The water sloshed over his head as he sank back in sheer bliss, the steam swirling around like a soft blanket. When he surfaced he could hear his friends splashing about on the other side of the hot pool, later, for now he just wanted to relax after the bruising race. He smirked to himself, yeah the locals might have been a bit physical but Super Bond slipped their net, oh yeah!
"Gab!"
Wrapping the towel around himself he finally prepared to leave the steaming waters. The others had already left - bum he'd be last to dinner!
"Gab, wake up"
The pool floor was a bit slippery and Drew being Drew he managed to find a particularly slick foothold.
"Yea-aaargh!"
Splooosh! Backwards like a cartoon banana sketch, the water parting before rushing in to the void. As the liquid engulfed him everything went black.
 
 
Mand shook her friends arm to add emphasis, "Come on, Gab, we're landing."
"Ger off!" Drew's arm flailed wildly almost connecting with Amanda's face.
"You asked for it, Gaby Bond!"
"Ouch!" suddenly fully awake the Wunderkind glared at the girl sat next to him, "Wotcha do that for?"
"I've been trying to wake you for like ten minutes."
"What for?"
"What for? We're just coming in to land dozy knickers."
"But we only just took off."
"Yeah like ten hours ago, you've been asleep with a big grin on your face all the way."
 
 
I wasn’t the only one who’d been sleeping; Anja was stretching and yawning big style at the end of the row.
“So I suppose you’ve been awake all the way?” I suggested.
“Never said that but I didn’t miss lunch or tea.” She smirked back.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“We did try but you were well out of it.”
‘Ladies and gentlemen we are just starting our final approach, please ensure all hand luggage is stowed, seats are in the upright position and your seat belts fastened.’

The arrival at Tokyo Haneda Airport wasn't any different to any other time Drew had flown - queue to get off, queue for passports, queue for the loo. Being in a sizeable group there was no time to dally; Dad and George herded everyone forward mercilessly as far as the luggage carousels where the bilingual displays suggested a ten-minute wait for their bags.
 
 
"God, I’m glad that's over," Mand offered with a heavy sigh.
"Why do they have to make it so stressful, walk here, queue there, it's even worse with a bike."
"You have to carry your bike from the plane?"
"Well no but it gets you well stressed."
"It's not so bad really, Amanda, Gaby makes too much of it," Tina proffered.
"When I went to Manchester it stressed me out," I replied.
"You flew to Manchester?" Mand queried.
"Well duh, how'd you think I got there, Tardis?"
"Never gave it much thought."

No, why should she. I on the other hand had given it a lot of thought...
"You okay, miss?"
"I think so, it’s just a bit awkward." I tugged the bike bag upright.
"Let me," and without further ado he swung the bike bag off the conveyor onto the floor.
"Er thanks."
"You race?"
"Yeah." I really will have to work at this.
"Och mine always seems to come through last."
There was something about him that was familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it.
"That’s usually me, Drew, by the way."
"Chris, so you off to the 'drome?"
"Not till next week, I’m on the junior squad," I boasted.
"So you're the mysterious wonder from Germany."
"Well, Worksop, actually," I blushed, "how'd you know?"
"Let’s see, bike, flight from Germany and on the squad, I might only be a sprinter but even I can add those clues up," he grinned.

Sprinter, Chris, built like a brick you know what, oh bum.
"You’re, Chris Hoy?" I blurted.
"Guilty as charged, lassie, come on, let’s get through cattle control," and he set off dragging not just his bag but mine as well.
 
 
We must've looked a right sight, Chris ambling along with the bikes and me doing my best to keep up. He’s obviously better known in Blighty as he was clearly recognised by several people although the fact I was referred to as his daughter by one chap was a bit irksome.
"So’s yer teking after yer mother then?"
"Kinda."
"Yer don't fancy the boards?"
"I’ve done a bit but BC want me to concentrate on the road."
"Maybe that’s as well, we're a bit light on the road still, I think you'd do well in the pursuit mind, I’ll have a word with Dave later."
"You don't have to," I spluttered.
"We canna afford to overlook any potential lassie and if you ride anything like yer mother..."
 
 
At that point he was called forward to passport control, still dragging my bike. The officer’s face was a picture when he saw who was in front of him, I couldn't hear the exchange but Chris went through and the chap just waved me through after him.
"You got someone meeting you, lass?"
"Uncle John should be here."
"Right then, my car’s here somewhere, I’ll see yer next week, eh?"
"Er yeah sure, nice to meet you."
"And you, lass, and you."
We briefly shook hands and with a grin as wide as the Rhein Chris set off down the concourse.
 
 

I was broken from my reverie by the sound of the carousel starting up.
"Come on girls I can see your bags already," Mum stated.
Muu-uum.
"Coming."
At least it wasn't my bag we were waiting for this time, no; this time it was George's.
 
 
Soon the nine of us had our bags loaded on several trolleys and then it was through customs where we had to declare mine and Mum’s medals that we’d had to bring cos they wanted to see the bling. So far our experience of Japan was that of homogenised airport, the same the world over just with the signs in a different language. Once free of customs we got our first taste of Japan.
The hustle and bustle was a stark contrast to the calm, ordered atmosphere in the controlled areas and we were treated to instant Japan. Uniformed school girls, grandma’s in traditional dress, be-suited ‘salary men’ – pretty much everything my manga depicts is actually true – at least in this microcosm of the country. With Dad riding herd, George led the way through the crowded concourse, us following like gawping sheep.
“At least we won’t get lost,” Mand noted.
“Oh?”
“All the signs, they’re in English next to the Japanese.”
I hadn’t really taken that much notice, being more interested in the other sights around us.
“Wonder where we’re going?”
“We’ve been following signs for ‘rendezvous’ so I’m guessing there.”
Since when does Miss ‘don’t like flying,’ know so much about airports?
 
 
So okay, she was right, two minutes later George stopped our hike.
“Find some seats ladies, Vincenzo sent a message for us to wait here, he’s caught in some traffic.” George advised.
“Well I need a coffee,” Erika opined.
“Sounds like an idea,” Tina agreed, “Anyone else want one?”
What a daft question!
“I’ll come and give you a hand,” Dad volunteered.
The rest of us utilised bits of luggage and a single three seat bench to perch ourselves while we waited.
 
 
“Just like in your comics,” Jules observed.
“How’d you know?”
“You aren’t the only one who can read you know although I was a bit confused until I found out that you read from the back.”
“It’s not the back in Japan,” I pointed out.
“You know what I mean.”
“Comics, Gab?” Mand queried.
“Manga?”
“That stuff on your bookcase?”
“And around half the house,” Jules added.
“I still can’t believe I’m here,” Mand mentioned, “until this year my foreign travel was a package holiday to Spain, since I’ve been to Switzerland, Italy, Denmark and now Japan.”
“Don’t forget Germany.”
“That’s even more amazing,” she agreed.
I couldn’t disagree.
The coffee brigade returned bearing containers of caffeine infused liquid – not as good as when I make it at Thesing’s of course but it hit the spot just the same.
 
 
We’d been waiting a little impatiently for nearly an hour; I was considering a trip to the loo when a clearly European chap hurried up to our party.
“Apollinaris?”
“Ja, Vincenzo?”
“He’s a bit of a dish,” Mand whispered.
George, Dad and the newcomer were soon having a discussion in a mixture of Italian, English and German, there was a bit of gesticulating but they were all smiling and they soon rejoined the rest of us.
“Welcome to Japon, ladies,” Vincenzo started in heavily accented English, “I am a Vincenzo, I is a for Bianchi the manager for Japon. My apologies for my lateness, there was an auto incidente on the autostrada. We go to the bus now and direct to the hotel, we have dinner then you sleep, recover from the journey. Tomorrow we sort la bicicletta in the morning ready for the race in Chiba City tomorrow afternoon.
So if you follow, we delay no more.”
He mentioned food; I hope this hotel isn’t too far away.
 
 
We followed our host out into the late afternoon sunshine and to the waiting minicoach. Once there Dad and George took charge of the luggage leaving the rest of us to find seats, there were plenty but nevertheless I ended up sat next to Mand. Our driver introduced himself as Ken however his grasp of foreign language was about as good as my Latvian – non-existent! We landed in Japan nearly three hours ago and we are only now leaving the airport, got to be the slowest mile ever!
 
 
We’d got as far as the motorway before Mand chortled to herself.
“Wassup?”
“Notice anything weird?”
“Weird?”
“Yeah, well okay not weird maybe.”
I looked out of the window, it could’ve been anywhere really, well I suppose the cars and trucks are different to back home where it’s all Mercedes, Opel and Volkswagen, here its like Toyota and Mazda but it is Japan after all.
“Looks pretty ordinary to me,” I allowed, “so what’s odd?”
“Duh, it’s like at home, where they drive?”
“On the road?”
“Miss smarty pants, no, on the left.”
“We drive on the right at home, oh right, gotcha, it’s the same as England.”
“You really do give blondes a bad name, Gab.”
“I knew,” I protested.
“No you didn’t, admit it.”
To be honest it wasn’t something I’d ever thought about. I guess when you are in the UK and everyone in Europe drives on the ‘wrong’ side you kind of forget that maybe other countries are the same as Britain in that regard. I’m so used to being in Europe that this, now Mand has pointed it out, feels weirder.
 
 
The rest of the drive was uneventful, road signs with strange squiggles but the odd bit of English, streams of cars, buses and trucks, colourful advertising hoardings for unknown products. Then we left the motorway and within a few minutes we were climbing off of Ken’s bus at the Hotel Bristol Yokohama. I guess it’s a bit classier than Ibis but not quite the Hilton, what it wasn’t was the Japanese hot bath lodge that’s depicted in all my comics, er manga.

I hope the food isn’t generic world cuisine as well.

  
© Maddy Bell 2016 
 

 

 
 
Vincenzo could speak what I guess is passable Japanese, leastwise the receptionist seemed to understand him without issue, and we were soon being issued door cards.

“So everyone, freshen up then back down to eat, Vincenzo has organised a table for seven.”

Apart from George everyone else was sharing, Mum and Dad of course, me and Mand, Jules was with Anja with Tina and Erika taking the last room. All the rooms were on the fifth floor, a porter loaded our bags on a trolley and somehow got them to our rooms before we found our way up.
 

 
“You sure you’re okay with this Amanda?” Dad enquired, “we can swap you with Jules.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I had to ask.”
Geez, thanks Dad.
“Okay then, we’ll see you downstairs at seven then.”
“Yes Dad,” I agreed.
 

 
“Bagsy this one!” Mand declared flopping onto the first bed.
“Whatever.”
I don’t have a preference and apart from an extra couple of metres to reach the bathroom there wasn’t any other disadvantage. She might have grabbed the nearest bed but I beat her to the shower, well wet room and was soon luxuriating under the scalding waters.
“Come on Gab, I need a shower too,” my roommate chivvied.
“Two minutes.”
I closed the faucet with a sigh and grabbed a towel that I proceeded to mummify myself with before joining Mand in the main room.
“‘Bout time.”
“I wasn’t that long.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“That’s barely getting wet,” I riposted.
“If you say so Ariel,” Mand stated before entering the shower room.
Ariel? What’s she on about?
 

 
She was one to talk about time in the shower, I was dried and half dressed before she emerged twenty-two minutes later – not that I was counting!
“You going like that?”
I looked down to see what I was missing, nothing that I could tell, “yeah?”
“Your Mum’ll go loopy.”
“I’ve got clean underwear on.”
“Gab,” she sighed in exasperation.
“Okay, I’ll change.” Dunno what’s wrong with shorts and t-shirt.
 

 
We weren’t late but the others were all waiting when we reached the dining room entrance.
“Thought you’d be first down Hollow Legs,” Jules stated.
“We would’ve been quicker but someone had to change,” Mand proffered.
The look from Mum suggested that Manda had made the right call.
“We all here?” George enquired.
“We are now George,” Dad replied as Vincenzo joined us.
 

 
Our host had organised a single long table for us and we were soon seated, I was disappointed to see the very western cutlery on the table.
“So a ladies, gentlemen,” Vincenzo addressed us, “again welcome to Japon. I speak with the chef, he make a special meal for our visitors from Germany, pleas a enjoy.”
“What’s he say?” Mand whispered into my ear.
“They’ve cooked us a special welcome meal.”
“Hope its nothing too weird.”
“Find out soon enough,” I offered spotting a waiter with a pile of plates heading our direction.
Plates delivered the waiter returned bearing an oversize tray with soup bowls adorning it; these were soon placed before us.
“What is it?”
“Dunno, looks a bit like Bauernesuppe,” I suggested sniffing at my bowl.
“Which is?” Mand queried.
“Cabbage.”
“Cabbage?”
I dipped my spoon in and took a cautious sip.
“Well?” Mand pressed.
“If it’s not Bauernesuppe its awfully close, not bad but needs some salt.”
“Not what I was expecting for Japanese food,” Mand noted.
“They don’t just eat noodles and sushi you know.”
“Guess not,” she agreed tucking into her soup.
 

 
When the waiter placed several dishes of what looked suspiciously like frites on the table my suspicions were raised.
“Chips?”
“Looks like it,” I agreed.
To be fair the Schnitzel when it arrived two minutes later, looked pretty good, a nice golden colour garnished with salad and lemon slices, classic Wiener style. I wasn’t the only one chuckling as it dawned on us that the ‘special’ meal was for the Japanese, exotic German everyday cuisine! Well at least there wasn’t any reason not to eat the meal, whilst on one hand I was disappointed not to get the Udon or Sukiyaki from my manga this is food we know and eat regularly and as such shouldn’t cause any stomach upsets.
Dessert was lemon sorbet followed by coffee, we could be staying in Köln or Berlin, the only thing that suggested we weren’t in Germany was the dining room décor which, whilst western in style used traditional style Japanese art rather than the often brutal style you often find masquerading as art in chain hotels back home. Not that anyone was complaining about the décor or the food.
 

 
“Well ladies,” Vincenzo started, “I must leave you now, the bus will collect you in the morning at nine thirty and we’ll get you set with the bicicletta eh, Goot nacht.”
After a further exchange of pleasantries the Italian left leaving our party with our coffee.
“Well everyone, here we are,” George offered, “it’s a full programme this week and I’m sure you will all put on a good show. I suggest we all get a good nights sleep, breakfast is available from six. Any questions?”
“Will we be coming back here after we sort the bikes?” Anja asked.
“No,” Dad advised, “we go straight on to Chiba for the race, its about fifty kilometres away. So race kit with you to the bus, Bianchi are supplying race clothing for the series but bring your normal strip anyway.”
“Thanks Dave,” George nodded, “yes, whilst we are registered here in Japan as Bianchi Apollinaris our home sponsors shouldn’t be forgotten either, they, after all pay our wages eh.”
 

 
It was only nine thirty when we, that is Mand and I, headed up to our room, despite sleeping for most of the flight even I was yawning.
“I still can’t believe it,” Mand mused after she turned out the lights.
“Believe what?”
“That I’m, we’re here in Japan.”
“It is a bit of a doozie,” I agreed.
“I mean I dreamt of traveling the world but like I never thought it would be so soon.”
“Uh huh.”
“You listening Gab?”
“Hmmm.”
 

 
When I woke it took me a moment or two to work out where I was, oh yeah, Japan! I slipped out of bed and went to the window and pulled the curtain to one side. I gazed out across the sea of rooftops; the sun was glinting off something away in the distance.
“Mand!”
“Wassup?”
“Come here, you gotta see this.”
“See what?” she croaked.
“You’ll see.”
“What time is it?”
“Erm,” I checked my watch, “six fifteen.”
“Urgh!”
“Come on, you gotta see it.”
“Okay.”
I stood transfixed at the window unable to take my eyes from the view.
“So what am I supposed to be looking at?” Mand’s voice asked from close to my ear.
“There above double chimney, the white,” I directed.
“Okay it’s a bit of white so what?”
“Its Mount Fuji,” I supplied.
“As in big volcano thing? Geroff!”
“Money on it!”
“So what’s the white then?”
“Snow dumbo, its like as high as the Alps.”
“Cool!” Mand noted.
 

 
We stood at the window mesmerized, each lost to our own thoughts, it was my rumbling tum that broke the mood.
“Breakfast,” I stated.
“Wonder what delights we’ll have this morning?”
“Money there won’t be cornflakes.”
“As long as there’s coffee.”
“I don’t think that’s in doubt,” I noted while I searched for a sock under the bed, “gotcha!”
 

 
“You can be such a dork Gabs,” Goth Gurl chuckled, she having beaten us to the breakfast room.
“Eh?”
“Last night Mand had to cajole you to wear something decent to dinner, this morning you put a skirt on to play bikes.”
To be honest I hadn’t given it more thought than it would make changing for the race easy, I’d sort of forgotten we’d be setting the bikes up not just collecting them.
“Whatever, you want OJ Mand?”
 

 
I lost on the cornflakes; I guess most of the guests are gaijin, foreigners so the breakfast buffet reflected that. Fruit, croissants, rolls, eggs, those cornflakes, meat – pretty standard fare although you don’t generally see rice cakes or steamed fish at home. The rest of our party had joined us by a little after seven; it was almost eight before people started to drift off to get ready for the day ahead.
 

 
Ken was waiting outside for us at nine fifteen so we filed out and climbed aboard, however Vincenzo was nowhere to be seen. Our driver seemed oblivious to that, setting off as soon as George clambered into a seat. The roads were quieter than last night, which meant we quickly reached and joined a main road signed for the airport and Kawasaki.
It wasn’t the one we used yesterday, I would’ve remembered crossing the long bridge that took us most of the way to what I guessed was Kawasaki the town rather than the motorbike. Bianchi (Nippon) SA was housed in a row of industrial units not far from the waterfront, only the name board giving any clue as to what was inside. There were a couple of cars parked out front, a Nissan Cube and what I’m betting is Vincenzo’s Alfa Romeo – it still sported Italian plates!
By the time Ken had us parked Vincenzo had appeared resplendent in light slacks and a Bianchi green polo shirt.
“Good a morning laydeez, gentlemen, come the Gaggia is a on, we have coffee before we a start eh?”
 

 
“Ewww! That’s like dishwater!” I exclaimed after the first sip of the coffee, “its not been tamped properly.”
“Ot oh,” Jules mentioned, “watch out, our own super barrister is on the war path!”
We were all in the reception area, a largish space that belied the exterior appearance, a couple of stands with assorted bikes on and a rail of clothing did their best to fill the space and occupy my teammates.
“Um Vincenzo, can I have a go with your Gaggia?”
“Ah the beautiful Gaby, something is a wrong?”
“We prefer our coffee with a bit more um, body.”
“You a know how to a use the machine?”
“We have the same model at work.”
“Be a my guest bambino, I will find Genji so we can get started.”
 

 
I replaced everyone’s coffee with something drinkable before Vincenzo returned trailing a Japanese I’m guessing is this Genji.
“This is a my mechanic Genji san.”
Genji came forward, “Konichi wa,” he finished with a sort of bow.
We all managed a greeting in return, introductions could wait for now.
“So if you are ready we get a started eh?”
“Excellent,“ George agreed, “Dave, you have the numbers?”
“To the last millimeter.” Dad confirmed.
“Would you and Genji like some coffee Vincenzo?” I suggested.
The Italian rattled something at his assistant who then spoke himself, “Coffee yes a pleez thank you.”
“I’ll bring it through,” I stated.

 

 
Maddy Bell 14.09.15

  
© Maddy Bell 2016 
 

 

 
 
Whatever you think it’s going to be like, the reality is always different. In my head I was thinking it was going to be some sort of factory putting bikes together from boxes of parts, the reality is a warehouse stacked with boxes, each containing a complete bike. There were bikes of course, several were hung from the wall in various states of disassembly and a couple more were propped against the boxes.
I followed the sound of voices through the warehouse, doing my best not to spill the coffee on the way. Its not a huge building so it didn’t take me long to find everyone gathered in an open corner.
“Gab, you’ve gotta see these!” Mand excitedly greeted me.
I found a spot for the coffee, well for Genji san’s; Vincenzo took his from me directly.

“So,” Vincenzo started, ”the bicicletta are set up mechanically, I’m afraid the Japanese prefer Campagnolo from us, we do have the new Chorus 11 though. So we need to set up for the riders, Genji will help, After I have the clothing in my office, I will try to get you the right stuff eh?”
“Jules, can you give Vincenzo a hand with that?” Mum suggested.
“Whatever,” Goth Gurl sighed.
“Is a good thing.” Vincenzo beamed.
“Okay then ladies, sort yourselves out, Dave and Genji san will do the adjustments, quicker we’re done the more time we have for food before we head to Chiba.” George told us.
“What was all that?” Manda enquired.
“Long story short, quicker we’re done here sooner we get to eat.”
“These bikes are well pukka, you seen the gears?”
“Give me a chance.”
  
The bikes certainly were, as Mand put it, well pukka. We each have one of Bianchi’s Infinito Dama’s kitted out with the new 11-speed Chorus gear set – it was only in Radsport last month. The frame is carbon fibre and when I picked my machine up I happily forgave the dumkopf wo thought it should have pink flashes on the main tubes – its well light!

Dad soon had his notepad and tape measure out doing stage one of the fit for each bike, George getting in the way more than helping the process. We then had Genji san put each bike on a turbo trainer so the fine-tuning could be done. I was third through the process – after Mum fetched my cycling shoes from the bus where I’d left them.
  
When I returned to the reception area Anja and Tina were already sporting the week’s strip, a very traditional Bianchi green with a white band emblazoned with ‘Bianchi’. Under that our title sponsor Apollinaris were named as well as on each sleeve, the plain black bibs bearing similar Bianchi/Apollinaris branding.
“Here you go sis,” Jules grinned, “we guessed the size dwarf was for you.”
“Why you!”
“Hurry up Gab,” Tina urged, “we need more coffee.”

I grabbed the clothing from my smirking sister and headed into the makeshift changing room, not that there would be much chance of sorting any malfunction of the riding kit. The fit was actually quite good considering the sizing was off the peg, the jersey was perhaps a little snug across the chest. Still it would do and being a little tight might help keep the girls under control.

“Whoa Gabs, where’d they spring from?” Mand exclaimed when I returned to the main room.
“The jersey’s a bit tight,” and then that light bulb moment, “and I’ve got an ordinary bra on.”
“No mistaking you for a lad with that rack!”
“Hmmph!”
  
My services as barista were soon pressed into action, there was fresh coffee waiting when the rents and George joined us.
“We are a set up George?” Vincenzo queried.
“Yes, Genji is loading the van.”
“Good, yes, he will go to Chiba ahead to set up.”
“Maybe I should go with him.” Dad offered.
“A good idea Dave,” George agreed.
“Okay,” Dad nodded, “I’ll see you lot later.”
With that he headed back out into the warehouse.
  
“So we take photographs then we go eat yes?”
Geez photo’s too.
“What’s he say?”
“Photographs and then we go for food,” I supplied.
“I reckon he got the shirts deliberately small,” Mand mentioned plucking at her own top.
“You might be right,” I agreed.

We posed for the Italians lens, as a group and individually, he even had those with World champ gongs wear those for some extra pictures. When he was done we changed out of the riding kit and headed out to where Ken was still waiting with the bus. Vincenzo had a short discussion with our driver before addressing us.
“I lead the way in my auto, we go to the restaurant the other side of Tokyo Bay, maybe thirty minutes.”
“I join you Vincenzo,” George stated swinging down behind our host as he left the bus.
  
I checked my ticker, just turned twelve.
“What time’s the race?” Mand asked.
“Dunno, Mum, what time we racing?” I switched to German mid sentence, which is a bit weird, guess I’m so used to using it.
“Five o’clock, we’ve been tacked on after the men’s and boys events.”
“Typische!” Erika supplied from behind us.
“Ja, always the after thought.” Tina added.

By now we were heading back out of Kawasaki, we got a quick glimpse of Tokyo Bay before the road dived into a tunnel, a long tunnel. We emerged back into the daylight then turned off the main road onto a route alongside the bay. The restaurant was a couple of miles further on nestled between the road and the waters of a small cove.

Although pretty busy they were expecting us so amidst a lot of bowing we were escorted to a table on the balcony over the coves waters. Vincenzo spoke to one of the serving staff and our table soon bore a variety of soft drinks – well you can’t just drink coffee can you?
“What are we eating George?” Mum queried.
“They’re doing you guys omelet’s,” the Boss supplied.
Well I guess it’s fairly safe before a race – race, we’ve not even ridden around the block since we arrived!
  
The aforementioned omelets turned out to be huge things similar to the Spanish variety with chopped veggies in the mix and a generous bean and green salad side. I wouldn’t’ve minded some chips with it but there was enough to fill a sizeable hole. We got a dessert, some sort of gateaux that satisfied the sugar fairy for now at least. Nice as the place was we couldn’t dally so barely an hour after stopping we were heading on for Chiba City once more.

By the time we reached the rider parking area it was two thirty and everyone was keen to get a wheel, we’d taken turns at the back of the bus to get into our race gear. I felt a little strange, apprehensive even; today is after all the first time I officially present as a girl at a race. Oh I know I’ve put on a bit of a girly show once or twice but that was just tactics, today its an all female field.
We found Team Bianchi, Dad and Genji san sat under a quick up awning next to the van, drinking what looked to me like tins of beer.

“Made it then,” Dad greeted.
“You missed a great lunch,” Mum teased.
By the look Dad returned the van crew hadn’t done too badly themselves.
“Lets get the girls checked in so they can get warmed up,” George suggested.
“Come,” Vincenzo instructed heading off up the car park.
  
To the locals we must look as alien as blue sheep, half a dozen gaijin women, mostly of the blonde variety in bike kit doing our best to look nonchalant as we followed the dapper Vincenzo and well built George past. When we got to race control it wasn’t really any different to any other race I’ve ever ridden, the only weird bit was having Vincenzo translating everything back and forth. Being the sort of star attraction in our event meant we got to wear numbers one to six, they use western numbers but that’s as far as it goes!
What did surprise me was that the small thirty-three rider field apparently included a couple of other gaijin, by the names one was French but the other could be from any English language country. Once we were done with officialdom we headed back to the mobile stable to finish getting ready and join the other riders utilizing the warm up circuit – a loop around a pedestrianised square.
  
“You okay Mand?”
“Bit nervous,” she offered.
“Yeah me too.”
“But you’re used to the attention and stuff, I’m a nobody making up the numbers.”
“Get real girlfriend, you’ve been to the Worlds and the Swiss race was hardly a fish and chipper.”
“I’m hardly in your class am I?”
“You’re just an ugly duckling.”
“Cheers, I like you too!”
“Duh! Ugly duckling like in the story, turns into a swan? You just don’t know it yet.”
“Come on you two, pick it up a bit!” Anja suggested.
“Yeah, yeah, come on Mand, let’s show this lot how it’s done!”
I didn’t give her a chance to demur; I snicked a sprocket and gave chase to Fraulein Pascali leaving her no choice but to follow.

More riders joined us on the circuit; a couple actually look quite handy although there was still no sign of the other westerners. The bike rides really nicely, no squidgyness although it’s a bit noisy over the rough paving, not sure about the saddle though – it’s a ladies and well, I’m not am I. We continued circling for about thirty minutes before we were invited onto the circuit.The six of us rode around together and as other riders joined the circuit we developed into a tadpole, about a dozen of the Japanese hanging off the back of the green jersey group. The circuit is not quite square and a bit shy of a kilometre round with a chicane on the side opposite the start / finish. It’s not quite flat, it kind of climbs up to turn three – the drop pushes the pace up slightly as you return to the line.
  
“Right ladies,” George gathered us together before we headed to the line, “I know you are all competitive but it wouldn’t be good form to wee over the locals too much, the sponsors want a spectacle not a whitewash eh?”
“Understood George,” Mum confirmed.
“Enjoy yourselves.”
“Can I still have a crack at the finish?” I enquired.
“I think they deserve to see that eh,” he chuckled.
“You’ll need to get past your mama first,” Erika put in.
  
It was an invitation event of course and the sponsors were keen to get as much out of the series as possible so we had the full pre race introduction stuff. We managed to wave to the assembled crowd at the right time when we were introduced, it seems that they’ve lined up all of the local female riders as they all got cheered. The other gaijin turned out to be Canadian, the pretty brunette seemed to be sporting a national champions jersey – maybe this won’t be such a cakewalk.

With enviable precision we started as my computer clicked to 17.00, a loud horn signalling our departure. Fifty minutes plus a lap, bring it on!
  
After a couple of laps things were quite settled as we cruised around the Chiba streets at thirty five to forty kph. The Japanese riders were watching us like hawks, Canadians likewise apparently waiting for Team Bianchi to make a move. An hour of this and I’ll be asleep.
“We going to liven things up?” Tina enquired as we rode piano up towards the chicane.
“Fancy a go Amanda?” Mum suggested.
“Me?” she squeaked.
“Don’t see why not.”
“Out of the chicane,” I suggested.
“Tina go with eh?” Mum prompted.
“Kay Jen.”
  
We were already at the front, no one wanted to pass us, so Mand and Tina had a clear road for their escape, the rest of us eased slightly through the artificial bends. They had fifty meters before there was any reaction; the bigger Canadian girl went through tagged by four of the host nation. Most of the others seemed unsure as to what to do, give chase or continue to follow the rest of the green jerseys around.
At home a move like this would last a lap if it was lucky but two laps later our duo were still out there, the Canadian having sat up after half a lap removing any impetus from the chase. Looks like we’re in the driving seat here.
“Drew, go fetch kiddo,” Mum instructed.
She called me Drew!
“Okie dokey!”
I didn’t need a second urging, I moved to the front and after a short dig had me clear I time trialled away – well it is my speciality. Mand and Tina were about a straight ahead, I could see that they were rotating but with the Bond turbo engaged the distance reduced fairly rapidly. My departure seemed to be the required catalyst, a glance behind through the chicane revealed the makings of a pursuit.

“Bout time,” Tina puffed when I joined her and Manda.
“Might have more company soon,” I noted, “you okay M?”
“Not too bad,” she got out between breaths.
Having reached the duo I now joined their rotation, it was tempting to turn up the screws but not yet. Another half lap passed before we were caught by half a dozen of the locals at which point we sat up and let the new arrivals see the front. We might have engineered it but competing with us now looked possible, my computer suggested we had another thirty minutes to go.

The others let the remaining members of the bunch drive the pursuit; about ten or twelve had already been shelled out. As the minutes and laps ticked by the gap between the ‘break’ and the ‘peloton’ reduced, the connection finally made as my timepiece registered fifty minutes! Next time through will be the bell, Mum won’t give an inch and there are those Canadian girls, hmm… I changed up a gear, time to go.
  
Maddy Bell 24.09.15

  
© Maddy Bell 2016 
 

 

 
 
My sudden acceleration caught everyone on the hop. Much like my earlier escape I got into a low tuck and absolutely slammed the pedals around, with a clear road, well apart from the odd dropped rider I was lapping, I could pick the fastest line. The crowd, not exactly huge or vocal up to now seemed less inscrutable as the PA screamed what I presume was encouragement as I swung into the home straight.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!
Yes my calculation was right.
 

 
Behind the Wunderkind Jenny was cursing, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. Trust Drew to pull a stunt like this, the dilemma of course was whether to chase the move down or not. That was answered by the chasing move by the dark Canadian, she was confident her offspring could hold off almost anyone in a time trial and of course Team Bianchi now had to react.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!
 

 
“Go for it, Gabs!” Jules shouted as her sibling flashed past, whilst a reluctant rider herself she could still appreciate the effort involved.
There was no let up for rider two as the course tilted upwards, snick, Drew dropped a gear to keep the cadence level, keep it smooth. He angled to the outside of the roadway before swinging through the apex of the corner, don’t look back. His thighs were starting to burn with lactic build up, deep Drew, deep breaths.
 

