Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
Okay, maybe the collection of Schliech wildlife I bought for Drea was a bit extravagant but it was the plush penguin that I bought for myself that had the Rents rolling eyes. Look he had such a pleading expression I couldn’t leave him on the shelf could I? Anyhow we were soon on our way back to Dernau, not that I saw much of the journey, last night finally caught up and I passed into the land of Nod before we even reached the autobahn.

"Daa-ad, phone,” I called down to the bike cave where he was ‘servicing’ the bike I’d had on tour.
"Who is it, tell ‘em I’ll ring back.”
"It’s George, says its urgent.”
I’m sure he sighed, "Be right there.”

George is of course the owner / manager of the Apollinaris bike racing teams, he mostly looks after the seniors leaving the junior squads day to day running in Dad’s hands. Of course as he’s the boss when he says jump everyone asks how high.

"Gaby?”
"Hmm?” I looked up from my ‘homework’, a rather dry article from a ‘trade’ publication explaining how some forthcoming EU legislation would impact the hospitality trades.
"Can you speak to the rest of the team and set up a conference call for later this evening?”
"That sounds ominous.”
"I’ll explain later, something’s come up, call?”
"Er okay, what time?”
"I have some calls to make first, after dinner?”
"Mand should be back about seven, eight?”
"Eight it is.”
"So what do I tell them?” I asked, hoping for a tidbit myself.
"I’ll explain later,” he repeated.

Doesn’t look like I’m gonna get any inside information. Mum was no help, she was getting ready for the Spring Cobble Classics, a series of one day races mostly in Holland and Belgium but also into northern France. As some of them are on consecutive days the team are being based in Belgium for the duration, this week they are going to do the recce and a sort of cobble riding training camp. There are junior versions of some of the races but they don’t always allow mixed teams like us so despite being the top German under eighteen squad we’ve only had a couple of invites although three of us will be making up most of a National team in the ‘girls’ Fleche Wallone next Saturday.
 

With everything else going on, if I wanted to eat, dinner was going to be down to me, a first look in the cupboards would suggest a trip to the chippy. But we’re in Germany, there is no chippy, the nearest takeaways are several kilometres away. Okay, there is food but I really didn’t fancy too much prep or fancy doings, I found a tub of chilli in the freezer, some reasonably sized taters in the sack, bot exactly Michelin but it’d fill a hole.

"So what’s this all about?” Mand enquired as we cleared the debris.
"No idea, Dad’s been all cloak and dagger since that call with George earlier.”
"Well you’re no good as a spy Bond.”
"I’m licensed to ride not spy,” I retorted.
"C’est drôle.”
"So how was the Bahn Museum?”
"Busy,” she replied stifling a yawn, "Coulda done with a bit more sleep.”
"What time did you get back?”
"After one then Eva picked me up just after six.”

I heard the phone ringing, someone’s keen, its only five to.
 

“… so that’s where we stand,” Dad concluded.

Our trip to ride the Potsdamer Havel Classic in a fortnight looks to be off, Dad’s been seconded to run the senior squad as George has had to go into hospital, something with his heart. That leaves us without a manager or even transport to get to the races.

"How long’s this for like?” Josh enquired.
"How long’s a piece of string,” Dad replied, "Initially its to cover the Classics by which time we should know a timescale for George getting back in the saddle.”
"So no races for what, three weeks?” Daz queried.
"What about next week?” Tali asked.
"That's still happening,” Dad told us, "I’ve spoken to Frank Obermayer, he’ll be in contact with each of you once he’s organised your transport, the rest of you can still do the event at Wuppertal, I can organise transport but you obviously won’t have the usual backup.”
"Be like riding back home like,” Josh opined.
"Couldn’t we do the same for Potsdam,” Gret suggested, "Dad was gonna help anyway.”
"Its only a couple of hours on the train from here,” Tali volunteered.
"Took forever when I went with the school,” I mentioned.
"It was going to be a full day’s drive anyway,” Dad pointed out.
"I guess,” I allowed.
"So in theory you’d all be up for still doing Potsdam?” Dad posed.
"What about Daz?” Mand put in.
"Daz?” Dad prompted.
"Guess I could fly there as easy as Cologne.”
"Of course, you’re back in the UK that week, you could have a week off?”
"I’d prefer to race if I can.”
"Okay, is your Dad there now Greta?”
"I can fetch him.”
"I’ll give him a call in a few minutes, explain directly. So the three of you for the Wupper next week, I’ll get your transport organised, Manda, I’ll leave you to co ordinate stuff okay, lads?”
"Sure Boss,” Josh agreed.
"As regards Potsdam, leave it with me, I’ll speak to Dieter, see what we can organise but in theory you’re all okay with a simpler set up for Potsdam?.”
"Aye,” it was Josh who once again spoke.
"What about after that Dad?”
"Well there’s a gap in the seniors programme before the Giro, we’ll know what’s happening better and have time to get a bit better organised so don’t worry about that yet. Anything else?”

There was silence across the airwaves in reply.

"Okay, I’ll speak with Dieter now, one of us will ring you back, maybe tonight but more likely tomorrow.”
"Can you pass our best wishes to George,” Tali requested.
"Me too,” Gret added.
"I will, bye for now,” and the call was ended.
 

"We’re trusting you girls to not do anything daft while we’re away,” Mum lectured.

Since the conference call Dad’s been on the phone almost solidly for a couple of hours, Mum’s been making a few calls too.

"We aren’t little kids,” I stated.
"No you are two young women and I know from first hand experience that ‘things’ can happen that might seem logical at the time but in hindsight were not such great ideas. Anything recent spring to mind daughter?”

Nothing I’ve done sprang to mind, maybe Nina, Misty’s makeover last week?

"Can’t think of anything.”
"So you’ve been planning on all the tattoos for a while then?”
"Ah, yeah, about that.”
"Yes?”
"Erm, well they’re not actually real.”
"We’re all hallucinating?”
"No, I didn’t mean that, they’re not proper tattoos, they’re just stick on,” i admitted.

Mum’s demeanor subtely changed, was that relief?

"So they aren’t permanent, they fade or something?”
"Its what they use for actors and that, Maria said they usually last about a week or you can clean them off whenever with something like nail varnish remover.”
"I wondered how they did that,” Mand mentioned, "I thought they painted them on or something.”
"I was just stringing you all along for a bit.”
"Hmm, that be as it may, no burning the house down or parties while we’re gone.”
"Mu-um.”
"I mean it Gaby, you can have friends around but I don’t want to come back to complaints from the neighbours or the Polizei.”
"Yes Mum,” I sighed.
"Manda?”
"No parties, no house burning,” Mand stated.
"We’ll be gone before you get home tomorrow, we’ll leave you some housekeeping money, I trust you can feed yourselves?”
"Well duh!”
"One of us will be checking in every day.”
"Mum, we’ll be okay,” I cut into her lecture.
"We’ll see.”
 
"Good, you’re still both up,” Dad opined finding the three of us in the kitchen a few minutes later.
"Just thinking about bed,” I stated stifling the latest yawn, its been a long day, well couple of days.
"I think we’ve got you all organised, Manda, next weekend, the lads will come down on the train, Henny Pinger will take you up in the team bus, pick them up in Köln and take you all across to the race, he’ll let you know times later in the week. You won’t have quite the usual backup but there will be spare wheels and so on. Gab, Frank will be in contact about Belgium probably Thursday.”
"What about Potsdam?”
"Give me a chance kiddo, Dieter and I have been looking at the logistics, the others were quite straightforward but getting you pair there has been a bit more challenging.”
"I thought we were going on the train?” Mand queried.
"Well it was the obvious choice but to be realistic its a minimum of three trains, possibly more, I’m not saying you couldn’t do it but it would take all day and not be particularly relaxing.”
"So what, we’re not going?”
"I didn’t say that, no you two will be flying, Dieter will book everything tomorrow and let you know the details, you’ll have to get to the airport but I’ll get that organised in the morning.”
"What about the bikes?”
"You will need to put them in hardcases, I’ll fetch a couple out before I go, will you be okay packing them, Dieter will rebuild them at the other end.”
"We might be girls but we’re not totally useless,” I told him.
"You don’t need to bite my head off, I was just checking.”
"We can manage Mr B,” Mand put in, "I used to have to do all my own mechanics before.”
"I can do stuff too,” I pouted. Okay, I don’t actually do more than punctures but its not like we have to literally take the bikes apart is it, its only wheels and stuff like the saddle really.

We talked for another few minutes, mostly Dad making sure we knew where stuff like the fuse box and stop cock are located. I doubt we’ll need to know but Dad was just being his usual thorough self. Eventually though my eyes reached the point of no return and the siren call of my own bed became irresistible.
 

