“Heya Gab, pass us that plate,” Max requested.
I did as asked before responding, “where’s Dad?”
“Gone to meet your grandparents.”
“They’re here?”
“Only just,” he advised moving some English style sausages onto the plate.
“They come all the way to Germany and we give them English sausage.”
“For the Kinder I think, there’s steak and chicken for the adults.”
“So what do we eat then?”
“Well I fancy a bite of Gaby.”
“Geroff!” I brushed off his advance, “not here.”

We were disturbed by approaching voices.

“There she is, Gabrielle, come and give your Nanna a hug.”

Max, who had his back to her mouthed ‘Gabrielle’ with a grin which nearly had me spluttering.

“Nanna!” I went to her and gave the expected hug.
“And who’s this young man?”
“Max my er boyfriend,” I admitted.
“Delighted to meet you Frau Bond, Gaby has told me so much about you.”
“You’re German?”
“Nanna, we are in Germany,” I pointed out.
“You speak very good English young man.”
“I have a very good teacher Frau Bond.”
“Ah, there you are Sarah.”
“Gramps!”
“Gaby? My you’ve grown.”
I hugged him with somewhat more enthusiasm than with Nanna, “not really Gramps.”
“Well you hadn’t got those last time I saw you.”

No, last time we met I was still convinced I was Drew.

“Stanley!”
“Sorry dear, I take it this is your young man?” Gramps went on as I blushed from his previous comment.
“Maximillian von Strechau sir,” Max didn’t quite click his heels but he did offer his hand.

Uncle Sams clan were introduced, Aunty Jill and the boys Ollie, Charlie and the youngest, Richard.

It might‘ve been a couple of years since we’ve seen Nanna and Gramps, its even longer since I’ve seen Aunt Kath although Uncle Sam and family did visit us at Warsop before we moved. Me and Max were in the kitchen when the Simmonite's arrived, a few minutes after the main Bond contingent in their Sharan.

“Well you’ve certainly shot up,” Aunt K addressed Max.
“Kath,” Uncle Jim, her husband hinted.
“Er down here Aunt Kath,” I suggested.

She looked at me, at Max, back to me.

“I’m so sorry Gaby, last time I saw you...”
“Everyone thought I was a boy,” I interrupted to spare her blushes, “this is my friend Max, Max, Aunt Kath, Uncle Jim but I’m not sure who this lot are.”

There was a phalanx of tiny girls in their best frocks, another tinier one in Aunt Kath’s arms.

“How anyone ever thought you were a boy,” Uncle Jim opined before planting a fatherly kiss on my forehead.
“Just Kath please, Aunty makes me sound so old.”
“Er okay,” I allowed.
“This one’s Jasmine,” she started the introductions, “then we have Rosie, Violet and the shy one at the back is Daisy, say hello to Gaby girls.”
“Hewo,” the one identified as Violet squeaked.
“They’re a bit shy around strangers,” Uncle Jim mentioned.
I bent down, in my case not that far to talk to them, “I do like your dresses, they’re very pretty, did you pick them yourselves?”

Rosie and Violet nodded in agreement while tiny Daisy hung onto her mothers leg and sucked her thumb, her eyes though were fixed on my every move.

“You look vewy pwetty,” Violet whispered.
“Thank you Violet, so do you girls like hotdogs?”

There was some vigorous nodding.

“Come on then, Max has cooked you some special sausages but I think the boys will be after them.”
“Shall we all go through, I think we should be ready to eat,” Dad suggested having come to find us.
“Come on girls, lets beat those boys and I think my big sister is outside too.”

Barbecue, not my favourite way to eat but its an easy way to cater for an informal get together, less washing up, need more food, just chuck it on the grill and pretty much people serve themselves. The little kids seemed happy enough with their sausages in buns, not exactly hotdogs but with red sauce and onions a reasonable substitute. Somehow we managed to avoid food on clothing with them – maybe it was the huge napkins Mum supplied that pretty much swamped the littlies.

There was indeed steak and chicken for the adults supplemented by frikadel, bean, green and potato salad, brötchen – Jules made us fresh fruit salad to have after. There was beer and wine to wash it down, I sneaked a couple of bottles of Krombacher for me and Max. I’m not sure who my sister was trying to impress, she was swigging from a glass of red.

As you might guess there was a fair bit of catching up going on, stuff parents might be interested in but comparative times for potty training, talk of jobs in ‘the real world’, lives of people unknown in the UK – not exactly of interest to sixteen year olds. I found a corner for me and Max to sit, we could hear stuff but at the same time sit in comparative peace.

