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*Chapter 24*

Eiscafé

 
 
I gave an enormous yawn as I came out of the school building, the shower had been nice but our detour added over twenty k to our ride, I’m kernackered!

“Gab, you left your bibs in the changing room,” Ron told me before throwing the salt-caked garment at me.

“Ew! Nastee!”

BANG!

The explosion rent the previously quiet air, like bees to honey everyone rushed out to the road to investigate. Instead of unknown carnage the only body to be seen was Dad, currently shaking his head in a cloud of dust.

“What the heck was that?”

“That was Ron’s tyre,” he supplied.

The other would be spectators lost interest, Ron and I headed to the car.

Although strapped to the roof of the car, it was still easy enough to see the ten centimetre split in the rear tyre.

“Wow, some fail,” I allowed.

“Glad it happened here,” Ron noted.

“I’ll sort you a tyre when we drop you off Ron,” Dad advised, “so kiddo, you checked your phone?”

“Er no, hang on.”

I’d actually just transferred it from my jersey pocket to my shorts; I pulled it out and groaned.

“The battery’s dead.

“One day, Gaby, one day,” Dad shook his head.

“Sorry,” I launched into another yawn.

“I suppose you’re too tired for ice cream then?”

“Ice cream?”

“There’s a parlour just along the road,” Dad supplied.

“Count me in,” Ron put in.

“Hmm pistachio,” I mused.

“Stop daydreaming then, get in,” our chauffeur prompted.

 
 
It certainly was ‘just up the road’, a few hundred metres at most. Sat at one end of a block of apartments it barely looked open but even as we parked and locked up there was a steady stream of patrons arriving and departing. We crossed Aachener Strasse and took our turn at the door crowned with the word ‘Unbehaun’ and joined the queue.

“Where’s the menu?” I queried.

“On the wall,” Ron supplied.

“Where?”

“On the back, there.” She pointed at a small board.

I’d already seen that but it didn’t have any flavours on it, oh well I’ll make a decision at the counter. I looked around the shop, a dozen or so tables, about half occupied, the décor was super retro, no pictures of bizarre ice cream dishes or Mediterranean villages, the stock of ice cream parlours everywhere. Instead the walls were decorated with framed photos of what appeared to be this place.

“Hi,” the chap on the counter greeted, “what’ll it be?”

Dad had clearly been studying the menu more than me, “three regular please, I’ll have the Neapolitan, girls?”

“You got pineapple?” I enquired hopefully.

Eyebrows were raised, “You need to go up town for that, we have chocolate, citron, nut, vanilla and strawberry or you can have the Neapolitan.”

I was a bit disappointed; still, Eis is Eis, “Strawberry then.”

“Neapolitan,” Ron added.

 
 
Five minutes later we were tucking into our respective tubs sat close to the window so we could see the car.

“Dunno how they stay open, five flavours indeed!”

“Says here,” Ron started reading from a card on the table, “that they opened in 1906 and the Eis is made here in the shop from fresh milk.”

“Guess the burghers of Dusseldorf are happy with five, kiddo,” Dad suggested.

Indeed since our arrival there had never been less than three people queuing, some sitting in like us but mostly departing to eat on the street or I’m guessing by the packing, to take home.

“I guess, I was looking forward to pineapple and mango.”

“Well I think traditional is nice,” Ron supplied.

“It tastes alright doesn’t it?” Dad pressed.

“Yeah but like that’s not the point.”

“Hundred years,” Ron observed.

Whatever.
 
 

Frozen dairy product consumed we returned to the Mercedes and rather than picking up the autobahn we circumnavigated Dusseldorf before following the Düssel up to the Neanderthal Museum, the road soon depositing us back in Mettmann and up the hill to Ron’s abode.

“Sorry we’re so late, Angela, this pair got lost,” Dad told Ron’s mum when we decamped.

“Huh, blame us,” I accused, “who suggested ice cream?”

“Some place called Unbehaun,” Ron supplied.

“On Aachener Strasse?”

“You know it?” Dad queried.

“It’s famous in the area, one of Düssel’s hidden gems.”

“Well they could do with more flavours,” I moaned again.