 
Jenny and Erika were quickly on the Canadians move but she wasn’t for capitulating. Her compatriot was trying to block the other Bianchi girls – Amanda had dropped back with a lot of the Japanese. There wouldn’t be a big bunch sprint this evening, the pursuants slowly opening the gap back to the now fragmented bunch.
Whilst her offspring was still only a double handful of seconds ahead, with 500 metres to go it’d take more than the three of them to close the gap before the line. Realising they were riding for second Jen backed off the gas a tad, the Canadian was still going full gas however, in effect towing the Bianchi pair towards the line. Drew might’ve got the drop on them all but there was no way anyone else would get the advantage of Jenny Bond today – well maybe Dave later!

Drew had the eleven sprocket spinning if not easily at least quickly enough for the computer to flicker over fifty kph on the descent to the last corner. He chanced a quick under arm glance to see where the pursuit was, bags of air, he could enjoy this. Through the last turn and with under two hundred to go he eased off and had time to straighten his jersey before sitting up and giving a two armed air punch as he crossed the line.

The crowd, what there was were pretty vocal, the MC was giving everything he had to build the atmosphere, Jen was aware of her daughter showboating ahead but now it was her time to show off. Erika feignted to the left which distracted the Canadian for the millisecond Jen needed to launch. The Canadian was plucky if not quite fast enough only sitting up ten metres before the line with Bond senior still going away from her.

Not far behind the main bunch were determined to sprint for every placing, the second Canadian mixed it with the almost exclusively Japanese group but the remaining Bianchi girls restrained themselves. It was a local rider who took fifth place, the north American losing out by less than half a wheel.
 

 
“Nice move, kiddo,” Jen allowed when she found her offspring.
“Have a good teacher.”
“Hmmph.”
“I’m guessing you got second.”
“Well I couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
“That was intense,” Mand noted as she rolled to a stop alongside.
“You did well out there, Amanda.”
“Took the sting out for me, “I grinned.
 

 
The prize presentation turned into a camera fest, just about everyone in town wanted pictures of and with the two World Champions. It wasn’t just the riders who attracted attention – even Mand got to sign a few programmes, no, much to Vicenzo’s delight the bikes were getting the treatment too. Over an hour had passed from the event finish before the riders could escape to the bus and get out of their perspiration soaked race togs.
George stepped up onto the bus, “Well done again, girls.”
“When are we eating?” Tina called from the back.
“Always the food,” George chuckled, “the organizers have that set up for us here in Chiba so we eat then go back to the hotel.”
“What’re we waiting for, I’m starved!” I opined.
“Your Dad and Genji are just finishing loading the van then we can walk to the restaurant, it’s on the circuit you raced on.”
“What’s going on?” Mand queried.
“Dinner, we eat here before we go back to the hotel.”
“Great, I’m starved.”
“Hope it’s not more schnitzel,” I mused.
“That would be too ironic,” Mand suggested.
 

 
Team Bianchi, including Genji san and our long waiting bus driver followed George, Vicenzo and a handful of the race officials for the short walk to the restaurant. This was no pseudo western eatery, no this was full on traditional Japanese, shoes off at the door, sit on floor cushions (so okay not 100% traditional). If you want to know what we had well you’re out of luck, apart from rice I’ve no idea what anything was called.
What I can tell you is that there was plenty of it, assorted meat was included and using chopsticks isn’t as easy as you think. As a result there was some finger eating and use of spoons to move comestibles from table to mouth. I noted with satisfaction that it wasn’t just the Europeans at the table using the spoons, clearly some Japanese aren’t too good with chopsticks either!
Have to say there was plenty to go round and even I gave up with food still on the table. The light was starting to go when we emerged into the still warm evening a bit before eight for the walk to the bus.
“Buuuuurrrrp.”
“Ga-ab!” Mand complained.
“Soz, I think it was that battered pork repeating.”
“I don’t want to think about what part of a pig that was.”
“Tasted alright, maybe four pieces was a bit much though.”
“No kidding,” Mand agreed rolling her eyes.
 

 
It was an hour’s drive back to the hotel and despite not being that late I wasn’t the only one who caught forty winks on the way, the combination of the racing then a big meal catching up with us. I was woken by the jolt of the bus stopping at a set of traffic lights; the hotel was the other side of the junction.
“Okay everyone, no race tomorrow,” George stated, “so we do a training ride in the morning, reception at nine, Vincenzo has other stuff to do but Genji knows where we go to ride.”
“No rest for the wicked,” Anja mumbled.
“But there you are wrong, Fraulein Pascali, after training you have the rest of the day free.”
Ken pulled the bus up outside the hotel and after grabbing our kit we trooped inside.
“Nearly forgot,” Dad got our attention, “laundry to me before ten, the hotel assure me it’ll be ready before we leave in the morning.”
“I was wondering about that,” Tina told us.
“That includes you, Gaby Bond,” Mum ordered.
“Muu-um!”
 

 
The laundry run done it was still too early for bed so after buying some snacks from the machine by the lift we settled down to surf the TV channels.
“Whoa, whoa! Go back,” I instructed the keeper of the remote.
Mand clicked the controller and after a moment channel fifty three came back up.

“Cartoons?” Mand queried.
“Ut uh, Anime, I know this one.” I enthused.
“It’s in Japanese, Gab,” my room mate moaned.
“Well duh, we’re in Japan,” I pointed out, “this is a classic Studio Ghibli, Kiki’s Delivery Service.”
“Sounds a bit lame to me.”
“No it’s well cool, there’s this girl, Kiki who starts a business delivering stuff, this is just the pre titles bit.”
“Whatever.”

“You don’t have to know Japanese to follow it, please Mand?”
“Oh alright, as long as you don’t hog those jelly beans.”
“Yay!” I leant over and gave Mand a one armed hug before passing the bag of beans over.
Sometimes Gab you are such a girl! One minute you’re all trying to be macho, next it’s all girly, I mean what was it with the coffee this morning?
 

 
“So what’re we gonna do tomorrow?” Mand asked into the now darkened room. The film thing hadn’t been too bad, a bit juvenile but as Gab said you didn’t need to understand the words to get the drift of what was happening and at any rate Gab provided a commentary.
“Training?”
“Duh, after that, dummy.”
“Dunno, hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Do you reckon they’d let us go into Tokyo?”
“Maybe.”
“We could get the train.”
“Hmm.”
Flippin’ lightweight!
 

 
“You seen my denim skirt?”
“The one you spilt sauce on in the restaurant?”
“I only brought one.” I informed her.
“Went to the laundry last night.”
“Shitza! I was gonna take that for after training.”
“I know you have other stuff.”
“I’m not wearing a dress!”
“Who said anything about a dress, what about those shorts, you know, with the turn-ups?”
“I guess,” I allowed.
“Get a shift on or we’ll be last down to brekkie.”
“Five minutes.”
“I know your five minutes, I’ll see you downstairs.”
 

 
The drive to our training ground took about forty five minutes and we parked up in a place called Hadano which the sign in English claimed was the gateway to the Tanzawa-yama National Park. Jules distributed bottles and food while Dad helped Genji get the bikes ready, there’s no free ticket on this trip! By ten we were ready to depart.
“okay everyone, we’ll do an hour piano, second hour intervals, Vincenzo says the roads are quiet but maybe not so well surfaced in places. According to the map we go north from here, you take a left at road 413, we’ll follow with the bus. Questions?”
There being none, we set off into the warming morning.
 

 
It didn’t take long to get up to a comfortable rotation speed, quick enough to eat the miles but slow enough to comfortably hold a conversation. Rather than through and off we rode in pairs, it seemed natural to ride with Mand, her German isn’t up to much and the others’ English isn’t a lot better so it kind of makes sense.

“How much do you think these bikes are worth?” Mand posed.
“A fair bit, Chorus gears aren’t cheap, bet it’s like four thousand each.”
“Pounds!”
“Euros, that’s what, a bit over three thousand pounds.”
“Bloody hell! My dad only spent two on his car.”
“When I went to America I rode a custom job with Super Record on it, that was well expensive.” I boasted.
“I think my 105 is smoother changing than this, it’s a bit clunky.”
“Clunky?” I exclaimed, “Solid maybe, Shimano always feels a bit soggy to me.”
“I like Shimano.”
“Dad prefers Campy cos it lasts so long, he says it wears in not out.”
“I suppose it’s alright once you get used to it, the changers are easy to use, it can be awkward making quick changes with my 105’s.”
“You two changing?” Mum queried from behind.

Oops, we let Tina and Erika through and slipped to the back behind Mum and Anja. For a less than good road surface it was remarkably smooth making the climbs easier and the descents fast. The terrain was a bit reminiscent of the Hohe Eiffel, it almost felt like home but a sign in Japanese would remind you of our current location.

The high peak to our left was, I’m guessing Tanzawa-yama, we passed several parking places that looked like walking trails towards the mountain. We reached our first major junction, it was all in Japanese apart from the road numbers, ha, 413. It looked like we were doing a loop of the peak, George hadn’t mentioned a pass or big climb, had he?

The road did tilt up some, a steady four or five percent climb that rose for several kilometres before dropping down again in similar fashion.
“Fartlek!” Mum called out.

Oh sugar, I hate this, sprint for ten seconds then rest for a minute then repeat – we usually do ten sets, talk about intense. We singled out and Tina did her effort – the start of fifteen minutes hard riding which took us to our next turn where we joined a much less used and maintained lane which reminded me of family visits to the Yorkshire Dales. The interval pattern changed now, sprinting from the back of the string to the front, a sort of reversed rotation.

Our route tilted up and down and twisted about some which only added to the intensity of our sprints. Mand gamely took her turn but she was starting to falter, which didn’t go unnoticed by Mum who had her sit in at the back until we finished the reps. We dropped into a steep sided valley, of course that inevitably meant a climb out, we kept things steady but even so Manda was now starting to struggle a bit.
Eventually we joined another more main road, the 246 which took us back towards our start point. The warm down let Mand remain with us – it wasn’t the distance that was causing her issues but the intensity, an intensity several points harder than we’d done with BC. Mum and the others are professionals, they race like this week in week out, my regular joining their sessions has given me the stamina to ride with them.

Maddy Bell 28.09.15
  
© Maddy Bell 2016 
 

 

 
 
Of course no serious Apollinaris training ride would be complete without a final sprint and I generally fancy my chances. The town sign was pretty obvious as we approached Hadano, Tina went for a long one, which Anja jumped straight onto, I was waiting for Mum’s almost signature twitch before she launches. There it was, I made my departure a split second before her putting me alongside her as she went for it.
I thought I had the legs to take her but at the signboard she had half a length on me.

“What happened, Gab?” Mand asked when she caught up to us.
“I thought I’d let her have it, I wasn’t trying really.”
“You fibber, Gaby Bond,” Erika stated overhearing us, “you were going as hard as possible, you were leaving me.”
Bum, look it’s embarrassing getting beaten by your Mum, even if she is the World Champion, especially if she is the World Champion.
 
 
We reassembled in the car park, Dad and Genji taking charge of the bikes whilst the bus was turned into a changing room. Of course there isn’t a shower but we were able to have a wipe down which removes most of the riding crud. By the time we were semi presentable a table laden with drinks, fruit and sandwiches was waiting for us, haute cuisine it’s not but it’s intended to replace calories not excite the palate.

“Jenny, Mrs Bond?” Mand started.
“I told you before, Amanda, it’s Jenny.”
“Er okay, um Jenny, you know this afternoon, do you think me an Gabs could go into Tokyo? I looked last night, we can get a train.”
“Has my daughter put you up to this?”
“No honest, it’s my idea.”
Mum was obviously not convinced of that by her look in my direction.
“What?”
“Hmm, let me talk to George.”
 
 
Mum headed to where George, Dad, Genji and Ken were chatting – somehow they were conversing in a form of Japagermlish.
“Well she didn’t say no,” I proffered, “so what’s the big thing about going to Tokyo today, not that I’m against it.”
“It was something Caroline said when we were in Switzerland, she said she regretted not taking the opportunity to look around some of the cities she’d been to for races.”
“That’s a bit deep for Caro,” I suggested.
“Well I’m determined to see as much as I can while we’re here, we might never come again after all.”
I’d never even thought about that, heck I’m only fifteen I’ve got a lifetime to revisit places but what if I haven’t? I munched on my banana deep in moribund thoughts.
 
 
Mum returned a few minutes later, “Right you two, George has Okayed you going into the city, my condition is that Juliette goes with you.”
“I can live with that,” I agreed.
“Fine by me,” Manda confirmed.
“Jules?”
“Wassup?” the Dark One enquired coming over to join us.
“The girls are going into Tokyo, I’d like you to go with them, make sure they don’t get lost,” Mum told her.
Much to my surprise and I think Mum’s she readily agreed.
“Genji suggests you go from here, it might be further but it’s an express, the local trains stop at every station,” Mum informed us.
 
 
By some miracle I had my camera in my bag and for once my après ride stuff didn’t look too scruffy. Indeed by the time our train arrived, the application of war paint and Mum’s dry shampoo had me and Mand looking halfway presentable. Buying tickets had proven to be a cinch; the ticket machines had an English option so it was simple to select the tickets .
We found seats and settled down for the journey.
 
 
“I’ve just worked it out.”
“What?” Mand asked her nose pressed against the window.
“The train, we paid ¥778 each, right?”
“Yeah,“ the Goth one agreed.
“That’s only like €6”
“Geroff!”
“No I just worked it out, you get almost ¥130 to the euro.”
“What’s that in English?” Mand queried.
I thought a minute, doing the conversion in my head, “About a fiver.”
“That’s well cheap.”
 
 
The journey took an hour and twenty but it felt much less as we watched the countryside zip past the windows. We had table seats; the spare seat remained vacant until the last stop when a middle-aged woman sank into it surrounded by a collection of bags.
“Konichi wa,” she smiled with a nod.
“Er konichi wa,” I offered in reply mimicking her head nod.
Not a startling conversation but it nearly exhausted my knowledge of Japanese.
 
 
There was an announcement in Japanese then English; we were just a minute or two away from the main station.
“So where are we going?” Jules enquired.
“No idea, Mand’s in charge,” I answered my sibling.
“Um,” Mand prevaricated, “not sure, there’s so much.”
“You’re the expert on Japan, Gab,” Jules prompted.
“Er, the TV tower or there’s Akihabara, that’s where all the cool shops are.”
 
 
The train pulled into the station and we joined the tide of people exiting onto the wide platform.
“There’s a map over there,” Mand pointed across the crowd.
When we reached it we hadn’t got a clue where to look for our chosen destinations.
“Konichi wa.”
I turned to find a smiling woman, “Er konichi wa.”
“Englis?”
“Um yeah,“ my sister confirmed.
“You look for place?” she asked.
“Yes, we want to go to Akihabara and the television tower, please.”
“Terivision? Oh Skytree, I show on map,” she offered stepping up to the board. “We here,” she pointed to a worn area, she traced up the board, “Akihabara and Skytree,” she pointed further up the board. “Take Metro Hibaya Line, you get off station H15, see here.”
“Okay, thank you,” I allowed.
“For Skytree you go here, change to Tobu line station B3, big signo.“
Mand was busy writing the directions on the back of a receipt.
“You buy ticket for day, much cheap.”
I’d been raiding the brain cells for more Japanese, “Um arigato.”
“You welcome, enjoy visit, sayonara.”
I know that one, “Sayonara.”
Our saviour smiled and with a wave and some of the standard head bowing left us.
 
 
“That was lucky,” Jules mentioned as we made our way to the subway, fortunately the signs were all in English and Japanese so we actually found the Hibaya line easily and were soon stepping out into the afternoon sunshine in downtown Akihabara. I’ve no idea what I’d been expecting, maybe streets full of Lolita’s and otaku – maybe that’s just in the manga.
“Let’s try that street over there, looks like some interesting stuff in that shop on the corner,” Jules prompted.
I was surprised to see several other western tourists, I shouldn’t have been, this is the centre of Japanese youth culture. We made our way to the narrow thoroughfare and the cosplayer in me nearly exploded in excitement.
 
 
“What’s that, Jules?” Mand asked my sister.
The Dark One flashed us the cover of the leaflet she was holding, ‘Akihabara for Beginners’.
“Where’d you get that?”
“That last shop, they had them on the counter.”
“So what’s in it then?” I pressed.
“Keep your knickers on. It’s mostly adverts for the different shops but there is a map, let’s see, metro, oh right, that’s handy.”
“What is?”
“Well to get this tower thing we have to get a train from the main station, we’re at one end of the main shops, if we go up this street, Kiyobashi Dor or something like that we can do a loop back to the station.”
“Sounds good,” Mand agreed.
“So what are we waiting for?” I gleefully added.
 
 
Don’t think it was wall to wall ‘youth culture’ shops, it’s far from that book shops specializing in Manga and Anime sit side by side with boutiques full of Lolli fashions and food stores. The bookstores were amazing but as the thousands of ‘comics’ are all in Japanese, they were more novelty than shopping opportunity. Indeed unless you are wanting to kit yourself out with Lolita fashion those shops were more a curiosity for us.

I think even Goth Gurl was a bit overwhelmed by the stuff on offer, her idea of Goth does not run to the sort of stuff on offer here. The electrical stores were quite interesting, packed with gadgets and toys as well as the latest phones and laptops. Not that we could afford the prices, the trains might be quite cheap but that doesn’t reflect everything in the shops.

“I really ought to get the girls something.”
“We are going other places,” Jules pointed out.
“Yeah but this is Akihabara.”
“Whatever,” she sighed, “if we are going to this tower we should start making tracks.”
 
 
We started taking a less meandering route towards the station but I was distracted again by a particularly gaudy storefront emblazoned with ‘6% Doki Doki’.
“I saw some pictures of this place on the internet.”
“And?” Mand queried.
“It’s not that Lolli stuff.”

My sister had already made her way to the window, “No kidding it’s not, I’m thinking punk meets the Care Bears!”
We couldn’t resist going into the shop, I even recognised the girl at the counter as the same rainbow haired model I’d seen on the web. The Japanese never seem to do anything by half, over the top Lolli at one end and here it’s equally excessive bubblegum fashion. One thing in its favour was the prices; I bought some bits – not for me before you get any ideas, for the Angels.
 
 
“Right that’s it over there.” Mand pointed across the street from the latest station we’d used.
“Looks pretty big,” I supplied.
“No kidding, Sherlock, come on then,” Jules prompted.
We headed over to the entrance where we joined a short but slowly moving queue.
“How much is it?” Jules asked.
“I’ll go and look,” I volunteered.

Leaving the others in the queue I walked up towards the pay desk where the admission charges were displayed in Japanese and thankfully in English. I took in the information and returned to my companions.
“So?”
“We can wait here and pay just over ¥2000 or there’s a special entrance for foreigners on the next floor, no queue but it’s an extra ¥800.”
“We could be waiting here a while,” Mand observed.
“Let’s do it then,” Jules decided.
 
 
The lift was packed but the journey was short quickly landing us on the Tembo Deck that according to the guidebook is 350 metres above the ground. Rather than gawp out of the windows there we made our way up to the Tembo Galleria at 450 metres high, you go to the top up via a walkway inside a glass tube.
“Wow!”
“Yeah,” Mand agreed.
“That must be where we were this morning,” Jules pointed, “that’s Mount Fuji and that smaller pointed mountain will be Mount Tanzawa, the one you rode round.”
“It’s certainly quite a view,” Mand offered.
Understatement or what.
 
 
Whilst you aren’t exactly timed, other visitors arriving had us moving on and we returned to the Tembo Deck half an hour after making the ascent.
“Anyone else want a drink?” I queried.
“Something to eat,” Mand stated.
“Mum gave me some food money,” Jules advised, “we can get something in the café.”

Somehow eating cake and drinking coffee feels quite special, it’s not the height itself, I’ve raced at nearly six times as high, I think it’s being on this big needle, you don’t often get to be this high with nothing between you and the ground. After the food stop (and a high altitude wee) we went down to the next level where I coughed up for a model Skytree Tower for Dad while Jules got Mum a brooch. Time was certainly getting on now so we made our way to the lift to return to the ground and the transport system.
 
 
We followed the signs for the Metro and found ourselves at Oshiage instead of the Skytree station but there were trains going to Tokyo centre from there too so it wasn’t an issue. We headed to the network map to see where we needed to go.
“Hey, there’s a line that misses the centre, it might be quieter at this time.” I offered.
Jules eyed the commuters around us, “Might be a good idea, sis.”

As luck would have it the Shimbashi train came in as we reached the platform where we joined the scrum to get onboard. It wasn’t a long journey but we were glad to get off. We needed to buy tickets for the JR train to our destination, ¥550 each, the board showed a wait of five minutes when we got to our platform.
 
 
“Hope we get a seat this time,” Mand opined.
“I just hope we haven’t missed dinner.”
“You and your belly, Gaby Bond,” my sister supplied.
“Just saying.”

The train slid into the station and we started the last leg of our Tokyo adventure.

Maddy Bell 01.10.15

 
 
We didn’t miss dinner, well we were eating in the hotel restaurant tonight so the fact that the others had already ordered before we got there was just a technicality. The restaurant menu was pretty much all western fare, certainly nothing very exciting, I went for the steak and chips, pizza and pasta making up much of the rest of the menu.
 
 
Over the meal we regaled everyone with the details of our Tokyo expedition.
“She’ll be one of the Goodwill Guides,” Dad suggested when I regaled them with the tale of the woman who helped us with directions.
“Come to think of it she was wearing some sort of badge,” Jules noted.
“So what did you guys get up to?” I enquired.
“Just relaxing,” Mum offered.
“In a bath house,” Tina added.
“A bath house,” I exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have minded doing that.”
“There’ll be other opportunities,“ Dad told us.
 
 
We’d got to coffee before George got our attention.
“So tomorrow, we leave at nine for Osaka, so bags in reception for eight forty five. It’s about five hundred kilometres, Vincenzo reckons we should arrive about three, we’ll go directly to the event venue. It’s around a public park according to what I’ve been told, they are running the three events as a competition with points each day. I’m also told that the Japanese national team including their own wonder woman Mayuko Hagiwara is riding, so perhaps there will be a bit more competition.

As a reminder we stay in Osaka for two nights Mittwoch you race in Kyoto and Donnerstag we go to Hiroshima. No racing Freitag but the seniors have the Japan Cup event on Saturday. Everyone okay with that?”
“What are we doing on Friday?” Anja queried.
A question on my mind too.
“For those racing Samstag it’s four hours as usual, for Amanda and Gaby it is optional to join.”
“What about us Saturday?” I mentioned.
“Ach it is so far away, we will discuss this when we are in Hiroshima.”
“’Kay,” I agreed.
“I suggest an early night, tomorrow will be a long day for everyone.”
 
 
We might have gone to bed earlyish, well ten thirty, but it was after midnight when I turned the anime channel off, I got hooked watching a ‘Remote’ double bill then one of those vampire series came on and despite not understanding a word I sat in bed my eyes glued to the screen. Mand stole a march on me next morning, beating the alarm and me to the shower, sneaky cow. Saying that I did get most of my stuff back in the case before she emerged so I was actually ready with my case before her.
“Come on, slow coach,” I chivvied.
Mand blew a raspberry at me, “Makes a change for it not to be you.”
“I’m not always late,” I defended.
“Hmm.”
 
 
We went down for breakfast, everyone else was already tucking into their coffee and food, I really do need to get mornings sorted. The menu was slightly different this morning; they had some of my favourite stuff on offer, scrambled egg and red salmon – yum.
“You both packed?” Mum asked.
“Just gotta collect the bags,” I informed her.
“Amanda, can you check that dozy hasn’t left anything,” Mum asked.
“Hey!”
“You do have a bit of history, Gab,” Dad noted.
“Huh!”
This exchange had the other girls chortling; maybe Mum’s been spreading stories.
 
 
Ken and his bus were waiting when we assembled at reception with our bags so while George checked us out the rest of us headed outside. It was looking a bit more autumnal today, a bit cooler too; my legs were covered in goose bumps.
“I should’ve put my jeans on,” I moaned.
“Not comfortable sat on the bus,” Mand observed.
“Wassup, sis?” Jules enquired.
“Someone’s got cold legs,” Manda supplied.
“Why didn’t you put tights on?” Goth Gurl asked.
“Erm.”

To be truthful it had never occurred to me, I was warm enough yesterday bare legged after all.
“Mum?”
“That’ll be me,” Mum answered breaking her conversation with Erika.
“You got any hose in your bag, dumbo here’s cold,” Jules told her.
“One day young lady. No I’ve not but I’m sure one of those machines in reception had stuff like that.”
“Come on, Gab,” Mand prompted, “can’t have Wonder Girl getting cold.”
She grabbed my arm and just about dragged me back inside.
 
 
There were several vending machines stocked with food, drink and yes, toiletries!
“Geez, they even have knickers in here.” I noted.
“I hope you’ve got those on,” Mand grinned.
My turn for raspberry blowing.
“¥500 for a pair of tights!”
“Just get on with it,” Mand suggested.
“Okay already, let’s see, B6,” I punched the buttons then waited for the package to drop into the bin.
Pluummp!
I reached in and retrieved my purchase.
“Come on, you can put them on on the bus,” Amanda told me.
 
 
George had beaten us to the bus; once again we were last to climb aboard which had our driver chuckling and George doing the eye-rolling bit.
“I’ll go put these on,” I advised my seating companion.
“’Kay, you want the window?”
“Pretty please.”
I headed to the relative privacy of the back seat of the bus, pausing to twitch the curtains closed. I squirmed out of my shorts and opened the packet of hosiery, relieved to find they were of a reasonable denier. When I opened them out though they weren’t tights at all.
I felt a right plonker, so okay my legs were certainly warmer but whilst shorts over hose kind of works in a fashion way. With over knee socks I wasn’t so sure and my thighs were of course still exposed. Mand just gave me a look as I clambered into my seat, whatever.
 
 
We soon picked up the southbound motorway that we’d be following for next couple of hours. I recognised the Hadano turn and through the murky morning managed to pick out Tanzawa Oyama, the mountain we circumnavigated yesterday. Not long after that Mount Fuji burst into view above the clouds, we seemed headed directly to it then the motorway turned away prolonging our view.

Another, closer peak loomed above us, according to the signs, Ashitake-yama, the motorway swinging around its base. Then suddenly we were following the coast and the murk was clearing quickly, this is well cool.

“Over there, kiddo,” Dad pointed to the landward side of the road, a streak of white flashed by, one of the famous Shinkansen trains. I guess they are just like our ICE trains back home but faster. It wasn’t much further on that Ken pulled the bus into Makinohara services for a comfort break, I checked my watch, we’ve been on the road for two hours.
 
 
“Interesting look, sis,” the Dark One noted as I descended from the bus, “I thought you were buying tights?”
“So did I,” I sighed.
“Thirty minutes, girls,” Dad called after us.
“We heard, Dad,” I confirmed.
 
 
“If I was twenty years younger,” Dave offered watching Amanda and his daughters walk across the parking area.
“She’d still be too young for you,” Jen noted.
“I saw it in Switzerland when she did that modelling, she really is turning into a looker, not that her mother and sister aren’t,” Dave covered.
“Yup, cute just doesn’t come into it, so, Herr Bond, are you buying Frau Bond a coffee or what?”
 
 
On one level I was glad I’d not managed to buy tights, I didn’t need to strip off as much in the toilet that were thankfully western style. The services were more UK style than what we have at home in Germany, ablutions, shops and eateries.
“We getting a drink?” I asked the others.
“I’m hungry too,” Mand admitted.
“Takeaway or sit down,” my sister asked scanning the mini mall for options.
“Sit down definitely,” Mand affirmed.
“Yeah we can get some snacks for on the bus after.”
“Okay, let’s do it,” Jules led the way to the coffee shop.
 
 
“Latte o kudasai,” Jules asked the barista in faltering Japanese.
“Free?” the girl queried.
“Um yes I mean hai,” Jules confirmed.
“Get us a muffin please Jules,” Mand requested.
“I suppose you want one too, hollow legs?”
“Please,” I beamed back.

With the coffee brewing the barista returned to the counter, “Sono subete ga arimasu ka?”
“Um,” Jules language skills had obviously run out.
“Subete?”
Jules recognised that at least, “um muffin?”
“Mafin? Choko?”
“Hai.”
“One?” the girl indicated with a finger.
“Er three please, ikuradesu ka?”
 
 
“I’m impressed,” I admitted before taking a sip of my coffee, hmm not bad but I make it better.
“Yeah, I’m useless at languages,” Mand allowed.
“Thought I’d give it a go, Dad got one of those phrase books so I’ve been swatting on the way this morning.”
“Well I’m still impressed.”
“There’s some cool stuff to see in Kyoto tomorrow,” Jules went on, “shrines and stuff.”
“Hope we get time to look,” Mand opined.
“I think we will, George was talking about us all going on a bit of sightseeing trip before the race at breakfast.”
“Talking of which, I wonder what tonight’s hotel will be like?” I posited.
“I thought we’d see Vincenzo this morning,” Mand noted.
“Him and Genji came down yesterday, he was visiting some shops today according to Dad.”
 
 
We finished our caffeine and chocolate shot before heading to the shop that thankfully was self-service and self scan for payment. My armful of snacks came to over ¥1000 but I was keen to give as much of the stuff as possible a try and I wouldn’t be eating it all myself would I? We weren’t last back to the bus, that was actually our driver but we departed only a minute or two later than planned.

Everyone was a bit more awake than before the stop that meant more chatter and less watching the scenery. We picked up signs for Kyoto and Osaka at Toyota and although the motorway was busy we made good progress. It seemed like barely five minutes after the Kyoto turn that we were turning off ourselves into the Osaka conurbation.

It was only two thirty; we’d covered the five hundred kilometres in five and a half hours, not bad considering we were in a mini coach. The park wasn’t in central Osaka but at a place called Toyonaka near the airport, it was more in the country park style with a restaurant by the car park but not much else – except Vincenzo and Genji with the bike van. To be honest I couldn’t see where they could hold a race here, it was more like a nature reserve.
 
 
George stepped down to talk to our host then came back on the bus.
“Okay people, Vincenzo has organised food for us here then we’ll drive around to the race headquarters.”
It’s not that I’m starving, I have been sampling my Japanese snack hoard on the way down but I need real food too if I’m going to wup this lot later! The restaurant was very much traditional Japanese, shoes off at the door and sit on the floor, poor old George wasn’t enjoying that part at all. It wasn’t just the restaurant that was traditional, the staff were kitted out in kimonos and stuff making me feel just a little under dressed.
We started with some sort of clear broth with noodles, it was surprisingly filling but you were left wanting to eat more. And more is what arrived, rice with fish and vegetables that had us practicing our chopstick skills once more. Dad and Genji had slipped away while the rest of us finished up; an hour had passed by the time we returned to the bus.
 
 
The drive to the actual race circuit only took ten minutes and turned out to be on the university campus. Our support team already had camp Bianchi erected and were just getting the bikes out.

Much like Sunday Vincenzo took charge of things and led the girls and me to the actual HQ in the campus sports hall, real changing rooms, showers but Japanese toilets – well two out of three. The officials were just setting up the signing area when we emerged in our bike gear so we hung about so we could get that out of the way. It was quite funny watching other riders come through seeing first the gaijin Valkyries and then spot that one was wearing the rainbow stripes.
 
 
I forgot to mention that on Sunday didn’t I, yeah, whilst I’m world champion it’s for the time trial so I can only wear the stripey shirt for time trials. Mum on the other hand is road champion so she gets to wear the stripes pretty much every race so whilst the rest of us have Bianchi green jerseys, Mum’s is white with the stripes adorned with the sponsors names. It’s a badge of honour of course but it’s often considered a curse too, some riders never manage a win whilst wearing it.

We finally got the officialdom out of the way and headed to our waiting steeds like six gladiators.

