Gaby Book 18 - Summery

Of course as a teenager I reserve the right to be a pain in the posterior, specifically towards my parents when they ask me to do stuff so my reaction to Dad’s breakfast time requests was completely justified. Well, in my head at least.

Mum instigated a system some time ago to make shopping easier – there’s a pad on the kitchen board that we are supposed to write down anything that we use on. Clearly stuff gets missed so it’s not Bond proof but it does act as a good starting point and it’s not like it is back in England where people do a big shop in Sainsbury’s or Tesco or wherever and that's it. For starters we get our bread from Thesing's, Dad goes to the drinks warehouse every few weeks, there’s a good butcher here in Dernau and most of the veggies come from a farm shop Stefan Preiser put us onto.

The nett result is that a trip to Aldi or Lidl or wherever is used to buy stuff like washing powder, biscuits, toilet roll as opposed to core food lines. Oh I know they sell the other stuff and occasionally we will pick up other bits if we are desperate. Generally though the weekly supermarket run is a poor imitation of back in Warsop.

It only took me a couple of minutes to make the list up by which time Dad was ready to go down to Bad Neuenahr.

“You alright? I'll be back about four.”
“’Kay.”
“Washing.”
“I'm doing it!”

His look indicated I was getting close to his patience threshold.

“You might be sixteen young lady but you aren’t too old to be sanctioned.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“If you go out make sure the place is locked up.”
“Of course I will.”
“Later then.”

I watched him from the kitchen window until he’d departed.

“Con, wotcha doing later?”
“Same as you?”
“Cool, I just need to finish this washing and I'll be round.”
“What’re we doing?”
“I need to collect my dress for starters.”
“Aah!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, geez, Gab calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“See you in a bit,” my BF told me.
“Later.”

I think I've mentioned before, we’ve got two washing machines, one in the ‘bike shed’, the other upstairs in the laundry room. I did a round of the washing hampers, well I might as well be thorough or that won’t be right either. Of course that meant both machines were pressed into action, someone – not me is gonna have a pile of ironing later!

You might think I'm making a mountain out of a molehill, you might even by right but I'm entitled okay? Last night’s thunderstorm has at least left everything fresh and green so rather than use the drier I decided to hang everything outside. It’s a bit of a pain but you never get the same sort of freshness out of the drier whatever you do.

“We’re going by bike?” Con queried.
“It’s a nice day.”
“Just checking, so you win yesterday?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?”
“Well we crossed the line together.”
“But?” Con pressed.
“They gave me third,” I sighed.
“Well that's hardly a disaster,” Con noted.
“But I coulda won,” I moaned.
“You can’t win every time, girl.”
“Why not?”
Con just shook her head, “You want coffee before we go?”
“After, my treat.”
“Well if you’re paying count me in!”

There were quite a few oldies on Trekking bikes on the bike path – yeah we’re well into Grockle season. In a few weeks they might be stopping at our kiosk for lunch, I smiled as we crossed which did elicit some friendly greetings.

“Why are you grinning like a loon?”
“All these bikes have potential customers on board.”
“Never thought of it like that,” Con admitted.
“We should do some advertising boards for on here.”
“Aren’t we a long way off here?”
“Plenty of them ride up to Altenahr, we could have like distance markers, you know like ten K to the Bridge Kiosk, five K and so on.”
“Okay, you’ve sold me – hey maybe we could get something in the Tourist Office.”
“Fliers,” I enthused, “we could put the menu on one side and directions the other.”
“We could go and see them after you get your dress.”
“Well maybe after lunch.”
“After lunch then.”

By now we were heading into the old town so further discussion was curtailed as we negotiated the narrow lanes.

Ding a ling, ling. The bell on Eloise Couture’s door loudly announced our arrival, I've become so used to the store being empty that I was a bit taken aback to find Gerta was already serving someone. And not just anyone, I'd recognise that hair anywhere.

