Gaby Book 25 Only Five Minutes by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2019 Madeline Bell After all the excitement of the last few weeks culminating in the trip to Austria, surely Gaby can get back to some sort of 'normal'? Well it wouldn't be Gaby if it was that simple would it?

 
I'd hardly got through the door before I came under fire from the parental units.

“Make sure you've got two posh frocks,” Mum instructed.
“Two? What for?”
“Just because.” Parent logic.
“Whatever.”
“Aren't you packed yet?” Dad added from the lounge.
“I was,” i pointed out, “now i've got to sort more stuff out.”
“And don't forget we're stopping at the Grönberg's for dinner.”
“Yes Mum,” I sighed before making my escape to the eyrie.

So okay, maybe I wasn't telling the hundred percent truth when I told Dad I was packed, strictly speaking, well i've got my prezzies and some knickers in the case and in my head I know the rest of what I'm taking. And now i've got to decide on another dress and everything that goes with it which would be a lot easier if I hadn't accumulated so many. Look, I'm certainly no 'clothes horse' or dedicated follower of fashion' but a girl has to look her best right?

Well I guess i'd best get on or I'll never hear the end of it, I opened my case and started raiding the drawers and shelves. Over the next hour stuff was back and forth like an enthusiastic okey cokey, in, out, shake it all about. I probably had far too much stuff by the time I was finished, enough hose and lingerie for a fortnight, I compromised on some of the shoes, they can double up right?

I heaved the case down from my hole then headed back up to change and shower.
 

I found my way back to the kitchen looking for food.

“You sorted now?” Mum queried as she stirred something on the stove.
“Yeah, its on the landing, what's for dinner?”
“Thought we'd have Spag Bol, you'd best tell your Dad.”
“That we're having spaghetti?”
She took a deep breath, “your case? Mind you, a bottle of red would go down well too.”
“Right, where we eating?”
“Lets be civilsed for a change eh?”
 

Mum makes an excellent Bolognese, Mand had what was effectively sauce Milanese, she doesn't know what she's missing – or perhaps she does. Anyhow, I think we managed not to spray sauce over too much of the table cloth and even Bond 'house' wine is a lot better than that cheapo plonk at college earlier. Tinned peaches and Soß Anglaise provided a simple but somehow satisfying dessert, I know, its hardly haute cuisine but so what.

“You done kiddo?” Dad asked.
I shrugged, “unless there's cake, why?”
“We had a delivery earlier.”

Not exactly a rare occurrence.

“Oh?”
“For you,” Mum hinted.
“I've not ordered anything.”
“Saturday?” Dad hinted.

I looked at him blankly for a moment before it clicked, my Mofa! Okay, I'm easily distracted, what with one thing and another i've not given it any thought since Monday.

“Where?” I demanded.
“Downstairs.”
“Come on Mand,” I enthusiastically suggested pushing away from the table.
 
“Its a bit pink,” Mand observed as I lusted over my new wheels, “i didn't think you liked pink mopeds?”
“Flamingo.”
“Eh?”
“Its not pink its Flamingo.”
“If you say so.”

I climbed on and made myself comfortable, I know Michael said I shouldn't sit on it on the stand but its not like I weigh like a hundred kilos is it?

“Nice basket.”
“It'll be usefull.”
“Never said it wasn't.”

I'm pretty sure she's taking the Michael.
 
Dad joined us in the garage.

“Has it got petrol in?”
“Full tank, you'll probably need these,” he dangled the keys in front of me.
I dismounted and grabbed him in a hug, “thanks Daddy.”
“You've earnt it kiddo, don't spend too long down here playing, the dishes still need washing.”
“Okay.”

Dad headed back to the stairs.

“Well I'm going up,” Mand told me following Pater.
“Won't be long,” I called after them.
 
I remounted the scooter and put the key in, a quarter turn released the steering lock and the next click turned the motor over. Yep, its a girly bike so unlike Max's its got electric ignition – good job, when I tried starting Max's I couldn't get enough weight behind the kick start thingy. The engine burst into life, echoing loudly in the enclosed space of the workshop, I twisted the throttle and it got even louder, oops!

The motor spluttered into silence amid the aroma of burnt petrol, I removed the key and stepped down. I thought i'd better check out where the petrol goes in, but there was nowhere obvious of even where the tank was. I did find a sort of little hatch with the ownership documents in – I grinned at the name at the bottom, Gabrielle Bond, oh yeah. There was also the insurance paperwork but no filler cap.

It was more luck than anything that released the seat, the keyhole hiding in a recess under the front. And there it was, the filler cap and a small storage area containing some sort of tool kit – yeah like I'm likely to be able to fix anything. I closed the saddle and after another couple of minutes admiration, headed up into the house.
 
It felt a bit weird walking round to Thesing's with Mand Thursday morning, its seems so long since it was the daily routine. The day was typical Ahrtal December, foggy down in the valley but looking up there was a clear blue sky, it'll never get to warm but it should be quite nice later – not wet at least.