Maddy Bell 03.10.15

 
 

By race time there was a reasonable crowd lining the circuit, a sizeable proportion of the student population curious as to what was going on joined by a few hardcore fans. Whilst the circuit was only a little over a kilometre it had plenty of character, the only truly straight stretch the couple of hundred metres to the line. It’s gonna be interesting to see how things pan out.

It wasn’t just the circuit that promised to liven things up, the two Canadians have made the trip south and I recognised a couple of the Japanese. Some of the others warming up looked like they might be quite handy and of course the infamous Mayuko Hagiwara is here somewhere. I’m pretty sure we can bag it but maybe it’ll be a bit more er exciting to be taking part.

I hadn’t identified Hagiwara until the pre race presentation, ah I recognise her now and her National Champion’s jersey would make her easy to spot.
“Mand,” I hissed.
“What?”
“Can you braid my hair?”
"What? Now?”
“Yep,” I confirmed.
“There’s only a minute before the off,” she observed.
“Best get on then,” I encouraged presenting her with my ponytail.
“You got an elastic?”
“Here,” I offered over my shoulder.

I felt her tugging at my locks as she quickly cabled them.
“What are you up to, Gaby Bond?” Mum enquired.
“Nothing.”
“Hmm, remember the first lap is neutral.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Amanda?”
“Uh huh, Jenny.”
Mand finished off with the elastic just as the starter raised his flag.
“There you go, done.”
“Cheers.”
“Why you didn’t do it when I did mine…”
I hadn’t come up with the plan then, dummy!
“Changed my mind, oh looks like start time.”
 
 
A klaxon sounded and we were off. The first lap might be neutral but that doesn’t mean we can’t move around the peloton, whilst the field isn’t huge it’s never a bad idea to be forward. Hagiwara was riding alongside Mum with Team Bianchi, two North Americans and some of the handier Asian riders in close attendance.

With my lieutenant alongside I slotted in behind Erika, close enough to the front to keep an eye on things without having to get too involved straight off the bat. We safely navigated the first left hander before dropping to turn two through a sweeping right hand curve. The course now turned into a small park on a narrower roadway that weaves between flowerbeds, over a traditional style wooden bridge before spitting us back onto a wider roadway.

The road then follows the shore of a small lake before turning onto the short sharp climb that returns us to the start/finish straight. We had another, or it might be the same mc getting quite excited as we approached the line for the start of hostilities proper. It’s traditional for someone to chance their arm from the start and we weren’t to be denied today.

A rider in a strip that made your eyes water just to look at set off on her kamikaze mission immediately we crossed the line. Several of her countrywomen gave chase, Tina tagging along at the back – well you need to cover these things. We were strung out on the descent as the speed increased which at least meant there was more road to use when we swung into the parkland.

Ahead of us the escape attempt was still forging its way through the gardens having opened a small gap over our group. Given we have at least an hour to go there’s certainly no point in getting into a tiz on lap one. It’s not like we weren’t interested in chasing, just not now.
We rattled over the bridge, Hagiwara fixed to Mum’s wheel like her shadow, hmm, that’s where the real danger lies. It seemed mere moments before we hit the climb, maybe 150 metres of 10%, steep enough for heavy breathing and an out of saddle effort at race speed. The leaders’ small lead contracted some on the ascent before springing back out as they made the top perhaps five seconds ahead.

“Glad that’s not any longer,” Mand puffed.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “good spot to attack mind.”
“Not yet though,” Erika suggested over hearing us.
“Later I was meaning.”
I got a look that belied her belief in my statement.
 
 
Much like Sunday we had already started to shuck a few of the less capable riders but there was certainly a more determined and able core apparently waiting for the gaijin visitors to spice things up. Of course with Tina up the road Team Bianchi were in no hurry to give chase, playing the waiting game, taking the longer view can often pay off better than the gut response to chase everything. It was therefore a bit of a surprise when Mayuko Hagiwara clipped off the front on the exit of turn one leaving a blocking party behind her.

The Canadians were a little unsure of how to react, Team Bianchi on the other hand remained stoic and following Mum’s lead ignored the move. Of course that clearly unsettled other elements of the peloton, two more Japanese took that as cue to make similar moves on the descent. We’d discussed tactics over lunch, I’d been threatened with a loss of dress allowance if I didn’t follow orders – as if that would bother me!

Another couple of riders slipped away over the next couple of laps, it was only when the Canadians finally broke on lap six that part two could be set up.

“Okay you two, go give Tina a hand,” Mum instructed.
“Come on, Mand, our turn,” I translated for my twin, Mum having used German for the instruction. Yes and twin, with our blonde hair in braids and identical kit at first glance you’d be hard pressed to tell us apart – I hope.
“Let’s do it then,” Mand asserted.
“On the climb.”
“’Kay.”
 
 
There were effectively two groups now separated by about thirty seconds, not a huge gap but enough to put them beyond sight of each other. Mand might not be the best climber but she has improved greatly over the summer, this little blip wasn’t troubling her too much. As everyone else flicked into lower gears we both made an out of saddle effort that quickly distanced us, we had a clear fifty metres by the top.

We settled down through the line and started a two up rotation to close the gap. The crowd seemed happy to cheer anyone – even two furreners chasing their own champion. Our pace was fast but not flat out, nudging forty-five k on the descent, dropping to high thirties on the level.

Of course the front group was a mixed bag of abilities and we picked up two girls going backwards as we chased alongside the lake. One made an attempt to hook on but at the first rotation she was toast, burnt toast. Across the lake we could see the front group, I guess we were midway between the main bunch and the break, with luck we should connect in a lap’s time.

Mand led up the climb, a less intense effort than last time after all we don’t need to kill ourselves! The MC was quite animated as we headed along the straight but it was Dad’s voice that caught my attention.

“Twenty seconds.”
Hmm, maybe the gap was bigger than I thought.
 
 
The gap wasn’t the only thing closing, the weather was hinting at a change too, darker clouds replacing the merely grey. Not much you can do about it but I hate racing in the wet, please hold off for half an hour.

We hadn’t made the connection by the climb but we were ascending at the same time and closing as we did so. Ahead I spotted Tina’s green strip and Hagiwara’s distinctive jersey among the bobbing bodies – at least the main danger seemed to be contained, yes the Canadians were there too. The leaders eased over the summit, we didn’t so by the line we made the connection and could take a breather.

Our arrival didn’t go unnoticed, there were after all just a dozen riders there, two more are easily spotted. There wasn’t much, no scratch that, any organisation, it would only stay away if the chasers were equally disorganised. Hagiwara certainly looked comfortable enough riding fifth wheel behind the dark haired Canadian, some of her countrywomen looked less so. Yeah a small increase in pace would likely distance several of them in short order.

Tina slid back to us on the descent, “’Bout time.”
“The cavalry’s arrived,” I grinned.
“Need to watch Hagiwara and that girl in the pink, they’re both itching.”
“On it,” Mand offered.
Click, another bit of my plan falls into place.

Mand moved up to Hagiwara’s shoulder with a new confidence that can only mean good news for the future. That left Tina and myself riding piano at the back where we could see any moves before they got away. We wouldn’t have long to wait.
 
 
It wasn’t either of the Asian’s making the first move however but the bigger Canadian who took a flyer as we exited the park. A couple of Japanese girls went after her and by the incline the move was reeled back in without effort on our part. I had to agree with Tina, Hagiwara was certainly looking twitchy, the more so after Mand moved up.

Whilst it wasn’t organised there was some sharing of the pace at the front but Hagiwara clearly hadn’t got her jersey for being daft, she never moved ahead of third wheel. Mand was like a limpet matching Hagiwara pedal stroke for pedal stroke even on the ascent. According to Mum’s plan we just had to contain things for another couple of laps when the others would join us in time for a rest before the finale. She thinks.

The Japanese champion made her move on the finish straight with only Mand going with her, albeit a length or so adrift. I moved up with Tina but no one else seemed interested in following the escapees, we weren’t exactly blocking but neither would we do much to chase the move. Their lead stretched a little on the downhill but with Mand acting as anchor it stalled at about fifty metres through the park.
Hagiwara seemed determined to keep it going, if I was her I’d make another move quite soon.
 
 
“You’d best give our stagiare some help,” Tina suggested as the first spots of wet hit the roadway.
Sugar!
“’Kay,” I agreed before launching my own move forward.

It was like alignment of the planets then, Hagiwara made the expected move, Mand slid off her wheel and I slipped through to replace her.

At the top of the climb the Japanese glanced over her shoulder and nearly fell off in surprise, honest, she had a right wobble on. Clearly she had miscalculated, another look behind revealed the other little blonde gaijin next to the older Bianchi rider still, even more troubling was the white jersey in the group almost within touching distance behind the break, O Shiri!
 
 
Give her due, she recovered quickly and returned to her effort now with super Bond as the anchor. Of course the MC was going potty as we came through the finish area, well their own champion showing a clean pair of wheels to the World Champion was something to shout about. On the other hand I’m pretty sure I can dump her when the time comes.
 
 
“Where’s Gab?” Jenny enquired when she along with Erika and Anja made the connection.
Tina shrugged and motioned up the road.

“The little minx, well she’s not gonna slip away that easily again.”
“But it’s your kind,” Erika observed.
“My precocious kind! Let’s get this lot organised.”
 
 
Mum is gonna be so bummed, I can claim I was following team orders I reckon. Mayuko was still dragging me along, I checked the comp, yeah another lap to the bell, no point in wearing myself out going sooner. The damp hadn’t come to anything yet, still occasional rain spots colouring the tarmac but not producing any slickness.

I took a turn on the front as we traversed the park, over braking on the exit to force Hagiwara ahead again. With any luck it will boost my adversary’s confidence that I can’t hold the pace on the front. How many times have we climbed these same couple of hundred metres? Twenty two? Twenty three? Whatever it’s starting to get old now.
 
 
Behind them Team Bianchi had the chase organised, even if the local riders had the inclination to help their champion the foreigners just steamrollered them, it was join in or be spat out. The sensible ones joined in. Jen didn’t want to give her daughter a chance to recover when the gap was bridged so they were carefully pacing the effort.
 
 
The commentator was getting pretty animated now, we still had a reasonable gap as we took the bell, two to me mother mine! No sooner had I thought that and the heavens opened big style – bum! Did I mention I hate racing in the wet?

Hagiwara seemed fearless on the descent, I dropped slightly off her wheel to avoid the spray only closing again once we were in the park. The Japanese wasn’t giving anything away, maybe she should have. Between spray and bad light I didn’t have time to react as her bike fishtailed on the now slick wooden bridge.

I had nowhere to go, my brakes locked up and I hit the parapet with a crunch.
 
 
Hagiwara was just remounting when the chasers arrived on the scene.
‘Damn Gab’s has got away,’ Jen thought to herself, ‘now I’ve got my work cut out.’
 
 
SPLASH!
Bike and rider landed unceremoniously amongst the lily pads below the bridge, startling a large frog and a school of sticklebacks. By the time the soggy figure resurfaced the chasing group was crossing the bridge and several watchers were running to her assistance.
“Koko ni, koko ni!”
“Daijobudesuka?”

Drew struggled to his feet, it wasn’t that deep, well only up to his chest. One of the would be rescuers threw a life belt into the water and soon he was being pulled from the water.
“My bike! Get my bike!”
“Biko?”
A coat was put around him as he was led to a nearby bench.
 
 
Jen was a bit cheesed, Gab might have stolen the march again but as World Champ she still needed to put on a show. The girls had agreed to a free for all if it came to a sprint finale so it was every woman for herself. Hagiwara recovered well from her spill to claim third spot several lengths behind Jen and Erika who crossed the line less than a tyre apart.
 
 
“Well done, Mum,” Jules congratulated passing her mother her trackie top, “one for the oldies, eh!”
“Cheeky moo, hang on what do you mean, Gab won.”
“Don’t think so, not seen her come in.”
“Where is she then?”
 
 
Maddy Bell 17.10.15

 
 
I arrived at the finish area ten minutes after the race ended sat on one of those golf cart things belonging to campus security with my bike sat in the back dripping sludge and greenery much like yours truly.
“What the heck happened to you?” Dad queried.
“Er, went for a swim?” I offered pulling some pondweed out of my jersey.
“Ew, gross!” Jules exclaimed.
“Thank you for your concern,” I noted with just a hint of sarcasm.
“Where is she?” Mum demanded.
“Here,” I stated removing my helmet which released a fresh cascade of pond life.
“What happened, oh come here, kiddo.” She dragged me into a hug.
“Sorry Mum,” I sniffled.
“You silly.”
 
 
I guess even by my standards it was a bit comical, a fact I realised after retelling the tale several times before dinner. I must have looked a right sight emerging from the mire demanding the return of my bike, weed and wildlife dripping from my person. The bike came off worst, the front wheel receiving a new square look that no amount of wheel smithying would put right.
 
 
They had a little presentation, Mum receiving the accolades as winner that I had sought for myself. With Genji shaking his head at the state of my bike we got packed up and on our way to tonight’s accommodation. The New Osaka Hotel is quite posh but they didn’t even blink at the disheveled state of one Gabrielle Bond.

“Dinner at eight people,” George instructed once we had our room keys.
“That’s only thirty minutes,” I groaned.
“Well you’d best hurry up then, sis,” Jules suggested which got a tongue in reply.
“Girls, play nice,” Dad instructed, “and something tidy please, it’s a bit posh here.”
“Yes, Dad,” I sighed.
Great, I get half drowned and now I have to wear a dress to get fed, deep joy.
“Come on, Gab,” Mand instructed, “you can have the shower first.”
 
 
We were a few minutes late getting to the restaurant, partly because I had to borrow Jules hairdryer and partly because we got lost trying to find the restaurant.

“There you are, the others have gone ahead,” Dad advised.
“We got lost,” I admitted.
“And I thought you could sniff food a mile away, come on.”

Ever have one of those moments, you know, where it feels like all eyes are on you? This was one for me; it felt like everyone was following my progress across to our table, have I got two heads or something?

“Geez, Gab, it’s only dinner,” the Goth one opined.
“Don’t mind your sister, you look very nice,” Anja stated.
Okay, maybe the heels are a bit much but they go with the dress which just might be a little on the short side. Look if I’m doing girl I’m doing girl, okay?
 
 
The restaurant was western style, proper tables and chairs and cutlery to match. A dozen of us, Genji and Ken have joined us, makes quite a big table, the result of several pushed together. Having eaten Japanese style earlier I was ready for maybe Putensteak Hawaii or potato dumplings but the menu ran to neither. Oh well, it’ll just have to be steak and chips then.

“You feeling better now, Gab?” Mum enquired.
“Yeah, you’d be amazed where that pond weed got.”
“I don’t think we want to know, thank you,” Dad noted.
 
 
After we’d seen off half a cow and a barrow full of steak chips George got our attention.
“So tomorrow ist Kyoto, it is not so far to travel at least. Vincenzo suggests we ride up after lunch so you have the morning to go shopping or whatever. Everyone rode well today, even our deep sea diver.”
Okay, so I’ll have my little spill hanging over me all the rest of the trip.
“The Japon were very pleased, let’s give them an equally good show tomorrow. It’s mostly the same riders again of course so no surprises there, we’ll talk tactics tomorrow. Any questions?”
“Are there any ponds for Gabs to swim in?” my sister grinned.
“I think not so she’ll have to stay on the road, eh?” George chortled.
I could’ve been hurt! I’ll get you, Juliette Bond.
 
 
“What now?” Mand demanded.
“Dunno.”
The rest of our party had headed to the bar leaving me ‘n’ Mand to find our own entertainment.
“We could go for a walk?” my roommate suggested.
“I guess.”
“It’s not raining.”
“I’m not exactly dressed for walking,” I pointed out.
“We won’t go far, its not like the shops are all open is it?”
“I suppose.”
“Think of it as a dry run for tomorrow.”
“I’m convinced already, come on before I change my mind.”
 
 
The earlier rain had long gone leaving clear skies and damp footpaths. Once beyond the confines of the New Osaka Hotel it was evident we weren’t the only ones taking an evening stroll, far from it. I was quite surprised that I wasn’t the only one walking around like a dog’s dinner, I’m not sure what I expected Japanese women to wear for a night out but heels and micro dresses was not it.

In fact I fitted in better than Mand, not that she didn’t look nice but amongst the crowds on the streets she looked a bit Mumsie in flats and a knee length skirt.
“So where to?”
“Looks like some shops down that way,” she suggested pointing across the road.
“How come you can walk in those things, I struggle with a couple of inches.”
“Practice, the other Angels wear them, it’s just part of stuff we do.” I allowed.
“Angels?”
“You remember, Con, Steff and that, everyone call us the Ahr Angels.”
“Those Angels, but weren’t you like supposed to be Drew?”
“I wish, fancy a drink?”
“Er okay.”
“That place over there’s open.”
“Ritz City, you serious?”
“Come on, live a little.”
 
 
I nearly dragged her across the street, Ritz City certainly was open and they did sell drinks, they were also a karaoke place.
“Konichi wa,” the lad behind the counter greeted.
“Er konichi wa, um two cokes?” I’m not my linguist sister, so shoot me
I’m not sure he quite understood.
“For two,” he grinned before selecting one of those plastic door lock things you get in some hotels.
“Come, come,” he ushered us to the back of the reception and into a corridor.
“Tanoshi on nanoko o motte imasu!”

He disappeared back the way we’d come.
“Um what was all that about?” Mand queried.
“I think we just got a karaoke booth.”
“I only wanted a drink.”
“Come on, we can at least take a look,” I suggested.
“Whatever.”
 
 
I found ‘our’ door and let us in, the lights came on automatically to reveal what I recognised from my manga as a typical karaoke room. To one end was the ‘stage’ with the mics stowed in wall brackets, a screen for the lyrics off to one side. The other end of the room had surround seating, a couple of low tables and a console – I guess for selecting the tracks.

“Cool!”
“Really?”
“Don’t you think? Come on we’re here now let’s have a go,” I suggested heading for the couch.
“Do we have to? I can’t sing for toffee.”
“That’s the whole point, I’m hardly Madonna, come on it’s just a bit of fun, no one else gets to listen,” I mentioned.
“One,” Mand allowed.
“Each?” I pressed.
“Okay, each then we get that drink right?”
“Right,” I agreed.
 
 
It was midnight when we left Ritz City, I discovered you could order food and drink from the room and it was quite easy to convince Mand to have a second, third, fourth go. The music menu was in Japanese and English, well a mangled form but it let us work out the titles and the prompt could be set to English too.

My singing is a bit cat’s chorus but I think I did a fair job of ‘Like a Virgin’ and we both had a blast with ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Despite her protestations Mand can actually sing quite well, she even knew the words to Sheryl’s ‘My Favourite Mistake’. By the time we called it a night we were in fits of giggles trying to follow some of the Japanese tracks – the lyrics on the screen were in phonetics so I’ve no idea what we were singing about.

I’ve no idea how they worked out the price but I thought ¥1200 was okay when you factored in the drinks and crisps we had during our stay.
“Oyasumi arigato!” our ‘host’ stated as we readied to leave.
“Um arigato.” I offered, it must have been a reasonable reply as he smiled back.
We were still giggling when we got back to the hotel; yeah we were in a silly mood.
 
 
“Where did you guys get to last night?” the dark one enquired joining us at the breakfast bar.
“Just for a walk.” I told her.
“Must’ve been some walk, I know you weren’t in your room at twelve.”
“We went in one of those karaoke places,” Mand admitted.
“You didn’t?”
“Did, talk about a blast.” I added.
“Coulda told me, I’d’ve come.”
“We didn’t exactly plan it,” Mand mentioned.
“Still.”
“So, we going shopping this morning?”
“I’ve not got much to spend,” Mand observed.
“Who said we’re buying anything?” I pointed out.
 
 
“Back here for twelve.” Dad instructed.
“Yes, Dad,” I sighed, “we know.”
“Off with you then.”

In daylight the streets outside looked totally different, bustling but not with the night birds we saw last night, instead a typical mix of housewives, students and crumblies that you see pretty much anywhere. There was a big department store a few doors away from the hotel – well you have to start somewhere so we headed inside. The contents may vary but these places are similar wherever you go which allowed us to avoid menswear and domestic appliances!

Even a lot of the brands were familiar, Wolford, Jaeger – even Clark’s shoes. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular but I couldn’t resist the ‘Hello Kitty’ tights despite them costing ¥980, nearly as much as last night’s karaoke. We soon became bored and decided to look for different entertainment in smaller stores.
 
 
Apart from buying Pocky we didn’t buy anything else although Goth Gurl found some shoes she fancied but they didn’t have her size in stock. We did try a few things on but nothing really clicked enough to make a purchase – a typical day’s girl shopping. Mum was waiting for us when we got back to the hotel.

“Spent up?”
“Hardly, Gabs got some hose,” Jules supplied.
“Miracles never cease, anyway pack your swimsuits, you too Jules, we’re going to a hot spring after the race.”
“Cool!” I crowed.
“Calm down kiddo,” Mum instructed, “down for lunch as soon as okay.”
 
 
We headed up to our rooms; Jules is with Anja next to us.
“What’s the big deal with this hot spring thing?” Mand asked as we rode the lift up to the seventh floor.
“It’s just soo Japanese, like I dunno, fish and chips is English.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“You will,” I predicted.
“If you say so.”
 
 
I was buzzing now, this trip is turning out to be brill with a capital B, well if you ignore yesterday’s ‘incident’. Let’s see, Tokyo was pretty cool, we saw Mount Fuji on the way down yesterday, karaoke last night, hot springs today and I did win on Sunday. Yeah excellent.
“Earth to Gaby, anyone there?”
“Eh?”
“Come on we need to get a shift on or your mum’ll go ballistic,” Mand suggested.
“Sugar, is that the time?”
“I did just say.”
“I was er just thinking.”
“Likely story,” she giggled.

Maddy Bell 17.10.15

 
 
Lunch was a fairly straightforward chicken and rice affair, quick and easy to digest but most importantly supplying the calories for the afternoon’s ride; however, lunch was the least of the issues for the afternoon.

“What’s with all the blue lights?” I asked Dad when we returned to reception togged up for the ride.
“I’m not quite sure kiddo, George and Vincenzo are out there trying to sort things out.”

George chose that moment to bustle back inside.

“So?” Dad enquired.
“I’m not sure how they found out our plans but they insist on giving us an escort, they don’t want anything happening to the Weltmeisterin on their turf.”
“That’s not so bad,” Dad opined.
“They weren’t very keen on our route however so we’ll be on a slightly longer loop with quieter roads.”
“What’s happening, Gab?” Mand queried.
“We’re getting a police escort by the looks of things.”
 
 
It was quite a circus that departed the New Osaka a few minutes later, a couple of motorcycle police riding point, a black and white patrol car following with Team Bianchi following along behind. The bus and the van followed us and another patrol car brought up the rear, yep quite a convoy. To be fair without our escorts getting through downtown Osaka would’ve been a nightmare, we ran all the lights and junctions, the motorbikes holding the traffic for us before speeding ahead again, very Tour de France!

We soon found ourselves out by the airport and moving into more open countryside towards some place called Ikeda. You often get semi closed roads on the races but this is the first time it’s extended to training – I could get to like it. We weren’t doing any drills today, it was all about keeping the legs in good order and warmed up before this evening’s hopefully less eventful race.

Although riding piano our pace was a quite healthy 35kph, pretty much race pace which soon had us moving into Kyoto prefecture. Our escorts from Osaka pulled over to be replaced by a similar team from our destination city. We’d been riding an hour already and from what George had told us we had another hour to Kyoto.

The terrain was again very familiar, we could easily have been in Hessen with its choppy hills and wide valleys. It’s funny how you always compare new places with the more familiar, it’s hillier than home, the roads are wider and so on. We bypassed Kameoka before taking what I’d guess is the old road into Kyoto, if Osaka is Hull, Kyoto is York, famous for its traditional culture.
Disappointingly we skirted the centre to reach our destination, the botanical gardens in the leafy northern suburbs. Our smiling escort team posed for some photographs with us much to the amusement of Jules and several inscrutable garden visitors. Despite our longer than expected ride it was still only three thirty and whilst workmen were erecting barriers for the circuit, a sort of capital D affair, we were well in advance of any officialdom.
 
 
“So ladies, you have about an hour before sign on, get some coffee, go for a walk or whatever, just be back here for 16.45.” George instructed as we parked our steeds up.
“Coffee sounds good,” I mentioned.
“You’re not going in the coffee shop dressed like that?” the Dark One queried.
“Why not?”
“Seriously? Bib shorts?”
“It’s what I usually wear,” I pointed out.
“Jules is right,” Mand put in, “the café place might not be ready for sporting chic Bond style.”
“Okay clever, what do you suggest?”
“You’ve brought a skirt or something for after? Put that on, you’ll at least look less like aliens,” Jules suggested.
“Whatever,” I grumped.
 
 
The coffee shop was typical of what you find in parks and gardens pretty much anywhere, inflated prices, less than comfortable seating and more tables than is sensible in the space available. It was of course table service but with Jules smattering of Japanese and a bit of gesticulation we managed to order ‘Kō hī to kēki’, coffee and cake to you and me. I wasn’t in a good mood, I could’ve sworn I picked up shorts this morning but oh no, the stupid blonde was in a skirt again – just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I want to wear dresses and skirts all the time.
 
 
“Thought we might see some of the sights on the way here,” I noted while we waited for our order.
“Yeah it would’ve been nice after coming all this way,” Mand agreed.
“What about Friday?” Jules queried.
“What about it, we’ll be in Hiroshima,” I pointed out.
“Well we could get the train here, come for the day.”
“That’d be cool,” Mand mentioned.
“Nice idea.”
“We could at least find out if it’s doable, I can ask at the hotel when we get back,” Jules suggested.
“Brill!” Mand chirped.
“I won’t get my hopes up, now that’s a slice of cake,” I enthused as the waitress returned with a tray of comestibles.
 
 
The coffee was a bit so so to be honest but that cake, no idea what it’s called but there was sponge, cream, fruit, more cream, more fruit – well you get the idea. I was in ecstasy, so okay it wasn’t exactly ideal pre race tucker but it lifted my mood so that I was almost skipping on the walk back to Team Bianchi HQ. More riders had arrived and pre race preparations were at an advanced stage.

“So what are you bouncing about for?” Mum queried.
“We just had some of the best cake ever,” I gloated.
“You could’ve brought us some,” she mentioned.
“You wouldn’t’ve liked it, Mum,” Jules stated, “there was far too much cream.”
“Hmm, well you two had best get yourselves ready, you young lady,” she addressed Goth Gurl, ”can give me a hand with the promo stuff.”
 
 
There were a couple of new faces when we lined up an hour later, Hagiwara and the Japanese National squad were of course present, the two Canadians weren’t the only other western riders tonight, an American girl having joined the international visitors. Our MC tonight was a bit less hyper, our audience not exactly huge but the local TV station have turned up, that’ll please the sponsors. With everything that’s gone on since last night I’ve not given any real thought about tactics, the official line from George is to follow the plan used in Osaka.
 
 
Of course between Dad and Kenji my Infinito has been returned to its former glory, not a bit of duckweed to be seen! I’m sure some of the locals were sniggering at me though, I’m not paranoid it’s just that they’re all out to get me. We were waved away for the neutral lap, it was soon clear that the Japanese National squad were up to something.

“Mand,” I whispered, “shadow Hagiwara, they’re gonna try something from the gun.”
“How’d you know?”
“Call it race intuition.”
“What am I supposed to do then?”
“You’re her new Siamese twin, go where she goes, we’ll come to rescue you as soon as.”
“Well don’t wait too long.”
“I’ve got confidence in you, see you later.”
 
 
“Hagiwara’s gonna go from the flag,” I told Mum a minute later after manoeuvring across to her.
“That’s my guess,” Mum agreed.
“Mand’s ready to follow her tight,” I advised.
“Hmm okay, An?” she addressed Fraulein Pascali riding on her other shoulder.
“Counter?”
“Closest to the line you can.”
“On it.”
By now we were approaching the tight turn back onto the gently curving finish straight although the line was almost at the opposite end.
“Okay, kiddo let’s go play,” Mum told me with a feral grin.
 
 
You’d need to be blind to miss the Nippon tactic, block the front of the peloton then squash any counter move. It can be very effective of course but it relies on more grunt work than many teams are willing to put in. I glanced over to where Anja had positioned herself, the American girl sat at her hip, hmm, interesting.

Out on the right hand curb Hagiwara and her shadow both waited nervously, I hope Mand can do the deed, it’ll boost her confidence and I’m sure, unsettle the Asian girl. No more time, the flag dropped and hostilities commenced. We’d barely got going when the anchors went on for the first almost hairpin left turn, there were words of consternation aplenty.

“Sore o mite!”
“Yay!”
“Kurutta on na!”

I found myself well towards the back of the pack by the time we’d cleared the corner so I couldn’t see what was going on up front. I spent most of the long left hand loop moving forward so that I was in a better position for the second hairpin. The Nippon squad were as predicted dominating the front of the bunch but they seemed a little unsure what they were doing.

Once through the corner I looked about to identify the rest of Team Bianchi, Mum and Erika were sat behind the cork, Tina was a little adrift of them, a couple of riders ahead of me but the opposite side of the bunch. Both Anja and Mand were missing, along with Hagiwara and the American, wonder how the Japs will play it now?
 
 
Frustratingly the rest of the Asians seemed content to potter around behind the National squad so it was no surprise when Dad shouted ‘thirty’ as we passed through the finish area – at this rate we’ll be lapped by half distance. On one hand we had numerical advantage in the break which is good but at the same time I for one want to make a race of it. The turn was a little less fraught this time although I was glad of the extra power the Campy brakes have over the local manufacturer’s product.

Finally I got a view up the course, the break was clearly going quicker than us holding a line close into the left kerb. We on the other hand were spread across the roadway, more like a winter club ride in speed. Mum caught my attention and telegraphed instructions, okay girl, hold steady for a bit longer, I eased closer to the front, alongside the smaller of the Canadians.
 
 
“These is shit, eh.”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
“Monique,” she offered.
“Gaby.”
“You ’n your mother I know of course.”
“You the Canadian champion?”
“It is why Joel and I are here, we had the invite to come from the Nippon federation.”
I debated a moment, oh what the heck.
“Might liven up at the next turn,” I suggested.
“Bon.”
“Laters.”
 
 
We were approaching the turn still spread across the roadway like a boxer’s nose, I glanced over at the others, Mum nodded, time for action. The Japanese cork was more like a sieve through the corner, a sieve that Team Bianchi punched through in a four pronged movement as we cleared the corner. Having broken through we wasted no time in forming a rotation which accumulated an extra couple of bodies, Monique gave a wink as we passed in line.

The gap quickly opened between us and the former bunch, I don’t think they had a plan beyond blocking us and once that failed they were effectively headless. Of course our deficit on the leaders was still quite large, we wouldn’t close it quickly but we’d put a show on. Mum didn’t seem concerned about our Canadian guests who were enthusiastically joining in our rotation.

It took us nearly three laps to close the gap, the others not easing their effort until we were almost in contact. Mand was looking a little ragged but to be fair Hagiwara wasn’t looking so good either, showing her dismay at our arrival.
 
 
“I said we’d come to the rescue.”
“’Bout time, slacker!” Mand panted.
“Thought you’d like fifteen minutes.”
“Eh?”
“The TV cameras?” I suggested.
“I’d forgotten about that.”
“You girls ready for the real show?” Mum enquired dropping back to us.
“Real show?” Mand enquired.
“We’re gonna lap the buggers, give our friend up there something to think about.”

Mum was pissed by the disrespect shown by the Japanese, from experience you don’t want to get on the wrong side of Mum!
“We taking her with us?”
“We’ll not be waiting for her.”
“What about Mand?”
“I am here!”
“We might not take prisoners but we don’t leave our own, sit in if you need to Manda, Apollinaris are having this one.”
Mum signalled Erika and we were on.
 
