Gaby Book 17 - Seasons

“How’d you get on?” Mum enquired when Mand and I got in a little after six.
“We got a third,” Mand beamed, clearly her enthusiasm has been er, enthused.
“That’s pretty good, well done.”
“What’s for tea, I’m starving.”
“We could do that Chinese we didn’t have last week,” Mum suggested.
“Works for me,” I allowed, “out or in?”
“Well we’d have to fetch it anyway so I suppose we can eat in.”
“Great!” you get loads of freebies when you eat in at the Canton Schwan.
“You okay with that, Mand?” Mum asked.
“Guess so, pity they don’t do real chips though.”

It’s possibly the biggest culture shock Brits have coming to mainland Europe, the excuses for chips. Make them yourself I hear you say, well they just aren’t the same as a steaming bag of fried potato with lashings of salt and vinegar from Hygenic Fisheries. If there’s one thing I’d import to Germany it’d be a decent chip shop, frites, pommes, whatever you want to call them are okay but I’d have a real chip any day of the week!

“Best get yourselves sorted out then, and see if your sister wants to come.”
“Didn’t see the Boris mobile,” I mentioned.
“She’s on her own, I think they’ve had words,” mater advised.

It was nearly an hour later that we piled out of Dad’s Mercedes; Mum’s A Klasse is a bit small for five of us. At least the rain has abated, we’ve had to park the other end of the arcade which, whilst not far, is enough to get you wet. Mum had rung ahead for a table, not that the place was exactly packed out; anyhow we had a corner with a turntable thing for the food.

Rather than order separately we long ago worked out that the best value are the Schwan’s set meals, easy to order and enough left for a doggy bag. Dad ordered a beer but clearly last week was a one off, it was back to Sprite™ for me and Coke™ for the others – Mum’s driving home so we need her sober.

“What’re you guys doing tomorrow?” Jules asked as we waited for our food to start arriving.
“Dunno,” I shrugged.
“The girls have got training in the morning,” Dad interjected.
“Da-ad!” I complained.
“You didn’t ride today, it’s only a couple of weeks until your first race.”
“So you’ll be back what, twelve?” Jules suggested.
“‘Bout then I guess, why?”
“You lost a bet and I want to collect.”
“Bet?”
“You remember, when we were clearing out the spare room for Mand, you bet you wouldn’t wear any of your designer stuff before New Year.”
“That was ages ago.”
“And your point?” my sister queried.
“Just saying.”
“Well you lost on so many levels.”

You can say that again, now what was my forfeit, it clearly wasn’t money, she’d have claimed that long ago!

“So what does your sister owe?” Mum asked.
“She just agreed to do something, just thought we could do it tomorrow.”
“Well there’s nothing planned for the afternoon,” Dad told us.
“We can have a roast, there won’t be many opportunities with all of us for a while,” Mum suggested.
Yeah, that’s true enough, Mum’s riding in Spain next weekend and my programme, as Dad has already pointed out starts the weekend after. Now if I can only remember what I actually agreed with Jules.
“Works for me,” Jules agreed.

That was no sooner agreed than food for tonight started to arrive.

Nine thirty Sunday morning, even at this hour there’s hardly any traffic, Sundays in Germany really are, for most people, a day of family, hobbies and relaxation. The only shops open are the bakeries and paper shops and the churches seem to get a good clientele. For Mand and myself it’s a miserable, damp start to the day, yesterdays mizzle is back and even with rain jackets and overshoes it didn’t take long for us to be thoroughly wet.

It was a tempo ride; the Münstereifel circuit and we rode wordlessly up to and through Altenahr, neither of us feeling particularly chatty.

“So what was this bet then?” Mand asked eventually.
“Bet? Oh this thing with Jules.”
“Yeah, it all sounded a bit murky last night.”
“She reckoned I’d have to wear a posh frock or suit before New Year, I said I wouldn’t.”
“That was a no brainer, Gab.”
“Well how was I supposed to know about the wedding?”
“So what has Jules won then?”
“I can’t remember exactly.”
“You don’t know?”
“Well it can’t be anything too bad or I wouldn’t’ve agreed to it.”
“I guess,” she agreed.
“I mean,” I went on, “she probably wants me to wear a ball gown or something.”
“Ball gown?”
“Yeah, we got them for some fancy do when I was Weinkönigin.”
“How the other half live,” Mand allowed.
“Not given a choice,” I mumbled.

