“I’m under house arrest?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Dad replied.

“I’m not an invalid you know.”

“The doctor would beg to differ on that.”

I thought I’d try a different tack.

“I could help with stuff,” I almost purred.

“Which is exactly why you aren’t coming today.”

Bum, that was the last card in my hand, I was desperate now.

“You’re taking Mand.”

“Amanda isn’t recovering from major surgery,” he pointed out.

Well I’ll give him that I suppose.

 
 
To compound things Mum was going along too, some sort of PA – oh I never said did I, they’re going to the Valkenburg Super Cross to support Anita and Erika. Yeah I know, it’s my own fault, if I hadn’t pushed to ride last week I’d be riding myself instead of moping around Bond Acres. So here I am, stuck indoors, Con might come round this afternoon but otherwise, well I’m bored!

“Mornin’”

I nearly jumped out of my skin!

“Geez, Jules, don’t creep up like that. I thought you were in Bonn this weekend.”

“The band was crap so we came out early and I wasn’t in the mood for anything else so I came home.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Everyone was in bed when I got here. So wotcha doing? Thought you’d be off with Dad somewhere.”

“So did I, the Doc’s put me under house arrest though so everyone else has gone to flippin’ Valkenburg and I’m here contemplating my navel.”

“I’m sure it’s a very nice navel.”

“It’s not fair and it’s not funny,” I snapped back.

“Keep your hair on.”

“I can’t even go to the bakery, it’s well off.”

“You could ring Maxxie, I’m sure he’d like to share your misery and maybe some lip locks,” she suggested.

“For the hundredth time I am not interested in Max and that’s so gross.”

“Not what I heard, you want a cuppa?”
 
 

“And another thing,” I ranted, “why do I have to do this bloody bridesmaid thing, it’s not like I even know them!”

“At least you get to do it.”

“Worst luck. What do you mean by that anyway?”

“What I said, I can’t believe you’re on such a downer, most girls would give a leg to be a bridesmaid let alone at a big wedding.”

“Well I’m not most girls.”

“And don’t we know it! You are so lucky and all you see are negatives.”

“You want to be a bridesmaid?”

“I wouldn’t turn it down,” she admitted.

“You can take my place.”

“It doesn’t work like that as well you know.”

“What a crock!”

“I’d better be in the party when you and Max get hitched.”

“Party? Hang on a minute, me and Max, not gonna happen, ut uh!”

“Holding out for someone better?”

“No.”

“So it is Max then,” she noted.

“No it’s not! It’s no one, I am not getting married to Max or anyone else!”

“I’d even wear one of those puce meringues, so what’s yours like?”

She wasn’t listening, lost in her own little wedding world.

“My what?”

“Weren’t you listening?”

Actually no.

“Your dress, what’s it like?”

“Like a dress.”

“Oh come on, Gab, you know what I mean, what colour is it? What style?”

“Seriously?”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss.”

“Well it’s like a deep red with lighter accents, sort of medieval, don’t know what you call it,” I supplied.

“A square neck?”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of me on show, the corset pushes the girls right up.”

“I hope there’s pictures.”

“Bound to be, probably all over Stern knowing my luck.”

“Because that’s really bad getting your picture in the biggest society mag in the country.”

“I’d prefer it to be Radsport – and without the dress.”

“Naked?”

“You know what I mean, racing.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve got to go to this dinner thing on Friday too.”

“You are complaining about free food?”

“Well not the food but I’ve got to wear a flippin’ posh frock for it.”

“Such a hardship.”

“It’s not you having dress up like a dog’s dinner,” I pointed out.

“I win! Yes!”

“Now what are you on about?”

“We had a bet, I bet you that you would wear one of your fancy frocks before Christmas,” she crowed.

“When was this?”

“Before Japan.”

“Don’t remember, what’s the prize?”

“I get to give you get a Goth makeover.”

“Seriously? That sounds a bit lame.”

“You agreed,” she observed.

“What if I’d won?”

“You wanted cash, thirty Euros I think.”

“Forty!”

“You remembered,” she gleefully grinned.

“Whatever, when do we do it?” I sighed.

“I’ll have to get some stuff,” she noted, “I’ll let you know.”

“If it makes you happy,” I allowed.

“You want some food?” she enquired before her phone started twittering for attention.

“Heya Boris…at home with the sprog…nothing much…I guess…alright then, you can bring it with you…love you…tschuss.”

“Boris is coming over later.”

“So I gather.”

“He’s bringing Maccy D,” she advised.

“I like Boris,” I chuckled.

“Hands off, he’s mine, you’ve got Max.”

“But he’s not bringing burgers.”

 
 
Con came around after lunch which Boris, bless him, brought, a Royale with cheese, fries and a salad – I don’t do burger that often; it’s a bit of a treat really. Anyway, Con arrived about half two, Jules and Boris commandeered the lounge leaving us with my eerie, playing gooseberry or the kitchen. The kitchen won out, coffee and biscuits beating my bed and a can of Sprite.

“You ever been a bridesmaid?”

“When I was eight for my Tante Anja and Onkel Hein.”

“Do all girls want to be bridesmaids?”

“Dunno, probably, what’s brought this on?”

“Goth Gurl, she’s never been one.”

“I wouldn’t’ve thought she’d be interested,” Con opined.

“Me either but I think she’s a bit jealous.”

“She can join the queue!”

“Not you too? But you’ve been one.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do it again.”

“Guess not,” I allowed, absently reaching for a choc chip biscuit.

“I can’t believe you’ve got such a downer with it.”

“Well it’s not so much a downer, I feel like a fraud doing it.”

“Fraud?”

“Yeah, I mean I’ve met Max’s cousin once and now I’m one of her bridesmaids, it’s not like I’m even going out with Max.”

“There’s going out and going out,” Con stated.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How many boys have you been out with in the last, I don’t know, year?”

“Define ‘been out with’.”

“Come on.”

“Two maybe,” I admitted – well Tony wasn’t really a date, “one I suppose, but they weren’t dates.”

“Max right? And I know for a fact he’s not been with anyone else, Fabienne fancied her chances but he wasn’t interested.”

“We just go to some of the same places.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that you two spent most of Mart’s last couple of parties practising tonsil hockey.”

“We did not!”

“Well it wasn’t me or Steff he was with, must be another short arse blonde then.”

“Why you!”

“And everyone knows you go up to the schloss and I’ve seen him here too.”

“With his parents,” I pointed out.

“The only one who doesn’t think you are a couple is you.”

“Because we’re not!” I humphed.

“You’d lose in front of a jury.”

Maddy Bell 12.01.16