I finished my explanation, downplaying just how scared I'd been, how close to the tractor wheels – well no parent wants to hear exactly how close their offspring has come to injury or worse do they. Not that I think I fooled her for one second.

“Come here,” she pulled me into a hug and just held me.

I wasn’t tearful or anything but it did feel good to have her hold me. I think her being a cyclist herself she understands what I went through better than Dad would. No doubt she’s had similar ‘near death’ experiences that she’s not mentioned to us – yeah cycling as a sport is not for the feint hearted.

Its not like I've not had scrapes before – how many crashes have I had? Too many but cyclists aren’t footballers, we get straight back up and keep going – often when a saner person would be calling it quits. Leaving your mode of transport unexpectedly is all part of the ‘game’, its generally when motorised transport gets in the mix that things become more serious.

After a couple of minutes Mum released me, “what time are you home then?”
“Dunno, seven, eight?”
“Ring if you’re going to be later.”
“’Kay,” I groaned, parents can be so, I dunno, overprotective. “see you later.”

“I spoke to Gab earlier,” Jen advised her other half, “I think I know what caused the heart rate blip.”
Dave looked up from the pile of papers on his desk, “oh?”
Jenny perched on the edge of the work surface, “she had a bit of a scare.”
“Not the Halloween type I'm guessing.”
“And closer than she admitted to me I'm betting too.”
“Do I want to know the details?”
“Probably not Love, it definitely shook her up though but the timing’s right for the elevated figures.”
“Must’ve been some fright.”
“I think it was Dave, don’t say anything, she’ll talk if she needs to.”
“You’re the expert.”
“I've been there and mark my words, Mum would not have appreciated me telling her about every close scrape, she knew right enough but hearing it from her darling daughter would’ve had me off the bike and in cotton wool quicker than you can say ‘it was nothing’.”
“I'll suggest it to BC, I need to ring Chris again anyhow, he’s wangled an invite for us to the Ryedale three day next month.”
“The girls’ll enjoy that.”
“I've spent most of the day wheedling some extra out of George, that's what this lot is,” he indicated the papers on the desk.
“Sooner you,” Mrs Bond noted.

It was a bit weird, riding the Schauff up the valley, and for that matter using the bike path. Pia had been waiting at Rech and they idled their way along the cinder trail, there was no great rush after all.

“You listening Gab?”
“Eh?”

Okay, I had been thinking about getting to the Kiosk when we’ve opened and who I can get to do the opening.

“I said, how did you get on this morning, at the Tourist info?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Duh! You hardly shut up about it Monday night. So?”
Temporarily thrown I pedalled on a moment before getting my brain in gear, “they’ve agreed to take our flyers.”
“I sense a but,” P suggested.
“Well I sort of said we were having like a proper opening with a celebrity and everything.”
“Kewl, who is it?”
“Erm.”
“Gaby Bond, you fibber!” P’s sharp like that, my hesitation was all the clue she’d needed.
“It just sort of came out.”
“You’ll have to organise something now,” she pointed out.
“Yeah,” I agreed without much conviction.

“Sounds plausible,” Chris allowed, “I'll mention it to the number crunchers.”
“I'll keep an eye on the figures,” Dave stated, “now this Ryedale thing, I've got the go ahead from George.”
“Great, let me know who you’re bringing over and we’ll get your transport and accommodation sorted out.”
“I'll get back to you tomorrow with that,”
“I'll expect your call, have a good evening.”
“And you,” Dave finished before ending the call, now to work out who’s going.

“Bleh!” I allowed collapsing to the grass.
“I'm done in,” Lisse stated from her recumbent position behind my head.
“Tell us about it,” Kris agreed.
“It would’ve been good if Mand had been here to practice that demount,” Pia observed.
“She has been practising,” I told our little group.

I certainly felt like we’d been working hard, not ninety K on a bike hard but a couple of hours jumping and prancing about hard. Different muscles and not the same sort of intensity but woe betide anyone who thinks cheering is soft – its not if you are serious about it. My eyes closed and I let my body relax and my mind started to wander as the others conversation became a background mumble.

‘Our music started and I had the job of being first out onto the floor. Were the crowd stunned into silence or just being polite? I gave myself a little chuckle, we’ve surprised them, and I even saw the judges sit up more as we started the routine. The first part was almost in slow motion, not that you could move that quick wearing this lot. Oh I never told you did I? We’ve got our regular uniform on underneath but we’ve started in a simplified Victorian dress, no glitz or anything.

