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?

 
“What do you reckon?” I asked as Mum looked over my efforts.
“Well its okay as far as it goes.”
“But?” with Mum there's always a but.
“It could do with a bit of pizazz, you're selling concerts not sausages.”
“Dad?” I appealed.
Pater reached over looked over my artistry, “you're mother's right kiddo, it looks like a menu for the Zing Vaa.”
“Zing Vaa?”
“Used to be a Chinese in Sheffield,” Mum advised.
“So what do you suggest?”
“You need to get peoples attention, different fonts and sizes, it needs to be eye catching,” Dad told me.
“That's why I did it on yellow.”
“Its on your computer?”
“Yeah,” I allowed.
“Email it to me,” Dad instructed, “and I'll see what I can do eh.”
“'kay,” I agreed, “thanks Dad.”
“Don't thank me yet.”

To be honest art was never my strong subject, oh I can draw a bowl of fruit thats identifiable and there were a lot of worse examples of 'art' in my classes but I'm certainly no Leonardo. My problem, I guess, is that I'm quite literal with it, I can see the flier is a bit, well boring but I can't see how to make it better. Yep, I lack the flair for hard copy – now give me a Cheer routine and I'm your man, girl, woman, whatever.
 

I sent Dad the file and flopped back on my bed, I really should be doing some reading for college but to be honest I'm a bit cream crackered. My Handy chirped from my desk, urgh, what now?

I leant over and grabbed the offending technology, “Bond.”
“Gab?”
“Wassup Con?”
“How'd it go at the Tourist Office?”
“It's a goer, we just have to get the fliers there for next Thursday.”
“You want me to do that?”
“Its all in hand, I'll send you a copy when its finished.”
“You sure? I don't mind.”
“You've got a lot on.”
“And you don't? Okay, anything else?”
“Well,” I pulled my notepad out, “Freddy had some suggestions.”
“Like?” my BF enquired.

And so we spent the next hour going over my earlier tete a tete in Ahrweiler, so much for reading.

 
Mornings at Chez Bond can find either everyone or no one in the kitchen, Mand has usually left for Bonn before I get downstairs, the Rents may be up or not depending on the day's programme. Mum, when she's home is rarely up before I depart but Dad is often knocking about, guess he can't sleep. Anyway, this morning I reached a kitchen devoid of other life forms, Mand has tea in the morning so first order of business is to put the coffee on, I was already assembling my Frühstuck before I noticed the paper propped against the toaster.

There was a note paperclipped to the front, 'hope this okay, Dad'. I slid the note off and checked out the revised flier, in truth it was everything my version wasn't, colourful, bold and eye catching. The wording was pretty much identical but Dad made the whole thing look more appealing, more theatrical, more, well just more. I'd pick it up (well I'm attracted to gaudy things so I would), its brilliant, cheers Dad!
 
I was just clearing up my Nutella® on toast – I'm allowed, when I heard Dad descending from the parental sleeping pit.

“Morning! Coffee?”
“Morning Champ, please,” he confirmed taking a seat at the table, “so what do you think?”

You don't need to be a rocket scientist to work out what he was referring to.

I put his coffee in front of him and gave him a hug, “its brilliant!”
“Well I don't know about brilliant but it might get you a few more punters. I've sent the file over to you so its in your hands now.”
"I owe you for this.”
“Well you can start by putting me some toast in, you got Garde tonight?”
“Yeah, last one before New Year, think we're having a bit of a party.”
“Think or know?”
“Know, Han mentioned it on Monday.”
“So you won't want pizza after?”
Difficult one that, “er maybe?”
“Okay we'll play it by ear then, are you going to college?”
I checked the clock, “sugar!”
 

It was of course another cold, grey, damp morning, well it is December, anything better is a bonus. I wasn't actually late, just a bit behind, I arrived at my pick up point as Olaf's Polo wheezed into view. I really am grateful for the daily ride, the thought of spending an hour and a half on packed trains every morning doesn't fill me with joy.

“You look a bit more cheerful this morning,” Max opined as I put my seatbelt on.
“Its Friday!”
“Good enough for me,” Olaf offered as we set off towards Ahrweiler and the autobahn.
“Not buying it,” Max stated, “there's something else.”
“Okay, the Tourist Office are behind the concerts.”
“That's good,” he interrupted.
“If you'd let me finish, they're supporting it and Dad's done a real pukka flier to promote them.”
“Pukka? What's that?” Olaf asked.
“Some English thing,” Max told our chauffeur, “think Schön right Gab?”
“Something like that,” I agreed.
“So when do we see this masterpiece,” Freddy enquired.
“I've only got the original as yet,” I dug into my bag and retrieved Dad's sample, “it'll be on proper glossy paper when its printed.”
“Nice,” Max allowed before passing it forward.
“Didn't know you were an artist Gab,” Freddy mentioned.
“Yeah well,” I demured.
“Very professional,” Olaf added.
 