 
The North Americans were willing partners in our enterprise, Hagiwara a less happy participant but for now at least she was taking her turn on the front. We made steady progress in our tail chasing progress, the bunch unable to hold us. Lap after lap we were gaining time, with fifteen minutes of racing left I spotted the main bunch ahead of us, of course we’d already picked up about a dozen who’d fallen out of the back.
Mand had missed a few turns but then she wasn’t alone in that, only Mum, the American and Erika had run every rotation. We’d been that busy that I hadn’t given much thought to the finish but someone else had. We hadn’t quite connected when Monique broke rank and took off on her own – at least she’s been pulling her weight getting here.

Tina drew the chase card and quickly made the connection.
“You okay, Mand?”
“I’ll live.”
“You up for another effort?” I enquired.
“Geez, Gab, don’t you ever give up?”
“Nope, fat lady and all that.”
“Go on then, what’s this plan?”
“Just be ready to go when I say.”

We were now behind the lapped peloton, Monique’s escape bid having come to nought and at a guess two laps remaining before the finale.

Maddy Bell 20.10.15

 
 
The Asian riders were well confused now, this sort of thing clearly doesn’t happen very often here. Our pace dropped to match the remains of the bunch, Hagiwara was clearly fatigued after an almost race long effort, the American was looking a bit worn and I’ll admit to not being upset at the respite myself. We held our position through the finish area, the spectators apparently as confused as the riders.

It was after the turn onto the belly of the D before Mum indicated we should get past the lapped peloton. Getting around them was fairly easy but having taken the lap we didn’t need to race too hard, effectively there were only ten of us left in the race. The North American contingent might well give us a race for the line but our Japanese contingent didn’t look like they had much left in the tank at all.

Organisation had now gone out the window, anything Team Bianchi do in that regard will only assist the opposition. On the other hand they need to react to any attacking move we make, Tina was the first to go off the front putting in a hard pull for a hundred metres. Monique et al had to react or admit defeat and so it was, the rest of us sitting in comfortably behind.

Anja was next up pretty much as soon as Tina was reeled in, I reckon I could’ve made my effort stick but Erika took a flier before I could consolidate things. By now we’d returned to the finish straight where a more animated MC and crowd greeted us, I’m sure they were cheering for the local girl rather than us who was stubbornly still holding her place. Joel was dropping wheels, in fact only Monique looked like she had anything left.

I eased back to Mand, “When Mum comes back go on the blind side,” I whispered.
“Easy for you to say.”
“Just do it and go full gas,” I instructed.
“Yes, captain.”

Erika eased off allowing us to rejoin her through the turn but unlike the rest of us Mum didn’t take straight off instead sitting third wheel behind the rapidly tiring opposition. She finally had her go but it was clearly half hearted as she sat up quickly having barely made a gap, hmm, maybe she’s tired too. Everyone was watching the rainbow jersey, or each other so Mand actually had open tarmac before anyone spotted her.
 
 

Having clearly been the Bianchi weak link getting this far no one seemed too worried about an immediate chase. Mum gave me a look, my shrugged reply earnt a scowl but let’s face it, anything that distracts from the action is good. Mand was still going full gas as we went through the bell and rather than reeling our getaway in, the opposition started finessing.

The gap never got much above a hundred metres with Mand gamely giving her all, but now I could see her shoulders starting to roll and more than one rearward glance. Through the final turn and the Japanese girl finally made a break for freedom, Monique took the bait but with Tina and Mum trailing the move was going nowhere. The American was next to have a go but with less than half a K to go no one was going to give her any clear air.

Mand really was flagging now, Mum’s bound to jump soon and I won’t be able to ignore that. We were at two hundred before the inevitable, my mother stood on the pedals to start her effort, having been watching for her giveaway I was on her wheel. The crowd were at least quite vocal as we headed for the line, ahead of us Mand was giving her last, we were closing quickly though.

We had fifty metres left when Mum suddenly slowed, surprised I eased off myself, dropping enough pace that Mand crossed the line a length ahead of us. I hadn’t thought she’d make it, it was certainly close but the look on her face when I caught up to her was worth the gamble.
“I did it, I won!”
“That was the plan,” I observed.
“You could’ve told me.”
“But it might not have worked.”
“Good ride, Amanda,” Mum congratulated.
 
 
We got the 123, Monique grabbed fourth whilst Hagiwara trailed in last of our group, it probably wouldn’t go down too well that our weakest rider took the win. The TV crew wanted interviews, glad it was Mum and Mand not me trying to make sense of the garbled translation! Eventually the post race stuff was over and we headed back to our transport.

“Okay ladies, bath time!” George told us once we were out of our riding kit.
“Cool!”
“When are we eating?” Jules wanted to know.
“After, Vincenzo has booked a restaurant for afterwards.” George advised.
“What are we waiting for?” Mand enthused.
 
 
The drive through the early evening traffic of Kyoto took about twenty minutes; we pulled up outside an unprepossessing building with an entrance flanked with closely trimmed trees. Vincenzo led our party inside and sorted out our entry.

“The ristorante, it is booked for eight thirty, so relax, there is a no rush,” Mr Bianchi supplied, “enjoy!”

Funaoka Onsen is a traditional style bath house, not the hot springs you see in manga but more like a Roman bath with hot pools, cold plunges and so on. First though we have to get changed into our swimsuits and that involves a communal changing room, not something I’ve had to contend with up to now.

“What’s up, Gab, forget your suit?” Mand enquired when I hesitated at the entrance.
“No, I’m kitted up, it’s just like, well stripping off in public.”
“I never took you for shy, what do you do at school?”
“No sport, it’s not that I’m shy but it’s the ladies?”
“Well duh, we’d hardly use the men’s.”
“I used to,” I pointed out.
“Oops, I forgot.”
“Come on kiddo, I thought you were looking forward to this?”
“I was, but you know, Mum, stuff?”
“Let’s get inside, I’m sure they have somewhere for the more modest to change,” Mum proposed.
 
 
“Whoa, Gab!” Mand exclaimed.
“What?”
“There is just no way anyone would think you are a boy or ever were, I wish I looked that good in a bikini.”
I brought the white bikini, you know, the one I used at Remagen before the summer hols. It wasn’t even like I was the only one in a two piece, Erika was filling out a slightly fuller cut pink model and Jules was in a Goth black number. I’d finally got changed in a toilet cubicle, I might be female in body but in my head I’m still Drew, male of the species and a ladies changing room whilst a potential dream was an embarrassing place to be – I mean, who wants to see their mother naked?
 
 
“Hmm.” I allowed as the steam swirled about us.

The water was on the top end of comfortable and our party were only a part of the occupancy of the pool. For someone more used to showers, the total immersion thing is certainly different, the water lapping as occupants arrived or left the waters. I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly.

I could certainly get used to this, I suppose we could go to the spa in Bad Neunahr but it’s not the same, the pools of Funaoka have a certain, I dunno, atmosphere.
“Guys, it’s eight o’clock,” Tina advised.
Bum, time to finish up, hmm I wonder what we’re eating?

Of course you don’t go from the hot pool to the changing room, oh no, the only access is via the cold plunge pool.
“Come on, Gab, after three,” Jules instructed.
“What?”
“Jump in, dumbo,”
“Really?”
“It’s worse if you get in slowly,” Manda confirmed.
“Okay then, three!”
We leapt into the water with a huge splash, surfacing with a splutter.
“Um, Gab,” Jules giggled.
“Yeah?”
“You cold?”
“It is the cold pool,” I pointed out.
“Your nips certainly think its cold,” Mand added her own giggles to my sisters.
“And yours don’t?”
“Well I can’t see them.”
“See them…” my hands shot to my chest.
“Missing something, Gaby?” Erika asked from nearby, waving my bikini top.
Talk about embarrassed; I turned a shade brighter than Erika’s swimwear before retrieving my own.
 
 
“You have to admit, sis, it was well funny,” Jules insisted.
“For you maybe,” I huffed.
“Oh come on, Gab,” Mand put in, “it was a bit Carry On.”
“You didn’t have your chest exposed to all and sundry,” I pointed out.
“I bet you’re not as shy at the pool back home in front of Maxie?” my sister teased.
I felt everything colour up again.
“That’s different and I’m not topless there.”
“Gab, in that bikini you might as well be.” Mand stated.
That’s it; I’m not wearing a bikini ever again!
“Girls, come on, everyone’s waiting,” Mum chivvied.
 
 
The restaurant was only a short walk away, Kyo Tofu Fujino is a traditional restaurant and according to the English translation on the menu, a centre for regional and wider Japanese cuisine. Our host had pre-booked our meal so we didn’t have to puzzle through the menu for anything other than drinks.

“So we have three races and three winners, well done to you all,” Vincenzo told us, “Kanpai!”
“Kanpai!” we all returned raising our various glasses.

The set menu was impressive; a hot sour soup to start, slices of beef with Wasabi on rice, boy is that stuff hot! Next up was some noodle thing followed by a plate of Sushi that tasted suspiciously like mackerel. The whole lot was followed by plates of highly decorative sweet cakes, I’m sure the waitress called them Wagashi or something similar.

It was certainly a meal to remember although I’m not sure I’d want to eat this stuff all the time, I like my potatoes and pasta too much. I hate to think how much the meal cost, certainly individual meals wouldn’t give you much change from €30 each! It was ten thirty turned when our party departed Kyo Tofu for the walk back to the transport and the wrong side of eleven thirty when we made our way to our rooms back at the New Osaka.
 
 
Thursday, we are already over halfway through our trip and today is the last race day for Mand and myself down in Hiroshima. Hmm, we’ll have to ask about going back to Kyoto tomorrow, which would be so cool.

“Have you got everything packed, Gab?” my roommate queried.
“Almost, I’ll finish up after frühstuck.”
“Well I’m all done.”
“And?”
“And I’m hungry, come on.”
 
 
We joined Ken and his bus just turned nine to start our 333 kilometre, three and half hour drive to our westernmost destination. The weather looks a bit dodgy again and we’d barely made it to the motorway before the first drops of liquid sunshine hit the windows. By the time we were clear of the conurbation those spots were an incessant downpour, almost tropical in its intensity.

As you might guess you can’t see a great deal when it’s like that so I found myself dozing, face pressed against window.
“Gab, wake up,” Mand hissed.
“Wassup,” I blearily enquired.
“Your dad wants you.”
I pulled the hair off my face and leant forward to see what pater wants.
“Heya.”
“You’re awake, didn’t think you’d want to miss the castle.”
“Castle?”
“Himeji Castle, we’ll be going past in a few minutes.” He enthused.
A castle? Well I guess you have to support other family members’ hobbies.
“Oh right, I’ll tell Mand.”
 
 
“So what’s up?”
“Apparently there’s a castle coming up,” I supplied.
“Oh cool.”
“Not you too?”
“Well I’ve never seen a real Japanese castle.”
I guess when you put it like that it will be worth looking for.
 
 
A few minutes later I heard a gasp from the front of the bus, Dad having moved up there for his castle spotting. The rain had let up a while back and the sun was doing its best, when the castle came into view the effect was stunning. Forget the imposing stone walls and towers that decorate much of Europe, Himeji Castle is a confection of pagoda style rooves many stories high and covering a significant area.

Everyone was glued to the windows for the few minutes it was in view but it was soon behind us unlike the remaining two-hour plus drive. We lost the sun again but it did at least remain dry as we headed for Okayama and a promised coffee break. By the time we actually got to the service area I was regretting that fourth cup of coffee – I know but I was thirsty okay.

“Wait for me,” Mand called as I quick walked towards the facilities.
“Can’t stop!”
When I got into the cubicle I almost ripped my shorts down in my haste, cursing my choice of hose over socks this morning.
“Boy, I needed that.”
“I told you you’d regret that last cup,” Mand mentioned.
“We getting a caffeine hit here?”
“We’ve got time, your Dad said thirty minutes.”
“Where’s Jules, we need her language skills.”
“So I’m useful for something,” a disembodied voice stated from a closed stall.
“I’ll buy,” I offered.
“Done!”

Once we were all ship shape again the three of us went in search of coffee and snacks, after all we’re growing girls!

Maddy Bell 22.10.15

 
 

As it turned out we didn’t need the powers of Babel to order this time as it was self-service up to the point of exchanging tokens for goods. Rather than risk machine made cappuccino I went for milk coffee, it was a standard machine like you get in hotels, it wasn’t rocket science to work out what’s, what. Much like the coffee the food on offer was of the pre packaged variety and chocolate cake looks the same pretty much everywhere, Mand went for a giant butterfly cake that looked sickly as hell.

“We should ask about Kyoto,” Jules proposed between sips of her beverage.
“You think they’ll let us go?” Mand queried.
“Nothing ventured,” I supplied.
“We don’t even know how much it is,” Mand continued.
“Yes we do,” Jules grinned, “its about ¥11000 each.”
“That sounds a lot,” I noted.
“Not really, work it out it’s only about €85,” the dark one supplied.
“I’m not sure I’ve got that much,” Mand admitted with a dejected note in her voice, “guess I’ll have to pass.”
“We don’t even know if we can go yet,” I pointed out, “we can worry about paying layer.”

I gave my sister a look; the return slight nod was the confirmation I needed. I don’t mean to go round rubbing my comparative wealth in peoples faces, it’s true we don’t go short of anything at Bond acres but that doesn’t mean we’re rolling in it. We do get an allowance, mine gets topped up with my winnings and working at the bakery, I save most of it so I’ve got a nice little pot I can dip into when I feel the need.
 
 
“Dad?”
“Wassup kiddo,” pater enquired as we headed back onto the motorway.
“You know tomorrow?” I suggested plonking myself on his knees.
“Not personally but I look forward to meeting it.”
“Daa-ad!” I complained batting my eyelashes.
“Dave that’s terrible,” Mum grinned.
“Sorry, go on kiddo, tomorrow.”
“Well we, that is Jules and Mand as well, we were like wondering if we could go to Kyoto tomorrow.”
“We were only there yesterday.” Dad pointed out.
“Yeah but we didn’t exactly see much, there’s like all palaces and stuff.”
“And you’d get there how?” Mum enquired.
“Jules has looked it up, we can go by train.”
“And just how much is this gonna cost me?” Dad sighed.
Yes! Mand’s mascara worked!
“About €85 each,” I supplied.
“Let me talk to George and Vincenzo when we get to Hiroshima.”
“Thanks, Daddy!”
I bounded off my perch and back to Mand in the seat behind.
 
 
“She’s got you round her little finger, Dave Bond,” Jenny chuckled.
“No she hasn’t.”
“Really, luv?”
“Well okay, maybe a little bit.” Dave admitted.
“Pah!”
 
 
“So?” Jules enquired between our seats.
“He’s gonna check with George when we get to the race.”
“It’s not a no at least,” my sister stated.
“Told you the massy would work,” Mand observed.
 
 
We hadn’t been on the go very long when I spotted a sign announcing our arrival in Hiroshima prefecture; by my watch we had about another hour to our destination. From time to time we caught sight of the Shinkansen line, the very line the girls and me want to travel on tomorrow. Just like the new high speed ICE lines they’ve been building at home it barely deviated from its line, cutting through hillsides in tunnels that the road climbed over.

The distance dropped quickly and it seemed just a few minutes until we turned off into the modern city of Hiroshima. Despite its history it looked like so many other Japanese towns and cities, modern tower blocks, factories and so on, the same traffic jams and roadside hoardings. We drove through the generic cityscape for fifteen minutes before we reached our destination, the Peace Memorial Park.
 
 
Once we’d parked up George stood to address us.
“Okay everyone, time to earn our euros. The sponsors want their pound of flesh so I’m afraid we have to put up with a photographer for this afternoon and through until Saturday’s race. So it’s team strip and smiles please.”
“We always smile,” Anja quipped from behind us.
“Well make that you mean it at least eh,” George countered. “The hotel is the other side of the park so when you have everything you need Dave will go drop your overnight bags and get us checked in, questions?”
“What are we doing for lunch, George?” Mum queried.
“Vincenzo is looking after that Jenny, he should be with the photographer.”
At that moment there was a tap at the coach door, a moment later a grinning Italian bounded on board our transport.
“Laydeez, a lovely day, yes?”

Well the sun was trying to break through the cloudy heavens and it hadn’t actually rained since we arrived in Hiroshima.
“The photographer, he meet us at a the restaurant, come, Vincenzo is a hungry!”
“As long as it’s not more flippin’ rice,” the dark one muttered from the seat behind, “I could murder a Royale double cheese.”
“Ah fine cuisine,” I agreed.
“A what?” Mand asked.
“You know, a Royale.”
“They don’t have them in England, Jules,” I pointed out.
“Have what?” Mand pressed.
“BK Royale’s, they call it something different in the UK I think – not that I go for burgers very often.”
“Given a chance,” Jules challenged.
“Are you three coming,” Dad queried.
 
 
It wasn’t far to the ‘restaurant’, a rather utilitarian structure with a halfhearted attempt at adding a traditional appearance. Vincenzo led us to the exterior seating area where several tables were reserved for our party and a waitress was quickly on hand for our drink orders. The chap who arrived camera in hand was clearly our photographer, following and loaded with bags was a harassed looking girl, the camera was snapping away even before they reached us.

We had our beverages before Vincenzo introduced the snapper.
“A moment please, laydeez, this ees Satoro, the photographer who will shadow you the next days and his assistant Miyaki. Miyaki she speak a the Engleesh some.”
It was Miyaki who spoke, “Konichi wa, hallo, it is honour to meet with you all. After lunch we go to Heiwa hakubutsu- kan, we have permit, then to monument. Thank you.”
I hope there’s not too much posing, in my brief modelling career in Switzerland that was the bit that was a pain, especially at the Verkehrshaus.
 
 
We’d got to choose our own drinks but the food was a set meal, essentially the local version of spaghetti and meatballs. Well that’s what it most resembled, some sort of noodles, small meat dumplings I guess you’d call them served in a thin almost broth. To be fair it tasted okay, wasn’t spicy and it was quite filling, the ice cream dessert was certainly appreciated.

The next hour we spent in the Heiwa hakubutsu place, which turned out to be the Peace Museum, you know the recent history of Hiroshima? The A bomb that effectively ended World War II in Asia? The museum tells the story of the whole kit and caboodle, it was all at once fascinating, horrifying and humbling, I’m not sure it was the appropriate place for a sporting photo shoot but Satoro and Miyaki directed us into a variety of sympathetic shots before we headed back out into the afternoon sunshine.

Inside there were pictures of the only surviving building of old Hiroshima, the prefecture offices, the dome stark against a background of destruction. It was to that same skeletal structure that we now walked across a park that now replaced the destruction of sixty odd years ago. This wasn’t like when we visited Belsen concentration camp earlier this year, this was destruction of life and property on an altogether different scale.

I’m painting our visit as very dark, it wasn’t so much that as a very sobering afternoon, the death and destruction that day, the 6th of August 1945, came suddenly and without warning.
 
 
“The girls have asked if they can go to Kyoto tomorrow,” Dave mentioned to his boss as they followed the rest of the group back to the bus.
“For me it isn’t a problem,” George supplied.
“It’s a fair way off if anything should go amiss.”
“Dave they almost adults, Juliette she is seventeen, Gaby nearly sixteen in some places they would be married with children already.”
“True enough,” Dave agreed.
“I know how you feel, I felt the same when Florian went travelling, we fathers we are protective of our girls, eh?”
“Not just mine, George, there’s Amanda too, remember.”
“Imagine you are at home, Dave, would you stop them going to I don’t know, let’s say Stuttgart?”
“Probably not,” Bond senior agreed.
“So what’s the issue here? I say let them go, they will fly the nest soon, these experiences they are good for them.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I know I am, Dave.”
 
 
“Mister Bond?”
“Oh hello, Miyaki, everything okay?”
“It is very well thank you. I overheard you talking to Mister Müller just now, the girls trip to Kyoto?”
“Possible trip,” Dave stated.
“It could provide an opportunity for the sponsors I think.”
“How so?”
“I know a photographer, my ex boss, in Kyoto, she could act as how you say, supervision person and take some photographs also.”
“Chaperone? She’s trustworthy I take it?”
“Of course, she has children herself.”
“And she’d be willing to do this?”
“I’ll give her a call.”
“I would be happier with someone looking out for them.”
 
 
The race itself wasn’t at the Peace Park itself but rather in the neighbouring green space of Chuo Koen, the park between the castle and river. It was almost five by the time we arrived; Kenji was already set up and had our bikes ready and waiting for us. A quick change in the back of the bus and we were ready to warm up on the circuit, already several riders were circling the park.
“Urgh, that’s better,” I allowed, riding along no hands to stretch my shoulders.

“Gab!” Mand admonished, “Boobs.”
“Oh sugar!” I allowed returning to a less provocative position.
“What’s the plan tonight then?”
“It’s gonna be fast and tough that’s for sure,” I noted.

Indeed the circuit is short, like 950 metres, basically a triangle but only one side is straight, of the others one is a long bend and the shorter side twists through a pair of almost hairpins impossible to pedal through. There might not be any proper climb but it’s no easier for that, sprint, slow, sprint, slow, a bunch of cobbles, yep, the weak will be spat out in short order. I just hope we don’t get a repeat of last night in Kyoto, on this circuit it might actually work, it would certainly make things harder to chase down.
 
 
Satoro rattled off a ton of shots as we waited to be sent on our way, once again it was the same core of riders making up the bulk of the field but filled out with some new faces, I’m guessing the local talent. The North Americans were at full strength, potential allies and adversaries both, of course Hagiwara and the Japanese National team are here, what will they have up their collective sleeves tonight? Us? Yeah we have a plan, not terribly exciting but it’s worked before.

“3, 2, 1, Go!”

The neutral lap wasn’t run off exactly slowly, it wasn’t Hagiwara tonight getting itchy but several other Japanese certainly had the body language of attack. Last night’s TV coverage must’ve had some influence as we had the biggest crowd since Sunday lining the circuit. The green flag waved us into lap two; we did at least get through turn one before the first chancer made their effort.

There’s one thing about short circuits, they are difficult to control in the traditional team format and the more technical the truer that becomes. You daren’t sit back and follow, you’ll be out the back in short order so Team Bianchi were in the thick of the chase, part of the long string that quickly developed. Whilst the attack hadn’t survived long the pace remained relatively high through the technical section barely changing even through the hairpins, just as well we were strung out.

The lead changed hands several times during the lap and certainly not only gaijin taking the initiative. A pattern was set, keep the pace high to discourage attacking moves, it might shell a few bodies from the peloton at the same time. On the downside none of our number would be able to break away either, the gamble of course being the use of too much energy leaving nothing for the finish.
 
 
Five laps in and everyone looked a bit ragged, even Mum, Mand was only just holding wheels and perhaps a third of the starters were now detached from the action end of things. When Mum hit the front and immediately slowed the pace, the relief was almost unanimous with much reaching for bottles and energy bars. Of course it could only ever be a temporary effort level by the time we hit the bends the American girl was trying her luck.

It fell to me to give chase or at least up the pace, whilst I did the latter I reneged on the former that left her dangling less than twenty metres ahead of us. I took us through the bends before Monique took the helm in my stead. The pattern was set, several fast laps, a breather, attack and repeat, we were into the last quarter of the race before anything else interfered.
Hagiwara was the culprit; she certainly isn’t one for sitting back and waiting. The move was made as we hit the finish straight on lap thirty-two; a quick sprint and she had a gap. The lead was thirty metres before anyone really reacted and even then it was more an increase in pace than an active chase.

The extra couple of kph was enough for a major elastic snap, when I checked around both Anja and Mand were on the wrong side of the frayed material. Just a dozen riders constituted the chase group, with Hagiwara out front that meant a bakers dozen stood a chance of contesting the finish. Our own plan wasn’t in tatters by any means but it did have some serious rents and the laps were counting down quickly towards the finale.

Maddy Bell 29.10.15

 
 
The Japanese girl dangled ahead of us for most of the next lap, no one, Team Bianchi included, wanting to put too much effort into bringing her back. She was finally undone by one of her countrywomen wanting her own bite of the cherry. There was more reaction this time; all three of the North Americans jumping on the wheel, Erika joined them with Mum and I in tow.

It didn’t take long for the slender lead to reduce to a handful of metres at which point the American girl launched her own attack. Her enterprise was doomed however, barely had she overtaken Hagiwara than she sat up clearly realising the futility of continuing with the effort. For her part Hagiwara didn’t blow straight through, well not quite, she slotted in last wheel thankful no doubt that the pace had slackened a tad.

Tempting as it was to have a bash myself sometimes knowing when to wait pays better dividends. Although we had lost another rider, a puncture I think, we remained well clear of the chasers, I’d be happier in a smaller group but looking around I was confident Mum would be my main adversary in the finale. When George signalled two to go next time through the finish area it changed the dynamic of Team Bianchi.
Tina took point with Erika second wheel, me third and the rainbow jersey in the favoured position at four. The speed crept up; Tina was really putting everything in, doing a full lap at the front before Erika took over the effort at the bell. I checked my shoes and confirmed my gearing as we coasted through turn one, everything is set.

Joel, the bigger of the Canadians, came up to second wheel with Monique snugged in behind, for now we still have the numbers but not for much longer. I could sense Erika starting to falter so I switched onto the Canadian’s wheel giving the advantage back to us. Through the double bends we remained line astern, one more corner to go.

We cleared the last turn, Joel peeling off to leave the roadway clear ahead. I sensed movement on my right, the briefest of glimpses revealed Hagiwara taking a flier, Monique launched, what to do? A tell tale click suggested Mum was about to go, decision made.

The Canadian was on Hagiwara’s wheel, Mum went on the left, I was a split second behind her in launching. I stayed as close as possible to get maximum shelter but at some point I’d have to break clear, too soon wouldn’t be good, too late and I might run out of road. I was vaguely aware of passing Monique then it was just the two Bonds.

With a last effort I threw my bike forward across the line before relaxing and sitting up, freewheeling towards turn one. The stripey jersey was alongside me, it was close, I think I got it but I’m not certain.

“Good effort kiddo,” Mum allowed, placing her hand on my back.
“You, huh, too,” I wheezed retrieving my bidon for a much needed glug of liquid.
Other riders came up to us as we warmed down on an extra lap of the circuit.
“Daughter like mother!” Monique announced joining us.
“I try.”
“She’s very trying,” Mum stated.
“Hey!”
They of course just laughed at my response.

There wasn’t anything as technical as photo finish gear so the result was determined by the judges examining this evening’s televisual coverage. The official verdict was a tyre – in my favour I’m glad to say, for an old lady Mum did quite well! As Sunday wasn’t part of the mini series I did lose out to her on the overall, in fact thanks to my ducking at Osaka Monique shunted me into third behind Mum.

Of course we had to run the gamut of interviews and presentations, the City fathers laid on food for everyone, forty sweaty I mean glowing, riders mixing with besuited businessmen and kimono clad wives. Miyaki and Satoro popped up once or twice for pictures, I’m sure the camera caught me pulling a face at a mouthful of slimy seaweed! All in all an excellent evening

It was closing on ten when we finally tipped off the bus at the Hotel Park Side Hiroshima, a smart modern western style affair. Dad having already checked us in distributed room allocations, having already eaten everyone was keen to hit the showers before bed after a long day.

“Girls,” Dad’s call halted us, “here a minute.”
We returned to the desk.
“Wassup, Dad?” Jules queried.
He fished in a pocket before brandishing some paperwork, “Tickets for Kyoto.”
“Oh cool!” the dark one allowed.
I bounced up and wrapped myself around him, “Thank you, Daddy!”
Peeling me off into Mand’s arms, he went on, “Thank George, he convinced me to let you go, and Miyaki, she fetched the tickets and arranged for your chaperone.”
“Chaperone?” Jules moaned, “I’m seventeen you know.”
“Your sister and Amanda aren’t, no chaperone, no trip, that’s the deal.”
“We’ll take it,” Amanda prompted.
“Er fine,” I agreed, “isn’t it, Jules?”
“Yeah sure, so like just who is this person?”
“Her name is Aoi Sakamoto, she’s a friend of Miyaki’s. She’ll meet you off the train and take you round the sights, part of the deal is she gets to take photographs of you guys for the sponsors, some ‘culture’ shots as Miyuki calls them. Okay?”
“We don’t have a lot of choice,” Goth Gurl observed.
“I’m sure you’ll have a fun time,” Dad stated.
“So what time do we leave?” I enquired; wow we’re really going!
“Six thirty, the train’s at seven, the hotel does breakfast from five thirty so you won’t miss out, I’ll take you to the station.”
“Six thirty!” Jules exclaimed.
“Give over Jules,” I interrupted, “we are going, so when do we come back?”
“Miyaki has you booked on the ten to eight, you get back here about nine thirty.”
“Neat!” I chirped.
“Okay off to bed and set your alarms.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“We will, Mr Bond.”

“This is gonna be so cool!” I enthused as I waited for Mand to open the door to our room.
“Not many,” she agreed, “I’m not even asking who paid.”
“Well it wasn’t us so who cares!”
“Geez, Gab you are like so mercenary.”
Mand finally got the key card to work, these things never want to work first time.

“Urgh,” I allowed as Mand bustled about the room, “what’s the time?”
“Just after five.”
“Wake me when it’s light,” have I mentioned I hate mornings.
“You’ll miss Kyoto,” she taunted.
“Slave driver.”

By the time we reached the breakfast room it was almost quarter to six, Mum, Dad and even Jules were already propping up coffee cups.
“So let me guess, you didn’t know what to wear?” Mum suggested.
“Erm,” I agreed reaching for the pot of caffeine.

Well what do you wear for a day sightseeing? In the end I’ve gone for the shorts with the over knee socks I bought the other day teamed with my Apollinaris fleece over a white and blue striped vest. Practical, not too girly but stylish – well the girls back home’d like it.
I managed to consume a couple of small pastries, two croissants, a bowl of fruit and yoghurt and a glass of fruit juice – oh and two more cups of coffee. Hey, who knows when we’ll next get to eat? The others drank less but ate about the same; we were set for our adventure.

“Come on then, taxi’s waiting,” Dad instructed.
“You’ve got your phone, Juliette?” Mum enquired.
“Yes and Vincenzo’s number.”
“Ring when you get there.”
“Yes, Mum,” Jules sighed.
“Jules!” Dad prompted.

The taxi ride was all of about three minutes, we could’ve walked but at least by taxi we couldn’t get lost. At the station, which was already pretty busy at this hour, we consulted the departure board.

“Right, you’re on the seven o three Nozomi,” Dad read off the ticket.
“Line twelve,” Mand supplied.

Dad led the way and in under ten minutes we were looking for carriage three, this is so neat, Dad took a picture of the three of us in front of the very futuristic Shinkansen loco, it looks nothing like a normal train, more like Concorde after someone stamped on its nose!

“Don’t get into any trouble, eh?”
“As if!” I scoffed.
“We won’t, will we, Gabrielle?” Jules asserted.
Ot oh, Sunday names!
“Go on then, I’ll meet you off the train tonight.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Bye, Mr Bond.”
“Laters!”

We climbed aboard, even fifteen minutes before departure it was quite full. Miyato had booked us specific seats, a row of three mid carriage.
“It’s more like a plane than a train,” I suggested making myself comfortable.
“I’ve never seen a plane with a vending machine,” Jules noted.
“Or a train,” Mand added.
“Some of the Koblenz trains do,” I told her, “hey we’ll have to go when we get back home.”
“Toy cars,” Jules stated with a roll of her eyes.
“Maybe,” I allowed.

At precisely seven o three Nozomi Two, destination Kyoto pulled away from the platform and our Shinkansen experience began. To be honest, as we wound our way out of the city there was nothing different to being on any other train but once we joined the high speed line we quickly picked up speed. It’s about 300km and our train takes 99 minutes, that’s an average of almost 182kph, the fact the little box at the end of the carriage was showing 200kph – wow!

