not as such, I told you about Sophia right,” I paused to get confirmation.
“Max’s cousin or something,” Steff supplied.
“The same,” I agreed, “well we got invited to their place for New Year.”
“Oooo Maxxie going too?” Brid pumped.
“Not that I’m aware; he is not my boyfriend!” I got in before anyone else could.
“You’re no fun,” Pia pouted.
We arrived at Hennes & Moritz that diverted conversation back to safer topics of fashion and what we wouldn’t be wearing.
It wasn’t even five when Herr Sebenschuh dropped us off so I accepted the offer of coffee from Con.
“Fancy do is it, this thing with Max’s cousin?”
“Well a bit fancier than wurst in the Kurpark,” I allowed.
“How much fancier, Gaby Bond?”
“I um have to collect my dress from Gerta tomorrow,” I admitted.
“Geez, Gab, you must have already got something.”
“Apparently not suitable for New Year with the Duke of Thun & Taxis,” I sighed.
“When did the reluctant English girl become this, this German aristocrat?”
“I’m so not.”
“Coulda fooled me, who spent Sunday at the von Strechau’s, who gets invited to the weddings of the year and who else woulda thought to get Eloise Couture to make us costumes?”
“Er, me?” I sheepishly replied.
“Ah, Gaby,” Therese Thesing mentioned poking her head into the lounge, “any chance you could do us a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon?”
“If she’s not too busy at the dress makers,” Con mentioned under her breath.
“Um, should be okay, I’ve stuff in the morning but I should be done for twelve.”
“If you could, I need to go to the bank in Bonn with Tomas, we should be back about three.”
“Kay,” I agreed.
Con’s mum departed leaving the two of us to our coffee.
“So where is this do?”
“Not quite sure, down Baden somewhere I think.”
“Good day, kiddo?” Mum enquired when I returned to Schloss Bond just after six.
“Not bad I guess, Gran enjoy Linz?”
“Yes she did,” said grandparent mentioned from behind me.
“You fancy taking your Gran to Köln tomorrow?” Mum asked as I changed footwear.
“Tomorrow?”
“Day after today,” Mum confirmed.
“I can’t, I promised the Thesing’s I’d work in the afternoon and I’ve got to fetch my dress for Friday,” I told them with some regret.
“Can we swap days, Jen?”
“I don’t see why not, you thinking Wednesday, Mum?”
“If my granddaughter can fit me in?”
“Of course, Gran, like it’s only training otherwise.”
“It’s a date then, so, who’s for liver and onions?” Gran enquired.
“I would but I need to get ready for Cheer, can I get a lift, Mum?”
“Ask your dad.”
Maybe I did get a bit too enthusiastic at the Tanzklub last night, maybe doing the splits wasn’t the cleverest thing to do. We had a good session although a few girls were absent – it is Christmas after all. Hannah doesn’t hang about, she’s already got us entered in a competition at the end of February – hope we’re ready by then.
Anyhow, back to this morning, I ache in places that shouldn’t be mentioned in polite company – just as well I’ve not got a bike session today – bum I’ll need to get up early to do tomorrow’s before me and Gran go out.
“I took your dirndl’s to the cleaners,” Mum told me as I tucked into a bowl of yoghurt.
“Thanks,” I allowed scraping a drip of yoghurt off my chin.
“Can’t you eat a bit less, er combatively?” Mum suggested.
“Eh?”
“Never mind,” she sighed, “you collecting this mystery dress this morning?”
“Yeah, I’ll pick it up and go straight to the bakery.”
“You could collect your dirndls?”
“I guess, that place just off Marktplatz?”
“Yep, I’ll get you the ticket.”
I shrugged, “Whatever.”
There are still a few patches of snow but most of it has gone, the river is flowing high of course with the melt water. I booted the Schauff up a gear and revelled in the plush ride along the cycle track down into Ahrweiler. Nothing much opens before ten so I’d timed my departure to arrive close on the magic hour – I’d just parked my steed when the Johanneskirche clock chimed the hour.
The cleaners – well it’s an agency really in the haberdashers, were still sorting the overnight cleaning when I walked in. I clearly wasn’t the only one spilling stuff at the weekend, suits, dresses, coats and my dirndls. I felt a little self-conscious carrying them out to my bike, I folded them into my basket, how can they take up so much space?
The bell tinkled announcing my arrival at Eloise Couture, I lay my cleaning over the chair by the counter – hey I’m not leaving them outside to be nicked.
“Moment,” Gerta called from the back.
“I’ve come for the dress,” I called back.
“Ah, fraulein von Strechau,” Gerta greeted me a moment later carrying a hanger with a, erm posh frock on.
It’s Bond!
“Er morning, you have a good Weihnachts?”
“Yes thank you and yourself?”
“Great thanks, busy though,” I allowed.