As Dad had emailed the flier to me I was able to forward that onto Con from one of the college computers, a quick SMS let her know i'd sent it. I was quite surprised to get a reply barely fifteen minutes later.

'Mum says its okay, taking to printer this pm'

Well thats good at any rate.
 
“How's the arm?” Max enquired when I joined him at the bottom of Lahnstraße a couple of hours later.
“Bit sore,” I admitted.

Actually it has been hurting like hell all week, the slightest pressure on it and there's shooting pains right up my arm. But us cyclists are made of stern stuff, I'm not going to show weakness by admitting it hurts that much am I?

“Give us your bag, by the look on your face its a bit more than sore.”

Am I that easy to read? But who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

“Go on then, we doing Dinea?”
“Thought you wanted a burger?”
“Changed my mind, so?”
“Okay,” he sighed.
 
“So you know what you're doing over Weihnachts yet?”
“Think Dad's still checking out flights and stuff, you eating that salad?”
“Eh, no, its yours if you want.”

well duh, course I want, I wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise, men! I pulled the dish over and added it to my plate of Roulade and croquets – bit of a weird combo I know, gravy and salad but it all ends up in the same place right?

“So, you all organised?”
“Um?”
“Presents and stuff, you got everything?”
“Almost, last couple of bits, you know.”

Do I! Its tradition for Dad's to get socks and slippers – me and Jules take it in turns, but you can hardly give your boyfriend either of those. I've been looking around for weeks for something suitable, its not like he's really into sports or a particular band, well maybe BlauHase. Hopefully he'll like what i've settled on – providing it arrives in time, we finish college on Wednesday, I don't want to have to make a special journey after that to collect it.
 

There is one advantage to using the Express with Max, we can usually find a seat where we can, well you know, do the kiss and cuddle bit, nothing too outrageous of course but we don't get much chance any other time.

“Come on you two,” Myleen chivvied as we emerged from the underpass onto Gleis 5.
“There was a hold up at Andernach,” I mentioned.
“I heard,” Myleen looked sober, “someone jumped in front of the southbound Express.”
“Sugar,” I allowed.
“Indeed, come on, or Artur will leave without us.”

We preceded Myleen on board, the train was moving before we found a pair of seats in the rear carriage.

“I wondered why there were so many police,” Max mentioned.
“Why would someone do that?”
“Desperation?” he suggested.
“I guess, bit messy though.”
“Well its not like you'd know anything about it is it, bam and your spread all over the bahn.”
“The poor driver,” I noted, “they must be in a bad way after that.”
“Its not like they could stop the Zug,” Max pointed out.
“That doesn't make it any better,” I pointed out.
 
I'm not sure why they call it the Ahrtal Express, its the only service up the valley and it stops at every stop apart from a couple of journeys that only go up to Dernau. In reality you can drive up to Ahrbrück quicker than the train most of the time, its not even much quicker than me on my bike. Not that i'd propose biking up from Remagen especially in the middle of December.

“You want a lift down tomorrow?” Max asked as I gathered my stuff to leave the Express after leaving the Silverberg halt.
“Not sure, ring you in the morning?”
“Okay.”

We exchanged a last liplock and I headed to the doors to leave the train at Dernau.
 

“Wotcha,” Mand greeted as I entered the kitchen a few minutes later.
“Heya, you're home early.”
“Yeah, your Dad fetched me, there was a jumper down the line somewhere, all the southbound treains were cancelled.”
“It was at Andernach, we came past at a crawl.”
“Nasty, I was just making a brew, you want one?”
I might be a bit of a coffee snob but I still like a good cuppa, “as long as you aren't making that revolting green stuff.”
“It is not revolting, its very refreshing.”
“If you say so.”
“Anyway I'm making Yorkshire*.”
“Excellent, what are you working at the market tomorrow?”
“I'm not, i've got paid work with the Foch's, we're doing the market at Bruhl with the crepe stall.”
“Leave us in the lurch.”
“Hardly,” she pointed out.
“Just kidding.”

In truth I was a bit jealous that she'd be earning, with the kiosk closed and no holiday coaches at the Sebenschuhs I'm not getting any income, clearly we don't take a wage from the Weihnachts stall. Okay, its not like I'm broke, I get my allowance and i've got a fair bit in the bank but its nice to have some extra coming in to cover the little luxuries. I'm not really sure of how Mand is financed since she lost her BC backing, I do know she's on a pretty tight budget, I try not to push my comparative wealth in her face but its not always easy.
 
I didn't do the Garde party last year, we were at that BLCA thing over in England, guess my change of allegiance blocked a repeat invite despite my double world titles! Anyway, thats by the by, back to the party, its sort of funded by the Tanzklub – to the extent of supplying soft drinks and a couple of trays of finger food. Not much of a party really so we've all 'donated' five euros to fund more food – you can get quite a bit for a hundred euros!