The countryside beyond the windows, the same countryside we drove through yesterday, moved deceptively slowly past only stuff much nearer the train gave any real indication of our velocity, passing in a blur.
“Anyone want a drink?” Mand queried.
“Nah, I’m good,” Jules advised.
“I’ll come, I need the loo before I drink anything else.”
Leaving Jules in charge of our possessions we headed along the carriageway, a very gentle sway being the only indication of our speed.
“What do you want, Gab? I’ll get it while you’re powdering your nose.”
“Ice tea? If they don’t have that, coffee.”
“Kay.”

The toilets on the newer German trains are quite spacious, generally clean but very utilitarian. The Shinkansen toilet was something different altogether; in fact you could be mistaken for thinking you were in a really fancy restaurant or the like. Spotless doesn’t come into it, you sort of want to stay and explore – okay it’s a toilet, I did my business and headed back to our seats.

I’d barely got back in my seat when we had a visit.
“Konichi wa, chiketto shite kudasai.”
Conductors look the same the world over.
“Tickets, Jules,” I prompted my sister.
“Er sure, hang on.”
The conductor waited patiently whilst Goth Gurl fished in her bag, eventually finding the all-important slips of paper. Duly stamped they were returned with the customary nod.
“Tank a you, arigato.”
“Um arigato.” Jules agreed.
Hey, none of us speak Japanese.

Nozomi are the fastest of the Shinkansen services which means limited stop, this journey has no intermediate halts at all, it’s a bit odd rushing through every station. Even the most express ICE trains back home have some stops but I guess you pays your money and takes your choice. Whilst not full on blue skies the weather was clearing from the early morning overcast in Hiroshima to something much brighter, it’s gonna be ace today.

Of course the others had to visit the facilities after I told them about the real porcelain hand basins and proper towels. Ice tea has found its way onto JR, I got Jules to fetch another for later whilst they were sightseeing the facilities. About an hour into the journey a girl with a snack trolley went through, I was munching on a pack of Pocky when the others returned.

“Hey, you could’ve got us some,” Jules complained.
Mand just rolled her eyes as she took her place.
“Who said I didn’t?”
“I’m not keen on those things,” Mand offered.
“Which is why I got you these,” I presented her with a bag of Skittles™, well the Japanese equivalent at least.
“So?” Jules queried.
“Ice tea?”
“Swap.”
We made the exchange, a box of Pocky for an ice tea.
“You two, really.” Mand stated from between us.

There was an announcement, like most train announcements indecipherable even if you do speak the language. The fact that we were starting to slow gave us the clue that we were approaching journeys end and the imperial city of Kyoto. From the almost hushed calm of the journey so far the carriage turned into a scramble of passengers packing up, finding luggage and heading for the doors.

We on the other hand were content to wait and avoid the press of humanity filling the aisle; we’ve got all day after all. I could see a clock on the platform as we slid to a halt; it changed to 08.52 as a slight jolt announced our arrival. Inevitably there was still a bit of a queue to get off when we reached the door but we were soon enough on the platform.

“What now?” Mand enquired.
“Don’t look now but I think our chaperone is here.” Jules supplied.

Maddy Bell 31.10.15

 
 

So of course we both turned to look down the platform, well it’s a reflex action. Indeed a woman about Mum’s age was heading directly for us, a grin plastered on her face and dressed, as we would say at home like a hausfrau. I was just about to greet her when I was beaten to it by a voice behind us; she hadn’t been aiming for us at all but for her friend behind us.

We hadn’t done much more than roll our eyes before a voice did address us.
“Konichi Wa, hello girls!”

The owner of the voice was nothing like I’d imagined, nothing at all. Whilst not tall by western standards she was taller than me by a bunch, her hair dyed a bright cerise and worn in two childlike bunches. That’s what caught my attention, her dress sense was a bit um eclectic too, a mix of sci fi bland geometrics for her top and skirt with platform soled trainers planting her to the ground.
“Miss Sakamoto?” Jules enquired.
“Sakamoto Aoi at your service, just call me Aoi, from what Miyaki told me you must be Juliette.”
“Uh yeah, that’s Mand and this is my sister, Gab,” Jules stated indicating each of us in turn.
“The famous bicycle racers. Preased to meet you.”
“You speak very good English er, Aoi.” I ventured.
“My mother, she is American, she teach me but I a little rusty, nice outfit, Gaby,” she grinned. “So what you girls like to do?”
We started walking as we talked.
“We haven’t seen anything of Japanese culture stuff really,” Mand put in, “can we go to a temple.”
“Okay, you want coffee first?”
 
 
The temple, To-ji is certainly impressive, apparently the pagoda is the biggest in Japan, Dad would be impressed, it was first built over 1200 years ago! Aoi had her camera out; part of the deal after all was to get some pictures of us enjoying the sights. Whilst it was cool to visit and it was nice in its own way I felt the same way I do with churches back home, they sometimes have interesting stuff in or around them but the whole religion thing doesn’t do anything for me.

For many of the Japanese visitors, the temple was more than some nice old buildings and I must admit to feeling a little uncomfortable ‘trespassing’ in their space. Aoi tried to explain how it worked but I think she quickly picked up on my and maybe the others ambivalence. It was still only a little after ten when we returned to the street.

“So what you girls do for hobby?”
“Gab does that Cosplay stuff,” my gobalot sister supplied.
“You know manga, Gaby?”
“A bit,” I admitted.
“Hmm, I have idea for later. You want to visit more temple?”
“Is there any chance of seeing a geisha?” Jules put forward.
You could almost see the light bulb over the anime hairstyle.
“Come, we make this a memorable day, some nice pictures for sponsors and fun for you!”
 
 
She hailed a cab and after issuing a destination to the driver pulled out her handy and had a couple of excitable conversations as we traversed the streets of old Kyoto. It wasn’t a huge distance and we were soon in Gion, the narrow streets dedicated to everything to do with traditional Japanese culture.

“Let’s walk, maybe we see interesting things.” Our guide suggested.

The streets of Gion are filled with all manner of stuff besides a good number of tourists, however they didn’t have Aoi looking for photo opportunities. Not that we had the money to spend on €500 Kimono’s or samurai swords but it was cool checking the stuff out. Several times we caught glimpses of women in traditional dress, not geisha but wearing it as everyday stuff like you sometimes see dirndls being worn in southern Germany or other touristy bits of Europe.

Whilst there were a few shops clearly playing the tourist number, most were not, the kimonos were for normal Japanese, the art, furniture produced for real homes. It wasn’t all new stuff; there were antique stores where the prices - well if you have to ask you can’t afford it!
“Wait here, girls, I be back quickly,” Aoi told us.
“Sure, we’ll just be in here,” Jules agreed.
 
 
‘Here’ was a store selling the sort of stuff you might give as gifts, everything from lucky cats to writing sets and a bunch of stuff in between.
“Pretty cute, huh?” Mand suggested presenting a relatively shapeless wooden doll.
“If you like that sort of thing,” I noted.
“Meanie!” Mand stroked the dolls head, “Don’t listen to her, she plays with cars.”
“They’re called Kokeshi,” the Dark One supplied.
“If you like it so much why don’t you buy one?”
“Have you seen the prices, Gab, it’s nearly ¥5000!”
I did a quick calculation, that’s something like forty euros, I guess it is a fair bit on the other hand it’s obvious Mand covets the thing.
“Bye little one,” Mand placed the Kokeshi back on the shelf before heading to the street, “you coming, Gab?”
“Be there in a mo.”
 
 
“So whatcha buy?” Mand enquired when I found her outside with Jules.
“Just something for a friend,” I told her pulling a pack of lacquered chopsticks from the bag I was clutching.
“Let me guess,” Jules put in, “Max?”
“Oh, I wonder where Aoi went?” I questioned to divert their attention.
“Toilet or something,” Jules suggested.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait,” Mand noted.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “hey up there, it’s a geisha!”
“Where?”
“Up past that blue sign,” I pointed up the narrow street Aoi had disappeared up a few minutes earlier.
“Do you reckon we could get a picture?” Mand queried.
I was already reaching for my camera, “Go for it.”
 
 
Of course a geisha, even in Gion, always attracts attention from the curious, if it was me I’d be dressing incognito! Well whatever, the woman’s progress along the street was slow even if everyone gave way to her approach, the tight kimono and stilted sandals effectively reducing her stride to pigeon steps. So whilst she wasn’t exactly posing anyone with an image-capturing device could easily capture her likeness.
She had the barest smile on her face; maybe she enjoys all the attention. I framed my shot and clicked the shutter, I’m not sure why but she glanced our way as she approached the crossroads.

“Um, konichi wa.” I offered, for some reason making a sort of curtsey come bow.
She didn’t answer vocally but instead smiled and acknowledged my greeting with an inclination of the head without a break in her pace.
“What was that about?” Goth Gurl asked.
“What?”
“The bowing and stuff.”
“Dunno, it just seemed appropriate I guess.”
To be truthful I’ve no idea why I did it.
“I never mastered that curtseying stuff,” Mand offered, “so how come you know, Gab?”
“My sister has hidden talents,” Jules chuckled.
“Um Max’s cousin taught me.”
“Whatever for?”
“Gabs here was at the wedding of the year, royalty and all that,” blabbermouth told my friend.
“Now that’s a story I want to hear!” Mand stated.
Not anytime soon, not from me.
 
 
“Ah sorry, girls,” Aoi apologised a few minutes later, “just getting something organised for later. You fancy trying kimono?”
“Can we do that?” Mand gushed.
“I know a place, it will be good for photographs too.”
“Count me in,” I agreed.
“Yeah why not,” Jules added.
“Come on then, this will be fun!” Aoi told us.
 
 
We made our way a short distance along the street before turning down a gennel with much less foot traffic. It seemed a long way but it was probably no more than fifty metres before we stopped at an ornate doorway. Aoi pulled a bell cord, a speaker crackled into life, our guide partaking of a short discussion before a buzz announced the door being released.
“Come on in,” she instructed.
As is usual in traditional premises we had to swap our outdoor footwear for ‘guest slippers’ once inside. A middle-aged woman greeted us and once again a conversation took place that included a few words of English and glances towards us. The exchange ended and Aoi turned to us.
“So, Amanda and Juliette, if you come with me, I’ll take you through to the dressing room and we’ll get you kimonoed up.”
“What about me?” I queried, I wave of disappointment taking me.
“If you go with Mrs Onajima she will look after you.”
“Okay,” looks like I’m missing out on the dressing up.
The others followed Aoi along a corridor to the right of the entrance.
 
 
“Come,” Mrs Onajima prompted as she opened a screen and led the way up a narrow staircase to the floor above. Along another corridor and we paused briefly at a second screen before it was opened from within and I was ushered inside. Whatever I might have imagined my being entertained would be this room certainly wasn’t it!
Once inside the rooms occupant and Mrs O exchanged a few words ending in a smile at me from the young woman.
“Sai,” Mrs Onajima stated, I’m guessing that’s the girls name.
“Er Gaby,” I allowed in return.
“Ah Gabii, Fuku o nugi kudasai.”
Um “arigato?”
“Fuku onuide kudasai,” she insisted.
I grinned back like a loon.
Mrs Onajima took my bags from me, “Youa undress plis.”
Erm.

Sai took the initiative grabbing my off white fleece and removing it from my person, Mrs O smiling in approval. I’ve no idea what’s going on but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing bad, I didn’t get any bad vibes so far. At least I had an idea of what was being said, they want me to undress I think.
 
 
Mrs Onajima took each bit of my clothing and carefully folded it before placing them on a shelf, I wasn’t wearing a lot so I was quickly down to bra and knickers, it’s a good job the room was quite warm.
“Buraja,” Sai prompted.
“Um?”
“Buraja kudasai,” Mrs O added her weight to the instruction before Sai once again reached for me.

They want me to take my bra off! No way! Okay, way, I was soon stood in a pair of panties doing my best cover the girls with my arms as my captors moved stuff about, what the heck is going on. Something wet hit me between the shoulder blades to which I emitted a squeak, before I realised that Sai was actually washing my back, weird.

The washing moved to my front, I allowed grudging access to my chest and had to suppress a giggle or two when attention hit my armpits. Mrs Onajima moved in with warm towels before guiding me to a stool onto which I perched my botty.

“Up o plis,” Mrs O instructed with a demonstration of the required action, I was to raise my arms above my head.

I was somewhat surprised when Sai and the older woman started wrapping my chest, squishing my breasts, not painfully but tight enough that after several turns of the wide cloth the girls may as well not be there. It was only when a chemise was dropped over my head that I realised they were dressing me – it’s a bit intense but it looks like I’m not missing out. It took several minutes but the pair of them systematically clothed me from the inside out until I was clad in several layers including heavy silk tabi socks and a plain cotton kimono. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable rather it felt different to what I’m used to, I was returned to the seat and their attention went from clothing to cosmetics.

There not being a mirror I’ve no idea what they were doing, if I had to guess I’d say they were doing a full makeover. When my hair was put in a tight bun it confused me a bit, Sai continued to add cosmetics not just to my face but ears, (she removed my earrings first) and neck too. The two of them surveyed their work before seemingly agreeing that they were done. Mrs Onajima disappeared behind me then I felt what I guess is a wig being pulled into place.

“Utsukushidesu!” Sai exclaimed.
“Hai,” Mrs O agreed, “ima kimono.”
I recognised that, I get to wear a kimono after all this farting about.
I was stood up again; the cotton robe removed then a predominantly red but extravagantly decorated kimono placed around me before adding a wide sash and something at the small of my back. Sai knelt down and put traditional style toe sandals on my feet, which apparently had me finished.
“Gabii,” Mrs Onajima got my attention, “thisa.”
She spent a couple of minutes demonstrating what expression I should have on my face, how I should stand and even how to walk in this elaborate outfit.
“Go Sai,” the senior tormentor instructed.
 
 
Let me tell you, descending stairs in a tightly fitted kimono is not easy, I needed Sai to steady me once or twice. Once on the ground floor my guide led me to another sliding screen behind which I could hear my sister, Mand and Aoi chatting. I’ve seen this sort of thing in manga; I at least had some idea of the score now.

Sai had me wait to one side before knocking.
“Haitte kudasai!” Aoi’s voice rang out.
Sai slid the screen open enough to enter, closing it behind her. There was a short exchange, Aoi asking the others if they wanted tea.
When Sai returned she came to me, “shush, onegai ichi bun,” she indicated I should wait for how long, a minute, then knock.
She left me in the corridor, let’s do this right.

I could hear them chatting inside, “This is pretty cool, pity Gabs is missing it,” Mand stated.
I knelt by the door and gently knocked on the screen.
“Haitte kudasai!” Aoi’s voice rang out once again.

Maddy Bell 05.11.15

 
 
I gently slid the door open before bowing to those inside.
“Konichi wa,” I half whispered.
Jules and Mand seemed stunned by their sudden silence.
“Konichi wa,” Aoi prompted.
“Konichi wa,” the others added a moment later.
“Plis,” Aoi hammed, beckoning me inside. She knew it was me of course; she’d set it up after all.
I managed to push myself upright, I think pretty gracefully before shuffling into the room.
“Girls,” Aoi started, “this is Ito san, she will join us for tea.”
“Arigato,” I allowed with a bow.
The look on Mand’s face in particular was priceless!

Sai returned with a tray of tea stuff that she placed on the low table that the girls were sat around. Aoi motioned for me to take my place; I carefully knelt on the floor cushion and resumed my impassive persona. The others, Aoi included were of course wearing kimonos too but without my elaborate underpinnings and makeup, the impression of Japan was there but at the Cosplay level.
Our chaperone took charge of pouring tea for each of us.
“I should get some photographs.”
“Gab will be so pee’d off at missing this,” Mand allowed.
 
 
I don’t know how I kept a straight face, Aoi acted as interpreter for the girls questions, I answered by way of single words I’d picked up combined with small head movements so for example it went something like, “Do you always wear kimonos?” Aoi then used Japanese, “Anata wa itsumo kimono o kiru nodesu ka?” to which I carefully answered “hai, Buraja.” ”She says yes nearly always,” Aoi ad libbed my reply.
Clearly neither of them had twigged that ‘Ito san’ was yours truly, mind you I did have rather a lot of makeup on and with the hairpiece, I doubt if I could recognise me.

Quite how we got from drinking tea to first walking through Gion then posing for pictures in the gardens of Chion-in I’m still not sure. Of course the others finally saw through my ‘disguise’, we’d actually walked most of the way to Chion before my sister finally twigged. Let’s face it, if Aoi has been charged with looking after the three of us why would she leave one behind?

It was knocking on two o’clock by the time we were done, delayed it seems at every turn by tourist cameras intent on photographing the ‘geisha’. I hardly qualify as a maiko let alone the real thing and it was getting more than a bit uncomfortable to be trussed in the heavy layers of silk and cotton.

“Erm Aoi, can I like get out of this stuff, it’s been fun but I’ve had enough.”
“Why you not say, of course, time for lunch too I think.”
“Ooh yeah,” Mand enthused.

Rather than walk back to the alley Aoi found us a taxi, which, whilst not a lot quicker was easier on my feet, I’m sure the sandals are comfortable enough when you are used to them but the toe post was starting to get a bit uncomfortable. Mrs Onajima and Sai had me undressed in a tenth of the time dressing took, removing the makeup taking longest. I hadn’t really noticed my compressed boobs over the last couple of hours but as the circulation fully returned – well think pins and needles in your most sensitive bits!
 
 
“Where’re we eating?” Jules queried as we returned to the streets of Gion.
“Hmm,” Aoi consulted her watch, which much like the rest of her attire would be more at home on a five year old than a mature woman. “I think we get bento now an’ get dinner before you get the Shinkansen.”
“What’s bento?” Mand asked.
“Sort of like a packed lunch,” I offered remembering them from various manga.
“What like sandwiches, crisps and a banana?”
“Not exactly, Amanda,” Aoi told her, “it is considered an art form, the appearance as important as the tastes, come there is a store a couple of streets way, we can eat in Sento Gosho gardens.”
 
 
“You want an octopus, Gabs?” the Dark One offered.
My limited amount of Japanese knowledge at least armed me with the fact that the ‘octopus’ was actually a sort of sausage.
“Octopus?” Mand exclaimed, “urgh!”
“Sure,” I replied, “You want a prawn Mand?”

Aoi had selected four pre packed bento with a mixture of different stuff for us to try. Of course the staple of sticky rice was present in all of them along with the aforementioned sausage, prawns, pork balls and an assortment of other stuff I couldn’t directly identify. Aoi happily tucked in using her disposable chopsticks; we quickly resorted to fingers, as it was quicker!

“So what now?” Jules asked our chaperone as we cleared up from our late lunch.
“We can take a look at the Imperial Palace then I have another surprise lined up.”
Apart from a couple of sore toes, Aoi hadn’t done us wrong yet.
 
 
The palace, Gosho, was pretty impressive but there again the same can be said about every other building in this city. We made our way out of the park and headed across Marutamachi Dori into Nakagyo-Ku district.
“So where are we going?” I enquired.
Aoi stopped and pointed off the street, “Here!”
‘Here’ according to the name on the side of the building was ’Kyoto Manga Museum’.
“Really?” Jules queried.
“Oh boy, what are we waiting for?”
Aoi chuckled as she and the others followed former geisha Gaby to the museum entrance.
 
 
As museums go it’s a bit niche, that however didn’t stop it being reasonably populated by, mostly, males of student age. It’s not that we were the only females, (when did I become female?); just that we were outnumbered ten to one. Of course just about everything is in Japanese, Aoi translating as required.

I might be considered a bit of a manga geek back home but these guys take it to a whole other level. We followed the development of manga all the way from the 1800’s to the present; even Goth Gurl got hooked with some of the stuff.
 
 
‘Haubutsukan wa 10-bu deshuryo shimasu.’ A voice announced.
“It’s that time already,” Aoi confirmed with her building brick watch, “the museum closes in ten minutes.”
“Damn,” I allowed, “we got time to hit the shop?”
“If you are quick I think,” Aoi suggested.
A quick dash had us in the well-stocked museum shop, geez, maybe it’s as well we don’t have long. Okay I’m a geekette but really my brain was in overload, I want one of those, that’s cool, oh boy that is so Kawaii!
 
 
“Thanks Aoi, that was brill,” I gushed when the doorman let us out at nearly quarter past six.
“I know Miyasuki’s mother from university, maybe I used a favour.”
“I think she saw the yen signs in your eyes,” Jules scoffed.
“I still can’t believe you spent that much,” Mand mentioned.
“Well it’s not like I can pop back is it?” I noted.

I hadn’t gone that daft, not really, some cards, a purse, a set of figurines, two comics in English, a framed original drawing and – well some more stuff. It certainly dented my spending account but not to the point of exhaustion. After a brief stop to repack my assorted bags we returned to the street where Aoi hailed a taxi and we set off into the lights of a fine autumn evening.
 
 
Aoi pointed out various stores and buildings of interest on the short drive towards the railway station, not that that was our destination. The car dropped us by the Kyoto Tower and our ‘guardian’ led us to a small eatery a few doors up a side street. I say small, it wasn’t much more than a long counter with stools beyond which was the kitchen.

“Aoi!”
“Naki!”
Clearly our guide knew the guy behind the counter as they proceeded to exchange pleasantries for fully five minutes.
“Girls this reprobate is my cousin Nakagima, Naki takai Gabii, Amanda, Juliette.”
“Konichi wa,” he greeted with a wide grin.
“Konichi wa,” we agreed.
“Sit o, sit o,” he encouraged.
We squeezed onto three vacant stools part way along the counter.
Aoi and her cousin held another short discussion in Japanese, instructions were given to the girl helping in the kitchen and in short order cups of brown tea were deposited in front of us.

“What are we eating?” Mand asked.
“Naki is famous for tempura, at least here in downtown Kyoto.”
“That’s like fried prawns?” Jules suggested.
“Not just prawn, you’ll see,” she grinned.
Our exchange was halted by the sound of something being fed into hot fat, reminiscent of time spent in Hygenic Fisheries back in Warsop.
 
 
Our food didn’t take long to arrive, well deep fried is quick after all, Naki placing plates of interesting lumps of batter in front of each of us, the kitchen girl bringing a tray with bowls of sauces and pickles. There was no option this time but to go at the food with the wooden sticks provided, hot food and fingers – not a good idea.
“Yoi shoku,” our host offered.
“Naki says good eating,” Aoi translated.
“Er arigato,” I suggested, to which the chef grinned and nodded.
 
 
I’m not the biggest fan of battered food, yeah we do deep-fried at home but in breadcrumbs, batter is for fish or otherwise crepes or Yorkshire pud. But here, on the plate in front of me were vegetables, the obvious prawns of course but also cubes of some sort of smoked fish all fried in a light batter. Not only that but it was crisp, not soggy or done in, Naki has certainly got his timing right!

So okay I lied a little, we did attempt the chopsticks but after watching us struggle for a couple of minutes the kitchen girl produced three forks that certainly made things much easier. The pickles and other dips were interesting and I’m glad it wasn’t me who fell foul of the Wasabi, the look on Jules face! It wasn’t something I would necessarily have picked myself but I think we all enjoyed it, at least there wasn’t much left on the plates.
 
 
“Gud bye, gurls,” Naki told us with the customary bow.
“Arigato Nakajima san,” I offered in turn.
“Arigato.”
“Arigato,” the others added returning the bow.
Aoi made her own goodbyes with her cousin before ushering us towards the door, “Come on, let’s get you to the station, eh.”

It was full on dark outside, not cold but cool enough that the gap between my socks and shorts went into goose bump alert. The station was in sight at the end of the street, we didn’t need to rush it was only seven fifteen, over half an hour before our train leaves.
“We should get some snacks,” Jules suggested.
“There’s a store opposite the station,” Aoi told us.
“Wonder if they have any Haribo?” I mused.
“The bears?” Aoi queried, “I think maybe, they are quite popular with youngsters.”
“Cool, I’m getting withdrawal symptoms.”
Mand just shook her head.
“What? I like gummi bears.”
“Must be some German thing,” she mused, “Roni was munching them at the race last week.”
“Have to take you to the factory,” Jules who is partial to a bear or two herself, suggested.
“Factory?”
“Yeah, it’s not far from Roni’s place, there’s a shop where you can buy in bulk, much cheaper than the shops too,” I supplied.
“Germans!” Mand sighed.
 
 
The shop supplied biscuits, canned drinks and an expensive bag of jelly bears; we were set for the journey back to Hiroshima. We crossed to the station and made our way to the Shinkansen platform.
“Ot oh, it looks like a problem,” Aoi suggested as we approached the gate.
“What sort of problem?” Jules queried.
“I’ll find out, wait here.”
Aoi went over to the bean counter leaving us to wait.
“Hope it’s nothing too bad,” Mand mentioned.
“Probably running late.”
“What train we on, Gab?” Jules asked.
I pulled out our tickets, “er Nozomi 55, departs19.52.”
“Don’t think so,” Jules proffered, “the board says it’s cancelled.”
“Cancelled?” Mand repeated.
Aoi returned just then, “A big problem, girls, all Shinkansen are cancelled to Hiroshima, there has been an accident earlier today.”
“So how do we get back?” Mand asked, a hint of panic in her voice.
“They expect to be running again in the morning, there will be some extra journeys or they have coaches you can take this evening.”
“That’ll take forever,” I sighed.
“About four hours,” Aoi supplied.
“Sugar!”
“You could stay at mine and catch the train in the morning,” Aoi offered.
“I’ll ring Dad,” Jules proposed.
 
 
“So you get here at eight thirty Jules,” Dad confirmed.
“Yeah, Aoi’s transferring our booking now.” Goth Gurl agreed.
“Your mother’ll pack your bags, we need to be off close on nine.”
“’Kay,” Jules allowed, “see you in the morning.”
“Take care Jules and keep your sister out of trouble, eh?”
“Yes, Dad, nite.”
“Nite kiddo.”

Maddy Bell 09.11.15

 
 
“So what’d he say?”
“That I’m to keep you out of trouble.”
“As if!”
“They’ll pack our stuff up, we’ll be off as soon as we get to the hotel pretty much.”
“Wonder if we’ll get breakfast?” Mand mused.
“Wouldn’t bet on it,” I sighed.

Aoi rejoined us a moment later,
“Sorted, the second class was full so you got an upgrade to first.”
“Nice,” Jules observed.
“So,” Aoi went on, “let’s get home.”
We headed back out of the station into the cooling evening.
“Is it far?” Mand enquired,
“About thirty minutes on the Metro and a few minutes walk from the station, I think we’ll take a taxi though, it’ll be easier I think.”

Today’s trip has turned into quite an adventure and as the taxi edged through central Kyoto the day got the better of me.
“Gab, wake up.”
“Eh?”
I felt myself being prodded upright.
“Come on, Gab, we’re there,” Mand insisted.
Where?
“Um,” I stretched as I came back to consciousness.
“We’re at Aoi’s,” Jules put in.
Aoi paid off the cab, a moment later it was gone leaving us in the dimly lit street outside of our hosts apartment block.
“Come, let’s get inside and I’ll make some coffee.”

Just the thought of hot beverage had me shivering which in turn had me hurrying after the others. There wasn’t a lift so we had to climb the stairs to the third floor apartment, my arms were killing by the time I got there, I hadn’t exactly been planning on much walking when I bought all this stuff. We waited for Aoi to open up then followed inside.
“Close the door behind please, Juliette.”
“Sure.”
Mand started to blunder inside; I had to grab her arm to stop her.
“What’s up?”
“Shoes?” I mentioned.
“Er right.”
I parked my bags before pulling my bikers off.
“Ah!”
“Ew!” Mand added, “what a pong.”
Bum, the curse of a day’s sightseeing, smelly feet. I can hardly sit about with stinky socks on so I pulled them off and stuffed them in my shoes.

Aoi’s flat wasn’t exactly big, not quite a student bedsit but not a great deal bigger although it does boast a separate sleeping area to the living space. Not quite sure where we’ll sleep but hey ho, it’s better than trying to sleep on a coach.
“Everyone for coffee?”
“Please,” I agreed.
“Go find somewhere to sit, I’ll bring it through.”
 
 
You’ve been here I’m sure, someone’s home you don’t really know that well, you don’t want to disturb anything but you’re curious just the same. The living room, for want of a better description was sparsely furnished, neatly filled shelves on two walls, sliding doors to I guess a balcony, tatami flooring and several floor cushions. A computer desk filled one corner and a flat screen TV helped fill the remaining space.
The cushions represented the best seating option; we each made ourselves comfortable to wait for our hostess.

“Ah good,” Aoi mentioned coming to join us. “The coffee won’t be long.”
“Can we um, rinse out our smalls?” Jules asked.
“There is a laundry room downstairs.”
“It’s only like knickers and Gabs smelly socks,” Mand put in.
“Hey!”
“We didn’t exactly come prepared for overnight,” Jules added.
“Of course not, don’t worry, the store is open we can get you some things.”
The hiss of the coffee maker interrupted the discussion, coffee trumps dirty undies any day!

We drank our coffee during which Aoi offered the use of the shower.
“There are towels on the shelf, I’ll go to the store.”
“I’ll come too,” I asserted, she’d already paid for taxis today; we can buy our own pants!

The temperature outside had by now dropped to not quite uncomfortable, I zipped my fleece up to my neck and buried my hands in the pockets.
“A little cold,” Aoi noted.
“Maybe shorts were a bit ambitious,” I allowed.
“You had a good day, Gaby?”
“It’s been well cool, thanks for taking us around.”
“I’ve enjoyed it too, mostly my work is commercial studio stuff, it was nice to be out around the city.”

We reached the ground floor and Aoi led the way around the end of the building to where a brightly lit convenience store beckoned.
“Neat.”
“It’s open twenty four hours, very useful.”
“Not many.”
“Sorry?”
“Just agreeing, the only place open at this time back home is the petrol station.”
“Ah so.”
Inside it really was an Aladdin’s Cave of stuff, veggies, bento, snack foods, beer, a few magazines and my grail for tonight, an underwear vending machine! Having had previous experience I quickly selected and purchased the knickers and three random packs of hosiery, BH’s will have to survive a second wearing. Aoi meanwhile had selected some groceries for which she was paying by the time I’d done with the knicker box.

Back at the apartment Jules and Mand were showered, I took my turn while they helped Aoi with the bedding. Of course I should’ve known from my manga, we’d be sleeping on the floor, no western comforts here. It wasn’t particularly late, sometime around ten but we were all equally tired after being on the go for like fourteen hours.
 
 
“What time is it?” Mand asked in the morning gloom.
I fumbled for my phone, “Five thirty.”
“Urgh,” she allowed.
“We should get up soon,” I mumbled.
“Ga-ab,” Jules moaned, “shuddup.”
Seems like it’s a family thing—the not doing mornings.

We didn’t get to lie there much longer, Aoi was up and crashing about in the kitchen not ten minutes later – I say crashing, it just seems louder in the dead of night.
“Time to get up, girls.”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
“Hmmm,” Mand stated into her pillow.

Whilst not a bouncy mattress, the floor hadn’t been the worst place to sleep; the tatami adding a degree of cushioning to our sleeping arrangements. By the time we were up and dressed, the aroma of coffee permeated the flat and despite last night’s dinner my stomach was having a bit of a rumble.

“Come,” Aoi encouraged, ”I’ve ordered a taxi, it will be here fifteen minutes, time for coffee and sweet cakes.”
Food, sweet food, hmm.

The Japanese aren’t exactly coffee connoisseurs, Aoi’s choice is a bit erm, muddy on the other hand it’s hot and it’s here! The sweet cakes were a bit plasticky, more steam-baked supermarket than patisserie but beggars can’t be choosers, they filled a hole and it’s a bit early to open the Haribo! The toot of a car horn below announced our transports arrival; we rushed about collecting our stuff then tumbled down to the road.
 