“Yes I heard you helped with the Reisebus.”
How the heck does she know that?
“Er yeah, hence these,” I indicated by dirndl’s on the chair.
“Ah yes, the Trachten not so popular up here as the south.”
“I kinda like it,” I admitted, “you don’t have to worry about it going out of fashion and it’s pretty comfortable.”
“You’ll put me out of business with talk like that,” she replied with, yes I’m sure it was, a hint of a smile.
“So this er dress for Friday?”
“Of course, go through to the changing room, I’ll bring it in.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting. Given most of her stock is aimed at an ‘older’ clientele occasion frocks run mostly to floor length flouncy things which this little number certainly wasn’t. No this was certainly teen friendly, it could’ve come from Clockhouse or H&M but it was better quality and with no doubt a price tag to match!
“You sure this is okay?”
“Most, the other attendees will be out to impress with, I think you would say ‘bling’. You will shine above them,” she enthused.
I looked in the mirror again at the figure perched on borrowed ten centimetre heels. The dress is white, sleeveless, ends mid thigh with, so Gerta informs me, a scatter of Swarovski crystal on the bodice. Oh and it fits where it touches.
“You will have your hair up I think, a chignon with a comb.”
“Er okay, if you say so,” I replied to my self appointed personal stylist.
“I have some special hose for you, the Taxis won’t know what has hit them!”
Maybe the bill for all this?
I loaded the cleaning and the new frock into the basket and set off for Dernau. Of course the dress went on my ‘account’ along with a pair of Wolford hose with more Swarovski crystals on. I can’t bear to look at the receipt, it was certainly three figures – the hose were nearly seventy on their own!
I’d been at the bakery for an hour when my Handy chirped; no one was in so I answered at the counter.
“Bond.”
“Hi, kiddo, you at the bakery?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Er can you ring Sophia about Friday?”
“We are still going?”
“Yes, yes I said we were but we might have a plus one, I just need to make sure it’s okay.”
“I’ll ring her when I get a break, who’s the plus one?”
“Amanda, she called a few minutes ago.”
“But she’s not due to come back until Sunday,” I pointed out.
“Seems that all is not sweetness and light in the de Vreen household and she wants to come back as soon as possible.”
“I know she wasn’t that happy about going, I didn’t think she had issues at home though.”
“If you can ring Sophia as soon as and let me know.”
“Sure, Dad, tschuss!”
“Everything okay?” Con enquired.
“Possibly,” I replied, “possibly.”
Maddy Bell 14.03.16
“You sure about this, Mum?” Mum asked Gran again.
“Of course I am, I do drive at home you know.”
“But…”
“Jennifer, I was driving before you were born.”
“Yes, Mum.”
I snickered at the exchange, Mum being put down by Gran.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at, young lady.”
“Er nothing, so we aren’t going on the train?”
“I guess not, you’re in charge of navigation right?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Use the car park under the Dom,” she suggested.
“Kay.”
The change of plan has been a bit last minute, Mum was going to drop us at Remagen Bahnhof so we could get the Rheintal Express but George changed the senior team’s training from an afternoon session locally to a day up on the Dutch border where the weather is a bit more clement. We could’ve caught the Express down but Gran suggested dropping Mum off at Apollinaris then driving up to Köln – suits me.
“See you later!” Mum called as Gran pointed the A Klasse towards the main road.
“So, young lady, which way?”
“Er left, we can get on the spur.”
“Hokey dokey.”
And so we started our journey north. Thankfully Gran drives slower than Mum, which at least made the trip up the E32 a bit less stressful.
“We’ve not had much chance to talk have we?”
“Sorry, Gran.”
“Hey don’t apologise, it’s good you have friends and do stuff away from bikes, your mother could sometimes be a bit single-minded.”
“She still is,” I opined.
“Oh I think she’s mellowed a bit,” Gran chuckled.
“Right!”
“So there anything you need to get in Cologne?”
“Köln,” I automatically corrected, “only tourists call it Cologne.”
“I stand corrected, so?”
“Not really – oh Gerta says I need a comb thing for Friday so I guess I should at least look.”
“Gerta?” Gran queried.
“She runs Eloise Couture with Dottie, you know, where I got my dress?”
“Which I’ve still not seen,” she pointed out, “so I guess you are putting your hair up?”
“Well I might need a hand, she suggested a chignon, I know what it looks like but I’ve no idea how to do it,” I admitted.
“We might need to get your mother on that, she was always handy with that sort of stuff,” she glanced over at me, “hmm, yes I think I see that working.”
“Yeah,” I agreed recalling some of the elaborate stuff I’ve been subject to.
“So how are you coping,” Gran asked, “being 100% girl, that is?”
“Okay I guess, I mean I was pretty much Gaby 24/7 anyhow.”
“I suppose you were.”