“Who's coming?” Manda asked.
“Everyone I think, well the Angels at least.”

Okay, its not like getting together for a meal or a party at the Stube but our departure today forestalled any of that stuff. So its coffee and cake with the girls at the bakery then I get to christen my Mofa with a ride to drop presents with the Preiser's before we set off for Mettmann.

“Hi Mrs T.”
“Morning Gaby, Amanda, Connie'l be down in a minute, coffee?”
“I'll do it,” I offered.
“Don't be silly, I'll bring them over.”

We headed over to what I still think of as 'our' table, the big one in the corner that we can all get around. Nena, Bridg and Pia arrived together as Frau Thesing delivered mine and de Vreens drinks, Steff wasn't far behind so ironically it was Connie who was last to join us. On the other hand she did come bearing gifts in the form of a rather delish looking gateaux.

It was a bit weird to see everyone together away from the whole Weihnachts cabin setting – and in normal clothes! I haven't seen Steff, Nena or Bridg in anything other than Kostum for weeks – before Austria in fact. We spent a couple of hours exchanging tales of college parties and eating what turned out to be an excellent Passion Fruit number loaded with cream and slices of fresh fruit.

But you can't spend the whole day talking rubbish can you? Well I guess you can but I'm on a tight schedule if I'm not to get on the wrong side of the Parents. The final element of our Angels reunion was the distribution of Weihnachts gifts – we'd normally do it Christmas Eve but that could be difficult this year! I've been collecting stuff since the summer, so there's stuff from Kanada, Austria and Koblenz amongst the wrapping paper.

I passed a last bag to Connie as we prepared to depart.
“Can you give these to Kris and the newbies for me.”
“No problem, have a good trip eh.”
“Yeah, I'll see you when we get back.”

We exchanged a long hug, somehow it seems different leaving everyone here this time, don't know why, its only for a week.
 

I checked that everything was secure in the basket – apparently the cargo net thing is a present from my sister, then knocked the stand up.

“Be careful,” Mum told me for like the hundredth time.
“Yes Mum.”
“And remember, we're leaving for Mettmann at four.”
“I know, see you later.”

I started my steed and then managed to promptly stall the motor before going anywhere. My audience thankfully stayed silent as I reset and repeated the start procedure, this time moving slowly down the drive and out onto Zaungarten. Yay, I'm on my way!
 
Up at Rech I joined the bike trail, the main valley road is a bit busy for a slightly nervy rider, it was pretty cool zipping along without any effort on my part. So okay I can ride my bike up here at the same speed but this is like wheeeeee! Of course, the big difference is that whilst it won't exactly fly up the steeper bits I won't be perspiring, that'll be the tiny motor I'm sat over.

Max's machine has a distinctive putt, putt, my steed has a steadier tone, more of a quiet buzz. Outside in the open it doesn't seem that loud – not like last night in the garage. I quickly got the feel of the steering, the brakes, whilst good aren't as sharp as on my Pinarellos. That might be just as well, makes you ride a little more conservatively.

I bzzzzzed through Altenahr and now on the road headed along toward Ahrbruck at a steady lick. It has proper indicators which is great once you remember you have them, I only remembered as I wobbled with an arm out to make the turn up towards Kesseling and of course Sattel. The road doesn't have the best of surfaces, on a rigid bike you get shaken about a bit, on my Mofa its a bit plusher although the wallow through a couple of dips was a bit disconcerting.

The buzz got a bit more laboured after Kesseling as the grade increased, the speed dropped from just over twenty Kph to something closer to ten. I know, its hardly quicker than walking but its not walking, or cycling and finally the tone and speed picked back up as I entered Sattel. It was a bit of a bouncy ride along the unmade lane to the farm and I was soon parked on a flatter area of cobbles near the house.

“Gaby?” Marts voice queried as I started to gather the contents of the basket, “i thought your mum was bringing you.”
“Got my own wheels now,” I grinned turning to greet him.
“Its a bit pink.”
“Flamingo.”
“Come inside, the girls are waiting with the tea pot.”
 

“You look frozen,” Bern opined.
“It is December,” I pointed out.
“And she came up on a Mofa,” Marty added.
“You got it then,” Bern enthused as I lost my jacket.
“Yesterday,” I confirmed, “where's little un?”
“She's.....not again.”
“I'll fetch her,” Mart told us.
“She's like flippin' greased lightning, she'll be in the dog basket.”
“I won't ask, you looking forward to seeing your rents?”
“Yeah, I guess, they're coming up on Christmas Eve then we're gonna spend Christmas day with them at the hotel.”
“Give them my regards.”
“Will do, what about you? Ready for England?”
“Well I'm packed. It'll be weird not being home, don't get me wrong, I want to see Gran but I'll miss everyone here.”
“You've been away for longer.”
“I know, but Weihnachts, well its different, you know, special.”
“Here we go,” Marty returned with Bern's, no their, wriggling daughter in his arms.
“Look who's here Drea, Tante Gaby's come to see you.”
“Pwincess!” the wriggler announced reaching out towards me.