 
It was still pre dawn as we retraced our route across the city, with no real traffic about we made good time arriving at the station just turned six thirty. Aoi paid off the taxi before joining us on the trip up to the platform. We joined the queue to board; a lot of delayed travellers filled the platform with friends and family.
“Thanks,” I allowed giving the pink haired woman a hug.
“My preasure, Gaby.”
“Thanks Aoi,” Jules added.
“Say hi to Miyaki for me.”
“We will.”
We concluded our farewells and passed the conductor who directed us to car one, first class!
 
 
It might be twelve hours late but we were barely settled in our seats when Nozomi One started its journey. We waved to Aoi stood on the platform amongst the numerous other leave takers, chaperone? More like older sister.

First Class, the most immediate difference to our outbound journey was the more spacious seating, we’ve fallen for table seats this time. We were still snaking out of Kyoto when a steward started moving down the carriage serving apparently complimentary coffee and what appeared to be some sort of omelette. Alright for some, but I guess they’ve paid top dollar for their tickets.
“Konichi wa, coffee or a tea?”
“Um.”
“Arigato, coffee,” Jules was a bit more awake than me.
The drinks were poured and the steaming food placed before us.
“Arigato.”
“Yes o good morning, sayonara,” he smiled before moving to the next seats.
“Hmm, the coffee’s better than Aoi’s,” Mand opined after taking a sip.
“Are we supposed to have this?”
“We got upgraded right,” Jules mentioned.
“Don’t look a gift horse.” Mand added unwrapping her chopsticks.
All around us other travellers were tucking into their breakfast, what the hell!
 
 
It’s a bit surreal, eating and drinking with the Japanese countryside zipping past the window at 200kph. I know you do it when you fly but you are remote from fixed points of reference, the sensation of speed just isn’t the same. Sunlight slanted through the windows, it looks like it might be a good day.
Food out of the way I started sorting through my assorted bags of souvenirs and tosh.
“Hope you’ve got room for that lot in your case,” Jules put forward.
“Yeah,” I allowed.
Well I think so anyhow, oh yeah. I dug about and found what I was looking for.
“Here you go, Mand.”
“What is it?” she asked taking the box from me.
“Open it and find out,” I hinted.
She picked at the tape holding the shiny red box closed.
“Oh, Gab, oh it’s beautiful!”
She slid the Kokeshi from the tissue paper and showed it to us.
“Pretty cool,” Jules allowed.
“But why? It’s not my birthday or anything.”
“Does there have to be a reason?”
“I can’t take it, Gabs, it cost a fortune.”
“Who’s counting? I got it for you.”
“Take it, Mand,” Jules encouraged.
“But…”
“Do I need a reason to buy something for a friend?”
“The dope’s bought it Mand, you might as well have it,” the Dark One noted.
“I guess it’s okay.”
“Great, anyone want a gummi bear?”
“If you ever do something like this again, Gaby Bond I’ll, I’ll have to hug you to death.”
“Where are those bears, Sis?”
 
 
“Is Dad meeting us?”
“He said so,” Goth Gurl stated.

We were threading our way into Hiroshima, our arrival at the Bahnhof imminent. The steward had returned twice more on the way down with fresh coffee and latterly sweet biscuits, I could get used to travelling first class. The earlier sunshine had given way to more overcast skies but rain looked unlikely which I’m sure Mum and the girls will be pleased about.

Our Shinkansen slid into the platform and we joined the restrained first class scramble to get off. Dad was of course waiting for us.
“Come on, I’ve got a taxi waiting.”
“Um morning, Dad.”
“Sorry kids, morning, George is chomping to get off, we can catch up once we’re on our way.”

We dodged through other travellers and out to where the taxi was waiting for us. We piled in and after dodging through the back streets piled back out at the Hotel Park Side Hiroshima where Ken was just loading bags onto the bus.
“You guys had breakfast?” Dad enquired.
“Well…”

Maddy Bell 10.11.15

 
 
George had decided to travel with Genji ahead of the bus, Satoro and Miyaki following in their own vehicle. That did at least mean we avoided George’s ire for delaying the buses departure by fifteen minutes – not that anyone seemed concerned, they could after all get in an extra cup of coffee! Still it was just turned nine fifteen when we set off on the hour or so drive to Matsuyama on Kochi island, the start and finish point of the Japan Cup.

Of course the others were keen to hear about our Kyoto adventures, we were crossing the string of islands that link Kochi to the mainland before we drew breath, yeah it was quite some day, one I don’t think any of us will forget in a hurry. By comparison the others ride along the north coast was pretty tame, spectacular scenery but essentially just a training ride. They had spent a chunk of the afternoon shopping in Hiroshima so it’s not like it was all work, not like today.

“You guys having a ride today?” Mum suggested as we made landfall onto Kochi.
“What, on our own?”
“I think the rest of us are a bit tied up,” she pointed out.
I hadn’t really thought about what we’d do today, I sort of imagined we’d watch the race, how or where I’d no idea.
“Could I guess, Mand, you up for a ride?”
“‘Spose.”
“Good, I kept your riding gear out just in case.”
Stitched up again.
 
 
Matsuyama is a fair sized place; at a guess about the same as Bonn back home, my impression was of a more rustic city than Hiroshima or even Kyoto. There are certainly fewer tower blocks and we crossed several sets of tram tracks on our way into the centre where the race starts although it finishes at the castle perched high above the urban sprawl. The day was turning quite warm, according to Dad they were expecting rain later but for now the blue sky has but a few wisps of cloud scudding across it.

It was a bit odd getting all ready to ride with the girls but not actually taking part in the race. Compared to the criteriums we’ve been riding all week today is a real marathon, something like 180 kilometres taking the girls on a loop around the western end of the island.

“Okay you two, we’ll watch the start then we’ll get in front of the race down the motorway, we’ll drop you off about fifty k out and we’ll go on to the feed at Uwajima. You’d best take my map, you’ve got money and phones?”
“Don’t think my phone’s got a lot of charge,” I noted, “it didn’t get charged last night.”
“Mine’s alright, Mr Bond,” Mand supplied.
“Good, so you’re okay making your way back up? you know where the finish is?”
“The castle, right?” I allowed.
“I’m sure it’s signposted,” Mand offered.
“If you get lost ring, let’s get your bikes in the van.”
 
 
Things are certainly different here, at home, even the bigger junior events allow team cars, big events usually have neutral service too, the familiar yellow Mavic® cars and bikes. Despite the Japan Cup being an international event, whilst there will be Shimano neutral service they don’t allow team cars to follow the riders. Bit of a weird set up but hey ho, that’s how it goes, as a result the Bianchi van is being pressed into service for the feeds where the girls can also avail themselves of team service, as they are neutral zones today.

In turn Ken would be taking the bus up to the finish, Vincenzo had already put the Ezy-Up in the side locker. George and the Italian would be out on the course with the photographic team, in fact they’d already departed ahead of the start.

Once our steeds were stowed with Genji, Dad, Mand and myself headed to the start area where the field was assembling prior to the off. The international element of the field was bigger today, apart from Team Bianchi and the Canadians there were riders and teams from several of Japans neighbours, South Korea, China, Taiwan, Russia and Vietnam, oh and of course a slew of Japanese. It doesn’t mean they are all top class riders of course, whilst there were plenty of shiny bikes on display the looks our girls were getting echoed the awe the Rainbow Jersey has had all week.

Whilst the start is in the heart of the city, outside City Hall the number of onlookers was small, we get this many at a local chipper back home in Germany! The MC rattled some stuff off – you don’t need to know the language to recognise the spiel, it’s pretty universal. Dad snapped off a few shots with a suspiciously new looking camera – well I guess a lot of the big brands are Japanese – Olympus, Nikon and of course Fuji.
No start these days would be complete without introducing Mum and her Rainbows to the assembled masses, ‘only’ having a time trial gold means I won’t stand out as much next season. The noon start was now approaching, riders getting a bit itchy to be off. A Japanese flag was unfurled and passed to a be-suited chap that I guess is gonna wave them off – it’s usually some local flunky, head of the council or some such.
The MC finished trying to enthuse the crowd before a recorded countdown was played culminating in a sweep of the flag, they’re off!

“Go Bianchi!” Mand yelled.
“Good luck, Mum!”
“Allez Bond!” Jules shouted.
“Good ride, girls!” Dad added.
In a flash of multi coloured jerseys and shiny bikes, clicking pedal systems and the usual cursing of back markers with no road they eased away from the start.
 
 
“Come on you lot, we need to make tracks.”
It wasn’t far to where Genji was waiting in the van; we were there in about two minutes.
“Two of you’ll have to sit in the back,” Dad mentioned.
“I’ll do it,“ I volunteered.
Dad slid the side door open for me as Mand climbed in up front.
“Sit on the toolbox kidda, Jules you can use the cool box, we aren’t going too far.”
“Great.” My sister allowed.
Says he. The door slid shut and Dad was barely sat before Genji had us moving.
 
 
I couldn’t see much sat in the back but it seemed an eternity before the stop start of city driving was replaced by the acceleration and smoother style of motorway travel. The van sounded like the engine was being ripped from its mountings as Genji did his best white van man impersonation towards Uwajima. I’ve no idea about Japanese speed limits but I bet we were breaking them – it certainly felt like it from my perch in the echoing box.

After about thirty minutes Mand mentioned that Uwajima was forty kilometres away, we’d be getting out in about twenty minutes then. Or not. We must’ve been really tanking it, Genji could give Mum a run for her money, anyhoo we reached the end of the Matsuyama Expressway and followed the road through Uwa, joining what I guess is the ‘old’ road south.

The first major junction was signed for Akehama and as we approached, me peering over the front seats, the local plod were already preparing to close the road for the race to pass. The race won’t get here for like another hour at the quickest so they’re a bit previous! Genji pulled off the road into a farm entrance and in a matter of three minutes we were unloaded.

“Take care now, if you have a problem,”
“We’ll ring,” I interrupted.
“Got everything?” Dad asked for the third time.
“Map, phone, money, head,” I intoned.
“Wareware wa deibu o ido suru hitsuyo ga arimasu!” Genji called over.
“Hai,” Dad replied, “okay, see you later.”
“Laters,” I agreed as he climbed back into the van, Jules having already moved to the front.
We waved as the van set off in a cloud of gravel to join the other traffic heading south.
 
 
“We waiting here?” Mand enquired as she strapped her helmet on.
I checked my watch; “I reckon we can get about twenty k before we meet them if we ride along the route.”
“Kay, lead on,” she invited.
Easier said than done, the road was pretty busy and it took several minutes before there was a gap for us to cross the traffic. Back at the junction one of the policemen, well it was a woman actually, waved us around onto the Akehama road.
“Konichi wa,” she smiled.
“Arigato,” I called in reply giving her a wave – always be nice to policemen you never know when you’ll need them!
 
 
The 378 follows the coast all the way back to Matsuyama, the race follows it south so we won’t be able to miss it or get lost. Of course it’s narrow and twisty which attracts motorbikes the world over and this ribbon of tarmac is no different. Riding two abreast wasn’t really an option so I set the pace with Mand tucked in behind, a steady twenty-five, thirty kph – fast enough in the early afternoon sunshine.

All the way to Akehama the scenery was rugged coast personified, each twist and turn opening new vistas across what the map calls the Uwa Kai. We hadn’t gone much more than a kilometre beyond the town when I spotted blue lights coming towards us, maybe a couple of K further on.

“That must be the race,” I observed.
“They’re running a bit early,” Mand suggested.
“Let’s stop at the next corner, we can climb up those rocks.”
“Climb?”

We stopped and quickly parked our bikes out of the way. The rocks were not much of a challenge even in cleats, we found a perch about five metres above the roadway and settled down to wait. The blue lights took several minutes to reach us, a couple of motorbike cops directing traffic to pull over, as close to a closed road you get of course there’s always the chance of traffic getting onto the cleared road so it’s not ideal.
Another bike followed a minute or so later then a yellow light appeared in the distance, the race itself was just a couple of minutes away. We couldn’t see any riders yet but then the multicoloured peloton popped around the corner clearly going at a reasonable lick. The lead car was soon with us and about fifty metres back a lone rider, a Bianchi rider, Erika putting in a big effort.

“Go on Erika!”
“Up, up, up!”
She looked up with a grin as we whooped our support and then she was past. I did manage to get a picture with my phone, it might be in focus. The bunch, whilst riding quickly weren’t organised, the rest of Team Bianchi at the head of affairs maybe fifty seconds in arrears of Erika.
“Forty!” Mand shouted.
“Go on, Mum!”
We cheered. Tina gave us a wave as they swept past, we got some funny looks from others in the bunch and then they were gone. The judges car and a few stragglers came through then a big silver and blue Toyota estate with ‘Shimano’ plastered down the side followed by the broom wagon and maybe a minute behind a police car, what I’m guessing is a paramedic and lastly another motorcycle cop.
 
 
“That was a surprise,” Mand mentioned as we clambered back down to the road.
“Not really, pretty standard tactic really, puts the onus of chasing on everyone else and there’s always the chance she could go the distance.”
“I guess.”
“Happens all the time in the big races, early break then a last third chase, even if the escape is brought back the rest of the team get a ride to the finish.”
“Like that last day in Switzerland?”
“Something like that, it didn’t matter that the break got caught, the rest of us got a tow to the finish.”
We let a couple of kamikaze motorbikers pass before setting off again towards Mikame.
 
 
The road bobbled about through the next town, hugging the coast tightly most of the way to Yawatahama. We had to go through the town as the bypass has a tunnel, not somewhere for bikes, especially without lights. It was a similar story to get to Honaicho where we stopped at a petrol station to get some grub.

We got some strange looks, well two blonde gaijin girls riding bikes – not something that the good burghers of Honaicho will get to see very often. The vending machines supplied a couple of bento and bottles of iced tea – yeah okay, maybe not first choice but it’s food. We set off and it was clear that we were going to have to cross the spine of mountains ahead of us that prompted another halt to examine the map.

“Sugar, I didn’t see that on the map earlier.”
“Is there a way round?” Mand asked.
“It’s another tunnel, there must be another road though.”
“The race had to get here somehow,” Mand observed.
“Yeah, come on,” I enthused.
 
 
On our way again we soon reached the tunnel and a turn to the right beckoned, a route up the valley, it must be the route the race used. It soon became a real country lane, steadily climbing towards a dam a couple of kilometres distant. The gradient wasn’t too bad until the last stretch up to the top of the dam that took us up a couple of switchbacks.

“Guh!” Mand allowed, “Hope that’s it.”
“Yeah,” I agreed even as I tried to follow the road’s route alongside the reservoir.
We crossed the dam wall and the narrow roadway hugged the contours above the water for a distance. The water ran out and the road swung across the feeding beck before starting on a series of shallow but long hairpin loops that had us steadily gaining altitude, must’ve been fun coming down in the race. I lost Mand part way up, she’d get to the top but it’s easier if you ride at your own pace.
 
 
At the top I stopped and took a long pull on my bidon, I was certainly er, glowing from the climb, the sky still almost cloudless, the temperature probably close to twenty C. I could see De Vreen steadily gaining metres of ascent until the last pull, a steeper stretch that slowed her to a halt. It wasn’t long and Mand elected to push her steed up to where I waited.

“Nearly there,” I encouraged.
“Thanks,” she puffed.
“There must be some good downhill, the road follows the coast again back to Matsu,” I offered.
“Hope so, I wasn’t expecting to be riding the Alps today, I ran out of gears.”
“Yeah I was in the twenty eight up this bit,” I admitted.

I waited for Mand to re-hydrate before kicking off to begin the descent that Mum and the girls climbed a couple of hours ago. On this side the turns were separated by long straightish legs, the coast road finally coming into view still a significant distance below us. Mand is certainly getting better at descending; she stayed pretty close although I out braked her on the corners.

Down, down we dropped, the sound of traffic drifting up to us as we made the last few turns back to the actual 378. The climb had eaten into the afternoon dramatically; my best guess was that our destination was still over an hour away. There was a bit of an onshore breeze, luckily over our left shoulders so despite the recent climb we were making good time.

Unlike earlier, whilst the road hugs the coast it’s a lot straighter, but also busier, getting more so as we got closer to the city. Nagahama, Futami, Iyo and there in the slightly smoggy distance Matsuyama Castle high above the modern city. This is where things could go pear shaped, hmm, if we head to the centre we should be able to work out our way up to the castle.

We hit pay dirt quite quickly, signs for the castle appearing almost as soon as we entered the city’s grid of streets. I think we missed a turn somewhere but we arrived at a huge moat, the castle just visible in the trees above us. Taking a chance we turned right along the water to find our way barred where we needed to turn left.

The police had the road closed but we managed to slip by on the footpath, a hundred metres further on we came to a more solid barrier with a bit of a crowd lining it.
“Looks like the race is nearly here,” Mand observed.
“Don’t think we can get any further,” I agreed.
We found a spot on the barrier and joined the expectant crowd waiting for the race to finish.
 
 
Maddy Bell 12.11.15

 
 
We waited……and waited. The authorities were maybe a little early with closing the roads but our fellow observers seemed unfazed by the wait, personally I could do with a shower but I guess I need to be patient.

“I hope they aren’t too much longer,” Mand mentioned in an echo of my own thoughts.
“Yeah,” I agreed checking my watch.
“What is the time?”
“Ten past five, they shouldn’t be far away.”
“Do you reckon your dad is here?”
“Dunno, could ring I guess.”

Before I could put the thought into action the sound of approaching motorbikes pulled our attention to the roadway. A couple of the police riders sped towards our corner and through to the finish area that was just out of our view from our vantage point. An excitable MC could be heard yammering away but for us we were still very much in the dark as to what was happening.
The lead car sped past; they can’t be far away now.
“Here they come,” I pointlessly mentioned, I mean Mand can see the same things I do.
And what we could see was Bianchi jerseys at the front of a sea of riders bearing down at some speed on our position on the last corner.
“Bond, Bond!”
“Tina!”
“Go ‘pollinaris!”
They swept past and that was that. A few riders had been tailed off – I’m sure more are still further behind. The commentary reached a crescendo; there was a winner but who?
 
 
It was fifteen minutes later before we were allowed past the barriers.
Brrp brrp, brrp brrp!
“Heya.”
“Where are you?” Jules asked.
“Walking to the finish, where are you?”
“In a car park behind the big building.”
“Who won?”
“Tell ‘em to hurry up and get here,” Dad’s voice interrupted.
“Dad says,”
“I heard him, we’re coming.”
The call ended and my handy went back in my pocket.
“Jules?”
“Yeah, Dad wants us to get a move on.”
“We could try riding,” Mand suggested.
Easier said than done of course.
 
 
We wheedled our way through the assembled throng and no more than ten minutes after the phone call we rode up to Team Bianchi HQ where our team director was just getting off the bus.
“Heya, George, wassup?”
“Good ride, girls?”

Grrr! Well I guess George always has thought I was a girl right from that first trip I made to see Mum in Germany nearly three years ago.
“Not too bad, where is everyone?” I enquired, there being a distinct lack of bodies about.
“Ah, there you are,” Dad stated from behind us.
“Geez, you made me jump!”
Mand giggled to herself.
“George, Vincenzo is looking for you.”
“Ach so, Italians!” he allowed rolling his eyes, before leaving us.
“Who won, Mr Bond?” Mand asked.
The $64,000 question.
“Jen by a country mile!”
“Mum won, ye ha!” I giggled about letting my bike go, Dad caught it before it hit the deck.”
“Geez, Gab,” Mand put in, “so what was the rush Mr B?”
“They want a few more pictures, especially with you pair as you weren’t about yesterday.”
Was it really only this morning that we left Kyoto?
 
 
I guess the photographs are the price we pay for the privilege of racing and travelling at someone else’s expense. It’s not a bad trade off, sometimes it can be fun; the downside is that they expect you to be smiling all the time, that can be a drag. To be fair it’s not been too much of a burden this week and I’m sure we wouldn’t’ve had such a brill time yesterday if Aoi hadn’t been looking for photo opportunities.

Satoro and Miyaki took a few ‘team’ photos before dragging Mand and myself complete with bikes up to the castle itself – how many steps? By the time we returned to the bus most people had departed and the others were waiting for our return.

“Where’s Mum?”
“Vincenzo dragged her off for a TV interview.” Erika supplied.
“You two need to get changed,” Dad mentioned.
Not wrong there, even I could smell me.
“Come on, there are showers,” Tina told us, “Jen’s only just gone so you have time.”
 
 
Showers – think portaloo and you wouldn’t be far off the mark. It was good to strip out of the salt encrusted kit and even if the water wasn’t exactly hot it was warm enough to reveal that the sun had been topping up the ole tan, the sting causing me to yelp. Hmm, nice.

Of course fresh clothing had been a quick grab into the top of my case, where Mum put my sensible stuff I’ve no idea, all I could find was a filmy frock. Look just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I have to like wearing this stuff, well okay maybe sometimes.

“Very um, you need some makeup, panda eyes.” Mand stated when I emerged.
“And you,” I noted.
“Bum!”
Mum and Vincenzo arrived back a moment before us still chatting away in their common language, German.
“Ah, the bambino is a mucha bootiful like her mama!”
Sheesh, save us p-leeze.
“I don’t think so.”
“Is a true.”
“What’s he on about?” Mand queried
“Giving me a load of flannel, I think he’s been drinking,” I opined.
“We are on a bit of a schedule people,” Dad prompted.
 
 
Schedule indeed, it’s a three-hour drive to Tokushima for our overnight ferry back to Tokyo, it’s due to depart at ten and it’s quarter to seven. Ken was keen to get moving, so much so that I wasn’t even in my seat when he set off. Not a problem except I fell over and ended up on my back with my dress over my head!

“Nice knickers, sis,” Jules crowed.
“Ah gomen’nasai!” Ken stated.
“Dress yourself, kiddo,” Dad suggested.
“Help your sister up, Jules,” Mum instructed.
“Nice shade of pink, Gab,” Mand smirked as I slipped into the seat next to her.
“Whatever,” I sulked.
The light was going quickly; by the time we reached the motorway it was almost dark.
 
 
“So what happened in the race, Jenny?” Mand asked of my mother sat in front of us.
“Well…”
And so we were regaled with the tale of the Japan Cup.
“…So we caught Erika with about twenty to go.”
“Damn,” Mand offered.
“It was expected,” Mum observed.
“Even so,” Mand noted.
“Anyhow, that was plan B, plan A was going to erm, plan. When Anja and Tina turned up the screws with five left no one else was sure how to react.”
“We saw them at the front on the last corner,” I informed her.
“Well a couple of riders went long from the corner but Anja didn’t panic leading me into the two hundred. When she pulled off I jumped on a fresh wheel, one of the Canadians, then at fifty I went for it.”
“Three lengths at the line,” Dad put in.
“Wish I could sprint,” Mand sighed.
“We can work on it,” Mum promised.
 
 
The Tokushima Expressway was relatively quiet and we seemed to be making reasonable progress, any hold up could still see us missing the boat. Luckily I still had some snack food from this morning, we don’t have time to eat before we reach the ferry. By nine we were only fifty kilometres from our destination, not that most of those on board would know, even Dad was gently snoring and I’d dozed off at least twice.
A change in engine tone stirred most people and the sharp turn into the docks finished the job. The bright arc lights of the dockside were a rude awakening after the unlit expressway and looking across the expanse of concrete it looked pretty nasty outside, wet and windy. Our little convoy was amongst the last vehicles to make check in, once through the gate we drove directly onto the ship.

It’s a long crossing, something like twelve hours, which is actually longer than driving, but we do get to sleep in beds on the way. It’s not the biggest ship; well about cross Channel rather than North Sea ferry and by the number of vehicles on the car deck, Saturday isn’t the busiest journey. There are three levels of accommodation, mat on the floor, basic cabin or superior suite, we had basic cabins – I say we, Genji, Ken and Vincenzo were slumming it with the mats.

With Dad and George sharing a double, the adult riders had one cabin and Jules, Mand and me had the other cabin. We were barely sorted out when a change in the ever-present rumble of the engines signalled our departure from the quayside. Food was the priority so after dumping bags we assembled outside the ‘a la carte’ restaurant – none of us has really eaten since breakfast back in Hiroshima over thirteen hours ago.
 
 
“I’d like to propose a toast,” George stood and raised his glass, “to Vincenzo, Genji and Ken – without you this trip couldn’t’ve happened or be so successful, to Bianchi!”
“To Bianchi!” we all agreed raising our own drinks – even Mand and I have been allowed a glass of wine tonight.

That was the prompt for Vincenzo to propose his own toast, “Thank you George, both for your kind words and for bringing these a laydeez to Nihon to help us promote not just a Bianchi but racing for the laydeez, is a big success. To Team Apollinaris, Kanpai!”
“Kanpai!” we all agreed - well you sort of get into the spirit right?

Dinner itself was quite unspectacular, steak with the inevitable rice and vegetables, I’m guessing the demand for anything not Japanese cuisine is quite small. With such a late departure entertainment options onboard are pretty limited so no one was particularly keen to leave the restaurant. Eventually our hand was forced as the staff were clearly packing up for the night, neither more drink or food would be forthcoming tonight, mind you it is after midnight!

Our transport was rolling about a little, well okay, quite a bit, looks like it’s gonna be a bumpy night. As the smallest I’d pulled the upper bunk, I’m not sure if it dampened or multiplied the ships movements but it wasn’t doing my stomach a great many favours! Not that I worried about it too long as exhaustion managed what intent couldn’t and I was soon comatose.
 
 
“Gerrup, Gab,” Jules mentioned shaking my leg.
“Hunh?”
“‘S’mornin’”
The cabin didn’t have a window so I had to take her word for that however a tap of my handy’s screen revealed it was eight fifteen.
“When d’we dock?” I mumbled.
“Ten?”
“Five minutes.”
There was a knock on the door followed by a muffled voice, “You girls getting up?”
“Urgh!”
 
 
The snow on Mount Fuji shone like a beacon even from out here in the Sagami Sound, last night’s storm having blown itself out giving our last day in Japan a memorable start. Breakfast was a simple traditional Japanese affair, thankfully supplemented by some passable coffee. Apparently we had lost time in the storm so our ETA was now ten fifteen, which was just as well, the occupants of our cabin needed to repack their bags ready to fly as we go direct from the ferry to Haneda airport for our afternoon flight home.

“Do you think we’ll ever come again, to Japan that is?” Mand mused as we stood at the rail watching our approach to the Tokyo ferry terminal.
“Maybe, I’d like to, it’s been fun but we haven’t really visited very much.”
“We did come to race,” Mand observed.
“Yeah but we spent half the trip on the bus.”
“We did go into Tokyo, he he,”
“What’s funny about that?”
“ I’ve just realised, Tokyo, it’s an anagram of Kyoto or the other way round.”
“Yeah, I suppose Kyoto was pretty good.”
“Come on you two, we need to get the bus loaded,” Dad called from the doorway.
 
 
Reluctantly we went inside and returned to our cabin to collect our bags.
“Wondered where you pair were,” Jules offered.
“Up on deck, you could see the Tokyo Tower earlier.”
“Wish we could stay longer,” Mand supplied.
“Only if Boris was here,” the Dark One noted.
“Missing swapping spit?” I chortled.
“You have such a way with words, Gab,” Mand pointed out as she dragged her case outside.
“Just missing him,” Jules said turning a fetching pink, “anyway I’m sure you won’t waste any time going round to Maxie when we get home.”
“As if!”
“Oh come on, Gab, everyone knows about you two.”
My turn to blush and it’s not like there’s any reason, Goth Gurl is just trying to wind me up.

Maddy Bell 14.11.15

 
 
Once off the ferry our convoy reconvened.
“Good a bye laydeez,” Vincenzo told us.

Neither he nor Genji were going to the airport with us, well there was really no need so we made our goodbyes there on the dockside. It was a little bit weird, especially with Genji; I think Dad had picked up more Japanese than Genji had German! Vincenzo of course, being Italian was all kissy kissy – not like Toni but like over the top air kissing – even with Dad and George.

So this is it, the end of our Japanese trip, far too short on the tourist front but very successful on the cycling front although not without its moments! I’m pretty sure most people would call it a success, our sponsors certainly got good coverage and I’m sure our presence stimulated interest in the fledgling Japanese women’s racing scene. Not only that but it was good fun.

It’s not a long drive from ferry port to airport, scenic it’s not but our memories of Japan are already formed.

“What’re you thinking?”
“Just about the trip,” I allowed.
“Yeah,” Mand sighed, “it’s been a bit of a blast.”
“Wish we were here longer though.”
“Real life tends to get in the way, I start school when we get back.”
And I’ve got a date with a plumber next week.

Ken dropped us off at departures, of course that meant more goodbyes; George presented him with a bottle of whisky, which produced the most animated response I’ve seen from him all week. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not been a grump, just the opposite in fact, going out of his way to help but a lack of common language does limit your interaction somewhat. He departed leaving us with a pile of cases and about four hours until departure.

Check in, security, immigration – each one ate more of the time but we arrived airside with a couple of hours to kill. Of course our gongs and trophies caused some delay but apparently from curiosity rather than any other reason.

“Okay everyone,” George got our attention, “lunch is on me, Vincenzo suggested we use some place called Esduel Binario which is near our departure gate. I suggest if you want to do any last minute shopping you do it on the way, we’ll meet there in thirty minutes.”
Pretty much everyone wanted to check out the shopping opportunities so there were no arguments there.

“What did George say?” Mand asked as I grabbed hold of my cabin bag.
“We’re eating at some place called Esduel Binario but we get to shop on the way.”
“Phew, I forgot to get my rents anything.”

Of course airport shopping isn’t much different wherever in the world you are, designer labels, alcohol, chocolate, cameras, books and generally some sort of tourist souvenir store. Here in Haneda this was supplemented with a Kimono store and more food outlets than you can shake a stick at. Whilst I already had presents covered you have to look don’t you?

I did manage to spend the last of my Yen on some sweets, a calendar and a copy of ‘Cycle Sport’ that somehow had made it to the other side of the globe. Mand rejoined me as I admired the Kimono’s having likewise spent up.

“I can’t believe how much they are.”
“Yeah, even the cheap ones are €2000,” I agreed.
“They are nice though,” Mand sighed.
“I hate to think how much that stuff I wore in Kyoto was worth.”
“Yeah, so what’s this restaurant called?”
“Esduel Binaro?” I suggested.
“Well there’s a place over there but it’s not called that.”
“Well I don’t see anymore further on,” I observed.
“I bet that’s it then.”

The sign over the frontage was in some fancy script which I deciphered as Esse due il Binario , which looks like it does Italian – well that makes sense I guess. We were the first to arrive, only just; George turned up in short order, everyone else joining us over the next couple of minutes mostly bearing extra bags. Our manager secured seating, the staff pushed a couple of tables together to accommodate the nine of us.

‘All passengers for Lufthansa flight LH717 please proceed to gate 117’ the tannoy announced in German after giving the same message in Japanese and English.
“Looks like us,” Dad stated.

We’d eaten lunch, pizza and the salad buffet, only leaving when the staff started giving us dirty looks as we sat taking up valuable seating – they weren’t exactly full. So now we were occupying the less than comfortable seating nearer the gate. The 15.20 flight looked like it would be pretty full so whilst they’d called the flight there wasn’t much point in rushing, you just end up sat on the plane longer.

“You all right Mand?”
“With what?”
“You know, flying.”
“I’m trying not to think about it.”
“’Kay, what seat you in?”

We trundled out to the end of the runway to await our turn; I’d grabbed the window seat so I could see what was going on. There was a short queue waiting for takeoff but eventually we taxied onto the tarmac, the engine noise changed in pitch and we started rolling forward. Sayonara Tokyo, sayonara Japan!