As usual we picked up the pace after Effelsberg, the dish hidden in the murk today. All thoughts of this afternoon were pushed to one side as with friendly rivalry we raced around Münstereifel and on towards Schuld and our return to the Ahrtal. I won the village sprint after Mand took a long one, last summer she wouldn’t’ve had the confidence to even try sprinting.

We eased off a bit after joining the Adenau road, there was a bit more traffic about now, mostly of the rural tractor and 4x4 nature. My thoughts drifted back to this afternoon’s dolly dress up session, I’m pretty sure that’ll be it, dress me in the frilliest most impractical thing she can find. Oh well, I’m a ma, er girl of her word, I remember making the bet even if the cost is a bit vague.

At least the wet was clearing, enough that by our return to Altenahr the roads were starting to dry off encouraging a few more burghers onto the streets. Of course that just encouraged an attack by Mand that caught me slightly on the hop resulting in a pell mell chase out through the tunnel. I nearly overcooked it on the Tanzklub corner, the back wheel had a bit of a squiggle when I hit the anchors, not wanting to risk too much on a training ride I sat up and continued at a slower velocity.

“What happened to you?” Mand demanded when I eventually caught up best part of the way to Rech.
“Had a dodgy moment on the first bend.”
“Thought you were trying to delay letting your sister play.”
“As if.”

Wonder if I can grab a sarnie before Goth Gurl gets her hands on me? I bet it’ll be that awful green thing, hang on Goth Gurl, of bum, I didn’t did I? Nah, I wouldn’t be that stupid however the more I thought about it the more likely it seemed.

Jules found me in the lounge tucking into a Brie and Pastrami sandwich, “You ready then?”
“Can I finish this?”
“Bring it with you,” she suggested.
“Okay,” I sighed.
“Enjoy yourselves,” Mand grinned.
“Oh I will,” Jules allowed.
“Give us a shout when dinner’s ready,” I requested of Mand.
“Will do.”
“Can you give me a hand, Manda,” Mum’s voice requested from the kitchen.
Yes, she’s landed with dinner duties, “Enjoy!” I suggested with a smirk.

“You got a black bra?” Jules asked as we headed upstairs.

Well there’s a question I never thought I’d have to answer.

“Don’t think so.”
“Have to use one of mine then, this is gonna be fun.”
“Nothing too weird please,” I requested.
“Mum’s already had a go at me, nothing too permanent I promise.”
Why did that not sound reassuring?

“Nice,” my tormentor stated when I stripped down to my knickers, “you’ve grown.”
“Er, I have?”
“Probably the real you filling out, nice bum!”
“It’s big?”
“Not big, just rounder, very cute.”
Not the C word!
“Well if you’ve finished ogling, can we get on with this?”

Twenty minutes later I was sat in front of my sister’s dressing table wearing a borrowed bra, one of those half-cup things that put the girls on display and a pair of ‘distressed’ fishnet tights.

Jules started playing with my hair, “You’ve got lovely hair.”
“Um thanks.”
“Not very Goth though, needs some colour.”
“You are not dyeing it! It took ages for that brown to wash out.”
“Who said anything about dye?”
“But you…”
“There are other ways,” she interrupted, “we can chalk it, just washes out afterwards.”
“Chalk? As in blackboards?”
“Well think artist, but same sort of thing.”
“Doesn’t it just brush off?”
“You set it with spray.”
“If you say so,” I sighed, “let’s get it over with.”

The look of glee in my sister’s eyes should’ve sounded a warning.

I couldn’t see what she’d done, my back was to her mirror but it took her quite a while, it felt like a full can of hairspray and a lot of pulling and tugging.

“Er, can I get a drink?”
“Water okay?”
“It’ll do,” I allowed, “how much longer is this gonna take?”
“Patience,” she dug in her bag and produced a bottle of Apollinaris – well we get it as part of the sponsorship, “there you go.”
“So do I get to see this masterpiece?” I asked before taking a slug of H2O.
“Ut uh, not till I’m finished,” she gleefully stated.
“Let’s get on with it then,” I sighed putting the bottle down, “can I borrow you’re your Ipod?”

And so five minutes later I was humming along to some of the more er mainstream tunes on my sister’s music cube. I closed my eyes and let my sister get on with her transformation; the dabbing at my chest was unexpected though.

“What’re you doing?”
“You’re too tanned, paler the better.”
“If you say so.”
“I do, now sit still.”

Maddy Bell 27.07.16