Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

Downtime

 
 
You’ve flown right? So you know that the hour and a half flight is book ended by at least the same again each end and go the wrong direction there’ll be time differences too. We finally got home, after leaving Gran’s before seven o’clock, not much before three. I wasn’t the only one sagging when we made it into Schloss Bond.

“No Dad,” I mentioned – well duh, the car was missing.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Mand suggested.
“At least there’s not piles of washing,” Mum noted, “go hang your dress up Gab or it’ll be fit for nothing.”
“Yes Mum.”

The sub plot there is it’s inside the big case that little ol’ me now has to lug upstairs, grrr!

“You were a long time,” Mand opined when I padded back into the kitchen.
“Thought I’d grab a shower while I was there,” I mentioned as I finished the second damp braid.

Of course a shower means a change of clothes and I’d put on my short denim dungarees over thick tights and a roll neck jumper – both warm and comfy.

“How do you do it?” Mand asked plonking a mug of tea in front of me.
“Do what?”
“Look so damn cute all the time, no one else stands a chance.”
“I am not…”
“Give over Gab, if you could bottle it you’d make a fortune,” Mand stated.
“Hmmph!”
“If I’d put that stuff on I’d just be a girl in dungarees, you, well you radiate cute.”
There’s no point in arguing, I’ve had this discussion many times with different people, I’ve never won yet.
“I’m going round to Cons, coming?”
“Aren’t we supposed to go on the turbo’s?”
“We can do that later.”
“You can do what later?” Mum enquired appearing at the kitchen door.
“Training?”
“I suppose it won’t hurt, I suppose you are going to the bakery?”
“Er yeah.”
“See if you can pick up some bread then, your Dad’s emptied the bin.”
“Okay,” I sighed, guess who gets stuffed again?

“Go on up Gaby,” Therese told me waving towards the apartment door.
In the end Mand decided homework was more important than cake so I’d come round on my own.
“Er could you put me a Bauernbrot to the side, Dad’s eaten a two whole loaves over the weekend.”
“No problem, I’ll put it on the order shelf.”
“Thanks.”

“Con?” I called out as I climbed the stairs, “only me!”
“Kitchen!” the reply came back.
I made my way up the last few steps and round to the Thesing’s kitchen.
“Heya,”
“Hi yourself,” Con offered, “coffee’s on, so, good trip?”
“Not bad,” I allowed hanging my jacket up and losing my boots, “ooo is that what I think it is?”
“Only if you think its lemon torte.”
“Yum!” I enthused.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, there is always cake at Con’s, well it is a bakery and coffee and cake is almost a national sport. And when we talk cake we aren’t looking at a slice of Madeira, no, German cake is cream and fruit and chocolate and huge portions. Its no wonder everyone does it whenever they can, with friends, out shopping, after a bike ride.

“You’re kidding?”
“Nope, straight up,” I reiterated.
“So that’s what, eleven hundred euro?”
“I think the exchange is a euro to eighty pence, so that’s,” I tried to run the math in my head.
“Twelve hundred,” my more analytical friend supplied as I tied my head in knots, “and you can spend it on anything?”
“Yep.”
“Wow, wish I got presents like that. So what’re you gonna buy?”
“Dunno, might just put it in my savings account.”
“Boring, Gaby Bond! She gave it you to spend so spend,” Con advised.
“I might spend a bit I suppose.”

To be honest I hadn’t given it a lot of thought, its still less than twenty-four hours since my windfall.

Con came down to the shop to see me off, “so back to mine after for dinner.”
“It will be the Yorkshire Pudding?” she asked again.
“Yes, there’ll be Yorkshire,” I confirmed, “see you in the morning.”
“Yep, tschussie!”
“Tschuss!”
I was at the door before Therese called me back, “don’t forget your bread Gabrielle.”
“Mama!” Con admonished.
I hate it when someone uses my full name; it usually means trouble after all. Oooo!
“Yeah, I’d best not forget that or there’s no frühstuck!”

“You get the bread?” Mum called out when I returned home.
Phew, that was close; I would’ve got a right earful if I’d come home without it.

“So you having a party?” Steff asked when the subject of my impending anniversary came up.
“Dad said he’ll take us out to eat but no party,” I sighed.