“Some stuff really sucks though,” I went on.
“Periods?” Gran proposed.
“Yeah, big time yuck zone!”
“You’ll get used to it, all women do.”
“I don’t have to like it though or having to sit for a wee.” I added. “We need to turn off here.”
“You’ve got a boyfriend,” she stated rather than asked as we made the turn.
“No,” I denied.
“No? So young Max gave you a bracelet just because he knows you?”
“Maybe?”
“Which way here?”
“Er to the right, it takes us down to the river,” I advised.
“There’s nothing wrong with admitting you like someone, Gab.”
“He didn’t have to buy the stupid bracelet.”
“The one you haven’t taken off for three days?”
I subconsciously reached for the bracelet adorning my wrist, “I didn’t say I hate it or anything.”
“Just remember, if you want to talk you can ring me; stay on here?”
“Yeah, we turn after the tunnel.”
It was a bit weird being in Köln midweek, it’s still busy of course but the number of tourists is much smaller and we got into the car park under the Dom without having to queue.
“I could do with a cuppa,” Gran suggested when we emerged into Domplatz.
“They’re a bit pricey round here, out to catch the tourists,” I noted.
“I’ll take your advice,” she stated.
“There’s a place near the Altmarkt we sometimes go in or there’s the Karstadt but that’s further on.”
“That’s the big department store?”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“Let’s do that, we can spend some time in the warm at least.”
It was a bit brass monkey, they clearly hadn’t had as much snow here but it was bone cold nevertheless. I used a little local knowledge to miss the worst of the crowds, most of the tourists don’t get much further than Saturn – I guess they get like an hour or something, just enough to do the Dom. By the time we reached the Dinea it was a little after ten thirty, ahead of the lunchtime rush of course but still busy.
Gran was tempted by the morning selection of cakes and pastries and I certainly wasn’t going to turn down a slice of fresh Pflaumkuchen with cream!
“We used to have restaurants like this in the big stores at home,” Gran noted as we sipped our coffees.
“I’ve never seen any,” I admitted.
“It’s true, when your mother was at school we used to go into Chester, it was a treat to go to the restaurant in Brown’s.”
“That the one that’s now Debenhams?”
“The same. Oh it wasn’t all cosy like this, you queued up past the cold stuff and cakes, then ordered your hot food and drinks at the till. Your mum always had the same, steak and kidney pudding with jelly for pudding, it used to have a little blob of cream on top,” she recalled.
“Sounds like Mum.”
“Now it’s all baked potatoes and sandwiches, you can’t get a proper dinner anymore,” she sighed.
“Everyone comes here or the Galleria for lunch,” I mentioned.
“And don’t get me started on those damned cost a packet coffee shops,” Gran went on.
It’s true that the department stores back in England are like the poor relations to the stores in Germany, you really can get almost anything in the bigger ones. It’s not difficult to see why everyone over here is generally better dressed and keen on fashion – we have hosiery departments bigger than the gent’s department in Browns! We mooched around for a bit, I tell you, it is embarrassing with a capital E going around the lingerie department with your Gran!
“Where now?” Gran asked when we reached the street again.
“Along Schildergasse?” I suggested.
“Your mum said there’s a C&A here somewhere.”
“Er yeah, up near Neumarkt,” I agreed.
“It was a bad day when they closed all their stores back home.”
“There was C&A in England?”
“Pretty much every town had one, always good quality and a bit different to British Home and Marks.”
“I think the one in Bonn is better than here,” I opined.
“Your mother took me there last time I came, near that big square, yes?”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
We looked in a few different stores on the way along Schildergasse but neither of us dipped into our wallets. That pattern changed a little in Cunda, Gran did buy some knickers and I got some over knee socks – intentionally this time. Nothing else caught Gran’s eye so we all too quickly returned to the cold outside.
“So where next?”
“We could have a look in Globetrotter,” I suggested, “it’s like this mega outdoor shop.”
“Is it far?”
“Just around the corner.”
“Okay, we’ll look there then find some lunch eh?”
Food! Now that sounds like a plan!
I’d never really thought about what Gran does – apart from being Gran of course, but apparently she actually does a lot of walking so she was surprisingly enthused by Globetrotter. I’ve told you about the place before so I won’t bore you again but Gran gravitated to the clothing.
Can you believe the prices of some of this gear? I mean €495 for a jacket? You could get a whole bike for that. Gran though was in her element, trying jackets on and explaining why this one was better than that, the pitfalls of zip in layers – well what she doesn’t know. I left her to it and started perusing the other clothing – it’s not really my thing but I could do with a new fleece.
“Found something you like?”
“I could do with a new fleece.”
“Anything take your fancy?”
“I like this,” I pulled green top out to show her, “but it’s nearly sixty euros.”
“If you want it I’ll treat you to it,” she offered.