It was inevitable really, Jules and me, well Boris and Max by default, that after eating we were drafted to keeping an eye on the older cousins, that’s to say Ollie, Charlie, Rosie and Violet, the youngest three remained under parental care. The girls are pretty little things, shy around us strangers but the lads, well I guess Charlie was copying his elder brother but they were little buggers.

“I don’t see why we should babysit,” I complained.
“Because I asked you to,” Mums voice floated across the garden.
“Auntie Gaby,” Violet said tugging at my skirt, “why are you and your mummy talking funny?”

Talking funny?

“You were talking German Gab,” Jules advised.
“Sorry Violet, we were talking how everyone here talks, I forgot.”
“Everyone talks funny?”
“Well its not funny to them, they probably think you talk funny,” I suggested.
“They speak German stupid,” Ollie interjected.
“She is not stupid,” I told my bratty cousin, “can you speak German?”
“I know some Spain!”
“Its called Spanish,” I corrected, “Cómo te llamas?”
“That’s not real,” Ollie stated.
“Oh I think it is,” Jules told him, “she asked what your name is.”

Violet blew a raspberry at her elder cousin which made Max laugh.

“Hmmph!” Ollie crossed his arms and frowned, his younger brother doing his best to copy him.
“Oliver, what have I told you?” his mother, my Aunty Jill, called over.

“Gab?” Dad called out.
“Yep?”
“You want to fetch the scrap book and your medals?”

Well not really, but it was hardly a question was it? I guess its Mum and Dad’s turn to do the ‘proud parent’ bit.

“’kay.”

The scrapbook is something Gran suggested when we moved to Germany, its like a history of our family, photos, cuttings from magazines, even tickets and invitations. Mum is in charge of maintenance but we all contribute stuff, there’re pictures of Bern and Drea, cuttings from Stern after Stuttgart, even some pics from Claudia’s Christmas last summer. Of course its not just me in there, there's stuff from Mums travels, Dad’s race passes, postcards from Jules – its not a proper history but its a fun way of showing other people what we’ve been up to.

“You need a hand?” Max offered.
“Might be an idea,” I agreed before almost skipping back to the house.

Inside I let Max get the scrapbook off the bookshelf, he can reach it easier, whilst I went into the bottom of the trophy cabinet to get the box with my medals in. Yeah I know but like what do you do with gongs? Proper trophies you can look at, polish and admire but medals are really the poor relations in terms of awards and I’ve got quite a few now.

“Here,” I heaved the box on top of the ‘scrapbook’ (its actually a loose leaf photo album).
“Geez Gab, what you got in there, lead?”
“Just a few medals, come on, Mum’ll be dying to rub some of these in.”

“You certainly don’t let the grass grow guys,” Aunt, no, just Kath mentioned as she turned the pages of the album.
“Its a good place to live,” Mum supplied.
“Who’s this?” Kath queried, flashing a loose photo at us.

As I was closest I took it from her to look, sugar, how did this get in there?

“Erm, just a party I think.”
“Let me see,” Jules demanded snatching it from my fingers, “ah, that’s Gab behind all the mascara, the guy’s Stefan, its his band Gab sings with.”
“You sing with a band Gab?” Uncle Sam queried.
“Er not exactly.”
“Oh come on Gab,” Jules went on, digging me a deeper hole, ”she’s brilliant eh Boris?”
“She’s a very good singer,” he agreed.
“What sort of music do you play?” Uncle Jim asked.
“I’m not really in Blau Hase, as such that is.”
“Its sort of Punk meets hardcore Rock,” Jules supplied.

I was getting looks from Mum, I haven’t heard the last of this have I?

With all the munchkins, the evening was cut quite short at about nine, we’ve been invited up to them on Friday. Maybe I’ll get more chance to be with Gramps instead of babysitting.

“Fwooh,” I allowed, “I’m only having girls, he was a proper little so and so.”
“Oh so you’re planning on making me a grandma then?” Mum queried as we cleared up the debris.
“Er not exactly.”
“Mark my words, girls can be ten times worse.”
“But Rosie and Violet were so well behaved.”
“I was thinking more of the chaos caused by Gabrielle and Juliette?”
“Aaaa!”

“That wasn’t so bad,” Max suggested as we cuddled on the swing seat a bit later.
"I guess.”
“Your grandfather is quite funny.”
“Unlike Nanna,” I mentioned.
“She wasn’t so bad.”
“I can’t imagine talking to her like I do with Gran.”
“Perhaps not," he agreed, "she is maybe not a people person.”

Maddy Bell © 18.11.2017