Easter Monday, no college, I can lie in so why am I awake at silly o’clock? There was clearly some activity downstairs, the rents will be off this morning, me and Mand are going round to the bakery for a bit of an Angels reunion cum late Easter brunch. Its been organised for weeks, everyone’s coming so missing it isn’t an option. I dragged myself out of bed, did the necessities and made my way downstairs.

"Where’s Dad?”
"Down at the yard fetching your bike boxes for next week,” Mum advised looking up from the pasta she was draining, guess they’ll be having pasta salad for lunch later.
"You had breakfast?”
"We’ll get something when your Dad gets back, you sort yourself.”
"I’ll do it, we can at least all have breakfast together before you go.”
"Thanks kiddo.”

An hour later the four of us were sat at the dining table, well its a bit nicer than eating in the kitchen. We usually have the makings of a buffet fruhstück spread, emergency brötchen from the freezer and as its Easter, boiled eggs even if they aren’t decorated. We don’t often all sit down for breakfast together, we are all up and out at different times, doing different things so it was a bit of a novelty.

"I’ve put a list of your bike settings in the cases so Dieter can set them up when you get there.”
"Stop fussing Dad, we’ll work it out.”
"Dave?” Mum hinted.
"Eh, oh right, I’ve put you some money for expenses on the pinboard, you don’t have to spend it all but there’s enough to eat at the airports and so on.”
"Expenses, does that mean you want receipts?”
"It wouldn’t hurt,” Mum told us before Dad could answer.
 

"So you’re home alone for vierzehn Tage?“ Con repeated back.
"Yep, as of,“ i checked my watch, "Twenty minutes ago me and Mand are orphans.“

We weren’t the first to arrive at Thesings for our little soirrée, that honour went to Pia, Ing having dropped her off on the way to her own social gathering down in Bad Neuenahr, but neither were we the last as my currently carrot haired musical companion had yet to arrive.

"Nen is coming?“ Bridg asked.
"Said so last night,“ Pia confirmed, "Think her mums bringing her.“
"Anyone want coffee?“ our host enquired.

We were in the cafe rather than the apartment, well there’s not a lot of space up there and with the bakery closed, it is Easter Monday, it made more sense.

"That looks like her now,“ Mand stated, i know she’s not really one of the Ahr Angels but she did help at the market and anyhow, it would’ve been churlish not to invite her.
"Get the door someone,“ Con requested.

Given my experience working here i got up to do the honours, getting the portal open just as a flustered Mist reached it. We exchanged a quick hug as she came through.

"Sorry i’m late, some idiot put a whole toilet roll down one of the toilets which flooded the whole toilet block, talk about a mess.“
"Didn’t think you were working at the campsite anymore,“ Pia observed.
She gave a shrug, "Its a few extra euros, the place is heaving with it being the Easter holidays.“
"Maybe we should've opened the kiosk Con,“ i called over to my ‚partner‘ on that enterprise.
"Don’t think Kris would’ve been too happy.“
"I guess,“ i allowed.
"Come on then Nen, what’s with the hair and stuff,“ Bridg demanded.
 
And so it began. There was so much that Mist and i have shared over the last couple of weeks but there was also stuff we hadn’t and some that was best not distributed too freely. It all seemed a little surreal, here we all were, the five musketeers of Silverberg Gymnasium, the class of 2006 as the Americans would have it and for the first time that i remember there are secrets between us.

It was also a little disconcerting to see Misty in ‚normal‘ clothes, her hair has lost none of its vibrance in the last week whereas my pinkness has already lost the hardness it had. I guess i’ve become used to her new piercings much as my ‚tattoos‘ no longer catch my eye at every sight. The BlauHase tour remained the primary topic of conversation for most of our gathering but, like all good things our Easter gathering ground to an end, promises given, plans made.

"Oh nearly forgot,“ Pia started, "Dad wants to know who wants to work the tourist bus dinners.“
"When are they?“ Con enquired.
"Thursdays starting in three weeks, there might be some extras over the summer.“
"Count me in,“ Mand immediately told her, "Not like i have a burgeoning social calendar.“
"I should be okay too, put me down,“ i added.
"Might have to give it a miss, i don’t get back from college till late on Thurdsays,“ Con advised.

Living closest, Mand and i gave Con a hand with the clean up, it might not’ve been a chimps tea party but there were still crumbs and crockery.

"So what’re you guys doing the rest of the day?“
"Training,“ i told her with a bit of a sigh, "Up to the Ring and back.“
"Joy,“ Mand agreed.
"You fancy coming for dinner?“
"We shouldn’t impose,“ Mand told my friend.
"It would save me cooking,“ i put in, giving de Vreen a dirty look.
"You aren’t imposing, mum said to ask you when i told her you were on your own - and there’s a Tatort double as well.“
"Done!“

Mand just rolled her eyes, i guess you don’t have to like slightly cheesy police dramas.

"Food at seven, Tatort at eight,“ Con beamed.
"Come on then Mand, mountains to climb before then.“
 
And so we hurried back home, its best bit of eighty kilometres up to the Grand Prix circuit and back, best part of four hours riding even for us, so we’d best get a move on if we are going to make it to dinner. You can never be certain what Therese will dish up but there’s always plenty and washing up after is a small price to pay – and there’s always cake, it is a bakery after all!
 
Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
It felt a bit weird riding up the Ahrtal, something I’ve done countless times since we moved to the valley. Nothing has changed, the roads are the same, the traffic, my bike, all the same but everything just seemed slightly off, familiar yet not.

"Its gonna be weird riding without your dad around,” Mand proposed as we followed the river up through Mayschoß.
"We’ve done it before,” I pointed out.
"Yeah but not often, not since I came to Germany.”
"I guess.”
"You alright?”
"Yeah.”
"You just seem a bit distracted.”
"After the last couple of weeks, this,” I waved at our surroundings, "Is strange, guess it’ll take a couple of days to get back into the routine of the real world.”
"So you aren’t gonna swap bikes for mics then.”
"You kidding? This is much easier!”
"Oh come on, a couple of hours prancing about on a stage harder than a four hour session on a bike, pull the other one.”
"I didn’t say is was physically harder but I can do without all the travelling, sound checks, late nights, its not easy singing for a couple of hours you know.”
"Okay, you don’t have to bite my head off.”
"Soz, but I guess unless you’ve done it, I guess it might look easy. Race you to the tunnel.”

The ‘rock star’ lifestyle of the last couple of weeks hadn’t done my fitness too much harm, I have done some decent rides while I’ve been away and there was that race last week too. No, its not fitness per se that’s taken a hit, I can’t really put my finger on it but its a sort of dulling of my senses. Probably all that booze just taking the edge off.
 

"Which way back?”
"Eh?”
"Geez Bond, you’ve hardly said a thing on the way up.”
"Well I couldn’t get a word in,” I prevaricated.
"Har de har, so which way, straight down or over Ramersbach?”

I spared a look about me, boy, I really had been tuned out, we were already above Quiddelbach, we’d be passing under the Nordschleife in a matter of moments, the sound of high performance engines dopplered through the hillsides before a flash of colour surged across the bridge. It was true tho’, Mand had barely drawn breath since Altenahr, a diatribe of her life whilst I’ve been away. It wasn’t so much that I wasn’t interested, okay, who was seeing who at the English school isn’t high on my agenda of conversation topics, no I was kind of lost in my own thoughts.

"Ramersbach?” I offered.
“’kay, up the track?”

The track is an unofficial short cut that we sometimes use to miss the big junction where the two five eight and two five seven cross, its got a fairly good surface but you wouldn’t want to take a road bike through if its too wet. Today was dry though, the weather pundits were saying its the driest spring in forever, probably means we’ll have a wet summer.

"Works for me.”

I said it was rideable, I didn’t say it was the most comfortable surface to ride on but it was good practice for the Fleche I’ll be riding on Sunday with its steep climbs on cobbles. Okay, not quite the same as a dirt track at the top of a thirty K climb but it’ll have to do. The downside to using the short cut is the bit of CX you have to do to get back onto the road past the barrier at the top.

On the plus side is does avoid using the main road and we were soon on Hatzenbachstraße which takes you between the Grand Prix circuit and the Nordschleife directly into the village. Rather than the main road inside the circuit we took the lane through to Meuspath to avoid all the petrolheads going in and out of the circuit. Yeah, its a Bank Holiday so its a public track day, any one can turn up, pay the fee and drive around.

Our laney diversion cost us a bit of time but the way some of those morons drive, it was certainly safer. A loop through Döttingen put us on the four one two and we settled in for the climb over to Kempenich. Either I’ve lost form or Mand has improved a lot, by the time we reached Hohe Acht I was puffing a bit to keep level with her.

There was a bit of wind on our right shoulder as we crossed to Kempenich where it became a tailwind. Its eight or nine kilometres up to Ramersbach, a bit up and down rather than a single climb, I was more than glad that my companion seemed happy to ease off the gas a bit. The drop down to Ahrweiler is fast and twisty, especially with the wind pushing you, we got down safely before running the gauntlet of tourists in the Altstadt.
 