“You already got me those earrings.” I mentioned, Mum’ll go spare if she thinks I’ve scammed Gran for stuff.
“They were for Christmas, let’s call this an early birthday present and it’s cheap compared to this,” she noted holding up a jacket.
“If you’re sure, Gran?”
“I am, I can spoil my granddaughter if I want to, after all I hardly see you these days.”
“What about Jules?”
“She gets her share, Gaby, never you mind.”
“In that case, yes please!”
“Let’s go pay, then I think I need some lunch.”
Maddy Bell 15.03.16
Normally, that is when my friends and me come to the big cities, we invariably eat in the department stores but somehow Gran and me ended up in a restaurant place on a side street just off Ehrenstrasse. Okay we’re a bunch of schoolgirls so coming into somewhere like this isn’t what we do – or even think of doing. Köln in particular is littered with places like this, usually fitted out in a traditional style despite being in a ‘modern’ building!
“So, what’s on the menu?” Gran asked once we were settled and the waitress had our drinks order.
Gaby the translator again.
“Erm,” I scanned the Speisekarte, “looks like the usual options, pork medallions, schnitzel, chicken Hawaii.”
“What’re these on this er taggis carty page?”
“The what?”
“This one here,” Gran pointed at her menu.
“Tages karte,” I giggled, “it’s like the daily specials.”
“Okay show off, the Cordon Bleu looks good value, what is it?”
I read my own list before replying, “It’s turkey schnitzel with like ham and mushrooms with fried potatoes, not had that before.”
“Shall we give that a go then?”
Well I was a bit intrigued myself, can’t say as I’ve come across this on a menu before.
We chatted about this and that, I clearly had most to tell what with my summer’s activities, Italy, Switzerland and of course Denmark and Japan. I sound like a right jet setter but there hasn’t exactly been a lot of playing grockle involved and whilst interested, Gran isn’t that interested in who did what in the races. Well unless one of her girls wins of course!
Our lunch turned up, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. The plate was half filled with the Bratkartoffeln, a slightly soggy looking thing sat in a pond of gravy like stuff along with a little dish of what looked like cranberry sauce.
“Looks interesting,” Gran mentioned.
I tried the sauce on my finger, “It’s quite sweet.”
“Well in for a pound.”
It tasted a lot better than it looked, it was actually a schnitzel stuffed with the ham, mushrooms and stuff. It’s certainly a different way to have your stuffed turkey – maybe I should try it at home!
I took a draft of my Radler, “Not bad.”
“Well it’s certainly disappearing quickly,” Gran admonished – I can’t help it if I eat quickly.
Brinnng, bring, Brinnng, bring!
“Dad,” I told Gran reaching for my Handtasche.
*
“Checking up on us no doubt,” Gran chuckled.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, kiddo, having a nice day?”
“Yeah, I think Gran’s spent up, we’re just having lunch.”
“Dinea?”
“Nah, some restaurant near Globetrotter, so why the call?”
“Your Gran there?”
“Yeah sure, hang on,” I passed Gran my Handy, “wants to talk to you.”
“Hi Dave……yes…oh only a walking jacket…uh huh…okay…I think so, let me just ask her.”
Gran covered the phone, “Do you know how to get to Dusseldorf airport?”
“Dusseldorf? I guess.”
“She says yes, Dave……oh don’t worry about it, what time?...Okay, we’ll see you later.”
She passed me the phone back, “What was all that about?”
“Seems Amanda is flying back here this afternoon, your dad thought it easiest if we pick her up as we’re quite close.”
“She wasn’t happy when I spoke to her,” I admitted.
“Well she gets in at ten past eight so we have some time to kill, your Dad says we’re about an hour away?”
“‘Bout that,” I agreed. Hmm, that’s an idea; I flipped the Handy open again and hit a regular speed dial.
“Who’re you ringing?”
“Ron.”
“You sure, Angela?…okay we’ll be there about five.”
*
Gran gave me a look.
“That’s sorted.”
“Do I want, no need, to know?”
“We’ll stop off at the Grönberg’s, have a cuppa then pick Mand up, they only live about fifteen minutes from the terminal.”
“If you say so, Gaby,” she sighed.
“It’ll be cheaper than the airport,” I pointed out.
“And this Angela, she doesn’t mind us dropping in?”
“Nope, me an’ Dad usually stop for coffee when we drop Roni off, Angela likes feeding us!”
“Hmm.”
We still had some shopping to do; well I do so once we’d finished eating we headed back towards Schildergasse. In fact I only remembered that I still needed this comb thing when I was idly watching the waitress. If I’d been a girl all my life I’d probably have this stuff already. I’ve only actually been a girl for two months – okay that’s not really true but you know what I mean.
“That’s pretty,” Gran allowed as I surveyed the wall of hair accessories.