“Gabrielle,” the Baroness, Max’s grandma greeted, “and your friend, Constance isn’t it?”
“Er yes,” Con agreed.
“Erm hello, Baroness.”
“I've told you before Gabrielle, Grandma,” she instructed, “you have come for your dress for the wedding?”
“Um Dottie said it would be ready?” I appealed to Gerta.
“My grandson said that your hair was an ‘interesting’ colour.”
“I've got a wig for the wedding,” I told her with a hint of panic in my voice.
I was saved by Gerta, “if you’ll excuse me for a moment, your Grace, I'll take the girls through to Dorothy.”
“Certainly, we can have a look when she’s dressed, eh?”
“Of course, your Grace. Come girls.”
‘Who’s Dorothy?’ I mouthed to Con who just shrugged in reply.

Well I knew I'd be trying the frock on so I had on some neutral hold ups under my Capri's and the shoes I got last week in Bonn were in my bag – see, I do learn. Once delivered to the changing room, Gerta called for ‘Dorothy’ before returning to the front of the shop.

“Ah, Gaby and Connie,” Dot greeted, “I'll just fetch the dress.”

The penny dropped, since no one else works here Dottie is Dorothy, Gerta was trying to be posh in front of her exalted and no doubt lucrative customer.

Dottie returned with the er dotty creation within seconds, “You need shoes?”
“I've er got some,” I allowed waving said stilts.
“Well let’s get you dressed then.”

It felt weird, the net underskirt full enough to hold the knee length skirts away from my legs whilst the semi fitted bodice hugged me above the waist.

“Looking good, Gabs,” Con stated as Dot fussed with the skirts.
“I feel a right dork.”
“You don’t look like one,” Dottie noted, “in fact very sophisticated. Let me put your hair up before we show the Baroness.”

With practised ease my hair was soon in a tidy chignon and I was being ushered into the shop.

There was silence when I stepped out, the assembled audience increased by Max’s mum.

“Is it okay?” I squeaked.
“One moment,” Gerta suggested hurrying across the store and returning with a yellow clutch that matched both shoes and dress, “there.”
“You look stunning, Gaby,” Gloria broke the silence.
“My dear, you’ll outshine them all,” the Baroness added with a weird little clap.
“Not Sara I hope,” I opined.
“Silly girl,” Grandma mentioned.
“Not the place, mother,” Gloria suggested.
“No, no indeed, Gertrude, include the bag.”
“Of course, your Grace.”
“I um better get changed,” I mumbled.

When I'd decided that we’d ride down I hadn’t allowed for more than the dress itself, I surveyed the pile of bags on Gerta’s counter, wondering how to transport dress, underskirt, shoes and bag back to Dernau. I didn’t dare look at the chit when Gerta requested a signature – far too much I'm sure.

“I'll drop it off for you, Gaby,” Gloria offered.
“There might not be anyone in till late this afternoon.”
“I'll ring beforehand then.”
“Erm thanks.”
“Can’t have our Prinzessin getting in a pickle, eh?”
“Erm no.”

“Grandma?”
“Wasn’t my idea,” I told my companion, “she insisted when we went to Munich last year.”
“Munich,” Con sighed, “I really should go to some of these places.”
“They aren’t all that brilliant, one city’s much like another.”
“Easy enough for you to say, you’ve actually been further than Kӧln.”
“You went to Berlin,” I pointed out.
“One trip hardly compares to your globe trotting does it?”
“Tell you what, we’ll go on a road trip, everyone together, we can go to Munich and Nürnberg and wherever.”
“In our dreams.”
“Nope, I promise.”
“Think she’ll adopt me?” Con changed the subject as she unlocked her bike.
“I'm not adopted.”
“Don’t take everything so literally, Gabs, so where’re we eating?”
I hadn’t given it a lot of thought, a glance along the street gave sudden inspiration though, “Der Mühle?”
“As in the Foch’s place?”
“Only one I know, I might be able to swing a staff discount.”
“Gabrielle Bond, you are the limit!”
“Ah but the limit of what?”

Con just shook her head, kicked the side stand up and started pushing her steed along towards the restaurant cum bar.

Maddy Bell © 23.01.17