"Not bad, three thirty.”
"Its got to be later than that,” Mand opined.
"Not the time, the ride.”
"We’re not back yet,” my companion pointed out.
I gave a shrug, "Five minutes?”
"More like ten.”
"Still not bad with the detour at the top.”
"I guess.”

She guesses, I know so, the best I’ve ever done on this loop, without the detours, is three hours twenty five when I was really pinging last summer.

"So what do you reckon we’ll get for dinner?”
"No idea, something traditional if I know Therese.”
"Schnitzel?”
"I doubt it, might have to have a snack when we get in mind.”
"No chocolate, you’ll spoil your tea.”
"Yes mum!”
 

You’d think an hour, well closer to two would be plenty to shower, dress and walk a couple of hundred metres right? Guess again, it was ten to seven when we got back to Thesings, where the time went I couldn’t say but it might’ve been my decision to reprise Saturday’s stage outfit. Why I hear you ask, goodness knows, must’ve been the devil in me, but that meant Mand decided her jeans and sweatshirt weren’t up to scratch – well you know what its like.

I know I wore basically the same stuff on stage on Saturday but strolling through my home town in a dress that exposed as much as it covered including my latex underwear and limbs apparently covered in tattoos was a bit nerve wracking if truth be told. My hair was in the high pony, my fringe lacquered in place although my braiding skills meant I’d foregone that bit of Saturdays coiffeur. And of course my makeup ability is quite pedestrian so I’d just gone for dark lippy, lots of massy and drawn some dramatic brows on – maybe I should practice a bit more.
 

"You didn’t need to dress up,” Con stated, "Its only a family dinner.”
"I know but I just fancied making an effort.”
"And I couldn’t let her walk the streets like that alone,” Mands added.
"Pappa will have a heart attack.”
"That guy did ride his mofa into the kerb just now,” de Vreen supplied
"Shoulda been concentrating more,” I suggested as we made our way through to the apartment stairs.
"He was – on you.”
"I guess you either have it or not,” I stated airily.
"You, Gaby Bond, have it in buckets,” my BFF noted.

Herr T didn’t have a heart attack but I’m sure his wife kicked him a couple of times under the table. Clearly the presence of Erdbeer, rock chick at his dining table did something that plain old Gaby doesn’t. I guess it made me feel, I dunno, empowered in a way that felt, well empowering.

Dinner was stroganoff, flat pasta, creamy sauce and nearly as dangerous to eat as spag bol! It was well tasty, I’m sure there was alcohol in there and fresh baked garlic bread worked a treat for mopping up, yum. It certainly filled the hole left by our ride up to the Ring, I was quite sated but I’ll make room for dessert, good job this dress has a bit of stretch.

"So Gaby, is this the new you?” Therese enquired while Tomas fetched the dessert.
I gave a shrug, "I don’t think so, I just thought I’d see what it was like off stage?”
"You wore that with your band?”
"I did say moma,” Con put in.
"You said she had a short dress and boots, you didn’t mention the rest.”
"Well I didn’t see that well.”
"And the tattoo Gaby?”
"Just temporary, they wash off after a few days.”
"I like them,” Herr T mentioned returning to the table with what looked very much like a Schwarzwaldkirschetorte, Black Forest gateaux, cherries, chocolate and cream, the three c’s of mana!

"I bet your parents weren’t happy if they thought you had real tattoos,” Mrs T opined as the cake was distributed.
"They didn’t actually say very much about them, not like before when Mum thought I got one.”
"When was that?” Con asked.
"You remember, when those chokers were all the rage?”
"I had one of those,” Mand chipped in.
"Well Mum went completely ape before I could show her it was just a bit of plastic.”
"Bit of an over reaction,” Con noted.
"Tell me about it, she had me grounded until Dad intervened.”
"Some people just don’t like tattoos,” Therese mentioned.
"I thought she was going to blow big style when she saw these,” I admitted, turning my arms to better display the art I was wearing.
"Maybe she was in shock,” Mand surmised, "You know, too shocked to say anything.”
"Possibly,” I allowed.
 

The double bill of Tatort meant that it was gone ten thirty when we left the backhaus, Herr T insisting on walking us home. I’ve made the journey so many times, maybe I’ve become complacent, tonight, dressed like a goth wet dream, well I was kind of grateful. That night in Kassel, well I guess it brought home to me how vulnerable young women can be, especially late at night.
 

I hugged my cardigan a bit closer, whilst the sky above was clear and the vineyards above the town were bathed in sunlight, down in the valley there was a distinct chill in the air. Logic said that a coat would be a good idea but I didn’t want to lumber myself for the day. On the plus side, whilst I’d briefly toyed with going all rock chick for college today in the end I’d settled on a denim skirt and hose with a BlauHase t-shirt and of course the cardigan on top, pink to match my hair. I gave an involuntary shudder, come on Olaf its freezing waiting here.

My transport wasn’t actually late, for once I was running early. Without the distractions of one or other of my parents in the house and Mand departing even earlier for her train, well I found myself just killing time, something I could do more sensibly at my pick up point.

The journey down to Koblenz was, for once, unremarkable. If anything the traffic on the autobahn was lighter than usual, even the usual stop go into the city centre seemed less frenetic.

"We meeting later?” Max asked as we walked from Olaf’’s work place towards our respective colleges across the Stadtmitte.
"Expect so, I’ll send you an SMS lunchtime.”
“’kay, see you later.”
"Come here,” I pulled him down for a kiss, as long kiss.
"Get a room you two,” Freddy complained.
"Your only jealous,” Max retorted.
"If you say so, come on, we’ll be late.”
"Go on, speak later,” I told my boyfriend before snatching a last peck on his cheek.

I hurried towards the college, if I’m lucky I can grab a coffee before I go into this mornings tutorial.
 

"Gaby! A word?” Lisbet hinted as I gathered my stuff, preoccupied with thoughts of lunch.
"Er sure, coffee?”

It’s almost a ritual between us now, since I sorted her out with some decent coffee and fixed her machine, I get coffee that’s drinkable rather than the sludge available in the common room.

"So,” my senior lecturer started once we were settled in her office with cups of hot java, "How was life as a rock star?”
I blew on my coffee, "Hardly a star.”
"Not what I’ve been hearing.”
Ignoring her comment I went on, "It was okay I guess, hard work that’s for sure.”
"I thought you just swanned up and sang.”

The glint in her eye suggested she was goading me.

Of course, I bit, "If only! Travelling every day, setting up, soundchecks, day after day.”
"Don’t you have lackeys for all that?”
"Not on our budget, some of the venues have stage hands but its mostly down to the band.”
"So come on, you haven’t answered my question, what was it like?”
"Truth? I wouldn’t want to do it full time but it was good fun I guess.”
"You won’t be hanging up your wheels and abandoning us then?”
"You don’t get rid of me that easily.”
"I see you got tattoos?”
"They're not real,” I reassured her.
"I thought perhaps not,” she scribbled something on a note pad, "That sort of thing is a bit taboo in hospitality, especially in management.”
"Can’t see as it affects peoples work, I’ve seen plenty of cooks and wait staff with tattoos, well some.”
"Me too but they tend to not get positions in management and front of house, its all to do with image, just like your band. That’s especially true in corporate, its not the wholesome clean cut image they want to project, short order cook out of sight, fine, maitre d, not going to happen.”
"Its the twenty first century, you’d think we’d got past that sort of thinking, I thought we got jobs on merit not looks these days.”
"You can legislate for equality all you like and in some arenas it works, others, well we might be breaking gender bias but business image, being at the edge of societal norms may have personal costs beyond hair dye prices.”
"So if everyone had tattoos or green hair, they’d be acceptable?”
"It would be ‘normal’ so customers would find it strange if they were excluded.” Lisbet stated.
"I guess you can have tats somewhere you can hide them for work.”
"And many people do, I do see a change in attitudes in the industry but I would caution anyone to think carefully about getting tattoos or even piercings if they want to do well in this business.”
"I’ve got quite enough piercings thank you,” I told her, yeah and not a one at my own instigation.
"Having said all that, I’m not so keen on the cartoons but the flowers do look really good on you.”
"Er thanks, I’m sort of getting used to the look but I’ve got no intention of making any of it permanent.”

We talked for about an hour all told, about the tour in more general terms, my observations of our various accommodations and so on, it wasn’t officially a tutorial but I found it quite useful.

"Well I’ve got another class to take and you probably want to get some lunch.”

Right on cue my stomach gave a rumble.

"Er yeah,” I agreed.
"I have a little project for you.”

Ot oh!

"Which is?”
"I’d like you to pick out say half a dozen of the hotels you stayed in on the tour and imagine you are from corporate, do a short report on your impressions, what was good, bad, the staff, décor, maintenance. You up for that?”
"I guess.”
"Next Monday? I’d like to use it for a group discussion, it’ll be worth some extra credits.”
"In that case, definitely.”
 