“Which?”
“Here,” Gran reached up and unhooked a card.
“Really?” I queried, “Looks a bit plain.”
“Less is more,” she suggested.
I’d been drawn to the sparkly stuff of course; one even had stuff hanging from it, but this, this was more er, adult. And adult is good when you don’t even make 160cm unless you’ve got heels on!
“Okay, you’ve convinced me, I need some more elastics while we’re here.”
That was me sorted; a quick detour into the Galleria supplied a gift for the Grönberg’s.
We were ahead of the rush hour traffic and despite missing the turn I thought we were taking we got onto the One and then the Three without having to retrace. Over the last couple of years I’ve travelled this bit of Autobahn a lot, I almost forgot that Gran didn’t know where we were going.
“Which way?”
It took me a moment to work out where we were, “Er first one, Wuppertal?”
“That where we’re headed?”
“Er no, we want the Solingen turn it’s not far.”
“Glad we aren’t going the other way.”
In the gathering gloom the west, Düsseldorf bound traffic was a slow moving mass of headlights. We came off at 30 and joined the queue at the top of the slip road.
“We want to go right, Mettmann,” I supplied.
“Glad you know the way.”
It’s literally ten minutes tops from the motorway to Roni’s place – well except when you get stuck behind a tractor! The light was gone now, Gran was driving cautiously which is just as well, I forgot we had to turn off through Gruiten. Hey, I’m usually asleep or chatting at this point of the journey.
We were a little ahead of ETA when we pulled up but Ron must’ve been looking out for us as she came rushing out to meet us.
“Gabs!”
“Roni!”
We hugged excitedly; it has been a while since we’ve actually seen each other.
“You grown?”
“Only round the middle,” I lamented, “er this is my Oma Peters.”
“Tag, Frau Peters.”
“She doesn’t speak German,” I giggled, “Gran, this is Roni.”
“Nice to meet you, Roni.”
“Sorry, Mrs Peters, welcome to Mettmann, Mama has coffee on.”
Angela excelled herself feeding us with homemade minestrone soup before rolling out dessert. It wasn’t one of her famous chocolate cakes but it was full of fruit, cream and the Grönberg touch! Gran and Angela, despite little common language seemed to hit it off allowing me and Ron to disappear for a bit.
“So Mand’s left home?”
“‘S what it sounds like, I know she doesn’t get on with her mum much but even so.”
“Yeah, I can’t imagine not having Mum about,” Ron agreed.
“So what did Kris bring you?”
“New shoes!”
I’ve never seen Ron that enthusiastic about mere fashion accessories – maybe there’s hope for her yet.
“Let’s see then.”
Okay, silly me, this is Roni. Not a pair of heels then, oh no, a pair of those new Specialized shoes with the dials to tighten them.
“They are so cool, I’ll have to get your dad to put the cleats on, I’m terrible at that stuff.”
“Me too,” I admitted, examining her footwear, especially the carbon fibre sole – I’m jealous!
We didn’t have long before Angela called us back downstairs.
“Sorry, Gab, we should get to the airport, we need to park and find arrivals.” Gran advised.
“Sure.” I allowed, well it was always gonna be a flying visit.
Roni and Angela came out to the car.
“Thanks for the soup.”
“No trouble, Gaby, it’s been good to see you – and meet your Gran.”
I kicked something in the foot well, what’s that? I reached down and found the Galleria bag.
“These are for you,” I advised passing them out to Angela.
“You didn’t need to.”
“Well I know you like them.”
She peeked in the bag, a smile developed, “Thank you Gaby, we’ll see you in the New Year.”
“Yeah, see you, Ron,”
“Bye, Gab.”
“Tschussie!”
Maddy Bell 17.03.16
“So what did you give Angela?” Gran enquired as we negotiated downtown Mettmann, “It certainly brought a smile to her face.”
“Mozart Balls.”
“Come again, young lady?”
“That’s what they’re called, Mozartkugel, they’re like nougat and marzipan in chocolate, Angela goes doo-lally over them.”
“And you don’t?”
“Well they are quite moreish,” I had to admit, “straight at the lights.”
It took us a bit more than fifteen minutes to reach the airport but we had plenty of time still. We got parked and set off for the terminal.
“Dad?”
“Gabs, where are you?”
“At the airport, just waiting for the monorail into the terminal.”
“You could’ve parked closer.”
“Gran just went into the first parking we saw, so what’s up?”
“Nothing new, give me a call when you set off, your mother’s not back yet either.”
“Will do, have to go, the train’s here, tschuss!”
“Tschuss!”
“What did he have to say?” Gran enquired as we stepped into the rail car.
“Just checking we were here.”