“Here, one each,” Mand stated passing Jules and I a plastic bag once we were airborne.
“What’s this?”
“Open it and see.”
Jules was quicker than me, “thanks Mand, you didn’t have to.”
“You’ve looked after me all week, it’s not much.”
Not much was an ‘I♥JAPAN’ t-shirt, Jules was blue, mine pink, oh joy – its not that I’m ungrateful but pink?
“Cheers Mand.”
“I got one too!” she beamed holding up her own example in red.
Why did she get me pink?

It’s a long flight of course, almost twelve hours and eight time zones. This time I stayed awake for several hours, one meal and a showing of Mama Mia! Before succumbing to sleep about nine Japanese time. I was woken by Mand poking me in the ribs.

“Wake up, time for dinner.”
“Dinner?” I managed with a stretch.
“Well that’s what the attendant said.”
“Isn’t it morning,” I suggested squinting out of the window into the wide blue yonder of forty thousand feet.
“Time zones?” Jules suggested from the end of the row, “The plane’s on CET now.”
“So what time is it?” I enquired as I quizzed my watch.
“Five o’clock,” my sister advised.
“In the morning?”
“Duh, you tell her Mand.”
“In the afternoon,” Mand sighed in exasperation.
Well how was I to know?

It seemed like no time at all after our second feed before our imminent arrival at Frankfurt was announced. It wasn’t fully dark yet but daylight was waning quickly even above the clouds, as we dropped the first indications that there was land below appeared, twinkling lights I’m guessing somewhere in northern Bavaria. Not just lights but apparently rain too – what a welcome home.

We were due in at seven fifteen but we were actually a few minutes ahead of that docking at the terminal. One good thing was our ability to fast track immigration, the Japanese and other non-EU passengers having to jump through hoops to get into the country. We all congregated at the carousel for our bags, we had a few minutes to wait of course, even the German’s aren’t that efficient!

George took the opportunity to address us, “So, training as normal Mittwoch, we still have races to ride.”
“Yes boss,” Anja sighed.
“Your dad picking you up?” Tina enquired.
“No it’s the train tonight.”
“Here come the bags,” Jules advised as the carousel juddered into action.

Once we’d collected the cases and exited into the concourse we made our farewells and everyone went their own ways.
“I’ll go fetch the car,” Dad told us, “I won’t be long.”
His idea of long and mine are clearly two different things, it was gone eight when our Mercedes finally hove into view. Somehow Dad got our enlarged luggage loaded and we started the final leg of our journey home. I fell asleep almost as soon as we got on the autobahn, ha, I scored a seat by the door, Mand was in the middle this time.

It was ten o’clock when we arrived at Chez Bond; all anyone wanted to do was go to bed after the longest day ever!

“Come on, Gaby, up and at ‘em!”
I grabbed my alarm clock and blinked several times before the figures came into focus, seven o’clock, urgh.
“Coming.”
Back home, back to school and – oh sugar, I’m supposed to be at Thesing’s in like ten minutes!

“I’ve got prezzies but I’ve not emptied my case yet.”
“Ooh, I like prezzies.” Con cooed.
I was late getting to the bakery; I missed getting coffee but Con made me a take out which I was sipping at as we rode into school.
“So did you go to that Akibar place?” Steff enquired.
“Akihabara?”
“If you say so.”
“Uh huh, it’s pretty cool.”
“So’s Iceland,” Brid mumbled.
“What did you guys get up to?”
“Usual stuff,” Pia offered.
“It’s okay, Gab,” Nena put in, “you can mention her.”
“So erm?”
“Everyone came, the church was quite full,” Steff advised.

I felt guilty all over again for not being here to attend the service; instead I was half way around the world enjoying myself in Tokyo. I felt a tear run down my face.
“Come on, Gab, don’t take on, you know she wouldn’t want you making a fuss,” Nena told me.
“I know, it’s just, well I should’ve been there with everyone.”
Talk about a guilt trip, I’d barely thought of stuff going on in Ahrtal while I’ve been away but the ghost of Claudia Fischer won’t go away.

School of course is the same as ever; for once this year I’ve not really missed anything though.
“Gab!”
Bum.
“Gab!”
“Max,” I allowed, pausing to let von Strechau catch up to me.
“When’d you get back?”
“Late last night.”
“It’s a long way,” he noted.
No shit Sherlock.
“Yeah.”
“So um you want to do something after school?”
Seriously? Where did that come from?
“Something?”
Why am I even continuing this conversation?
“Erm, you could come and see Gran.”
Clearly he’s put a lot of thought into this – not!
“Er maybe some other time, I’ve got to sort my stuff, from the trip like.”
“Right, yeah of course, maybe later in the week.”
“Maybe.”
Sugar, did I just almost commit myself to going out with Max? What the hell am I thinking of? I am so not interested in boys, Max von flippin’ Strechau in particular!
“Gab?”
What now?

Marty was on cloud nine, at least I know he’s not trying to get in my knickers, ew, what a thought.
“So they’re coming over for Weihnachts,” he grinned.
“Cool,” I agreed, I’ve missed Bern; we got pretty close this year. “Where are they gonna stay? We don’t have a spare room now.”
“That’s okay, they’re gonna stay at the farm, we’ve got plenty of space.”
“Not in the barn I hope,” I joked.
“Well it was suggested.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Gotcha!”
“Why you, Preiser!” I made to slap his arm.
“Ha ha ha.” He chuckled.
“I’m guessing everyone’ll be cooing over Andrea, hey we’ll have to do something special.”
“She’s not a year old yet.”
“And?”

Maddy Bell 18.11.15

 
 
“Come again?” Jules exclaimed, “So you passed up going to the Schloss because you want to do your washing?”
“And I’m not going out with him,” I asserted.
“Believe that if you like, Gaby Bond, I can find a hundred people that know otherwise,” Goth Gurl crowed.
“So when do I meet Mr Wonderful?” Mand enquired.
“You don’t!” I snapped.
“No need to be like that,” the Dark One retorted.
“Sorry, Mand, I’m not seeing him but I suppose you might meet sometime.”
“Someone doth protest too much.”
Keen to change the subject I turned the questioning around, “So how did school go?”

Mand went into a diatribe that I half listened to as I worked through Herr Ansbacher’s homework, we’re doing Charlemagne and the Mittelalter this term, talk about politics and intrigue. Of course my excuse about washing was hogwash, Mum had spent the morning doing five loads of washing, I got home to find a pile of clean stuff waiting for me on my bottom step.
 
 
“I said, what do you normally do for entertainment,” Mand apparently repeated, I was a bit engrossed in a sort of family tree that showed how interwoven the big Houses of Europe are.
“Entertainment?”
“You know, the thing you do after school and before bed, fills your spare time?”
“Erm,” I had to think for a moment to recall what I’ve got organised. “Well Mondays I coach the cheerleaders and Fridays it’s Garde,” I offered.
“You don’t do anything else?”
“Well sometimes we hang out at Pia’s or go down to Remagen for pizza.”
“There no disco’s or anything?”
“I think there’s a youth club down near the Pinger’s but I’ve never been.”
“What about the weekends?”
“Depends, might go shopping or just hang out. It depends who’s about. So what did you do in Croydon or wherever it is?”
“Up the club on Mondays, Double Six on Thursdays, a few of us go into town on Saturdays.”
“I think we’re going to Pia’s tomorrow if you want to come.”
“They’re your friends.”
“So? You’ve got an open invite and you get to practice your German,” I told her.
“Sprecken ze doitch.”
I snorted, “That is so bad!”
“Some of us aren’t good at languages.”
“Soz, I was probably just as bad at first,” I admitted.
“So what has you so engrossed, can’t believe you like doing homework.”
“Oh it’s just this family tree thing, Sophie’s family were like really powerful back in the day.”
“Sophia? Who’s she?”
“I’m sure I told you about Sophia, she’s like Max’s second cousin or something, I roomed with her when I went to the wedding. Hang on, I’ve got some pictures somewhere.”
“You mentioned something about a wedding,” she supplied as I searched a pile of stuff.
“Oh, didn’t realise I had this,” I allowed pulling a copy of Stern from the pile.
“Didn’t take you for being into weddings and stuff.”
“I’m not but like it was a royal wedding, Princess Marguerite Frederick Saxe Coburg and Crown Prince Wilhelm Habsburg and yours truly was there,” I passed her the magazine, “there’s some pictures near the middle I think.”
 
 
I continued looking for the pictures Max’s mum gave me, copies of the session in the Englisher Gärten.
“Geez, Gab, there’s some right toffs here, hang on, that’s Prince William and Kate.”
“Possibly.”
“Gaby Bond you know it is!”
“Alright so Prince William was there so what?”
“So what she asks, anyhow where’s this Sophia?”
“In the blue near the bride.”
“She’s quite pretty, so who’s the short arse next to her?”
Oh bugger, I forgot I was in that picture, “I, erm.”
“Oh my god, it’s you isn’t it? Yeah, I recognise your smile, Gaby Bond you sly cow!”
“Um, sorry.”
“What have you got there?”
“Er wedding photos.”
“Let’s take a squint then.”
 
 
The pictures were mostly from the gardens but there were a few less formal shots from the evening too.
“Ooo nice frock, Gab, who’re you dancing with?”
“Um Prince William,” I squeaked.
“Who?”
“Prince William,” I admitted turning a brighter shade of puce.
“Geez, Gab!”
“Sorry.”
“What for? You girl, score more Brownie points than anyone I’ve ever met!”
“Look you can’t tell anyone about this.”
“You kidding?”
“No seriously Mand, Stern even offered money to find out who I was.”
“Ger orf!”
“Really, they had me on the cover and everything.” I admitted.
She shook her head, “Gab, you are the limit!”
 
 
“You two want cocoa?” Mum called up the stairs.
“Please.”
“Downstairs in five then.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“So like Max, he’s some kind of lord or something?”
“His dad’s the Baron, he’ll be Baron after him.”
“So you’ll be a baroness!” she enthused.
“I am not interested in him!”
“Hmm.”
“Let’s get that chocolate,” I suggested.
 
 
“So what have you two been up to?” Dad enquired when we arrived in the lounge.
“Gab was showing me wedding photos.”
Dad raised an eyebrow.
“Munich,” I filled.
“Oh right, that reminds me, Wilhelm has invited us up at the weekend, some sort of family shindig.”
“Max never said anything,” oops!
“Well don’t plan anything Saturday afternoon, you too, Amanda.”
“Me?”
“You’re invited too.”
“But I don’t know anyone.”
“You will!” I gloated.
“Your dad told you about Saturday?” Mum asked arriving with the tray of hot chocolate.
“Uh huh.”
“Ask Max whether it’s formal or not when you see him.”

Why does everyone think I spend time with him, even Mum’s trying to get us together.
“You could ask Gloria,” I suggested.
I got a look by way of reply.
“Yes, Mum.”
 
 
“Everyone coming tonight?” Pia asked while we supped our coffee a la Thesing next morning.
“Dad’s dropping me off,” Brid offered.
“You bringing your house guest, Gabs?” Steff asked.
“I think so, you want a lift up, Con?”
“Please.”
“Lunch, girls!” Frau Thesing called from the counter.
“Is Anna coming?” I asked as we collected our used crockery up.
“I left her a message last night, not heard anything back,” Pia told us.
“It’s not been the same since she started college,” Nena mentioned.
“Less manic,” Steff supplied.
“Definitely that,” Con agreed, “Frikadel with salad?”
“Mine thanks,” I supplied, hey I am allowed you know.
Once lunched up we headed for the bikes and another day at Silverberg Gymnasium, I’ll have to start wrapping up a bit more, its starting to get a bit cooler these days.
 
 
“Gaby?”
“Oh hi, Claudia.”
“The Boss wants to see you.”
“Frau Boxberg? Now?”
“Morning break.”
“Er okay.”
“See you later.”
“Yeah, laters.”
Wonder what the Head wants? I don’t think I’ve done anything.
 
 
“Where’ve you been? One minute you were there the next you’d disappeared,” Con complained when I caught up to her.
“Claudia wanted me for something.”
“What’ve you been up to now?”
“Nothing as far as I know, Boxxie has summoned me at break.”
“Ot oh!”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
We went into our homeroom and took our usual seats.
 
 
“Psst!”
The dolt was engrossed in some banal chat with Ralf.
“Psst!”
“Oh hi, Gab.”
“Yeah whatever, this do on Saturday, how formal is it?”
“Gran’s Birthday? I’ve had to get my jacket cleaned, why?”
“Your dad’s invited us,” I sighed.
“Fraulein Bond, Herr Strechau, when you’ve finished arranging your social calendar,” Fr Dürst intoned.
The colour started to rise even as my classmates giggled and chuckled.
“So then, Bond?”
“Yes, Miss.”

Sugar, the Baroness’s Birthday, Max is wearing a jacket that means a halfway decent frock, great.
 
 
I knocked on the door to the Head’s study.
“Come.”
“Er you wanted to see me, Miss.”
“Ah, Fraulein Bond, please sit,” she instructed, “You enjoyed Japan?”
I took the seat opposite her, “Er yeah, quite good.”

I’m sure this isn’t really a social thing; I wish she’d cut to the chase.
“You had a win?”
“Um yeah, I got a podium too.”
“Your mother said.”
This’ll be trouble.
“So next week is it,” she stated.
“It?”
“Getting your plumbing sorted.”
Ah, that it.
“Um yeah, Saturday.”
“How do you feel about it, I know you’ve been sort of sat across the fence for a while.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. That’s one way of putting it.
“So?”
“I’d still rather be Drew,” I told her, “but it’s not like my body is giving me much of a choice is it?”
“I suppose not, you don’t have to like it, on the other hand you have it easier than people who want to change how they are erm, perceived. Gaby, I know you’ve had issues with self image, you know I’m available to talk if you need to.”
“Thanks, Miss.”
“And, Gaby.”
“Yes, Miss?”
“If you can arrange your social diary outside of the classroom in future?”
Bum, how did she find out?
“Yes miss, sorry miss.”
 
 
Maddy Bell 20.11.15

 
 
Ten days and whether I like it or not I’ll be a fully functioning female of the species, urgh I hate you body! Mind you it’ll be better than how things are at present and have been earlier in the year. I shuddered to recall the incident in Hamburg and looking back other incidents stretching back all the way to the Grottoes trip best part of two years ago.

Well that’s next week, I need to get through this one first, the party at Schloss Rech being the biggest headache, what the heck do I wear?

“You listening, Gab?”
“Eh?”
“We were just saying, Mart hasn’t said anything about Halloween,” Nena reprised.
“No, Bern’s coming at Weihnachts.”
“Hey we’ll get to see your niece!” Pia enthused.
“But what about Halloween?” Steff whined.
“We could ask him,” Con proposed.
“Gab?” Brid prompted.
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
“So we’ll leave that with Gabs to sort,” Brid announced.
What?
“Everything set for tonight P?” Steff asked.
“Yeah, we might have to put up with Ingrid and co though.”
“Sure we’ll survive,” Con noted.
The bell rang to announce the end of lunch break, back for double Viessner.
 
 
“What exactly are we doing at this Pia’s place,” Mand asked while I mashed a pot of tea.
“You know, just stuff.” To be honest I’m not sure exactly what Pia’s got planned but there’s bound to be food.
“Did you find out about Saturday?” Mum enquired when I handed her a mug of tea.
“Er yeah.”
“And?”
“It’s the Baroness’ birthday according to Max, he’s got to wear a jacket.”
“Bugger!” Dad let go.
“Dave!” Mum admonished, “I guess that means party frocks.”
“Do I have to go?”
“Yes you do young lady, you can wear that red velvet dress, get some use out of it. Have you got a frock, Manda?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you’re invited too of course, so, dress?”
“Just the one I took to Japan.”
“Not exactly society party, no worry, I’m sure we can find you something suitable.”
 
 
“You need picking up?” Dad enquired as we pulled into the Sebenschuh’s car park.
“I think Pia’s organised the dad taxi.”
“Well call if Helmut isn’t dropping you off. What are you up to anyway?”
“Da-ad.”
“Okay, I probably don’t want to know what a bunch of teenage girls get up to do I? Go on, enjoy yourselves.”
“Thanks for the lift, Herr Bond.”
“No problem, Connie.”
Dad waited until we entered the building before departing.
 
 
“What is this place?” Mand enquired.
“They have the restaurant and the weinkellers of course,” Con supplied.
As usual we’d gone through into the restaurant, which was currently a bit thin on patrons but it’s still quite early.
“Hello, girls, they are in the keller,” Eva, Pia’s mum advised from behind the bar.
“Thanks, Mrs S,” I supplied.
“Where’re we going?” Mand asked as I led the way through the restaurant.
“To the cellars.”
“Cellars as in dark, damp and dingy?”
“Not exactly, you’ll see,” I smirked opening the door into the network of tunnels and cellars that provide the Sebenschuh’s with an income.
 
 
I’ve told you about this place before, right, we usually have our gatherings in the tasting room; the rest of the cellars can be a bit chilly even in summer. Of course it brings back some sad memories too; the last time we were all together with Claudia was here when we had that daft Weihnachtsmarkt back in June. Sad yes but we had a really good time and Claudia herself was chuffed to bits, mind you, I could’ve done without the Angel Gabrielle outfit!

We weren’t the last to arrive; Steff and Brid were behind us by a few minutes. Of course first up was getting everyone introduced to Manda, it was a bit of a novelty for the guys to be trying out their English skills. I was a bit surprised when Kat Pinger arrived with Lori and Freddii but of course they are friends with Ingrid, Pia’s sister.

The older girls disappeared into a corner to do who knows what, the seven of us, Anna was a no show, gathered around a table and started one of our fabled card schools. Well what did you think we were gonna do? Aerobics? Eva brought a tray of snack food through and even Mand was soon deeply involved in the raucous card game.
 
 
“Night, Gab, night, Mand!”
“Night P, thanks for the lift Mr. S.”
“Girls,” Herr Sebenschuh allowed.
We walked up to Schloss Bond and I let us in.
“Anyone want a drink?” I called through to the lounge.
“We’re okay thanks,” Mum called back.
I know that tone; they’ll be cuddled up on the sofa with a bottle of red not watching the telly.
“Kitchen,” I directed Mand, we so do not want to be in the lounge.
 
 
“This thing on Saturday,” Mand started as I filled the mini Gaggia, “its gonna be a posh do?”
“Kinda, I think it’ll just be some of Max’s rel’s and some friends like us I guess.”
“You guys certainly mix in different circles.”
“Hardly,” I scoffed.
“Well I couldn’t even tell you the names of the local knobs back home, you’re dating one and get invited to their soirées.”
The coffee machine gurgled loudly.
“I am not dating Max!” I stated.
“So who are you dating then? It can’t be that Italian lad, too far away.”
“I’m not dating anyone, why does everyone keep on about me and Max, just because I went to that stupid wedding with him everyone’s marrying us off, I’m not even a girl for heavens sake!”
“A technicality.”
“I give up!”
 
 
We couldn’t sit in the kitchen all night so once the coffee was ready I led the way into the boudoir, I mean living room where, true to my prediction the parental units were sharing a chair and not watching RTL1.
“So you guys have a good evening?” Mum enquired.
“You know,” I shrugged, aha the remote.
“They didn’t corrupt you too much, Amanda?”
“Er no, I mean not at all, it was nice to meet everyone.”
“Never guess who was there?” I put in.
“Queen Victoria?”
“Duh don’t be daft, Mum.”
“Well Gaby how do you expect your mum to know who was at an event she didn’t attend?”
“Girls’ night?”
“Put us out of our misery, who was there?” Dad suggested.
“Kat Pinger!”
“And this is worthy of note because?” Mum pressed.
“Well I was just saying.”
“Oh I forgot earlier,” Dad interjected, “I’ve put your training schedule in your room, Amanda, you’ve a low intensity session tomorrow with Gab, you’ll do some solo stuff once you know your way around a bit.”
“After school I guess?”
“Unless you both want to get up at five?”
“What is this five you talk of?” I hammed.
 
 
After a bit of channel surfing I gave up on the telly, it’s a school night anyhow so bed seemed like a good idea, Manda agreed with me so we made our excuses and headed to our respective beds.

Not that I could get to sleep, my mind kept coming back to what Mand said earlier - ‘I couldn’t even tell you the names of the local knobs back home, you’re dating one and get invited to their soirées.’ Back in Warsop I must admit that I was only vaguely aware of the local gentry, I guess someone owns the Welbeck estate but I’ve no idea who and why would I? It’s a bit different here in Germany; a lot of the titled and good aren’t landowners to anywhere near the extent they might be in Britain.

Max did try to explain it to me once, it’s all to do with inheritance and who you marry apparently – a family’s holdings can wither away or be bolstered purely by a marriage or birth. The most ‘successful’ families still wield considerable power largely because of marriage ties. Whilst I know the von Strechau’s there must be other titled bods in the area but I don’t know them, maybe I’ll have to ask Max sometime.

Sod being part of all that hoo ha, being told who to marry – is that even legal these days? Marriage – huh, once upon a time I had some vague notion that I would follow that tradition, find the girl of my dreams, have sprogs, so on and so forth. Now, well the very idea of being the XX element in that relationship – it’s so not gonna happen, I might be a pure virgin but I do know the mechanics and even if I have the equipment no one’s getting the chance to do the deed with yours truly!
 
 
“Gab, you’re gonna be late again!” Dad called up to my eyrie.
Oh sod! Not again, I’ll have to turn the alarm up to ‘wake the dead’.
“Coming.”

Mand and Goth Gurl were long gone when I got downstairs; they have two trains and tram to catch to get to the English School, best part of two hours each way. Glad I don’t have that although it’s not unusual here in Germany – I’d never get there if my ‘commute’ was any further.
“About time, this afternoon,” Dad started.
“Steady ride I know.”
“Steady for Amanda, I don’t want you half killing her, I know you of old.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I allowed.
“Up to Adenau and back should do it,” I was instructed.
“Fine, steady for Mand, up to Adenau, no racing,” I repeated. “Can I go now?”
 
 
It was looking a bit like rain when the pair of us set off a little before five after another thrilling day of education.
“Urgh, my legs don’t want to work,” Mand complained.
“Well you’ve not ridden since, what, Saturday?”
“Yeah,” she agreed, “so how come you’re okay?”
“I have been riding to school.”
“I can’t believe you use that thing.”
“Everyone else does, why not me?”
“Well, I suppose I expected you to at least use a road bike.”
“Not very practical in a skirt,” I pointed out.
We were already passing the Sebenschuh place.
“That where we went last night?”
“Yeah, Steff and Max live over there,” I pointed to the main part of the village across the river.
“I still haven’t got my head around being straight into the country when we set off.”
“Never thought about it, I’ve always lived in the country.”
“Take my word for it, it’s a blessing not having half an hour of urban sprawl to navigate before you get to a field.”
“I guess,” I allowed. “Brid and Nena both live in this next place.”
 
 
It turned into a bit of a sightseeing tour as I pointed out the Tanz Klub, our favourite restaurant, well in Ahrweiler at least, the cable car, the road out to Bad Münstereifel. It was difficult not to push the pace, my legs were going through the motions but even Mand was comfortably holding the conversation. Dad said Adenau; he never mentioned which route to take.

“Gets a bit more exciting from here,” I advised my riding partner as we rode through the town.
“How’s that?”
“You see those trees up there,” I pointed vaguely in the direction of Nurburg, ”we have to get up there.”
“Great,” Mand allowed with a sigh, “thought it was too good to last.”
“The good news is there’s a short way or an easier way.”
“Easy!”

I was gonna go that way anyhow, I hate the other road. We soon crossed the Ring and out of Adenau we started the more serious climb up to the Grand Prix circuit. There’s nothing that you need to be out of the saddle for, well maybe a couple of steeper bits if you were going for it but otherwise inner ring and twenty one sprocket is the order of the day.

Mand was gamely holding my wheel but any pretence of conversation from her quickly went west, all her energy redirected into getting up to the village that names the race circuit. I sat there happily tapping out the watts and whilst I’ve done the climb much quicker I’ve done it slower too.

“That’s it,” I announced when we joined the Mayen road, “all down hill now.”
“Thank god for that, I thought we were back in Switzerland for a minute there.”
The promise isn’t 100% true but close enough. A good surface, few percent of downhill and we both changed chainrings and clicked up a couple of sprockets. Easy ride? Well it could’ve been much harder – honest, Dad!
 
 
Maddy Bell 22.11.15

 
 
To be fair Mand didn’t complain about the small climb around Hohe Acht after which we turned for Kaltenborn and almost twelve kilometres of usually traffic free descent to Kesseling.

“Weee!” I allowed as I almost took off out of one of the many dips in the road.

“Whoa!” Mand screamed behind me as she made a similar move.

I sat up to use the air brake only for Miss de Vreen to fly past me like there’s no tomorrow.

“Hey!”

I quickly started my pursuit, snicking through the sprockets to keep in contact with the gearing as I followed. It took a good kilometre before I started to claw back the deficit, I hope she’s watching ahead, I’ve nearly come a cropper when some G wagon appears around a bend and I know this road. The gap closed more rapidly as we passed the chapel but I was still tens of metres adrift.

“There’s a T at the bottom!” I shouted in warning, she would be the first to arrive there and it’s not unknown for logging trucks to be lumbering through at this time of day.

I’m not sure whether she heard me or not, I started to scrub some of the sixty kph off before the village but Mand was still motoring.

“Mand! Slow down!”

I was concentrating on getting myself slowed to a safer speed for the junction so I heard rather than saw what happened. Squealing brakes, a truck horn, oh no she’s hit something. By the time I reached the bottom the truck was clear and still moving and there was no sign of Amanda, where’s she gone?
 
 
“Urgh!”

The groan came from behind the low wall that lines the roadside here.

“Mand? That you?”

I quickly dismounted and rushed over to the wall. The site that greeted me was almost comical; Mand was lying on her back with her bike still clipped to her feet in the air above her.

“You alright?” stupid question, “Hang on I’m coming.”

The wall wasn’t stable enough to climb over so I had to run up to the gateway to get into the paddock before returning to where Mand was lying.

“Bike?”

“Hang on,” I grabbed her bike, taking the weight which then allowed her to disengage her cleats.

“Ooh!”

“What happened?” I queried as she gingerly sat up.

“It woulda been fine but for that truck.”

“The log truck?”

“Whatever, it was on the wrong side of the road so I had to go wide, it was like ‘oh shit’ then next thing I’m lying on my back in a field.”

“Paddock, looks like the occupants are coming for a look.”

Sure enough the equines that I recognised as being the usual occupants of the field were casually making their way towards us.

“You okay?”

“Think so,” she allowed testing her limbs, “winded is all.”

“Come on then let’s get out of here.”

I grabbed her bike and headed up to the gate, “Dad’s gonna go mental,” I offered.

When there was no reply I turned to find Mand stroking the inquisitive ponies face, “who’s a good girl then, I haven’t got anything for you.” The second beast nuzzled in for some attention. “You want some attention too eh?”

“Er Mand?”

“Aren’t they beautiful?”

“If you say so, we going or what?”

“Sorry guys, grumpy Gaby wants to go home.”

The white horse seemed to understand at least the sentiment as she was answered with a head thrown back and a loud neigh.

I rolled my eyes, just what I need, a horse whisperer!
 
 

“Knackered,” I stated as the wheel jammed on the brake again.

“Bum!”

“Yeah bikes aren’t designed for flying,” I observed. “I’ll ring Dad.”

“Sorry, Gab.”

Of course on the second retelling of the amazing flying de Vreen it turns out the truck wasn’t on the wrong side of the road at all, rather Mand had forgotten we ride on the right here. She’d made the turn at some speed spotted the truck and took evasive action, which had her run into the raised verge, which at fifty kph acted as a springboard for her aeronautics display. The impact however caused the front rim to impersonate cheese; even with the brake open it wouldn’t rotate enough to ride.

I fished out my handy, let’s see, the house or Dad’s phone?
 
 

Beep, beep!

“Bond!”

The pickup truck braked to a halt and the familiar features of Marty emerged.

“Everything okay, Gabs?”

“Sort of, Mand’s bent her wheel, just sorting a lift.” I waved my handy.

“Hang on,” Preiser instructed ducking back into the cab.

“Who’s that?” Mand enquired.

“Marty, Bern’s boyfriend.”

“As in baby Bern?”

“She’s called Andrea,” I advised.

“We’ll take you,” Mart advised getting out of the truck.

“You don’t have to.”

“Dad says we do and I agree, can’t have girls stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

Stefan Preiser joined his son, “Getting a habit eh, Gaby?”

“Sorry, Mr P, oh this is Mand, from England, she’s staying with us.”

“Another Radrennerin eh,” he allowed swinging my bike up into the back of the truck.

“Yes, she joins our team for next year.”

Mart did the same with Mand’s unfortunate steed before opening the back door for us to climb inside. Of course, being farmers the Preiser’s transport wasn’t the cleanest inside, we were soon wedged between a wax jacket, half of some sort of horse bridle and the remains of a bag of feed on the floor. We took off towards Ahrbruck in a cloud of gravel and a pace that Colin McRae would’ve balked at on the uneven road.
 
 

“It’s usually Gab being ferried home,” Dad observed after we’d explained the watered down version of Mand’s misadventure.

“Takes the heat off me,” I grinned.

“You were supposed to be looking after her.”

“I was, honest.”

“It’s not Gab’s fault Mr Bond, I wasn’t listening, I got carried away.”

“She knew where I wanted you to ride and ignored it.”

“Soz,” I allowed.

“Off with you,” Dad instructed.
 
 

“I feel a right narna,” Mand noted as she turned this way and that in front of my mirror. “You sure I have to wear this?”

“You look great, Mand, it’s better than mine.”

The dress, one of Mum’s, was certainly more cocktail party than disco and certainly not something mid teen girls are usually found wearing – unless of course they attend ‘society’ soirées on a regular basis.

“I’ve not seen yours yet.”

“Saturday is soon enough.” Far too soon, that flippin’ dress makes me look a right dog’s dinner, but mother has spoken.

 
 

“You want to come to Garde?” I offered over Friday dinner.

“Think I’ll give it a miss,” Mand replied.

“You do right,” Jules put in, “you should see them when they get dressed up, scary!”

“It is a bit weird,” I agreed. “See you later then.”

“You want a lift later?” Dad offered.

“Please,” well I’m not gonna turn it down when it’s offered – and it’ll be cold and dark by the time we leave the club.
 
 

“Everything okay?” Dad enquired once he’d got the Schauff on the roof rack.

“I guess.”

“Worried about next week?”

I’d be lying if I said no; to be honest I’ve been trying not to think about my visit to the clinic in Bonn.

“A bit.”

“It’ll be alright kiddo, you’ll be back riding in no time.”

“Yeah but I’ll be a girl.”

“Which isn’t the end of the world, we’ve talked about this before, you can still be a pro rider.”

“But I’ll never ride the Tour will I?”

“There are more opportunities in women’s racing now than when your mum started out.”

“It’s not the same though.”

“No it’s not,” he agreed. No point trying to sugar coat what for Drew, Gaby is the bitterest pill, the taking away of his, no her childhood dreams.

“We’ll get you sorted with the cross after.”

“Yeah,” I agreed half-heartedly.

“I thought you wanted to ride with Anita and Erika?”

“I did I mean I do.”

“It’s gonna be okay, we’ll make it right, eh?”

“Uh huh.”
 
 

For various reasons the usual Angels Saturday shopping expedition was cancelled this week, not least the need for me and new girl Mand to be back in Dernau by four.

“Come on, Mand,” I encouraged.

“Geez, I don’t know how you ride these things.”

“Practice?”

Mum thought it would be a good idea for Mand to have mundane transport so another Schauff made its way from the factory in Remagen up the Ahrtal to Dernau, this morning it’s getting its maiden voyage with a trip down to Ahrweiler.