Well what can you do? Daddy brought her over and I found myself with my 'niece' sat on my lap playing with the braid I put my hair in to keep it under control in my Mofa helmet.

“Very domestic,” Bern chortled.
“I'll leave you three to your tea party, I need to bring the cows in, the forecast is horrible later,” Mart advised.
“Okay liebchen,” Bern allowed before exchanging a kiss with her man.
 
“You had lunch?” Bern asked a few minutes later after my stomach made its presence heard – loudly.
“I had cake earlier then I came straight up here.”
“So thats a no then,” she surmised sounding like my mother.
“Er yeah, I mean no.”
“Poor Gaby, you'll waste away, Drea, take that out your mouth love.”

I had to look, well you do don't you? The munchkin was happily er, munching on my braid, oh well, its had worse on it and it'll wash.

“She's okay.”
“Your funeral girl, you want a sandwich, soup?” her mother offerred.
“If its no trouble.”

my stomach rumbled again which deemed to amuse Drea no end.
 
Fifteen minutes later I relinquished the small child in favour of a spoon to tackle the steaming tureen of Linsensuppe complete with chopped Frankfurter. That would've been ample but Bern rolled out a doorstep sandwich, cheese with some garlic sausage. What can you do?

“This is pretty good, you make this?” I queried between spoons of green gloop.
“Its not rocket science.”
“You were never the domestic goddess Bern,” I pointed out.
“Well I have to do something for my keep, I do a fair bit of cooking now.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, but you've always cooked.”
“I guess.”
“I've been usung Erika's mother's recipe book.”
“Bet thats interesting.”
“I've had to get Mart to decipher some of it, I'm still working on the German.”

It struck me then, of course, we've been talking German, not English, I guess i've just accepted Bern's sometimes quirky sentence construction as being, well, just Bern. I don't think most people would immediately pick her out as an Auslander, a longer conversation would likely give her away but how often do we really exchange more than a few words? And much like me when we first moved here, she's getting the total immersion treatment, the senior Preiser's run to about hello, goodbye in English and unless you want a solitary existence its a steep learning curve.

I made short work of the soup and sandwich, in the absence of my braid Drea was sucking at her own mini sandwich. Can you believe she's nearly eighteen months old, ten teeth, a crawl like a rocket and a more measured waddle when she feels like it. I made another pot of tea, good imported Yorkshire Tea I noted, I'm guessing Cheryl is sending food parcels to her girls.
 
“I'm gonna have to get off,” I sighed, “Dad wants to get off sharp as we're eating with Roni's family tonight.”
“Thanks for coming up Gab, this one loves to see the Princess.”
“I wonder who started her with that one,” I mused.
“If the cap fits,” Bern chuckled.
“Talking of caps,” I reached under my seat, “you'd best have these,” I picked up the bag of Chrimbo cards and gifts to show her, “i'll leave them down here.”
“You didn't have to Gab.”
“Why would I miss you guys out?”
“I haven't got you anything.”
“And? We're not at Meden Vale Primary any more, its not a competition to see who gets most.”
“You always won anyhow.”
“Maybe, but were friends right and Drea...”

“Thanks Gab, for being there, I know i've made some stupid decisions in the past but you, well you're parents too, you've all gone well beyond what any sensible person would do.”
“Anyone'd do the same,” I interjected.
“Thats just the point Gab, no one else did, in fact they all turned their backs on the tearaway druggie whore.”
“They were wrong.”
“Not from where they stand, I'm not proud to admit it but I did do the drugs, I did have sex with lots of boys.”
“But,” I started to interrupt.
“No Gab, oh I know it was one thing leading to the next but somewhere in there I decided to play hooky, to hang out with the 'bad boys', to try the drugs, yes I was raped but the first time was my choice. I know I hurt Mum and Dad, I don't know why I did those things but I did, they stuck by me, you stuck by me, Gab, you are my family and troubles, you brought her into this world, I won't forget that.”
“Me either,” I joked, “just don't expect a repeat next time.”
She gave me a funny look, “how did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That I'm expecting again.”
“For a minute there I thought you said you were pregnant again.”
“Can you keep it under your hat for now, I want to tell the grandparents before we go public.”
“You're serious.”
“Course I'm serious and before you ask, yes its Marty's and no it wasn't an accident.”
“I guess its congratulations then, when's it, you know?”
“End of July, close to this ones birthday.”

 
Bern's news was still rattling around in my head as guided my steed back down to the Ahrtal. Talk about a bombshell, that certainly came out of the blue, she'll have a football team before i've even done the deed, if I ever do. I involuntarily shuddered at that thought, kissing and a bit of groping is okay but the final step....

And apparently the twenty five kmh limit for Mofas goes out of the window when gravity is added to the equation. The long descent from Staffel soon had the speedometer needle hard against the top of the dial which marks fifty kmh! Oops, am I supposed to brake or do I just enjoy the ride?
 

© Maddy Bell 24.05.2019