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*Chapter 2*

Unwanted Call

 
 
“So where’re we going?”

“Thought we’d go to the Schloss, your sister’s working there tonight, save me making an extra journey later.”

There had to be an ulterior motive. I’m sure I mentioned before that Goth Gurl has been recruited by Wilhelm, that’s Max’s dad, to make or at least advise on making some English dishes and if I’d actually checked the calendar tonight is English night.

 
 
It’s not a long way to the von Strechau place so just fifteen minutes later we were sat in the barn like restaurant – let’s get it right, it was a barn originally, the place was busy and I smelt a rat when Max took us straight to a table – clearly we were expected.

“Drinks, Herr Bond?” Max asked.

“Radler please, Max, Gab?”

“The same?”

“Two Radler coming up, Mum and Dad’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Well at least it’s only Gloria and not the Baroness, I don’t think I could cope with her tonight.

Max was quickly back with our drinks and tonight’s menu, “Two Radler, I’ll get your order when my rents come.”

“Thanks, Max,” Dad allowed.

“Later, Gab.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Looks like Will is getting a bit adventurous,” Dad noted as he checked out the menu.

I looked myself, potato and leek soup to start then a choice of liver and bacon roll or ‘West Country’ pasty both served with mash and seasonal veg. Whilst the Germans don’t generally do much in the dessert line, Wilhelm had two options tonight, treacle tart and rice pudding. Hmm, what to have?

 
 
I decided to forego the soup, I don’t want to struggle with the pud after all, liver and bacon roll can be a bit heavy and I’ve not had treacle tart in like forever.

“So, Gaby, Max says you are off to Japan,” Gloria stated as we waited for the food.

How did he know? I mean it’s not like a secret or anything but I never told him.

“Er yeah, we’re doing some races to promote women’s racing in Asia.”

Dad was by now in deep conversation with Wilhelm so I wouldn’t get any help there.

“That sounds exciting.”

“I guess.”

“I hope it’s not all bikes though, there’s lots to see, and Tokyo is amazing.”

“You’ve been?”

“In my gap year, Japan, Hong Kong, Korea, Australia and America, great fun but I was glad to get home.”

“Sounds exciting, we did an exchange thing to America when I was in England,” I told her.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was different, we did some interesting stuff and I met some great people but I don’t think I’d want to live there.”

“No?”

“My friend, Ally, she got herself shot while we were there.”

“She is okay?”

“Yeah but she was lucky.”

“Yes, the Americans are very fond of their guns I think.”

Further conversation was put on hold when Max and Jules arrived with the other’s soup. It actually looked and smelt pretty good, I was nearly regretting missing it.

“Another drink, Gab?” Max enquired.

I checked my glass, where’d that go?

“Could I just have a Sprite® please?”

“Sure, Herr Bond? Mum? Dad?”

“Not for me, Max,” Dad replied.

“Small beers for your mum and me,” Wilhelm told his son.

“Coming up.”

Meanwhile the Goth One, tonight managing a reasonably normal look, had served the soup, food now replacing conversation.
 
 

The main course, when it arrived, was a fair facsimile of the advertised meal, the suet was maybe a little dry for my liking but somehow they’d managed to not puree the potato’s, which almost compensated. Seasonal veg turned out to be green beans, carrots and cauliflower – very British and quite colourful on the plate. Both the von Strechau’s had the same only Dad chanced the pasty and I reckon someone needs more practice making them, there seemed to be a lot of empty in Dad’s example!

I was glad that I’d passed on the soup as I was fairly stuffed when I finished the main course. Treacle tart can be spot on or easily made terrible, this example was borderline. Still, a liberal dose of ‘sauce Anglais’ can rescue a lot and whilst a bit chewy the tart was eatable.

“What do you think?” Wilhelm enquired as he pushed his plate to one side.

“Well I enjoyed it,” Dad supplied.

“Very rustic,” Gloria stated, “I like it.”

“What about you, Gaby?”

“Pretty good, the bacon roll was a bit dry and the tart was a bit overcooked, eight and a half out of ten.”

“Bit harsh, kiddo.”

“Just saying, I’m not saying I’d do better.”

“She’s honest at least, Dave.” Von Strechau grinned.

“Too much so sometimes,” Dad noted.

 
 
It was closer to eleven than ten when we got home; I was well ready for bed. I only realised that I’d left my handy at home when I clambered up to my nest to find it flashing and beeping at me. Ten missed calls? Who the heck is trying to call me? Eight were from Pia, the latest just ten minutes ago so I hit dial and made myself comfortable while I waited for it to connect.

“‘I can’t take your call right now, please lea..’ Gaby?”

“Wassup?”

“Where’ve you been, I’ve been ringing all evening.”

“We went out for dinner, I forgot my handy.”

“Frau Fischer rang earlier.”

Sugar.

“Claudia?”

“She passed this afternoon,” Pia sniffed.

I didn’t know what to say, know we’d sort of been expecting this but I was still unprepared for the reality.

“Gab? You still there?”

“Uh yeah,” I snuffled, a tear ran unchecked down my cheek.

“They’ll be coming home at the weekend.”

“That’s er good.”

“I spoke to the others earlier, we’re all gonna go Monday.”

“Erm yeah, uh sure.”

“See you at Thesing’s, yeah?”

“Er sure,” I agreed, “um nite.”

“Night, Gab.”

“Gab? You all right?” Jules queried from the doorway.

“Hmm,” I sniffed.

“Didn’t think the gravy was that bad.”

“She’s dead.”

“Who?”

“Claud.”

Confusion flashed across Jules face before she replied, “The girl in the wheelchair?”

I nodded in agreement as she dropped onto my bed next to me.

“It was expected, yeah?”

“Kind of,” I agreed between sniffs.

She pulled me into a hug, which is the last thing I can remember.

 
 
“You okay, kiddo?” Dad enquired when I reached the kitchen Friday morning.

“I guess.”

Okay in as much as I’d cried myself out last night, not quite so okay as I didn’t sleep very much. I sloshed some coffee into my mug and joined him at the table.

“It gets better kiddo,” he stated.

“I suppose,” I allowed.

“When I was a student a lad I knew from drinking at the Union* was killed in a car crash.”

I grunted at this information.

“I remember feeling cheated, I was upset of course but outside of going drinking together I didn’t really know him, I couldn’t even tell you what he was studying. It was like, how dare he die? One night we’re partying big style, next he’s not there, gone. So I was angry, angry because we hadn’t said goodbye and now I couldn’t, he’d gone and we wouldn’t be talking rubbish ever again.”

Did I feel like that? Cheated of a longer friendship? It’s not like I knew her particularly well, I mean we got on well enough but a couple of shopping trips don’t really make us count as close friends. Certainly the others have known her longer but even so you can’t really be close to someone you barely know.

 
 
Pia was missing when I got to the bakery and the others had understandably long faces.

“It’s probably a relief to the family,” Brid offered as we set off for school.

“Brid!” Con sanctioned.

“She’s right Con, they’ve had it hanging over them for years, we knew she wasn’t expected to see Weihnachts,” Steff observed.

“Nena must be devastated,” Con went on.

“It is her sister,” I noted.

“Pia knew her almost from kindergarten,” Steff put in.

I didn’t know that.

“Has anyone told Anna?” I queried.

“I’m pretty sure Pia has, they were like sisters before Claudia went to the hospice,” Con supplied.

* Student Union, cheap watering hole attached to the University

Maddy Bell © 22.11.2014