I nibbled at my sandwich, frikadel with salad, not my favourite but it was either that or egg mayo which was all that was left at the student cafe when I got there. It was a nice day, too nice to sit inside so I made the short walk to the river front where I was now sat watching the river traffic and the trains running below the Ehrensburg on the opposite hillside. Today felt, well ordinary.

After spending two weeks chasing around Hesse, just sitting here watching the world go by was, yeah, ordinary – not that there’s anything wrong with ordinary. Around me people were following their normal routines, walking dogs, encouraging tourists to part with their money for boat trips, tacky souvenirs, ice cream. And behind me the sounds of the city, refuse carts, a siren, the hum of traffic, the clatter of construction work.

My musing was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of my handy which, by the time I located it, was a missed call from Max. Max, sugar, I was supposed to call him!
 
Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
"Two weeks?” Max repeated.
"At least,” I confirmed.
"Just you and Amanda?”
"I said didn’t I.”

We hadn’t had this conversation this morning because, well its not very private in Olaf’s car is it?

"So party time then,” he enthused.

I had wondered how long it would take to bring that idea to the surface.

"Ut uh, no parties, loud music or house burning, Mum was very specific.”
"What about boyfriends?”
"Not mentioned.”
"So we could…”
"We could.”
"I hear a but coming,” von Strechau mentioned.
"Mand’s still gonna be around.”
"And? She’s seen us kissing before.”
"Er yeah.”
"So what’s the problem? Hang on, you thought I meant…”
"Er maybe,” I admitted dropping my voice so the rest of the carriage couldn’t hear.
"Well I guess we could.”
"No, no, kissing's fine, really.”

What am I saying? Did I just suggest that we, well do It? Get a grip Bond, you’re seventeen, an adult, if you want to take that step just say so. The question is, do I? I know its a perfectly normal thing to do but it still feels, well wrong. I know I’m a fully paid up member of the fairer sex but, well you know my history, I guess I’ve still got some issues.

And Max, well he’s never pushed me to do anything, its me that’s instigated things, allowed things to get to where we are. And where are we? I guess we’re a couple, scrub that, we are a couple, boyfriend, girlfriend, we kiss, we cuddle we sometimes indulge in a bit of, well, second base. And I guess I’m fine with that, I’m just not sure about taking that final step into womanhood.

"We could do a bit of practice before we get to Remagen?”

I glanced out of the window, we were just departing Echternach.

"You’re seat or mine?”
 

"Hello, Gaby?”
"Speaking.”
“ Frank Obermayer, from the BDR?”
"Oh hi.”

I’d been expecting his call but even so I was thrown a little.

"I spoke to your father, about the weekend?”
"Er yeah, I was just doing some college stuff.”
"Well I won’t keep you long, I’ll pick you up myself, if you can be ready for two, we’ll meet the others at Lűttich, have a look at the route and hopefully you can have a ride up the Mur de Huy before we go to the accommodation.”
"Two, on Saturday?”
"Yeah, any problem?”
"Er no, just thought with it being so close we’d be travelling on Sunday.”
"Close for you, some of us have a bit further to travel.”
"Yeah, I wasn’t thinking.”
"If there’s any change I’ll give you a call.”
"I’ll give you my Handy number, in case I’m not at the house.
 

I put the phone down and returned to the lounge where de Vreen was still watching MTV.

"That’s put a spanner in things,” I sighed, dropping onto my end of the sofa.
"What’s that?”
"Well you know Sunday?”
"You’re racing in Belgium? It cancelled?”
"Well its only just past Aachen, I thought we’d be travelling over Sunday morning.”
"But you’re going Saturday instead, so what’s the problem?”
"Yeah, the problem is I said I’d work at the kiosk Saturday.”
"Bummer, can someone else cover?”
"Probably but that’s not the point really, every time I say I’ll be there something comes up.”
 

The rest of the week had less drama thankfully, I swapped my Saturday at the kiosk with Kris so instead of my ‘free’ day on Friday, I don’t have to go in to college for lectures on Fridays, I’ll be at the Kabin. Maybe I should make that a regular thing, at least those weeks I’ve said I’ll work.

And me and Max never got our ‘make out’ session at Bond Acres, news of our ‘home alone’ status quickly got around, we got dinner invites for both Wednesday and Thursday. Wednesday it was Max’s place and no I didn’t reprise my stage outfit again, his gran would’ve had conniptions, no I was quite demure for the evening! We did manage a few minutes out in the courtyard but I felt a bit guilty leaving Mand to the mercies of the Baroness.

Then on Thursday we ended up at our sometime employers place, the Sebenschuh restaurant and Weinstube. I think its the first time I’ve eaten there with the family, its usually either a girls night in the cellars or with my family in the restaurant. Not that we ate in the family house, we were in the restaurant but it was a quiet night and the only customers sharing the room were drinking rather than eating so needed minimal attention.

Which only left Friday, Mand came up to Altenahr from school and we ate in the Krone before getting the Ahrtal express back to Dernau. I know it might seem a bit extravagant but I never want to cook after spending a day over a hot erm, hotplate and given we’ve not spent anything all week, well I think we deserved a treat.

And the Rents, well we had a call each evening but given the girls were doing a training block ahead of a busy week of racing, there wasn’t really much to say so the calls were quite short.
 

"Any idea what time you’ll get back?” Mand asked as I enjoyed a lazy breakfast.
"Shouldn’t be too late, its only a couple of hours away, you thinking food?”
"Partly, you could be back before me.”
"I guess, I’ll nip around to the shop after this and pick up a few bits so we’ve got options.”
“’kay.”
"You all sorted?”
"Think so, I’m meeting the lads at Dusseldorf station, Josh’s uncle’s bringing them down and picking me from there, bit of a faff, I have to get the first Express down to Remagen, there’s a through train just after seven.”
"Guess we’ll be slumming it in some grotty b&b as the Federation are paying.”
"Gift horses and all that.”
"Yeah, I suppose we get spoilt a bit on Appollinaris’ tab.”
"Well some of us have training to do, if I’m not back, have a good ride tomorrow.”
"I’ll be riding later,” I told her, it wont be her four hour jobby but its still riding, "Enjoy the Wupper.”
 

By twelve o’clock I was chomping at the bit, with no one to watch over my preparations I’d checked and rechecked that I had everything. Helmet – check, licence – check, shoes – check, well you get the idea, given my previous record with these things it was essential. Of course I’m not riding for Appollinaris this week, instead its for my country, well the one that now claims my allegiance, I’m not sure what kit I’m supposed to wear so I’ve got my team strip in my bag just in case.

I put everything by the door – after checking it all again and picked up the project that Lisbet wanted me to do. I’ve spent a fair bit of time on it this week, well if its worth extra credits its a no brainer right? I must’ve got a bit lost in it because the rap on the door made me jump out of my skin.

"Coming!”

I slipped my Birkenstocks on, turned off the hi-fi and headed for the door.

"Er sorry, I was miles away,” I told Frank as I opened the door.
"No problem, I’m a little early, all ready?”
"Yep, checked and double checked,” I stated heaving the bag onto the step, just need to lock up.”
"Okay, I’ll take this down.”

Two minutes later and I was down on the drive, my bag already on the back seat with I presume Frank’s and a load of federation stuff.
"That’s me,” I beamed, "All ready to go.”
"Forgotten something?”
"Nope, all checked present and correct, all in the case.”
"You’re father did warn me,” he mentioned with a bit of a smile.
"What?”
"How you get very focussed – which is a good thing, so where are we going?”
"Er Lűttich?”
"To?” he prompted.
"Ride the Fleche Wallone.”
"On?”

He’s worse than Dad with his cryptic questions.

"Er bikes,” the pebble finally dropped, the reason he was stood by the open tailgate of the two fifty T, "Shitza!”

Yep, I’d remembered everything except my bike!

"Sorry, sorry, its just in the bike cave.”

As luck would have it Mand arrived back during this conversation which meant I didn’t need to find my keys again.

"So what’ve you forgotten this time?” she asked as we waited for the shutter to go up.
"Nothing.”
"Really?” the raised eyebrow suggested she didn’t buy that for one minute.
"Well not forgotten exactly,” I suggested.

Of course she spotted my bike almost immediately, still in the stand with the wheels stacked underneath.

"Really Gab?”
"It was an oversight, grab the wheels for us,” I blustered.
"If you say so,” she smirked, no doubt the world and its friends will know before I get to Belgium.

I released the bike, sans wheels from the stand and followed de Vreen back out to the Mercedes where Frank had a nest of old blankets waiting.

"That was easy,” he allowed, settling the two pairs of wheels on top, "I often have to drop the saddle to get them in.”
"It is an XS,” Mand pointed out.
"That’ll be it,” Frank agreed, "Come on Fraulein Bond, now we’ve got everything, we should make a move.”

