“Why aren’t they announcing the result?” Lor asked no one in particular.

Why indeed, I finished fifteen minutes ago, it shouldn’t take this long. In fact Dad’s gone to find out while we all wait impatiently for the presentations to start. And yes I had my crying jag but I’m over that now right?

“Anyone got a drink?” I requested.
“Hen,” Josh passed me a can of cola, not great but better than nowt.
“Cheers.”
Mand tugged my elbow, “your dad’s back.”
“Dave?” Caro enquired.
“The comissaires are still locked away,” he advised.

It was another ten minutes before the now restless crowd and like all the participants were addressed by the MC.

“What’s he saying Mikel?” Claire asked our man from Sevilla.
“He apologises for the delay,” Lamba junior translated, “the judges were checking the rules and the films?”
“Photo finish I’m guessing,” Geth suggested.
“Si,” Mikel agreed, “then he says today was exciting and unexpected.”
“No shit Sherlock,” Daz suggested.

Eventually they did get onto the presentations, first of course todays race, I couldn’t understand a word but smiled at the right times and suffered not one but two officials bussing my cheeks, yeuk. Then it was the ‘minor’ jerseys, then the girls result before the ‘main’ event. I got the spotty jersey of course, well we already knew that but whilst we claimed all the podium steps we were a bit taken aback when it wasn’t quite the trio we’d expected. Indeed, Laura claimed third behind Tal and Mand – what about me? what’s going on?

“Dad?”
“I’ll find out kiddo,” he set off to talk to the officials.

Well of course I cheered my friends even if I was a bit non plussed, I mean, I must’ve won it by a mile, Mand was like a couple of minutes behind before today. I’m sure Dad’ll sort them out.

Geth was called to the stage for his presentation, the pride and joy on his face a joy to see. The rest of us whooped and cheered loudly, its not just the Spanish who can make a noise. As Geth descended after his presentation the MC started rabbiting again, you don’t need a translation, its always the same at this point, exciting race, stars of the future, blah de blah. The crowd hushed in anticipation.

“En tercer lugar, Juan Louis Sanchez, Team Regionale Catalonii!”

Huh? Sanchez only got third? But I thought he’d won, by the look on his face so did he.

The MC rattled on again before pausing,“Y en segunda posición, Mikel Lamba, Schauff Cyclo!”

Well that was unexpected. I know he was sitting quite high on GC but how did he leapfrog Sanchez? Mikel took to the stage with a grin even wider than Geth’s had been. Have they sanctioned me for something? Who has won? And where’s Dad? All the hullabaloo on the stage quietened down somewhat and a crackle from the PA suggested the MC was about to start again.

“Por último, nuestro ganador, Gabriella Bond, Team Apollinaris!”

I stood rooted to the spot.

“Gab,” Lor mentioned jiggling my arm, “thats you!”
“Jamie?” Josh queried.
“Aye,” he agreed.

Suddenly I found myself plucked from the ground and hoisted skywards.

“Whaaa!”

The pair of them carried me shoulder height to the stage where I was unceremoniously delivered to some acclaim. I’ve won, I’ve won! Yee ha!

Well I don’t mind telling you, the next twenty minutes or so were a bit of an emotional roller coaster, joy, tears, confusion – well the whole nine yards. It wasn’t just me, Dad was walking ‘round grinning like a loon and whilst it wasn’t them on the podium, everyone else in our party was bouncing too. Lets face it, without everyone’s input and effort I wouldn’t have been able to claim the final Green jersey and their efforts all week have all gone towards our overall success.

In the end it came down to pedantic rules, my eighteen second margin today clearly didn’t cut it but the five seconds between Vasquez winning the chaotic sprint for second and Sanchez crossing the line in a group deemed separate tipped things. The official margin then, just two seconds, Mikel ending on the same seconds as he was in the first group with Curly, getting the drop on Sanchez on count back. Complicated eh but I’d take one second if it gave me the win.

“You got everything Gaby?” Angela queried poking her head around the door.
“Think so,” I allowed casting an eye around this week’s temporary abode.
“Manda gone down?”
“Yeah, just need a wee and I’ll be down.”
“Well don’t be too long, your dad’s keen to get off.”
“I won’t.”

She departed on her rounds and I headed for the bathroom. Sitting on the throne, my thoughts drifted from my purpose in being there to the days events. Yeah I still can’t believe how things turned out, I know we started with a plan to do just this but plans and reality have a habit of going their separate ways. Anything could’ve put a spoke in things today, a puncture or other mechanical, an off, even just a rain shower but no, the gods were looking after me today.

Mikel and Olivier departed to a forest of waving and goodbyes, they have their own journey to make back down to Seville some eight hundred K’s away, I think they’re stopping somewhere around Valladolid like us completing the journey tomorrow.

“Come on you lot, Darren’ll be in France before you lot get loaded at this rate,” Dad chivvied.