It was still only half seven when we reached arrivals so we succumbed to a cup of expensive caffeine in solution, tasted like dishwater to be honest. The flight from Gatwick was on time landing so we headed to the gate to await our traveller. I can’t remember doing this before, I’m usually the traveller.
“There she is,” I told Gran.
“Where?”
“Just behind the chap with the baseball cap.”
And indeed there was Miss de Vreen trailing her case and looking – well dishevelled. I waited until she cleared the customs area then shouted her.
“Mand!”
It took a second yell before she spotted my arm waving amongst the waiting crowd.
“Gabs, am I glad to see you, where’s your dad?” she mentioned pulling me into a hug.
“At home when I last spoke to him.”
“You’ve come to get me?”
“I’m here,” I noted.
“So we catching the train then?”
“No, we’ve got Mum’s car.”
“Jenny’s here?”
“Ut uh, Gran’s driving.”
“Whe…”
“Right here, Amanda, let’s get back to Dernau.”
“Erm thanks for picking me up…”
“It’s Josie,” Gran instructed.
I called Dad once we cleared the airport but when I started to talk to Mand I realised it was a bit one way – well one hundred percent, she was asleep.
With six of us now travelling the Mercedes wasn’t big enough so Dad had arranged to borrow a Vito from the garage, he fetched before breakfast, we’d leave as soon as we were loaded.
“You got everything?” Mum asked for the hundredth time.
“You saw me packing,” I pointed out.
“I know you of old,” she noted.
Last night had been a whirlwind of activity of course, the airport party got back not much before ten thirty, so it was straight into packing mode for New Year. I’m pretty sure Mand dumped everything onto her bed and repacked from there! This morning it was pretty much just loading the minibus.
“That it?” Dad asked surveying the crammed luggage pen, five cases, three loose pairs of heels and my new frock in its plastic cover laid on top.
“If it’s not, tuff,” Mum suggested.
“Okay then, load up everyone, you okay, Mum?”
“Fine, Dave, come on, Jules, you can sit with me.”
With Mum up front with Dad that left me and Mand on the rearmost row of seats, quite luxurious. Mum slid the side door shut and we were off.
Although it’s over four hundred kilometres down to Harburg it’s easily doable in a day but the Duke insisted we should go a day early hence our travelling today. Likewise we’re staying Saturday and travelling home on Sunday – just in time to start school on Monday.
“You alright, Mand?”
“As it gets,” she allowed.
I still didn’t know the whole story and it didn’t look like I was gonna be privy any time soon.
“You’ll like Sophia,” I opined.
“’Kay.”
“Oh come on, Mand, don’t be such a blanket, we’re gonna stay in a real castle,” I enthused.
“Anywhere’s better than Croydon.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“No it’s worse, look I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Anyway, didn’t you guys spend Christmas day at Max’s?”
“No, it was Sunday, we had a right laugh on Christmas day.”
And so I found myself recounting my brief career as a waitress cum chorister, we were pulling into the services at Spessart before I’d completed my tale.
“We had this Cordon Bleu thing in Koln yesterday,” I mentioned as we perused the food in the self service restaurant.
“Sounds expensive.”
“It wasn’t too bad, ten fifty I think,”
“Not expensive,” Mand chortled.
“It was nine for standard Wienerschnitzel.”
“So what was this Cordon Bleu thing then?” she asked picking out a slice of cheesecake.
“It’s like a schnitzel stuffed with ham and stuff.”
“Pig stuffed with more pig?”
“Turkey.”
“Turkey then, sounds very – German.”
“Well it tasted alright, you want Coke®?”
I hope she’s gonna liven up a bit, last thing we want is a wet blanket putting a downer on stuff.
We picked up the E43 after Wurzburg, this is the same way we came when I went to the Munich wedding, we were soon passing the Rothenburg turn. The biggest difference today, apart from the company in the car, is that whilst it’s dry it’s cold. A lot of the northbound traffic had, if not snow, ice hanging off the front – I hope there’s heating in this castle maybe I should’ve brought something warmer than short PJ’s to sleep in.
There was a certain amount of sleeping going on as we travelled further south, Dad still humming to himself as the kilometres passed. I must’ve nodded myself as I jerked awake as the brakes went on.
“Wassup, Dad?”
“Traffic’s stopped, kiddo,” he called back.
“Where are we?”
“Just past Ellwangen services,” not that that helped, “we’re going off at the next junction.”
The traffic shuffled along for a couple of kilometres and was still doing so when the Aalen turn hove into view. We joined the string of traffic using the hard shoulder to reach the turn off and escape from the hold up and were soon heading towards Aalen.
“isn’t there some Roman thing here?” I queried.
“The Limesmuseum,” Dad agreed.
“We are not going to some museum today, Dave Bond,” Mum stated.
“Wasn’t planning to.”
“Hmm,” Mum didn’t sound convinced.