"Have a good ride,” Mand called out as Frank edged out of the driveway.
"And you,” I replied with a wave.
 

"Can do without this,” Frank mentioned as we passed the old border crossing, ‘this’ being an incessant drizzle that we’d run into shortly after the Kreauz Aachen five minutes ago.
"Yeah,” I agreed.

We hadn’t spoken much on the way, Frank having a very intense driving style and me not really having anything to say. Despite a bit of traffic at the Kerpen Kreuz, when isn’t there, we’ve only been going for just over an hour. Frank was following one of those GPS things which provided some entertainment and soon enough it was suggesting we leave the motorway at the next junction.

Virtually as soon as we slowed and negotiated the junction, the wet eased to a few spots, maybe it wasn’t as wet as it seemed.

"We’re meeting the others at some sports centre.”
"Is that where it starts?”
"No, you get to start in the city, it’ll be neutral until you clear the mitte.”
"Right.”

The road was tracking the river, the Meuse or Maas depending where you are, through a bleak, grey landscape of industrial wasteland and docks, barges moored in ranks along the far bank. We looped over some sort of canal, the GPS almost immediately announcing that we were at our destination.

"That was easy,” my chauffeur noted.
"Yeah,” I agreed, okay, miss chatterbox I’m not, well not at the moment.
"And there’s our bus,” I was informed as we pulled in behind an older Mercedes minibus with a fairly big trailer tagged behind.
 

"You made it then,” Tali opined as I followed Frank up into the BDR bus a couple of minutes later.
"Yeah, thought I’d best put in an appearance.”
"Humble as ever,” Gret put in.
"Of course. Hi Izz, Liezel.”

Izzy, Isolde Beyer and Liezel Böhm are the rest of this weekends team Izz comes from near Ulm and Liezel lives somewhere near Regensburg, like my regular team mates they flew to Brussels this morning where they were picked up from by Andreas our federation mechanic and Matty our ‘Girl Friday’ for the weekend. After the introductions, Frank went over the days programme.
 

“… everyone okay with that?”
"Wait for it,” Tali stage whispered.
"Er Frank,” I started, "Do we eat soon?”

I’m sure I saw monies being passed towards a grinning Thalia Schmidt.

"Matty?” Frank queried.
"Now?”
"Seems as good a time as any,” our leader stated.

Matty fumbled around with the large cool box that shared her seat then started handing out bakery style bags.

"They’re only supermarket sandwiches I’m afraid, they hadn’t got much choice.”
"We’ll have better for tomorrow girls,” Frank stated giving his assistant a Paddington stare.
"For sure and a good meal this evening too,” the poor girl advised.
 

I think the others were as hungry as me, certainly the contents of the bags didn’t last long, they weren’t actually that bad. I got mozzarella and tomato with the usual lump of lettuce to fill it out a bit, not exactly race food but it filled a hole, all that was missing was coffee. I guess you can’t expect miracles.

Andreas meanwhile had been quite busy, the trailer was now behind Frank’s estate car, he and Matty were going directly to Huy where we’d meet them to collect our bikes for a spin around the finish circuit.. It felt somewhat similar but nevertheless different to how we do things with Apollinaris but the endgame was the same, hopefully success on the roads of Belgium tomorrow.

Of course we are doing an abbreviated version of the course, something like sixty kilometres through the forests and fields between Lúttich and Huy then a thirty five kilometre circuit the same as the seniors use except they do two laps after a much longer approach. Its not the hilliest bit of the world but nor is it flat and I think we were all a bit surprised at the steepness of a couple of bits. I’m sure Dad would’ve been waxing lyrical about the grades, the length, the surface but Frank was clearly more hands off.

By the time we made our rendezvous at Huy the damp had cleared, the early evening looking to be the best of a slightly grotty day. It was about half five when we set of for our lap with instructions to take it steady, its not a race this evening after all. The last time we all rode in the same event was in last year’s Nationals down in Bavaria although we have crossed paths at other times, just not all together.

Five is always an awkward number but we soon settled into a single rotation which gave everyone time alongside everyone else. Of course I know Tal and Gret’s strengths and weaknesses but the other two were unknown quantities. Oh they’re obviously decent riders to get selected but are they climbers, sprinters or what?

We stayed as a group quite nicely over the first two summits, the first a bit of a drag, the second a more punchy affair which left what will be the final climb of tomorrows race, first one to the top the winner. I’ve read the race reports, on a good day you can power up the twenty percent cobbles at the top, a bad day and you could be struggling to walk up the greasy surface. I remembered Mum’s advice, right hand gutter, the long way around is smoother.

The crowd barriers were already out and after a jiggle past the closure barrier we were on the famous climb. The first part is quite benign then the tarmac changes to setts, the road narrows and turns right as it starts to ramp up. I flicked down a sprocket to keep the cadence higher before hitting the turbo and accelerating towards the sharp left at the base of the wall.

Another click dropped the chain onto the inner ring at the front, a brief over rev then I was on the wall itself. The cobbles were still a bit damp which caused some loss of traction but Mum was right, the right side gutter was much better than the main carriageway. The steep bit is only about fifty metres before it starts to ease off but I was well into oxygen debt by then.

The road started to widen a bit as I struggled for air, finally getting on top of demand on the false flat that makes up the last hundred metres. Up a gear, another, no chance to change the chainring, final effort and I was across the line. I pulled up to the barriers and grabbed hold, my legs and lungs screaming from the effort.

It could’ve been seconds or minutes, but eventually more bodies joined me, each doing their own version of oxygen grab. Tomorrow is gonna be hard, this finale was bad on my own, with a whole bunch squeezing up, it’ll be a nightmare. Frank hasn’t given us a race plan yet but I think I know what I’d like to do.
 
Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
"Okay ladies,” Frank started, poking his head into the bus's side door, "Lets get you to the accommodation, we’ll discuss things after dinner.” Whatever ‘things’ are.

By the time we’d finished putting tracky tops on, Andreas and Matty had the bikes loaded in the trailer and we set off into the now fading evening.
 

I was expecting we’d be in some chain place, probably in Liege but instead we followed Frank for about, I dunno, twenty kilometres to some little two horse town where we pulled up outside of what looked like a bar. To be honest I hadn’t been paying much attention as to our whereabouts, well you know what its like when a bunch of girls are together. Anyhow, we waited for a few minutes before our leader beckoned us inside.

The others grabbed their bags and we made our way to the somewhat rustic looking drinking emporium, the inside matched the exterior as we stepped directly into a bar, all dark wood, polished brass and coloured glass. Our arrival raised some curious looks from the bar clientele, the use of German clearly marking us as foreign but their Chimay or whatever they were drinking soon grabbed their attention back.

"Along to the end girls, Jean Claude will sort out your rooms, back down for dinner at eight, I’ll pop your bag in Gaby.”

"Er thanks.”
 

"This is a bit bijou,” Tali suggested as I caught up to the others at the inner end of the bar.
"No kidding.”

Indeed, it reminded me somewhat of that old British sitcom ‘Allo, Allo’. Okay we’re in Belgium not France and its 2007 not 1943 but even so I had to resist the temptation to say zis only once! Even Jean Claude would fit right in with his exuberant ‘tache.

They speak some sort of French in this part of Belgium but we managed to converse enough to get our rooms and directions to the back room where we’d be eating. If downstairs was straight from the last century, upstairs the bedrooms were clearly recently refurbished. Okay, mine was a bit pokey but the ensuite was as big as mine at home and the décor was bright and cheerful, maybe it was because of my size that I had the single as the others were sharing somewhat larger rooms.

First order of business was a shower, eight o’clock being somewhat less than an hour away. The ‘tattoos’ on my lower arms had mostly come off now but those higher up and on my legs were still fairly intact. By the time I was dry my forearms were clear and I realised that there was only the merest tinge of the pink hair dye left in my locks.

At least we don’t have to wear some daft team uniform just to get dinner, even so I still have an image to uphold. And no, that doesn’t mean I packed the new stage costume to wear. Nope, my ‘best’ denim skirt and a plain scoop neck lavender t shirt were tonight's wardrobe choice, the added benefit being they don’t crease easily unlike that damn Apollinaris dress.
 

Probably because i wasn’t sharing the facilities or perhaps it was my insatiable appetite, but I was the first one down to the dining room. I say dining room, it was a room and we’ll be eating in it but it was more like an extension of the bar right down to the cast iron tables and chairs and accessed through a pair of curtained glass doors. Several tables had been pushed together and laid for eating and in one corner was one of those easel things.

I took a seat and helped myself to a glass of water then tried to identify the intriguing smells coming from, I presume the kitchen.

"There you are, we were knocking on your door,” Gret announced as the rest of Team Deutschland burst in.
"Thought I’d come straight down as I was ready.”
"So where are these tattoos, the way Manda spoke you looked like some Biker,” Tali advised.
"As if, they’re only temporary and they’re wearing off,” I pulled up a sleeve, ”see?”

