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?

 
“So, you know, well that I like girls?”
“Yeah.”
“Well do you think I should tell my mum?”

Why ask me?

“She doesn't know?”
“Ut uh, its, well, never quite felt like the right time.”
“She must have an inkling?”
“I dunno, its not like we exactly talk a lot is it?”

Well to be honest I wouldn't really know, we might live in the same house and do stuff together but its not like we're attached at the hip, I do my stuff, she does hers. For all I know she could be on the phone with her mum every night.

“What about your grandparents? Do they know?”
“I think Gran has worked it out.”
'We are just starting our final approach into Manchester, please ensure seats are in the upright position, tables are stowed and seatbelts fastened.'
“Maybe tell her first?” I suggested, “then you'll have support telling your mum?”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, thanks Gab.”
“So what's brought this on anyhow?”
“Erm,” for once it wasn't me blushing.
“You've got a girlfriend!”
“Shush!”
“You have,” I stated with more conviction, “so who is it, someone at school?”
“Lisse,” she mumbled.
“From cheer? I thought she had a boyfriend?”
“She did but,” she shrugged, “she has a girlfriend now.”

Okay so I'm not exactly tuned into these things but I would never have picked Lisse out as being a Lesbian.

“How long?” well enquiring minds and all that.
“Since the summer, we sort of hooked up when you lot were off camping.”
 
The plane made some noises that I recognised as putting the wheels down, breaking the mood. It seemed like mere moments before the fields of Cheshire were flashing past the window and with a gentle bump we were on terra firma, engines in reverse, flaps up to bring us to a more manageable ground speed. The day looked typical Manchester, grey and damp, the city of sunshine it isn't.

Manchester airport is a bit of a lash up, the terminals a mish mash of additions and changes, forget big wide concours' and walk in / out access. Each time I come through they seem to've changed something else, the only thing that never seems to change are the long walks, up and down, round and round to get from airside to passport control. There was a lengthy queue just to get into the real queue but thankfully most of those ahead were from a flight from India or some such – the line for UK and EU citizens was moving quite quickly.

I always think I'm gonna get hauled off at this point but the woman on the desk barely even looked at my passport before waving me through. The others were close behind me as we descended into baggage reclaim, looking at the screens our bags would probably be another ten minutes.

“Anyone need the toilets?” Dad asked.
“Probably a good idea,” Mand mentioned.
“Yeah, me too,” I agreed.
“Okay, you okay here Jen?”
“We'll manage, go, we'll find you outside.”

I'm guessing Dad's hoping to beat the queues at the car hire.
 
By the time we got back to the luggage band our flight was just starting to come through, I spotted Mum's battered case first. With no bikes to wait for and all our cases coming through fairly close together, even with mine being last, as usual, we were only about fifteen minutes behind Dad pushing the trolley out into Arrivals. You don't even get straight out now, we negotiated more corridors, taking it in turns to pilot the less than co-operative trolley.

“Can we get some food? I'm starving.”
“Really kiddo?” Mum sighed.
“We didn't exactly get Frustück did we?”
“You could've had something on the plane.”
“No one woke me up,” I pointed out.
“We'll get something in Stockport.”
“Stockport?”
“Its easier to park for the railway station.”

I sniffed theatrically as we pushed past the Burger King.
 
Of course, Manchester being Manchester the car hire wasn't exactly where you want it, another five minutes and one wrong turn later we arrived just as Dad finished at the counter.

“Good timing,” Dad grinned spotting us.
“Next time I'll get the car,” Mum complained.
“Come on then, we've got a Focus wagon.”
“That gonna be big enough?” Mum asked relinquishing the trolley to Pater.
“We'll manage.”

Back home it'd be a Merc or a Bimmer but in good ole England exotic would be a Vauxhall, forget something foreign.

We shoehorned everything in, its a good job we aren't going far and that we're dropping Mand off to get her train south, our coats were piled between us on the back seat. I nearly had a heart attack when Dad pulled out of the parking on the wrong side of the road. Not actually the wrong side of course but its been a year since i've been over and I'm tuned to riding on the right.
 
“What time?” Mum asked as Dad and Mand returned from the ticket office.
“The eleven fifteen was full so we've gone for the twelve oh five.”
“Can we eat?” I begged.
“We can eat,” Mum allowed.
“There's a spoon over the road,” Dad advised.
“Guess I'll see you next week then,” Mand offered.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well you're going to eat, I'll get something on the train.”
“Don't be daft girl,” Mum told her, “you've been with us long enough to know you're included, come on, Dave'll bring your case.”

“You daft moo,” I mentioned as we followed the oldies to the 'Spoons.
“I don't want to miss the train.”
“You won't, there's what?” I consulted my timepiece, “just over an hour before its due.”
“What if the food takes ages?”
“You'll catch your train.”
 
Well okay, they weren't the fastest with the food but we had it eaten and Mand on the platform with a good ten minutes to spare.

“Ring when you get there,” Dad told her.
“I will.”
“And if things don't work out, which I'm sure they will, call,” Mum added.
“See you then,” I told her as we hugged, “Glück.”
“I need it.”
“Come on you two, trains here,” Dad advised.