We reached a junction and with Aalen to the right we turned left, the sign suggested we were headed for Bopfingen or Nordlingen.
“There is a lot of Roman stuff around here,” Dad supplied, “the Limes cuts straight through here somewhere.”
“And my bladder needs emptying,” Mum told the bus – really, TMI!
*
“We’ll be stopping shortly.”
Shortly turned out to be best part of fifteen minutes later in a car park just outside of the Nordlingen city walls. Luckily there were toilets, well one of those self cleaning things, you know, drop a euro in the slot and it opens and stuff automatically, anyhow it did the job for Mum. The sun was doing its best to warm things up but it was still quite brisk.
“How far is it now?” Jules asked.
“Half an hour,” Dad guessed.
“So what did we stop for?”
“Your mum wanted a wee.”
“You were going to stop anyway,” she pointed out.
“You got me, I thought we could have a look here before we go on, they’re not expecting us until five or so. You coming, Mum?”
“A walk I can do,” Gran agreed.
In the end Mum and Jules stayed at the van but I cajoled Mand to join the expedition into the town. There was a map by the gateway into the centre, Dad quickly had a plan and we struck out towards the centre where the church and its high steeple dominate everything.
“Nice place, Dave,” Gran observed.
“It’s on the Romantische Straße, all the toffs used to come down from Würzburg, Rothenburg, here then down to Augsburg and the Alps.”
“I’ve been to Augsburg, and Rothenburg, Max’s aunt lives there.”
Mand gave me a look, “Where haven’t you been?”
“Here?”
She rolled her eyes, so I’ve been places, so what?
Maddy Bell 17.03.16
We had a look in a couple of grockle shops but unless you want Ansichtskarte, schnapps glasses or tea towels there wasn’t much of interest to teenagers of any persuasion. Dad on the other hand left with a couple of books – I didn’t want to ask too much, he might get the idea that I was interested. We headed back to the main square where, yep, you guessed it; Dad spotted a board directing us to the ‘Daniel Turm’.
“Fancy a look?” he proposed.
“What is it, Dave?” Gran enquired.
“I’m guessing, the tower,” he indicated the church’s tall appendage.
“What? Go up it?” Mand qualified.
“Really?” I added.
“Oh come on, you’ve neither of you done much riding over Christmas, it’s only a few steps.”
“Well I’m game, “Gran told us.
What can you do, I’m not being shown up by an old lady!
“How much further?” I puffed, pausing to catch my breath before tackling the next set of steep wooden steps.
It had started off okay, wide stone steps taking us up but then we moved into the tower proper and the almost random arrangement of timbers took us through level upon level. It felt like we’d been climbing for hours.
“We’re at level seven,” Dad called back down.
Thank God!
I climbed up as quickly as my little legs would allow emerging into a surprisingly large area where I was surprised to find a sort of shop and a sign for a toilet. It turns out that this is where you pay, it’s not the absolute top but it’s as far as you get for free. Dad paid, I explored the toilet then we reconvened to make the final assault.
The last ten metres of climbing eventually threw us out onto a balcony high above the town.
“Some view,” Mand allowed.
“Looks a lot more than seventy metres to the ground,” I mentioned after peeking over the parapet.
Whilst cold, the afternoon was ending on a clear, sunny note and the views were impressive.
“Glad you came?” Gran asked after taking a snap of Mand and me.
“Glad might be a bit strong.”
“It’s amazing eh?” Dad suggested.
“What is?” I queried.
“This,” he indicated the vista, “we’re sat smack in the middle of a meteor crater.”
“Really?” Mand asked.
“It’s called the Ries,” Dad informed us.
“Ah, so that’s what was on those posters.” The penny finally dropped.
“Didn’t we come past that big hill over there?” Gran suggested, pointing westwards.
“There’s a hillfort on the top, Ipf or something like that.”
“How do you know all this, Mr Bond?” Mand asked.
“He bought a book,” I supplied.
“I did but I did a bit of research when I found out where we were coming.”
We made a circuit of the balcony then it was time to return to the ground. I swear, going down was no quicker than climbing up, you certainly couldn’t rush; the steps were too big and steep. By the time we emerged back into the square the light was starting to fade and my legs were like rubber.
The walk back to the bus wasn’t a long way, lengthened by a trip into Pennymarkt for some Haribo.
“You were a long time,” Mum accused as we clambered in.
“We went up the tower,” Gran supplied pulling the seatbelt around herself.
“The view was stunning,” Dad added.
“And no doubt cold,” Jules mentioned.
“So you two just sat here?”
“We had a walk over to the Bahnhof and got a coffee,” Mum told us.
Dang! I knew we should’ve done that.
It wasn’t far at all from Nordlingen to our destination but the light had faded and it was pitch black as we approached Harburg.
“That it?” Mand asked.
“Where?” I leant over to look out of her window.