Well of course they all wanted a look.

"So why?” Liezel waved vaguely at my arm.
"She’s in a rock band,” Gret gushed, "Blau something.”
"Hase,” I filled in.
"Oh mein gott, you were on the radio last Saturday, the live concert.”
"Guilty as charged, I’m only the singer.”
"Only she says,” Tali opined with a roll of her eyes.
"On a technical level,” Gret put in.
"You guys really rocked,” Liezel enthused.
"Er thanks.”

Well you can guess that the dinner conversation ended up being centred on my musical career rather than our purpose for being here. Dinner, despite the exciting smells, was pretty mundane but it was tasty and filling. Rustic minestrone soup was followed by grilled chicken with pasta and green salad, lastly a half decent slice of custard tart was eagerly consumed before coffee was delivered, no silly little cup each but a couple of thermos jugs full.
 
Frank rattled a spoon against his cup to get our attention.

"Ladies, I hope you enjoyed dinner but now its time to talk business. The Fleche Wallone, the Wallone Arrow, tomorrow, as you know, is the first under eighteen girls event under this banner so there is no historical data for us to plan with. Instead we have to look at the professional race to help guide our tactics.

In recent years, despite some tweeks from the organisers, it has always ended with a mass scramble on the Mur, it doesn’t matter how good you are, get behind the wrong rider and your chances are gone. And the men have over two thirty kilometres before the finale, you on the other hand have just ninety five so I think most observers expect a similar outcome tomorrow.

Having driven the course this afternoon I personally can’t see how we can change that unless any of you have any ideas?”

"There are some early climbs, escape on one of those around say sixty K and you could stay away,” Izzy suggested.
"It’s never worked with the men,” Frank pointed out.
"But their race is much longer,” Tali mentioned.
"And their field is much bigger,” Gret added.
"Have you got a map of the course?” I asked.
"Matty, if you would,” Frank requested.

Matty located the relevant sheet of paper from the directors pack and clipped it to the easel.

I stood up to get a good look at the full route, its one thing to drive it, quite another to see exactly where it takes you. Along the bottom was a profile, it took me a moment to work out the relationship between the two.

"What’re you thinking Bond?” Gret enquired.
I moved so the others could see the board. "So if we went with Izzy’s suggestion we’d be looking at making a move about here,” I pointed to where the race would pass through Huy before starting the circuit, "We climb up out of the town then the last three climbs are all within twenty K, the problem is this bit,” I traced the route on the map, "Ten kilometres of pretty much downhill, a little blip then its flat into the final climb. To stay away from a motivated bunch you’d need more than a few seconds advantage.”
"Which is why it always comes to a packed finish,” Liezel observed.
"Exactly. Frank, what were you going to suggest?”
"Play it for the finish, essentially make sure we deliver you as our favourite to the Mur in the best condition and position possible.”
"Which is what everyone will be expecting, they’ll all be having this same conversation tonight and coming to the same conclusions.”
"So maybe there is no way to beat this finale,” Frank concluded.
"Maybe,”
"Gaby,” Tali warned.
"Hear me out,” I pressed, "This first bit is actually hillier than the finish circuit, up, down,” I traced the climbs on the map, "Up, down but the interesting thing is that the climbs are longer than the descents like going the wrong way up a slide.”
"Which mean’s?” Izzy prompted.
"I’ve got it,” Gret told the room, "It favours a small group rather than a big peloton.”
"Exactly,” I concurred, "Get away back here somewhere and you could potentially get a big enough gap to get you around the circuit.”
"How much are you thinking Gaby?” Frank enquired.
I thought for a moment before answering, "Two minutes?”
"That’s a big ask,” the boss observed, "What if you don’t have that much we are still left with the lick of the Mur.”
"Well that’s the beauty of going early, if the gap isn’t big enough at the break point there’s still enough road to consolidate things for a bunch finish, we should plan for both scenarios.”

So that’s what we spent the next forty minutes doing, I’m not going to give you the details, after all, if we are in Renés Café the walls may well have ears! After five nights in my own bed it felt strange being in another bed again but despite that I slept well.
 

The race doesn’t start until eleven but despite that I was up with the larks. Matty had distributed our race jerseys last night, as I pulled mine on I couldn’t help thinking that the layout of the standard strip was intended to make my own rainbow bands less obvious. Yeah, whilst its nice to have the stripey jersey it does make you something of a target, especially when its an international field, everyone wants to take down the champ right?

The BDR might not be as rich as BC but that doesn’t mean they are backward, our breakfast for example was pretty much in line with what I’d expect riding for the UK. We’ve all got our little morning quirks, sports men / women probably more than most. For me its less about the exact food or even timing than the doing and part of the doing is my stretches – a hangover from my cheerleading endeavours.

"You ready Gabs?” Tal called through the door.
"Two minutes,” I replied.
"She’ll be five,” I heard the traitor tell someone.

Whatever, I gently brought my leg back around from the extended split I’d been holding before counting through ten horizontal dips. Mindful of the time I left it there, okay it was nearer five than two minutes when I presented my case and self at the bus.

Seeing everyone, Matty and Andreas included, in federation trackies tweaked my patriotic button a bit, so okay I used to ride for GB but for the last year and more I’ve been German, that’s what it says on my passport, that’s who I rode for in Kanada last year to get the stripey jerseys. It may have been political at the time but the way things are going with my life I can’t see me going back for more than a visit at least anytime soon.
 

The Belgians are well known for their passion for cycle racing, the great Eddy Merckx is of course Belgian, the joke is that he’s the only famous Belgian who isn’t fictional, the others in the frame being Tintin and Poirot. I’m sure there are others but I defy you to name them without looking it up. Anyhow, what I’m getting at is that even a race with a field of about sixty under eighteen girls had a good crowd at the Lűttich start with all the bells and whistles, team presentations, speeches, the whole shebang. Of course, as reigning World Champion I get to be singled out not just with a dodgy interview (my French really is terrible) but by wearing number one on my back.

Eventually we all lined up, the red, yellow and black flag waved, a klaxon sounded and in a cacophany of brakes and cleats snapping in, we set off from the Place de la Cathédrale. Of course the field is mostly made up of national teams, I even recognised a few riders but it was weighted towards domestic riders with both a Flemish and Wallonie team alongside the Belgian national team. They will be a distinct danger, the potential for all fifteen of them to ride together is huge and will be impossible to control.

We processed under the neutral flag through the city centre, across the Meuse only getting the green flag as we crossed the river for a second time. The Commisar accelerated ahead and as usual a few chancers chased up the road only to swiftly be swallowed up after their few metres of fame. My girls all stayed close, the draggy climb over the railway put off any more leg stretchers for the moment, I looked around, its far too early for any serious move, after all, its over ninety K to the finish.

Leaving the others policing the front I eased sideways and played with my gears, not out of need but purely for effect. Change, freewheel, look down, flap the lever a bit, look down, change back, stand up, sit down – it was all for show of course, there was certainly nothing wrong with my Pinarello. The idea of course was to sow the seed that I did have an issue to the rest of the field.

Just as we’d planned, Liezel dropped back and we continued the charade with her looking at my bike and leaning closer for a quick chat before heading back to the front. I played with things again before drifting back a bit further.

"Problem?”
"Gears are a bit jumpy,” I allowed recognising her as Vroni Sternimann, one of the Swiss girls.
"Sounds okay at the moment,” she noted.
"Yeah, it only does it when I give it some welly.”
"Good luck with that.”
"Yeah,” I allowed with a sigh.

I slipped a bit further down the field, Vroni wasn’t shy in sharing her gossip, I’m sure by the time I settled in next to Laura Burke riding for the BC squad most of the field knew I had an issue.

"Didn’t expect to see you here?”
"Scraping the barrel,” she opined, "Its a wonder they’ve even sent a team, they’re so up it with the track riding but hey, I get a free trip to Belgium.”
"I didn’t see who else is here.”
"Don’t think you know any of them, Rachel only started racing last year.”
"Any good?”
"Okay but no experience.”
I took a chance, "Well I’m going for a ride in a few, I’m sure Tal and Gret would like to see you all at the front.”
She took the hint, "It’ll be good to see them again.”
I purposely fluffed the gears again, "Flippin’ bike,” I complained loudly.

I continued to dawdle at the back, Laura no doubt suggesting a position at the head of affairs would be better than languishing at the back marshalled the Brits forward. Whilst there were still houses lining the road, there were glimpses of fields behind, not far until we’re out in the country, time for me to make a move. One of the Danes was moving up so I slipped onto her wheel as she headed towards the front of, I have to say, a quite sedate bunch.
 