I dunno, it felt kind of weird saying goodbye and waving her off. Its not like i've not been on trips without her but this felt more, I dunno, final, like we won't be back together next week. My maudlin mood was broken by Dad.

“come on kiddo, lets go see your Gran.”
 
You can of course get on the motorways to get to Nantwich but there's still like twenty K to Grans, from Stockport its shorter distance wise and not much different time wise to cut the corner – when we lived in Warsop this was our fast route over. It was this route that Dad set off on once we were back in the Focus, it almost felt like old times except we're not in a campervan and Jules isn't here. I know its been a few years since we came this way, but it wasn't until I started spotting familiar names on road signs that I actually recognised where we were.

Through Holmes Chapel, Middlewich and then the last leg towards Crewe before bearing off to Nantwich. Even on a grey December afternoon it was a kick to go past familiar shops, through streets that I recognized with some fondness. Of course Gran's cottage isn't in Nantwich itself but a mile or two out on the Chester road, it didn't take long before we were pulling in behind Gran's new car, well its new to her, a cherry looking MG.

Last time I was here was during the BC training camp last year, that was some weekend, me, Gran, Mand – me not Drew. When I think about it, this place has been quite pivotal in me becoming, well me. So okay, it turns out i've always been me but I didn't always think I was if that makes sense. Gran had the door open before I got there.

“Gran!”

She pulled me into a hug.

“Nice car mum,” Dad mentioned.
“Always fancied one,” Gran replied over my head, “Adam down at the bridge did me a deal, kettles on.”

 
Gran has an eclectic style, sort of country cottage kitsch mixed with IKEA! Somehow though, it all seems to work , I snuggled into an overstuffed armchair with my tea, balancing the cake bearing plate on the arm rest.

“I've bought one of those coffee gizmo's you keep going on about Gab, you'll have to show me how to work it,” Gran mentioned.
“Yeah sure,” I agreed.
“The pink's nearly grown out then? Thought you might have kept it?”

There was just me and Gran in the living room, the olds having been despatched to the local Sainsbury's.

“Yeah, its taken long enough, why would I keep it?”
“Isn't it your trademark in the band?”
“Sort of,” I agreed, “but it doesn't look very professional at college an' that.”
“For my tuppence, I think it looks good on you.”
“Er thanks.”
“So you aren't giving up everything for a career on the stage?”
“Course not!”
“Well from what I hear you could.”
“Gran, get serious, an occasional warble is hardly a viable music career.”
“So you're still set on following in your mothers wheelmarks then?”
“I guess so,” I allowed.

I've been my mothers daughter all the way, I always looked to her as my role model, well okay i've had other heroes along the way, but Mum is, has been my number one for as long as I can remember. I don't ever think i've had any doubt my mind that I was going to be a world champion bike rider. Maybe I hadn't planned on being a female champion but I'll take what I can get.

“So how's college going?”
I gave a shrug, “okay I guess, we've got a placement in the New Year.”
“What do you do on that?”
“Not sure yet, Lisbet says she's got something special lined up for me.”
“Who's Lisbet?”
“My head tutor, she's pretty cool, I had to sort her coffee machine out too.”
“Maybe you should specialise in fixing coffee machines,” Gran suggested with a chuckle.
“Not likely!”

“How's your sister?”
“Not seen her for a bit, its quite a long trip up from her Uni.”
“Its a pity she couldn't make Christmas.”
“Yeah,” well sort of, she splits everyones attention.
 
On one level its great coming to Gran's for Chrimbo, on another its a nightmare, there's not really anywhere to escape to, no one to talk to, I guess my college stuff will get a good working over. Don't get me wrong, I love Gran, she was a brick for us when Mum was ill and has always supported me and Jules but on a one to one level, what do you talk about?

There's only so much talking about our respective lives you can do when basically the only thing you have in common is ancestry. I don't know who she's talking about and she doesn't know most of the cast in my life either. Even her new car only kept the conversation going for a couple of minutes, I'm not really a car girl, if it has four wheels and goes thats enough information.

“Did your Mum tell you, you were on the telly the other week.”
“Oh? Here? No.”
“Uh huh, they didn't say it was you of course, they were really only interested in Prince William.”
“Urgh! Wills again! Everytime we meet there's like the Spanish Inquisition!”
“You met him before that?”

Bum!

“Er yeah, you remember I went to that big wedding in Munich last year.”
“Now this I must hear, more cake, i've got some Battenburg?”

Damn you Gran, you know all my weaknesses.

“Best make a fresh pot of tea too,” I suggested.
 

Big Rodg, carefully placed the three pint glasses on the table as his girlfriend droned on.

“I tell ya it was her,” Kylie stated with some conviction.
“Faught she woz forrin,” Russ observed.
“I could 'ear 'em, they woz'n talkin' English.”
“So wot's she doin' in The Station?” Big Rodg asked.
“I dunno, looked like egg an' chips.”
“Maybe they woz ruffin it, I 'eard 'ow some of them Knobs do that,” Russ suggested.
“Not much good to us tho, she aint gonna be there tomorra is she?” Big Rodg pointed out.
“It woz defnatly 'er tho,” Kylie repeated.

 
© Maddy Bell 27.05.2019