“Reckon so,” Dad allowed.
Well it wasn’t the best view but high above us the schloss was lit by floodlights, whoa!
We turned off the main road and a newish road took us up towards the citadel remarkably easily before we turned off to make our entrance. The Duke had given Dad precise instructions but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who doubted the narrow roadway we turned into was correct. By tummy was doing tricks – excitement I guess, I mean, staying in a castle!
Dad swung the bus through an archway, the roadway climbed more steeply then we were through another gate and into a fairly big courtyard. Like the outside, the courtyard, and the buildings around it were lit by spots, this is something out of – well a fairytale I guess. Pater headed across the space to where a couple of cars were already parked.
“Gaby!”
“Soph!”
Okay, I can get a bit mushy if I like. Anyhow my friend insisted on a good hug before I could get inside the building.
“Glad you could make it,” Duke Ludwig told us.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Dad replied.
“My pleasure, come on in and we can do the introductions in the warm!”
With Sophia hanging on my arm I followed the Duke further into the residence and into a surprisingly homely room with an open fire crackling away at one end. Me and the rents, have of course, met the Duchess, Marianne that is, before but Soph’s sister Serephena, call me Sara, was a new acquaintance. Dad reciprocated on the introductions at which point Ludwig suggested we get settled in before dinner.
The sleeping arrangements had become slightly more complicated with Manda’s return; she was sharing with Jules instead of me, which put me…
“Just like Bonn!” my roomy enthused.
“Er yeah.”
Maybe too much like Bonn, we’d be sharing an admittedly large bed, but what a bed. We are talking four-poster, drapes – the whole nine yards, this is the real McCoy not something from Ikea!
“The bathroom is through there, the shower can be a bit temperamental, do you need a hand unpacking?”
“Think I can manage if you tell me where to put stuff.”
“Use the right hand of the dresser, we can share the wardrobe.”
“Kay,” I allowed.
“I’ll leave you to it, come down when you’re ready.”
“Do we dress for dinner?”
“Don’t be daft, Gabs, it’s just family tonight.”
Phew! I mean I’ve got an extra frock but I’m not sure the others have.
Soph was right about the shower, I gave up and ran a bath instead. I’m sure the tub is nearly as old as the castle, it’s one of those free standing things you see in museums and stately homes – well I guess Harburg counts on that level. The water was hot and I probably dropped off for a bit but I felt a lot better and relaxed by the time I returned to the bedroom.
I didn’t bring a lot of stuff so unpacking took moments, well maybe not moments but not long. Dressed I did a quick job of hair and added the bare minimum of slap and set off for the lounge two floors below.
“There you are,” Soph mentioned meeting me on the first flight of stairs.
“Yep, it’s me.”
“We thought you were asleep, everyone else is down and dinner’s ready.”
Bum – no wonder the water was cold when I woke up.
“Did you get a shower?”
“I gave up and had a bath.”
“Ah,” she allowed.
We bypassed the lounge and instead went into a room a little further on where everyone else was already seated.
“Ah, here she is,” the Duke announced, “come on, girls, I’m hungry.”
Back in Stuttgart in the summer the Duchess did the cooking, I sort of thought she’d do it here too. Well duh! They have staff here, well a cook and helper at least. It was a bit weird having dinner served in a domestic rather than a restaurant situation, the Taxis however seemed perfectly at home with it.
Dinner wasn’t anything special – that will be tomorrow, no it wasn’t schnitzel but pork medallions do feature regularly at home. Whilst we are the only houseguests tonight there will be more tomorrow although, so Marianne told us, they are all family friends. Where does that leave the Bond clan I wonder?
“Do you stay here a lot?” Mand asked.
After eating everyone had returned to the lounge, adults at one end, the rest of us half watching the TV at the other.
“Hardly ever,” Soph admitted.
“Mama and Papa come more often,” Sara told us.
“So what happens here the rest of the time?” I asked.
“The public come to visit, its popular for weddings and parties of course,” Sara advised.
“We’ll have to give you the tour tomorrow,” Soph suggested.
“Sure,” I agreed.
There was certainly no doubting that Sara and Sophia were sisters and further, they shared their mother’s features. One good thing was that Mand has come out of her fugue – maybe she’ll tell me what went off in England at some point. Anyway we did what girls do until my sister started snoring, it was after eleven and I must admit, even having had a power nap in the bath I was feeling a bit dopey too.
“See you in the morning,” Mand proposed.
“Nite.”
“Ciao!”
“Come on, Gab, hopefully Marta put the bed blanket on otherwise it’ll be freezing.”
“Marta?”
“The housekeeper, you don’t think this place looks after itself?”
“Er no.”
Marta hadn’t visited our room; the bed was cold, the radiators struggling to keep the room in double figures.
Maddy Bell 18.03.16