The same seating arrangement as we had coming down has been settled on, that is me, Josh and Tal in the BMW with Kat, Angela and Dad in the camper, Geth has gone with Darren in the bike van and everyone else is in the bus with Caro. We’ve only got about three hundred kilometres up to Bordeaux tonight but given its now after five we won’t be seeing dinner or our beds particularly early. Kat gunned the Bimmer into life and we were on our way.

It didn’t take many minutes to reach the Autopista Nivarro, the AP-15 and we were on our way.

“Penny for them,” Kat offered as we dropped towards San Seb and the coast.
“Eh, oh was just wondering what’s for dinner tonight.”
“Oh come on Gab, that wasn’t a food look.”

I checked into the back seat, Tal was laid over Josh and both were at least doing a fair impression of being asleep.

“So?” Kat prompted.
“Okay, I was thinking about Max.”
“Ahrtal’s prince of passion?”
“You what?”
“Er nothing, haven’t you been ringing him while we’ve been down here?”
“A couple of times, its hardly the same though.”
“So I guess you’re planning a grand reunion then?”
“Hardly grand,” I scoffed.
“Oo, something intimate.”
“Er don’t we turn here?” I suggested spotting Irun on the exit board.
“Oh sugar!”

Well it was hardly great roadcraft, a dive across two lanes, fortunately the slip road was quite a shallow turn.

“So romantic dinner then?”
“More like a romp in the vineyard,” I sighed.
“Thought your rents were okay with, you know?”
“Sort of, I mean they’re okay about Jules and Boris and Max does have Dad’s approval but its just too weird doing anything with them about.”
“Anything?”
“Kissing,” I stated.
“Wasn’t thinking anything else,” she tried to look innocent and failed.
“So what about you, no Mr Right for Katia Pinger?”
“Ha, chance’d be a fine thing, I’m hardly at home and just about all the men I meet on the circuit are old enough to be my father.”
“And there was me thinking you and George were the perfect match,” I giggled.
“Puh-lese!”

A comfort stop just after we crossed into France was taken then we returned to the near deserted A63. Kat stuck some music on but I was actually too tired for my usual karaoke session, even when she put in my Blau Hase disc. Not that I could actually sleep unlike Snow White and her prince snoring away in the back.

We weren’t staying in Bordeaux itself of course, no we’re staying on the Right Bank at the Ibis Floirac almost next to the ring road. We were of course the first to arrive, a little after eight, we passed Darren and Geth down Biarritz way, so we got check in honours again. By the time the others arrived I’d showered (again) and changed into a sundress, well manky shorts and camisole are hardly suitable for dinner are they?

The others were less concerned with protocol and filed into the restaurant straight off the bus just about. We were pre booked for the set menu, a three course affair, a thin soup, beef roulade and fruit salad to follow. It was reasonable fare, for a second night in a row we had some produce of the vine, we weren’t having a full on celebration, Caro was mumbling about doing something later in the week on that score.

We were getting coffee when Dad stood and addressed us.

“I know its been a funny day but in case I forget tomorrow I’ll say it now. I, no we, are really proud of you all this week, not just your riding which has been very mature – and successful but your behaviour generally. I think we all,” he glanced at the other adults who were variously nodding and so on, “have enjoyed being here with you, I’m sure Kat and Darren have had their fill of legs and bikes and Angela won’t want to see another loaf for a while but it really has been a pleasure.”

There was a bit of polite clapping before Caro stood.

“As Dave says, its been a pleasure working with you this week and across the summer. Personally I think BC are doing you all and themselves a disservice, you’ve shown everyone this week that you can compete and be successful on the international stage. Hopefully we’ll sort out something outside of BC for everyone who isn’t already set up and I look forward to working with you all again in the future. A toast then, to Dave Bond who has made all this happen, to Apollinaris who’ve been unstinting in their support and to you all for excelling.”

It sounded like a farewell speech, well I guess it is, the training camp ends this week, we race next weekend then the Brits go home. We raised our glasses and with saddened hearts gave the toast.

“Where are you?”
“Bordeaux.”
“You do know what the time is Gab?”
“Just turned eleven?”

I could hear him stifling a yawn.

“Don’t let me keep you up.”
“You’re not, I mean its been a long day, so how’d today go?”
“Okay I guess.”
“Just okay?”
“Well I did win.”
“Cool,” he gave a pretty solid yawn this time.
“If I bore you that much...”
“You don’t but Dad’s had me painting in the restaurant all day, I ache all over.”
“I’ll ring tomorrow.”
“When are you back?”
“Late tomorrow.”
“I could come down?” he offered.
“I said it’ll be late.”
“I don’t mind.”
“But I might, lets play it by ear eh?”

“That was short,” Mand opined.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “he reckons he’s tired.”
“It is turned eleven.”
“And?” I huffed.
“Whatever, lets get some sleep, I can’t believe we’re leaving at seven in the morning.”

Maddy Bell © 11.05.2018