“You guys staying to eat?”

“If it’s no trouble, we seem to’ve missed doing more than snack today,” Dad offered.

“That’s settled, you two need to shower?”

“We did that in Düssel mom.”

“Well get your kit in the washer, you too, Gaby.”

She’s worse than Mum!

“Coffee, Dave?”

 
 
I might have mentioned before that Ron’s mum is something of a demon in the kitchen, she genuinely enjoys feeding people. I’m sure she’d got the food ready in anticipation; Ron had barely got our cycling kit in the washer before we were called to the table.

“Help yourselves, there’s plenty.”

We seated ourselves and I waited to see what was on offer. Angela brought out a big casserole dish that spat and hissed at us.

“Hmm, that looks good,” Dad grinned.

And indeed it was, turkey breasts cooked in a cheese sauce topped with pineapple, boiled taters, peas and carrots – a veritable feast. It certainly hit the spot and I, for once, was stuffed when I finished.

 
 
“Come on, Gab,” Ron instructed me after the table was cleared.

“What we doing?”

“Just hangin’”

Fair enough, I can do that. We went up to her bedroom, I’ve been before, I’m mostly okay with girl’s bedrooms these days, I seem to spend a lot of time in them!

“You seen the latest Radsport?”

“Not yet.”

“On the night stand, there’s a report on the Worlds.”

“Kay,” I allowed as I retrieved the magazine.

“You get a mention.”

“I should hope so, hey what are you doing?”

What she was doing was getting pretty much naked! She was already down to her panties; I was being exposed to far more Roni than I need to see. Okay we’ve shared changing rooms but this is different, this, this blatant er nakedness.

“Getting comfortable, I’m a bit bloated after that dinner, chuck us that dress.”

I did my best to avert my eyes whilst giving her the dress but well; she’s got a nice bod okay. It was soon thankfully covered by said frock, geez, I’m comparing her boobs to my fried eggs, well not fried eggs, nope I’m a full C cup, thanks Mum. I so don’t want these things, I never did, flippin’ Mother Nature, you played Top Trumps with me and I lost big style.

“Gab?”

“Hmm?”

“You alright? You looked miles away.”

“Er yeah, just thinking.”

“There’s a photo gallery in the middle, nice pic of your mum.”

It’s a German magazine but they were quite generous in their coverage, I suppose the fact that me and Mum live here and ride for a German team doesn’t hurt. The shot of Mum was a classic long shot, Mum punching the air in delight as the remains of the women’s race straggled along behind. I featured in two pictures, a podium shot for the road and a side on shot taken in the TT alongside a similar shot of Tony Martin, my co champion.

I wasn’t the only one in the room featured; Ron’s third place in the TT got her a podium shot. I studied the time trial pictures, Martin clearly taller but well tucked, me much more compact. But more than that, the caption said Drew Bond, junior men’s Weltmeister, even I could see that the picture was of Gaby Bond, junior woman – I’ve never really looked before, how anyone can not see the girl or rather does see boy!
 
 

“Gaby? Time to go,” Dad called up.

“Kay.”

The pair of us returned to the ground floor where Dad and Angela were waiting.

“Make sure you dry that kit when you get home,” Angela instructed.

“Er yeah, sure,”

“So we’ll see you Sunday?”

“Yeah, I’ll ring to confirm times later in the week,” Dad agreed, “oh nearly forgot Roni, you need a tyre, you okay for tubes?”

“Yes plenty of tubes thanks.”

We migrated out to the car, Ron’s bike was absent, Dad must’ve unloaded it while we were upstairs. Dad opened the rear door and dug around in a plastic crate for the tyre.

“Here you go, let me have the old one next week, we might be able to get some credit on it.”

“I’ll make sure she brings it, Dave,” Angela stated.

“Mum!”

It’s not just me that gets embarrassing parent syndrome.

By the time we departed, the light was starting to go, it’ll be about nine before we get back to Dernau. Not that I’d see much of the journey, shortly after we joined the autobahn my eyes decided they needed a shutdown, the rest of my body was only too keen to join that enterprise.
 
 Maddy Bell © 15.11.2014