It seemed to last forever but be over so quick and I landed my splits spot on cue to finish. The music stopped and there was a pretty good reaction, well I thought so anyway. With so many squads taking part we were ushered off the floor and joined our ‘coaches’.’

Yeah, that’d been quite a day. Not just the cheering but the whole thing, George Mason University Fairfax campus was huge and then of course actually winning the competition. Hmm, wonder what the ‘mericans are doing now? we’ve been exchanging Chrimbo cards and stuff but we don’t exactly keep up to date with each others lives.

“You coming Gab? “Lisse queried.
“Eh?”
“Kris’s?”
Food, my belly informed my talking gear, “er yeah,” I agreed.

I told you about Kristen’s place before right, all the hunting trophies and stuff? Well thankfully her Mum thought it would be better to feed us out on the patio, I don’t think I'd enjoy eating anything with all those eyes watching.

“Dig in girls, there’s more Brötchen if you want them.”
“Thanks mum,” Kris allowed as we seated ourselves.

Don’t think me ungrateful but when someone invites me for dinner, DIY sandwiches with rabbit food isn’t what springs to mind – I hope Mum remembers to do me a plate at home or I'll starve. Well not literally but you know what I mean.

“So you think we’ve got a chance Saturday Gabs?” Lisse asked constructing her dinner from the assorted makings.
“Don’t see why not, if we get the landings right I reckon we’re as good as anyone.”
“So what were you dreaming about in the park?” P enquired.
“You were waving your arms like a windmill,” Kris added.
I was? “I was erm just remembering the competition I did in America.”
“That must’ve been well cool,” Susan opined.
“Pretty good,” I agreed stuffing my own ‘sandwich’ with sliced Frikadel and tomato.
“You’ve been everywhere Gab,” Lisse suggested.
“Hardly,” hmm, some Gurken will set that off nicely.
“America, you went to Japan last year,” P started.
“Doesn’t exactly count as everywhere.”
“Maybe not,” Kris agreed, “but compared to us mere mortals.”

I've never really thought too much about it, other people do travel but I guess its not necessarily normal. Anyway, conversation moved to other more pressing concerns like Saturdays nail polish colour and the recently announced comeback of 5ive - not that I was interested, I never rated them first time round though I recall a certain sister of mine having a wall covered in 5ive posters!

“Good session?” Mand suggested.
“Not bad,” I allowed dropping onto the sofa.
“Shower!” Dad instructed.
“Da-ad,” I groaned, well maybe I am a little er, fragrant, especially after racing the Express down to Dernau, it got the drop on me at Mayschoß as the Radweg follows the river but the train doesn’t. And I guess I am still in the stuff I was wearing for leaping about in the park – no wonder Kris’s mum fed us outside.
“Get cleaned up daughter mine,” Mum suggested, “by the time you’re clean your dinner will be ready.”
Ready? I thought she was just doing me a plate, “what is it?”
“Pasta and bolognese, you got preference?”
I know its essentially the same whatever variety of pasta but bolognese, there’s really only one way to have it, “Spaggety please.”

Mum over did the spaghetti a bit, there was enough to feed three in the bowl – I know I can eat a fair bit but really.

“Mum?”
“Hmm?” she allowed as she deftly ironed one of Dad’s shirts.
“I've sort of mucked up.”
“Oh? How so?”
“I sort of told Herr Bayermann, you know at the Tourist Info? Well I said we were having a celebrity to open the kiosk.”
Mum paused from her endeavours, “Gabrielle Bond, sometimes.”
“What am I going to do Mum?”
“You could tell him the truth?”
“But I'd look like a right plonker .”
“One of these days you’ll think before you speak, didn’t Con say anything?”
“Not till after, I sort of told her I had it in hand?”
Mum shook her head, “Gaby Bond. Look, I'm not promising anything but I might, just might know someone.”

I jumped up to give her a hug.

“Thanks Mum.”
“Watch your fo-rk.”

Too late I realised I was still clutching the bolognese loaded eating implement which of course failed to contain the dollop of sauce. It was like watching a crash in slow motion, you know the end result, you’re helpless to change the outcome but you still have to make the attempt. The bright red sauce released its grip on the fork and executed a near perfect arc to land in a wide splatter on the just ironed shirt.

“I er need to do some washing,” I suggested before I got an earful from the parental unit.
“Gaby Bond,” she shook her head again, “sometimes.”

Maddy Bell © 09.02.17