I could've got a lift up to P's but I thought i'd save my transport points for a more needy occasion, as a result I found myself hiking up to Rech in a too skimpy frock hidden under my big coat, sandals in my Handtasche, wellies on my feet. At least its only up to the Stube, Dad's running taxi home and I think Ingrid, Pia's sister is taking us up. I shivered as the wind found its way to my fundament, I really should've worn trousers or at least leggings at least to get to the Sebenschuh's.

Its not a long walk but long enough for me to become lost in thought, thoughts of the last twelve months in particular. It really has been quite a year, of course the outstanding thing has been my successes in Kanada but there's so much more, the Kiosk, the unexpected exam results, my change of allegiance. Yep its been quite a twelve months, I wonder what next year will bring?
 
“Making a fashion statement Bond?” Ing snorted when I arrived at the winery.
“Ha de har, I was hardly gonna walk up here in sandals was I.”
“Ignore her Gab, she's been snarky all week,” Pia told me before whispering, “boy troubles.”
“I am not having boy trouble,” Ingrid snapped.
P grabbed my elbow and dragged me through into the house, “i take it you have brought shoes?”

Anyone would think I forget stuff.

“The purple sandals.”
“With the glitter?”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“Here,” she thrust a glass into my hand, a glass containing something that looked suspiciously like alcohol.
“What's this?”
“Schnapps and lemonade, there won't be any alco at the Klub, what sort of party doesn't have booze?”

A sober one?

I shrugged, “whatever,” and took a sip of the slightly viscous liquid.
“You changing shoes here?” P enquired as she attended to her own hose and footwear.
“Er yeah,” I allowed with a slight grimace, I'm not sure if the drink is sweet or bitter but it certainly has a bite.
“You two gonna be long,” Ing asked from the hallway, “some of us have got to work tonight.”
“Best not keep her waiting, she's been in a right strop since Monday, Mattius broke up with her – not that they were ever really a couple.”

I pulled my boots off, what is it with wellies, you struggle to get them on then you have to fight to extract yourself. It was a bit easier with hose on, my feet popped out of the socks and I almost slipped off P's bed in surprise. It took me a minute to sort out the spaghetti of straps on my sandals – I don't wear them very often and I forgot just how uncomfortable they are!

 
I felt distinctly under dressed when we walked into the Tanzklub, I mean, I've got on a nice party frock, Mand put my hair up for me and i've got more slap on than usual but for a dance club only party for a bunch of girls, some of my teammies had gone overboard. You'd think they were going clubbing in Bonn or Köln, big heels, short dresses, loads of makeup, big hair – they made me look like an old maid! It was even more of a shock as i've only ever seen most of them at the Klub in exercise gear or in full on Garde.
“Gaby!”
“Solde?”
 
Well despite it being a Hen only affair, Hannah had been strict about that, it wasn't too bad. Fran had borrowed some CD's from her brother- apparently he does some DJ-ing, so we had a good selection of current and more classical disco type stuff. Whilst this is the Garde section, it is a dance club and some of the gyrating was pretty – well maybe not for parental consumption!

The supplementary food that Hannah got turned out to be pizza (what else?) and a variety of gateaux and torte. It was a bit of a balancing act, eating and dancing, it could so easily end up quite messy, the two don't exactly go that well together. Despite my earlier trepidation I found myself enjoying it, no one (so far) wanted me to sing, everyone was jut doing their thang.

“Gab,” Solde mentioned from behind me, “you coming to Remagen?”
“Remagen, what for?”
“We're going to Trixies, you didn't think we got all glammed up for this did you?”

Of course, Trixies is the club night they have at the pool, well the sports hall, not been myself but I think Bridget and Steff go sometimes.

“Course not,” well I'm hardly gonna admit it am I?
“The bus will be out front in five minutes if you're coming.”
“Right.”

“You going to Remagen?” Pia asked a minute later.
“Not sure, you?”
“Hell yeah!” she enthused.

I was torn, party with my friends or do the adult thing and go home watch telly and eat more pizza. I flipped my Handy open.

“Dad?”
“I'll be leaving in a few minutes, you want pizza?”
“No, look some of the girls are going on to some place in Remagen, I was gonna go with?”

It wasn't long but the pause was there nevertheless.

“Where?”
“Trixies, its at the pool?”
“How're you getting back?”
“Not sure, taxi?” I suggested.
“You've got money?”
“Is that a yes?”
“It's a yes, you are nearly seventeen after all, I'm trusting you to be sensible, I take it Pia is going too?”
“Uh huh,” I allowed.

* yep GOC has its own tea, now available across the land for expats and tea lovers alike!
 
© Maddy Bell 11.05.2019