A couple more gear fluffs as I reached the front half didn’t go unnoticed, no one seemed concerned that the Weltmeisterin was back, now in a sea of mostly white jerseys. I waggled my fingers at Liezel, our agreed sign, before taking a slug from my bidon, There isn’t a feed today but we can resupply from team cars but even so, I need to ration my intake a bit.

I slid sideways again so I had clear road to use, a rare roundabout interrupted things a little but then we were on a wide dual carriageway. The commisar accelerated ahead a bit more, a lot of flag waving and whistling announced a turn. As the field started braking for the corner I let myself run on a bit, just dabbing the brakes lightly before swooping across the front.

The extra momentum came in handy as I stomped on the pedals all the way to the next corner just a hundred metres further on. It was another hundred and twenty degree turn, I used all the road to get around barely skipping a pedal stroke. I wasn’t at full gas but not far off, another corner and the slight dip let me select the eleven.

Well this is it, I’ll soon know if its working, if not, well there’s always plan B. The map showed this stretch to be a bit kinky, the fact was that it was more than a bit, good job I’d been paying attention yesterday. Being on my own was a definite advantage as the road twisted downwards and the comp edged over fifty kph and even if the peloton was wise to me, it’d be nigh on impossible for anyone to set off in pursuit until things levelled off.

I got down into an aero tuck, any pedalling was purely for balance at these speeds, it might not be steep but a good road surface meant it was fast. The road straightened, those behind must be able to see me and I’ve not heard the service come up so I’m still under thirty seconds up. Brake lights on the car in front alerted me to the need to scrub speed, I grabbed a bit too much rear but just caught it before it locked into a skid, not good for me or the tyre.

The road levelled after the bend, I kept going full gas, l know it sounds daft but I can rest a bit on the climb that’s coming up. Another dodgy turn put me onto the climb, the neutral motorbike joining me metres later, the passenger showed me the board, “43, well its heading the right way. These Belgian climbs aren’t overly steep, you need to pace yourself and find the right gear, you certainly don’t want to try churning big gears, might work for Josh but lil ole me, not gonna happen.

I found my comfort point and concentrated on keeping it smooth, a couple of short pitches had me out of the saddle but the motorbike was still with me as I made the summit and started a less frenzied descent than the first one. Instinct is to look behind but I resisted the urge and ploughed on. The computer clicked over twenty kilometres as I passed under some random bit of motorway apparently going south towards Bastogne and Luxembourg.

Another draggy climb, the road straight as the race name for a couple of kilometres, my motorised companion came up with another time check 2 @ “11 P @ ‘1 “20. looks like I’ll have some company soon. If they are to be any help I need them as fresh as possible, I eased back slightly and reached for a snack.
 
Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
I squeezed the last of my energy bar into my mouth, blackcurrant flavour if you must know, just as I was overhauled. I wasn’t too surprised to see Lotte Kapenky, one of the Belgians followed by a Swiss girl that I couldn’t put a name to. They rode straight through, I easily slotted on the back, clearly they weren’t here just to close me down.

There were more options now, it’s not a simple go / stop scenario anymore, there’s now more chance of getting to the Mur ahead of the bunch even if the odds of taking the win are reduced. We eventually made a right turn and started what turned out to be a fairly flat middle sector of the race. The first kilometre or so was on a nice wide semi urban street then we crossed a roundabout and were almost immediately jouncing over brick pavé.

It was in good repair at least, a few loose cobbles rocking as we crossed them, to be fair, there are worse in Ahrweiler. Soon after I was caught we got into a steady rotation and everyone seemed comfortable enough. Frank had pointed out some cobbled sections during yesterdays recon but to be honest I’d been looking at the terrain rather than road surfaces.

Of course driving along in a big minibus thing you don’t get to feel the smaller imperfections, the changes of surface, the loose material, just the bigger lumps, bumps and more uneven surfaces. Which is how I nearly came a cropper at the next corner. Lotte took a fairly tight line into the turn, I was outside of her wheel and the next thing I know I’m fighting to stay upright as my rear wheel started to wash out on the layer of gritty stuff that I now spotted covering the middle of what was now a single track lane.

I was reminded of northern France last year, yeah the cobbles were bad but the other shitty lanes actually caused more accidents. In Germany you just don’t see roads like it, don’t get me wrong, you get a bit of mud and stuff but the amount covering this stretch of road spoke of years of neglect, you’d think the farmers would want the mud back in their fields. It wasn’t a long stretch but it was enough to disrupt our rotation, on the other hand, it’ll be a nightmare back in the peloton.

The cars and motorbikes in front were kicking up a right dust cloud that we were forced to ride through, I was more than pleased when the road cleaned up as we reached the next village. The motorbike came up with a time check, ‘1”16, okay, we’ve lost a few seconds coming through there but if I remember rightly, there’s a nice descent coming up where our smaller numbers will give us a slight edge. The Swiss, I’m sure it’s something like Claudette, led us into the drop, more single lane down through a wooded defile, thankfully the road was cleaner if a little uneven in places.

I’m no slouch on the downhills on my own but I lack the body mass to really make use of the gravity effect, put me behind a bigger rider though, and both my companions are bigger by a good bit, and I get sucked along quite nicely. We nearly overshot the gravelly turn at the bottom, you don’t have to be a linguist to understand expletives. Then we were out onto a nice wide N road, I took point and drove the speed up again.

The board at the bridge stated we were crossing the L’Ourthe, once over we turned left to follow the river upstream. How do I know? Well there was a huge weir about half a kilometre later. Anyhow, that’s by the by, the road was well surfaced and snugged between the river and a steep wooded valley side, a train raced past on the far bank, it was like riding along a miniature Rhein Gorge but without the vineyards.
 

Everyone was still pulling their weight as we entered Comblain, if I remember right, we climb out of the valley then its fairly level all the rest of the way to Huy. Another time check showed that the bunch were holding us steady around the one fifteen mark, we could really do with a bit more clear road between us, once we get to Huy there’ll be little opportunity to do more than hope we can stay away. Well, that’s unless we do something in the next few kilometres.

The crowds were out in Comblain, I say crowds, a reasonable smattering of enthusiasts as we started the climb through the main square. I know what you’re thinking, we’ve not exchanged two words since I was caught but to be honest, there’s been nothing to say. But maybe there is now.

"We need more gap,” I opined as we all took a brief fluid intake.
"My thought too,” Lotte agreed.
"I think there is not much opportunity?” the Swiss added.
"Sorry I don’t know your name, Gaby by the way.”
"Claudette Blanc, like the mountain, everyone knows who you are.”

Well I got the Claudette bit right!

"You have an idea?” Lotte queried.
"Some, there’s more single lane roads on the way to Huy right?”
"I think so yes,” the Belgian agreed.
"Well if we give it full gas up this climb we can use the narrow roads to our advantage, we can go quicker than a big bunch.”
"Its not that much of a climb,” Blanc scoffed.
"Maybe not where you come from, but its as big as we get in Belgie,” Lotte stated.
"Doesn’t matter, we do a big effort and we can get maybe thirty, forty seconds,” I suggested.
"Well what are we waiting for,” the Swiss girl put in with more enthusiasm than I thought necessary, "Last one to the top wears a dirndl!”

Weird thing to say.
 

The road tilted a bit more steeply after yet another roundabout and Claudette put in a goodly effort until it levelled a bit when Lotte took over. Houses were replaced by trees and I moved through and kept the hammer down as the road looped through a couple of turns and a hairpin bend. There was a bit of noisy roadside support as we made the turn in close formation, the Swiss jersey returned to the front briefly before we got back into a slightly more disciplined rotation as the grade returned to single figures.

Of course, the race isn’t just two dimensional, behind us the bunch had clearly seen the danger, at the next time check we were almost two full minutes up on the main bunch but there was a chasing group of five fifteen seconds ahead of them. Three’s okay, eight is starting to get a bit of a crowd and without knowing who’s there I’d rather they don’t catch up to us. There’s not a lot we can do about it though, I think we three are all committed to going all the way so that’s it.

The road was quite good, through the next village but at the next we were directed through another cobbled lane, thankfully relatively free of debris until we passed some farm buildings. We were through quickly and it was short enough that the dust didn’t get much chance to become an issue. The road we came out onto was wider and tarmac, which suited those behind better than us, especially as it was darn well arrow straight.

Eventually it started to drop a bit and with a little waggle we were in a shallow valley, making the turns through the hamlet disrupted our rhythm a bit but the short incline back out through the trees soon had us back on track. If memory serves, its all good two lane from here, at least until the finish loop. I fished some dried fruit out of my pocket, I have a plan C to consider, three at the Mur is okay I guess but one would be better.
 

We got another time check as we entered Tinlot, who makes up these names? there were now two groups between us and the main race, the closest to us were at one fifty, the second fifteen more and finally another twenty seconds to the main swarm. Provided we don’t mess up, its ours for the taking. It was a slightly iffy plan but it looks like it was good enough for me to have a decent shot at the prize.