I’d really like a party, not the big public sort but you know, snacks, games and stuff with family and friends. I’m not a big party girl, but like I’m sixteen for heavens sake, well I will be on the 25th.

“We’ll have to go for cake,” Bridg suggested.
“Great idea,” Nena agreed, “we can go to Poppel’s !”
“We can go Saturday,” Steff mentioned.
“I’m working,” I sighed.
“What about Friday?” Nena asked.
“I’m going to my Oma’s” Con told us.
“And I’ve got my annual at the Frauenklinik,” Steff added.
“Can’t you get Saturday off?” Pia queried in turn.
“Possibly.”
“I’ll talk to mama,” Con offered.
“Set then, we can get the Express up,” Mand put forward.
“Should we ask Max?” Nena proposed.
“No, lets keep it to us girls,” Steff stated.

Well it’s not a party as such but at least its time with my friends.

“Come on, the other trains in,” Pia mentioned as the Rhein Express rolled to a halt in Andernach.

Where are we going? Well Mand hasn’t been to Mayen so that’s where we’re headed. We piled off the train and down the stairs to the other platform where the weird new railcar was waiting. I say weird; it’s not red but silver and looks like a huge girder construction, certainly nothing like the Ahrtal Express.

We slipped onto the train, by the time we’d found seats the train was pulling away from Gleis Drei. Obviously the Ahrtal Express runs up the valley, the Vulcan Express follows the Brohltal away from the Rhein but the Mayen train doesn’t take a valley route but instead twists and turns across the rolling hills. It’s not a place we come to often, mainly because its either three trains or a train and two buses to get to.
“Next stop is us,” Steff noted as we pulled away from Mayen Ost station just shy of thirty minutes after leaving Andernach.

“At least its still dry,” I observed.
“But for how long?” Nen asked.

I’ve got very mixed memories of Mayen, coming that day when I met Claudia for the first time, the fun we had – even ending up with blue hair was a good memory. But of course that’s tempered by her passing away last October, the grief will probably never go away. I’m sure, I know that Claud would want us to remember the fun times so I tucked the hurt away and followed the others out of the station.

“You seen the church Mand?”
“Where?”
“You can see the spire behind Deichmann’s,” Brid advised pointing.
“It looks a bit weird.”
“Mayen’s famous for it Mand,” Steff offered, “the twisty spire.”
“Like that one in England,” Mand suggested.
“Gab told us of that before, Chess something,” Con added.
“Chesterfield,” I supplied.

Being half term there were a few teens about the kindergartens don’t break the same so we had to dodge a couple of crocodiles of pre-schoolers. We visited the usual chains, Orsay, Pimkie and so on but the real attraction are the independent stores. Places like the ‘alternative’ store on the ring and the assortment of boutiques and shoe shops on Marktplatz.

“What do you reckon?” I asked posing in front of the mirror.
“They look comfortable,” Pia offered.
“How much?” Nena enquired.
“Er thirty five,” Mand advised the gallery after checking the box.
I hadn’t exactly been looking for new boots but Hartmann’s, one of those independents, was offering 20% off - and I do need some.
“So that’s what, twenty eight,” Con worked out, "you should get them Gab."

Twenty-eight euros, they are comfortable and my old ones are looking pretty ratty. I checked the mirror again; I’ve seen a few kids wearing this style although the gang seem to favour something with a more girly style and higher heel than the modest four centimetres on these. They will work with a lot of stuff; did I mention they were comfortable?

“So where now?” Steff queried when we emerged from Hartmann’s.
“Lunch?” I suggested hopefully.
Someone else’s stomach rumbled loudly, “lunch!” we all chorused which caused some mirth.

Mayen doesn’t have the big department stores and who wants Maccy D’s all the time so we ended up in one of those sort of workmen’s cafés that specialize in traditional German snack food, you know the stuff, frikadel, wurst, maybe Gulasch soup but most important, frites! With seven of us we pretty much filled all the seating, mostly counter stools, Brid and Steff claimed the only table. I always feel a bit naughty coming into these places, you get good portions, often they are cheap too and lets face it, you know the quality is okay or they’d never last a week out.

I sighed contentedly as I bit into another chip laden with mayo and curry sauce , friends all around, new boots, birthday on Saturday, plate of currywurst, chips and mayo in front of me – what’s not to like?

Maddy Bell 16.06.16