I checked on my companions, they both looked fairly comfortable, well as much as you do after an hour at full gas. On the other hand my legs were feeling a bit leaden, not like they did a fortnight ago when I cramped up, just heavy from the effort. I reached for more dried fruit but the pocket was bare, energy bar? Nope, all that was left was my emergency gummi bears and two gels – looks like its a slimy orange flavour gel then.

The others seemed of like fuelling mind, we have enough in hand to ease off for a few seconds to eat. We swung out onto a much mainer road, crossed a dual carriageway and looped around yet another roundabout. I think we’ve been through more of those things today than there are in the whole of the Hohe Eiffel!

Oh boy, I recognise this, we’re on the finish loop! The road dragged up for a couple of K before we started the long drop into the narrow valley that takes the course north towards Huy. Timing is everything, there are two more climbs before the finale, the first one, the longest, gains about a hundred metres, its quite tough but its still like fifteen to the finish and that's mostly downhill.

Yep any move there is doomed to failure which leaves the short, sharp Côte de Cherave six out from the line. Success is of course not guaranteed but the fairly short descent followed by the flat run along the river to the start of the Mur offers a chance. Its either that or hope to get the better of the others on that climb, okay, I flew up it last night but that was on fresh legs.

And what are the others thinking, are they expecting me to make a move? Have either or both of them got a plan? Guess I’ll find out in the next few minutes.

We reached the valley floor and even though each of us was still taking our turn on the front, there was a new nervousness to things. We reached the turn for the bigger climb and Lotte made her move, an out of saddle effort that got her about twenty metres. I must admit, it caught me and I think Claudette on the back foot, stay focused Bond, stay focused.

The Swiss changed gear, upping the revs a bit, I slipped onto her wheel we were following but not chasing hard. It’s long, maybe two K, but at around five percent you can keep up a good cadence which is what we were doing. Lotte, after the initial big gain was now loosing ground at about a metre in five, you do the sums, we didn’t have to go deep, I took over the pace after a bit taking us up to about five metres.

Our quarry had a choice, sit up or plough on, to my surprise she chose the latter, I kept us back letting her expend energy she could’ve saved. We were in sight of the summit banners when she blew, coming backwards so fast I nearly rode into her. A few fans cheered us through, on Wednesday when the Pros race they get three passes, today is a bit less attractive even if we are prettier!
 

Claudette took over on the little dip and up to the second summit before we started the ten kilometre run to the Côte de Cherave. I let her keep the lead back down to the river valley then, on the near level, initiated a return to cooperation. The sound of the neutral motorbike which had fallen away over the top of the climb returned, either Lotte was back or she’d dropped right off.

Well apparently she wasn’t finished yet, I did say this long stretch of essentially downhill was an escape killer. On the plus side, her solo chase had clearly taken its toll, her riding was less smooth, the look in her eyes was determination not comfort. I think its fair to say that if it comes to the Mur, she’ll not be an issue, you can’t fake that fatigue, unlike my ‘dodgy’ gears.

I checked my bottles, one empty, the other, perhaps two decent pulls, its enough, it’ll have to be. I took the first swig then as I was returning it to the cage I hit bump and it was either hold the bottle and crash or grab the bars and don’t. My bottle and the last of my liquids bounced away across the road.

We’re within ten K now, there was a board at the side of the road a bit back. I felt at my pockets again, the last gel wouldn’t act quick enough, nope, its Haribo time. My fingers carefully gripped three, no four of the precious bear shaped sweets and transferred them to my mouth.

There was no repeat of the previous climb, the Belgian was hanging on bravely and by Claudette’s body language, she was content to wait for the last climb. Should I do the same or stick to plan C? My mind was only really made up when the Swiss reached for her bidon almost in sight of the summit.

Out of the saddle, I quickly overtook my companions and kept on the gas even as the few spectators cheered us through. The eleven sprocket was engaged and I threw any caution aside as I headed pell mell down to the Meuse, it was a close thing at the roundabout at the bottom, I had to use the full width of the road to get around. Under the four kilometre flag then the last slope to the riverside and I was in full on time trial mode.

It was tempting to glance behind but therein lies defeat. Two kilometres and I was in the city, a few people cheered from the pavement as I made the turn into the city centre. I reached for the last of my gummi bears, one last sugar hit. The approach to the Mur is quite benign, I slipped back the gears, one, two, three, have to keep the cadence quite high.

Then I was onto the climb proper, the Chemin de Chapelles otherwise known as the Mur du Hey, the Hey Wall. I came out of the drops and onto the hoods ready to battle the gradient and cobbles ahead of me. The cars and bikes ahead accelerated away leaving me alone on the road. I reached down and checked my shoes, adding a click to each, this is it.
 

The first ramp, through turn one had me out of the saddle to keep the gear rolling onto the false flat before turn two and the entry to the wall. I did a double change, the small front ring and up a gear at the back so that I didn’t spin out. Five hundred metres, back down one, no two for the next ramp onto the cobbles, keeping wide to lessen the corner grade.

I reached the corner, the wall rising seemingly vertical above me, spectators clinging to the banks. I’m sure I saw Claudette out of the corner of my eye as I made the turn, too late to worry now, click, click and I was on the steepest section, pulling on the bars, weight as near to vertical as possible. The gutter is certainly smoother than the roadway but even so the rear tyre skipped a couple of times causing my already racing heart to add a few more beats.

The wall of sound was intense, the slight cutting concentrating the cheering, bells and horns. Last night was a big effort, today I’ve had a ninety odd kilometre warm up, the red mist was rising, talk about on the rivet. You crest the steepest section and its still three hundred to the line, I gulped air, found some extra speed, clicked up a gear and hit the turbo.

Which had no effect whatsoever. The legs were going around but there was no more power to be had. I tried standing but it made no difference, yes I was still moving but it was like riding in treacle. Another gear change and I hit the sweet spot, I was vaguely aware of, I guess the Swiss close behind, the crowd were going potty.

And then I was on my own again, the surface returned to tarmac and I was into the last hundred. I couldn’t help it, I took a look under my arm, it wasn’t Claudette, no it looked like a Spanish jersey but the girl was going backwards. Fifty, I checked behind again before straightening my jersey, a last look behind, a scraggly bunch of riders were coming but they couldn’t catch me in twenty metres.

Both arms in the air I crossed the line then promptly crashed into Matty and Frank! I say crashed, it was more a slow motion collapse as the sprint for the placings came in behind.
 

Its easy to forget, the feeling of being the victor. Mum has mentioned in the past that the pressure of the rainbow jersey is really intense, the pressure to get the results, to act like a champion all whilst wearing a big target on your back that all the other riders want a tilt at, to deny the champion, to be able to say ‘I beat the champion’. For some who wear the arc en ciel that season never does bring success, others become invincible winning everything they look at. Me, well I have to admit to having a mixed season so far.

Last week I was on a high on the stages of Hessen but whilst that was cool and the adrenalin was flowing, it was as if nothing compared to how I feel right now, winner of the inaugural under eighteen Fleche Wallone.

"Gabs, did you hear?”
"Eh?”
"Frank wants everyone back at the bus,” Izzy repeated.
"Oh right.”

The last hour or so has been a bit of a whirlwind, drug testing, the presentation, press conference, bring it on! Of course, Frank was delighted, over the last few years the Dutch and Belgians have dominated in one day events in this category, rolling out an endless stream of very competent riders, so to get this today, on their home turf has been quite a thing. Mind you, it was a lot closer than I made it sound.

Yup, as predicted the main peloton really started to motor on the finish loop, if I’d waited any longer to attack I would almost certainly have been swallowed, I literally won by like five seconds although riders were still coming in over fifteen minutes later. Maybe I could’ve won from the bunch without all that effort, maybe not, we’ll never know. Yeah, quite a day indeed.

"There you are,” Frank grinned, "Still hugging the trophy I see.”
"Erm”
"You certainly earnt it, so you ready for some food?”
"Am I!”
"You had to ask Frank,” Greta mentioned.
"Come on then,“ the boss man chivvied.

We didn’t have far to go, the Restaurant Le Cortina was only metres from the finish area, we weren’t the only team using the place for the post race meal, we were the only ones with a great big trophy on the table. Of course with the others having flights to catch it was perhaps a little briefer than usual but that didn’t stop us having a nice meal complete with some sparkling wine.

"Nearly forgot,” Gret mentioned as we all made our farewells, "Details for next weekend.”
"Next weekend?”
She shook her head, "Sometimes Bond.”
"Next weekend, Potsdam right?”
"Right,” she confirmed,” Dad said that you should have everything you need in there, just check when you get home, should be a good weekend.”
"Yeah,” I agreed, "Safe flights, see you Saturday.”
"Er yeah.”

I dozed off on the way back to Dernau only waking up as the Mercedes bumped up the kerb into Bond Acres.

Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023