The bike trail, the same route I use to get to school five days a week, was already littered by the first fallen leaves of autumn. Mand, bless her, was really struggling with her behemoth, trying to ride it like a road bike – just doesn’t work. There’s certainly an art to riding these things, I’ve had best part of two years practice and I sometimes still fall foul of the awful handling, poor brakes and immense weight!

“Now that’s more like it,” she suggested as we let a girl pass us on a Mofa.

“Jules had one but the rents got fed up of her breaking it.”

“Breaking it?” Mand queried as she wistfully watched the moped creeping ahead of us.

“Well that’s what they said.”

 
 
It’s not far down to the town, not really, and we were soon riding into the old town. The Angels might not be on the shopping path today but Mand has yet to sample the opportunities offered by the shopkeepers of Ahrweiler to remove a girl’s cash in return for goods.

“We’ll park by the Rathaus,” I proposed.

“’Kay, whatever you say.”

I angled across the square to the bike stands where we proceeded to lock our steeds, not that there’s any real need but old habits and all that.

“That saddle’s awful.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I promised as we headed to the shopping streets.

“Didn’t we come here somewhere to eat when we went to Italy?”

“Yeah, down that street there,” I indicated with a hand.

“Can we have a look, in daylight like?”

“I guess so, not much to see though. We can come back up Ahrhut, we can get a coffee at the Backstube.”

“You and your coffee,” Mand sighed.

We set off down the familiar street, familiar because of course a few doors up from the Muhle is the shop that will set fear into your heart, Eloise Couture!

So of course Mand had to stop to look in the window.

“People actually pay these prices.”

“I guess.”

“Fifty euros for a pair of tights!”

“Ah fraulein Bond, we need to sort out your fitting,” Gerta’s dulcet tones suggested.

Sugar!

Maddy Bell 25.11.15

 
 
“Fitting!” I squeaked.

I searched my few brain cells to find out why I needed more clothing from Eloise Couture but came up empty.

“For the Heinemann wedding of course, I’ll expect you at fifteen to four on Monday, and bring your heels.”

“Monday,” I sort of agreed, it’s not like there’s any arguing with Gerta, “er tschuss.”

Gerta disappeared back inside while I stood in silent shock.

“What was that?” Mand enquired from beside me.

“That was Gerta, couturier to the rich and good of Ahrtal.”

“She mistake you for someone else then?”

“Gerta doesn’t make mistakes.”

“So I got something about Monday?” she pressed.

“She’s expecting me for a fitting for some wedding.”

“Not another one.”

“I can’t remember being invited to one even less agreeing to go, if I did I’ve already got wedding fancy at home.”

“A mystery then,” Mand stated.

“Yeah, come on I fancy some Pflaumkuchen.”
 
 

Ahrweiler isn’t the biggest of towns and the old town is pretty compact so it didn’t take long to reach the south gate and start our trawl up Ahrhutstraße back towards the main square. Of the two shopping streets this is the one with ‘Euro Land’ and other regular stores, we spent a few minutes in the bookstore getting Mand a Langenscheidt English / German dictionary before finding a table in the bakery on the corner of the square.

“Hmm, not bad,” I mumbled through a mouthful of plum cake.

“Dunno how you can eat that.” Mand offered before taking a mouthful of Berliner .

“You’ll learn,” I suggested.

“So what you gonna do about this wedding then?”

“Dunno, ask Mum later I guess.”

“I was a flower girl at my aunt’s wedding but that was at Croydon Registry, none of your fancy church do’s.”

“I’ve only been to one,” I pointed out.

“You don’t wear couture to a civic job, Gab, it’s a church job for sure.”

“Well I think Gerta has her wires crossed anyway.”

“It was you said she knows about everything.”
 
 

Niederhutstraße leading out to the Niedertor is much more historic, lots of fachwerk and the generally more up market stores. Before setting off to look we collected our bikes, as we’d ride on from the gate to save walking back.

“I can see why you guys go to the cities to shop, there’s not exactly much to keep you here.”

“There’s a few more shops in Neunahr,” I supplied pausing to survey the few model cars in the window of the toy cum craft shop.

“I thought that’s where we are?”

“This bit’s Ahrweiler, Bad Neunahr is further along where the baths and stuff are, one side is all pretentious, this side is, well not. You’ll see, there’s bound to be some reason to go down there.”

“It’s well different to Croydon.”

“Never been,” I admitted.

We moved on up the street but with nothing really to hold us we were at Niedertor after just fifteen minutes.

 
 
“What now?”

“I suppose we ought to head home,” I stated after looking at my watch, “I was gonna take you along the river but it’ll wait.”

“Okay,” Mand agreed.

Instead of going back through town I led the way to Silverberg where we picked up the cycle trail up the valley towards home.

 
 
“Do I have to wear this?” I complained as Mum fussed with my hair.

‘This’ of course is the red velvet party frock she decreed I had to wear complete with matching heels – not my idea of comfort or fun.

“Yes you do, your Dad’s even wearing a suit.”

“We’re gonna look pretty daft if everyone else is in jeans.”

“I don’t expect the Baroness has ever owned a pair of jeans,” Mum pointed out. “Right, you’ll do, wear your Gran’s earrings.”

“Yes, Mum,” I sighed in defeat.

“Send Amanda up, I’ll see if we can’t do something with her mop.”

“’Kay.”

 
 
“I’ve ordered a taxi,” Dad announced, “should be here in about ten minutes.”

“Someone wants to drink tonight.”

“As long as it isn’t you,” he mentioned.

“No, Dad.”

“Jules, Jen, taxi’s coming!” he shouted up the stairs.

“I really feel a prawn,” Mand offered as we waited.

“Yeah, not many,” I agreed.

 
 
The taxi, well it was a Vito bus actually bounced into the yard of the schloss, if this is a small family gathering – well actually I’ve been to a big one. The normally empty courtyard was fair bristling with the products of Stuttgart and Munich’s automotive industries, mostly the more upmarket examples of course. We weren’t late but it looked like plenty were early.

“Ah, Bonds!” the Baron greeted us.

Looks like we got the dress code right at least, he was be-suited and looking quite, erm, dapper.
“Wilhelm,” Dad greeted in turn.

“Ladies,“ Wilhelm allowed with a very Germanic head incline and click of the heels. “Come on in, Max! Coats!”

“Aunt Juliana is complaining about the punch already,” Max announced as he arrived in the hallway. “Oops sorry.”

“I’ll sort your Aunt out, coats please.”

I couldn’t help but smirk as Max’s eyes nearly popped out when I took off my coat.

“This is Mand,” I supplied as introduction, “Mand, this lummox is Maximillian Maria von Strechau.”

“Um how do you like Germany?”

“It’s okay so far, your middle name really Maria?”

“I was named after my great grandfather, the thirteenth Baron.” He sighed.
 
 

“I thought this was a little family do?” I hissed at Max as he led us into the house.

“It is, Aunt Catherine and her herd, the Taxis, I’m sure you’ll recognise everyone, Gab,” he stated taking a proprietorial grip on my arm.

“Sophia?”

“Yes, with the Duke and Duchess, I think there are still moves to pair us up.”

“No British royals this time then?”

“Wrong side of the family,” he deadpanned.

“Gabeee!” Sophia’s voice cut through the clamour of voices in the ballroom, causing all eyes to turn my way.

Talk about rabbit and headlights. The whole thing lasted but a moment, older guests smiled and nodded, others just returned to their conversations.

“Sophia,” I allowed as we exchanged air kisses and a light hug.

“When mama said we were coming I hoped you’d be here, nice dress by the way.”

“You too,” I offered, “I only found out we were coming this week.”

“I think it was to be a surprise party but word got out eh.”

“I guess, this,” I tugged Mand forward, “this is Manda de Vreen, she’s just joined our race team.”

“The Antwerp de Vreens?”

“I don’t think so Soph, she’s from England, she hasn’t much German.”

“Ah so,” Sophia swapped to her quite passable but accented English, “nice to meet you, Manda from England.”

“Soz, Mand, this is Sophia Thun und Taxis.”

“Soph will do, Amanda.”

“Gab,” Max whispered in my ear, “you should go see Gran.”

“Erm looks like I’m needed, can you look after Manda please Soph?”

“Sure, but don’t be too long or I will steal Max back,” she chortled.

Hmmph, empty promises, Sophia.
 
 

“Look who’s here, Gran!” Max got the Baroness’ attention away from another elderly relative.

“Ah, Gabrielle, we haven’t seen you for so long.”

“She’s been doing lots of travelling, you know for her racing, I told you, Gran,” Max supplied.

“Shut up, Maximillian, I was talking to Gabrielle.”

“Yes, Gran.”

“Go and entertain Sophia, I’ll send Gabrielle along shortly.”

Just what I need, a private audience with the Baroness and her cronies.

 
 
“I promise, Grandma.”

“You’d best get back to that grandson of mine, I can see he’s anxious for your company over there.”

I’m sure he is, “Yes, Grandma.”

To be fair it wasn’t the grilling I was expecting but my conversation with the Baroness certainly didn’t go without notice from the other guests.

“You escaped,” Soph noted when Max and I returned to the livelier end of the room.

“She’s not so bad.”

“Sometimes,” Max sighed.

“You might know, Max, do you know anyone called what was it now, oh yeah, Heinemann? I seem to have an invite to their wedding.”

“You are so funny, Gaby,” Sophia chuckled.”

“What did I say?”

“That’s Analise, Gab,” Max told me.

“Who’s Analise?”

“My cousin, don’t you remember, you said you’d be my plus one.”

Something stirred in recognition a long way back in my noggin.

“Is it that time already?” I filled.

“Four weeks time, aren’t you a bridesmaid?” Sophia queried.

“I am? I mean am I?”

Bridesmaid? Ut uh, no way.

“There you are, Gaby,” Gloria, Max’s mum stated.

“In the er flesh.”

“I spoke with Gerta earlier, don’t forget your fitting Monday, she did the other bridesmaids while you were in Japon.”

There’s that word again.

“I, a, no, I mean yes,” the exposed bits of me tried to merge with my dress.

“You alright, Gab?” Mand asked.

“Um just a bit warm.”

“Food in the gallery!” Willie announced.

That’s right food; I’ve not eaten since that Pflaumkuchen in Ahrweiler earlier.

“Come on, Mand, my legs are empty.”

It’s bad enough going to another wedding, going as a bridesmaid is that times ten, heck I don’t even know this Analise, what does she want me for?

Maddy Bell 26.11.15

 
 
Willie can be guaranteed to put on a good spread and this is a family do so he was out to impress. The spread was quite impressive by any standards, buffet of course but this was not your crisps and stuff on sticks that often passes as a buffet. No we are talking sliced meats, Bratkartoffeln, pasta, dumplings and all manner of other tid bits both traditional and unusual.

“Do you always eat so much?” Sophia enquired eyeing my heaped platter.

“We called her hollow legs in Switzerland,” Mand supplied catching the drift of Sophia’s question.

“If I ate like that I’d put on kilos.”

“I’ve got a fast metabolism,” I put forth in my defence.

“Hollow legs,” Mand repeated.

“Here you go,” Max appeared carrying several punch glasses.

“Er danker,” Mand offered.

“You are going to need lots of money, Max.”

“What are you on about, Soph?” Max queried.

“To keep Gabrielle fed!” she chortled.

“She has to be fed?”

“By the bucket.”

“I am here, guys,” I pointed out.

“This punch is pretty good,” Mand stated.

I took a sip of my own cup, hmm, not bad.

“Are you going to this wedding, Sophia?”

“Of course, try missing a family gathering at your peril.”

“You aren’t a bridesmaid?”

“Hell no!”

“I don’t get how I landed the job?”

“That’s easy, Max is an usher so his squeeze gets to wear the silly meringue.”

Oh great, I get the job because everyone thinks we’re a couple.

“Erm, where is this wedding, pray.”

“Oh it’s only a little do, Gab,” Max put in, “at Bonn Cathedral.”

“We are talking Bonn over the hill?”

“Uh huh.”

“The cathedral is the big church in the main square?”

“Of course,” he agreed.

“A small do he says.”

“It won’t be like Munich,” Sophia added.

“It’s hardly St Johannes in Dernau is it?”

Max shrugged.

I guess you could hardly expect even minor gentry to get married in the village church.

“More punch?” von Strechau offered.

“Definitely!” Mand agreed.

“You could twist my arm.” I added.

 
 
It wouldn’t be a party without music and dancing, there was an hour of ‘formal’ dance music, you know, waltz’s, polka’s and so on, somehow Max got me on the floor for a waltz – well I was hardly dressed for a polka! The evening was rounded out with a euro disco – let’s face it, the Germans just don’t seem to get proper music.

“Gabs, you ready?” Mum called across from the doorway.

“Looks like it’s time to go home,” I allowed.

“It’s been good to catch up,” Sophia mentioned.

“Yeah, guess I’ll see you at this wedding.”

“Indeed,” she pulled me close for the air kiss business.

“I’ll get your coats,” Max stated joining Mand and myself as we headed for the entrance hall where both lots of rents were talking.

“Here they are,” Dad offered uselessly, of course we’re here.

Our taxi was outside waiting so we wasted no time departing.

“You been drinking, Gab?” Jules asked.

“Course not!” I shot back, “Why’d you think that?”

“The way you walked out.”

“It’s these shoes,” I suggested hopefully.

“That punch was good,” Mand opined.

“Punch?”

“Didn’t you have any?” Mand went on obliviously despite me thumping her leg.

“The stuff in the big tureen thing?”

“Yeah, had a right kick, really fruity.”

Even my feeble brain cell could work out the ‘kick’ was from some sort of alcohol. Sugar.

 
 
Mum had already gone, Mand with her by the time I hit the kitchen Sunday morning.

“Urgh, my head,” I allowed, “Where is everyone?”

“Your mother and Amanda have gone to the Siegen Rundfahrt, your sister has gone to see Boris.”

“Mand’s not riding is she?”

“And if she is?”

“I thought we didn’t have any more road events.”

“Well you, young lady, clearly were not fit to go.”

“Sorry,” I groaned as I disconsolately slopped coffee into a mug.

“Mand has just gone to watch but I’m disappointed that despite your promise last night you still found your way to the alcohol.”

“I didn’t, well not on purpose.”

“Well you didn’t get like that drinking lemonade.”

“No,” I agreed, “I think it was the punch.”

Dad rolled his eyes, “Punch.”

“Yeah well Max got us some, it was like really fruity, very morish.”

“And you had how much?”

“Er, dunno,” I managed through my throbbing head, “four, maybe five cups?”

“One day, kiddo,” Dad sighed, “one day.”

“I didn’t mean to get like this, honest.”

“I’m sure you didn’t but you need to be more careful, or you’ll be the cheapest date in town.”

“I’m not dating anyone, or even going out.”

“You looked very er, comfortable with Max last night.”

“He’s just a friend, it wouldn’t have been exactly politic to blank him at his gran’s party would it?”

“So you aren’t going as his ‘date’ to this wedding in Bonn next month?”

“How’d?”

“Your mother.”

“Sort of I guess,” I allowed with a sigh.

“So what are you doing today?”

“You mean after I’ve sobered up?”

He nodded.

“Training?” I offered.

“Might clear your head a bit, how about a cross session?”

“Uh yeah, okay, don’t think I can get my head around three hours on the road anyway.”

“We’ll go for some lunch afterwards.” He offered.
 
 

The vineyards make a great playground with a cross bike, I really enjoyed the ride up here with Anita and Erika the other week. From what Anita said the German events are similar to those I rode a couple of years ago back in Blighty, fast and technical, the Dutch and Belgians seem to go for gloopy sand or mud circuits – a real slugfest. I guess if I’m gonna do some races I need to practice my skills.

In the end I spent over two hours playing about on the hillside above Dernau, I was tired, grubby – well you do fall over a bit, but certainly with a clearer head. I tripped over my own feet twice doing a running dismount and landed heavily on the girls when the bike stopped and I didn’t going up some steps. Yeah too much fun, lots of road makes Drew a boring girl.

Showered and with my kit in the washer I found Dad in the lounge working at something on his laptop.

“Wassup?”

“Good session?”

“Yeah, I forgot how much fun it can be.”

“You still fancy doing some with the girls?”

“If I can.”

“Good, first race is in two weeks,” he announced.

“Two weeks,” I squealed, “I’ll never be ready.”

“You’ve got plenty of fitness.”

“But.”

“But nothing, Anita says the Aachen circuit is more like an off tarmac crit, speed rather than skill will be your friend.”

“Er, what about, you know what next weekend?”

His face fell, “I’d forgotten kiddo, sorry we’ll scratch Aachen.”

“I might be able to ride,” I suggested.

“If there’s any chance of you damaging yourself you aren’t going near a bike.”

“Can we play it by ear, please?”

Quite why I wanted to now ride so desperately I wasn’t sure.

“Okay, but if the Docs say no, no it is, understood?”

“Yes, Dad.”
 
 

 
 
Dad drove us down to Bad Breisig for lunch, the Rheinterrasen as its name suggests overlooks the river, it gets super busy with tourists in season but it’s much quieter and favoured by locals once the visitors have departed. My morning session had given me a pretty good appetite; just as well, the plate of Putensteak Hawaii was quite generous to say the least! Of course even a Radler was out after last night so I had to make do with Sprite® to wash it down.

We were waiting for dessert to arrive when my Handy trilled from my bag.

“Bond.”

“Hey, Gab, you and Mand want to come round for dinner tonight?” Con enquired.

“Let me just check with Dad.”

“Kay.”

“Er Dad?”

“You’ve had your allowance.”

“Can me and Mand go to Con’s to eat tonight?”

“I don’t know when your mother is planning to get back, might be best to go on your own.”

I returned to my handset, “Con?”

“Still here.”

“Mand’s out at some race with Mum, Dad’s not sure what time they get back.”

“What about you? You gonna come round?”

“Sure.”

“Where are you? Sounded like a ship horn just now.”

“Bad Breisig getting lunch.”

“You won’t want much for dinner then?”

“Try me!”

“Come round when you’re ready then, you can tell me all about Japon.”

“If you insist.”

“See you later.”

“Yeah tschussie!”

“Tschuss!”

Brilliant timing, dessert arrived as I stowed my phone away, Rote Grütze with a nice dollop of cream and coffee. I know I’m always complaining about German desserts but it’s not what it is rather it’s the amount, two mouthfuls simply is not enough!

“Er Dad?”

“Yes I’ll drop you off on the way,” he sighed.

“How did you know?”

“When you have kids of your own you’ll know.”

Maddy Bell © 30.11.15

 
 
“So I clicked up a gear and went after her.”

“Didn’t you do anything else? For the last minutes all you’ve talked about is the racing,” Con complained.

“It was why we went,” I observed.

“But I want to hear about Japon, you’ve hardly told us anything.”

Well I suppose she’s right about that, apart from giving people their presents I’ve not really talked about the trip at all. It’s not been a conscious thing, more there hasn’t really been a good opportunity and I don’t like to be boastful about my travels.

“So what do you want to know?”

“Everything!” she enthused, “The food, the clothes, where you went.”
 
 

“You should’ve seen their faces,” I chortled an hour later after regaling my audience with the story of Geisha Bond.

“I hope you’ve got pictures.”

“Jules got some, Aoi is supposed to be sending us some, maybe I’ll email her.”

“Girls! Dinner!” Frau Thesing called from the kitchen.

“Coming,” Con replied.
 
 

Of course I’ve eaten at the Thesing’s quite often since coming to Dernau, it’s still a treat firstly because I’m not cooking but also because you never know what you are going to end up with. The smell of hot Rotkohl was escaping the kitchen as we headed to the dining area, Tomas; Con’s dad turned the telly off before coming to join us.

“Red, Therese?”

“Please.”

“Girls?”

“Sprite®?”

“Same for me please,” Con added.

“Two lemonades coming up.”
 
 

“Any chance of a few shifts now you’re back in town, Gaby?” Herr Thesing asked as we let the food go down.

After the big lunch beef, Rotkohl and potato dumplings was a bit more filling than I would’ve chosen myself, but it would be impolite to leave any.

“I think so, I’ll check with Dad.”

I could do with boosting my spending fund after Japan, especially with no prize money coming in.

“Saturday mornings would be good,” Tomas mentioned.
 
 

I might get fed without strings but it’s good manners to help the clear up Con did the washing and I took charge of drying.

“So what did you do after the geisha thing?”

“Well Mand wanted to see some palace place so we got lunch then looked at that. Then we went to the manga museum.”

“Manga museum? Really?”

“I kid you not, Connie Thesing.”

“Sounds pretty different.”

“It was well cool,” I enthused before launching into a perhaps fuller description of the visit than was really necessary.

 
 
“You going home, Gaby?” Con’s mum enquired sometime later.

I glanced at my timepiece, nearly ten.

“Sugar!”

“You want to borrow a coat?” Con offered.

“Nah I’ll be okay.”

“If you say so.”

 
 
It was colder outside than I thought it would be, by the time I reached Bond acres I was regretting not borrowing that coat as I shivered uncontrollably.

“We were just about to send out the search parties,” Dad proffered when I reached the lounge.

“Er sorry, I was telling Con about Japan and we like lost track of time.”

“A phone call might’ve been nice.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “How’d you get on, Mum?”

“Third, kiddo, Erika took top step.”

“Not too shabby for an oldie.”

“I can still give you a run.”

“Where’s Mand?”

“Bed,” Dad supplied, “where you should be going, young lady.”

“Da-ad.”

“Don’t you dad me, you’ve got school tomorrow, you know the rules.”

“Yes, Dad,” I agreed.

“And don’t forget your shoes in the morning,” Mum added.

“Shoes?”

“For the fitting? You’ve not forgotten that already?”

If only I could.

“Course not, can I get a lift to cheer practice?”

“I suppose so,” Dad agreed.

Yes!

“Off to bed with you,” Mum instructed.

Between you and me I was going to go up anyway, I’m fair knackered considering the little I’ve done today.
 
 

“Thought you’d be gone by now,” I suggested when I discovered Mand in the kitchen.

“Your mum’s taking me this morning as Jules isn’t here.”

I guess she stayed over at Boris’ again.

“Sooner you than me!”

“Gaby!”

“Sorry, Mum,” I hadn’t heard her come in behind me.

“Don’t forget your…”

“Shoes, I know,” I told her.

“And try not to let Gerta get too carried away please?”

“I’m only going for this flippin’ bridesmaid dress, nothing else.”

“You gonna come to cheer tonight, Mand?” I enquired around a mouthful of toast.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Mum put in.

“You don’t have to join the squad or anything but it’s a good off bike workout.”

“Guess I can give it a throw,” she agreed, “what do I wear?”

“Ordinary gym stuff’ll do.”

“’Kay”

“You ready, Amanda?” Mum prompted.

“Just get my bag.”
 
 

 
 

“So what’s with the schuh?” Brid asked as we mounted up outside Thesing’s.

I should’ve put them in a bag instead of just in the basket, damn.

“Dress fitting,” I mumbled.

“Not at that fancy boutique place?” Nena queried.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You do have expensive tastes, Gaby Bond,” Pia observed.

“Not my idea,” I grumbled.

“So what’s the occasion?” Steff enquired, “Some fancy dinner?”

“I wish, it’s Max’s cousin’s wedding.”

Sugar, that’s gonna open a can of worms.

“How come you’re going to that?” Pia started to dig.

“Erm, to make up the numbers?” I suggested.

“Gaby Bond!” Con admonished.

“Alright, I said I’d go with Max like months ago.”

“Max von Strechau who you aren’t dating,” Steff mentioned.

“Er yeah,” I agreed.

“And for this you need a fancy hand finished frock?” Nena put in.

“Only the wedding party do that stuff, “Brid noted.

“Gab?” Con prompted.

“Okay already, I’m gonna be a bridesmaid,” I admitted in a small voice.

“Did I just hear right?” Pia started, “the Bondster is going to be a bridesmaid at some fancy wedding?”

“I’d get out of it if I could,” I stated.

“So why don’t you?” Steff had to ask.

“It’s complicated.”

“Admit it Gabs, you want to be a bridesmaid,” Brid suggested.

“Seriously, guys, I’d rather walk around town in that flippin elf suit.”

“I don’t think she wants to do it,” Con observed.

“I’ve still got the elf suit,” Pia added.
 
 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the wedding yesterday?” Con asked while we waited for Frau Dürst to arrive.

“You wanted to know about Japan,” I pointed out.

“You coulda still mentioned it.”

“Honestly, Con, I only found out Saturday myself, it wasn’t something I had on a bucket list.”

“Bucket list?”

“You know, a list of stuff you want to do.”

“Oh right, so where is it?”

“Bonn cathedral?”

“Geez, Gab, you don’t do stuff by halves do you?”

“Gab!” Mart hissed.

“Wassup?”

“Dad’s okayed a Halloween party.”

“Cool, when?”

“Erm Halloween,” he suggested.

“Which is,” I consulted my diary, “a week Sunday.”

“Well he said we could have it on Saturday, no school next day.”

“I suppose you want me to spread the word?”

“That, yeah.”

“And?”

“Well could you and the girls sort out some food? I’ll get the guys to do the décor and music.”

“I suppose so.”

“Your English friend is invited of course.”

“I’ll tell her.”

“Come on, Gab!” Pia encouraged from along the corridor.

 
 
The school day was fairly ordinary, nothing weird happening, no summons to the Head – yep pretty normal. Mart’s party trumped my being a bridesmaid for which I was quite thankful, discussion moved from food to costumes to who’d be going.
 
 

“You don’t have to come,” I told Con for the umpteenth time.

“I said I would, moral support and all that.”

“You just want to see what it’s like inside.”

“Well that as well,” she admitted.

Let’s face it, no teen girl I know has the money or desire to shop at Eloise Couture, it’s only ‘lucky’ me who gets to visit the posh frock shop for herself.

“Come on then,” I sighed unable to delay our departure further.

Maddy Bell copyright 03.12.15

 
 
The bell on the door announced our arrival but there was no immediate indication that Gerta had heard.

“Got, it even smells expensive,” Con opined.

“Yeah,” I agreed moving further into the shop, “er hello?”

“Stop dallying girl, we can’t do anything with you in those clothes,” Gerta boomed from the back of the shop.

“Er right, of course. I’ve brought a friend,” I offered heading towards the changing room.

“She can wait in the shop.”
 
 

I had at least dressed to facilitate a quick change, skirt, shirt and a fleece so I was down to bra, pants and tights in just a couple of minutes. Having done this before I put on the robe and headed out to find the ladies.

“There you are, Fraulein Bond, Dotty, where’s that dress?”

“Just coming, Gerta,” the quieter of the double act advised.

“Hmm,” Gerta noted as she inspected my underwear, “there will be lingerie for the day but these should do for the fitting, BH off so we can get you into the corset.”

Not another corset! I resignedly reached back to undo my bra, it’s not like I get any say in this.

“You brought shoes?”

“Er yes, Con’s got them.”

“Well they are no good out there, girl.”

“Er no,” I went to the door to summon my footwear, “Con, can you bring my shoes through?”

“Sure.”

Ever businesslike Gerta soon had me wrapped in the corset, a different style to what I’ve worn before, rear lacing but without the front hook thing – you really are laced into it.

“Here you go, Ga..ab,” Con stated coming into the fitting room.

“Well don’t stand there gawping gel, let’s see, 10 centimetre, they’ll do, for the day you’ll have twelve.”

My feet hurt just hearing that.

“Get them on her feet,” Gerta ordered as she continued with the laces.
 
 

The torture garment was perhaps not quite as bad as previous examples that have squeezed me. Whilst it felt like it was cutting me in two, the top, whilst lifting the girls also squished them into a shelf of exposed Bond.

“I think that’ll do, give me a hand with the petticoat gel,” the torturer instructed Con.

With my chest thrust forward and teetering on my heels there was no way I could do this bit of dressing myself – even if the corset had allowed sufficient movement. Between them I was guided into the opening before Gerta pulled it up into place, tying over the waist of the corset. Dotty was now waiting with the actual dress which the three of them manoeuvred me into, Con’s extra pair of hands speeding the process.

I’d been half expecting some awful poufy meringue in a nauseating shade of horrible but whilst the predominantly deep red wouldn’t have been my choice, it was quite simple and lacking the expected flourishes. Dotty fussed around me, a pin here, a mark there, until at last she seemed satisfied.

“Excellent!” Gerta announced.

“Thursday,” Dotty supplied.

“Well let’s get you out then, Fraulein Bond.”

 
 
“How did they know your sizes?” Con asked as we pedalled towards Dernau.

“Suppose they keep records,” I suggested.

“It was very er, Mittelalter.”

“At least it’s not some pink meringue,” I allowed.

“You know why bridesmaids often have such terrible dresses?”

“Go on, it’s hardly something I’ve studied.”

“It’s so the bride isn’t upstaged, if the madchen look terrible all eyes will be on her as the beauty.”

“Makes sense I guess.”

“Maybe paranoia! It wouldn’t work on you for sure.”

Not sure if that’s good or bad.

“So you gonna start buying your stuff in Eloise, then?”

“I hope you are joking, I could barely afford a pair of knickers there.”

“Yeah Cunda for me.”

“That dress must be costing a fortune and the Korsett too.“

‘‘Glad I‘m not paying for them,“ I agreed.

 
 
‘‘I‘m home,“ I called out as I emerged from the basement garage.

“That was quick,” Mum called from the lounge.

“There wasn’t too much to do, I have to go for another torture session on Thursday.”

“Thursday? Torture session?”

“There’s a corset again, Dotty’ll have the alterations done by then. Where’s Mand?”

“Slaving over a hot stove,” a voice noted from the kitchen.

I headed to the culinary centre of Schloss Bond where Mand was indeed stood at the stove in her gym gear.

“Wotcha doing?”

“Making us some food, cauliflower cheese to be precise.”

“Er great, how long?”

“The cauli has only just gone in, ten minutes?”

“I’ll go change then.”

 
 
Clearly cooking is not the top ranking ability in Mand’s arsenal, she won’t starve but nor will she get a mention in the Michelin guide. You can’t get cauli cheese too wrong other than burning it but Mand had a good try, wet brassica, too thick sauce and er, a bit bland. It was eatable though, some S & P sorted the blandness out – didn’t Mand’s mum teach her anything? I kept quiet though; it’s the thought that counts.

Of course it was only me that had to do the poison test – the olds, conveniently, are off out to eat after they’ve dropped us off at the Tanzklub.

“You two ready then?” Dad enquired.

“Just about,” I allowed.

Bags grabbed, doors locked, doors unlocked because I forgot to grab my handy, well anyway, out to the Merc and away. We might have been a few minutes early but we weren’t the first to arrive, Hannah was in the office so I got Mand signed up as a member of the club, membership is cheap but you pay for each session. Time for lil ole me to kick some figurative butt.

 
 

 
 

“So, find a partner and we’ll start the stretches.”

Of course no one likes warming up, would be cheerleaders no more than anyone else but despite the groans everyone knuckled down. As we haven’t even mastered the basics I then had to give a demonstration (did I feel like a plonker!) from which we then picked elements to work on. Like most stuff you can break down into bits it’s much easier than trying to go for the big picture from the outset.

Apart from Mand nearly everyone else already danced Garde or something so they were quick to pick up the basics, by the end of the session we got through my demonstration moves reasonably well. It might not be pretty, it might not even be all together but everyone got there. It was a bit weird being teacher rather than pupil, at some point we’d need some more experienced help.

 
 
“I thought I was quite fit,” Mand complained as we waited for the olds to pick us up.

“Different set of muscles,” I supplied.

“Not sure I’m cut out for it.”

“Well the way I see it, cheer tonight and Garde on Fridays means I don’t have to do boring gym sessions all the time. You have to admit, it’s better than pumping weights or doing push-ups.”

“I’ll admit that, no pain, no gain I guess.”

“I’m flippin’ hungry though,” I mentioned.

Yeah that cauli cheese filled a hole but only a small one.

 
 
“You girls want some food?” Mum called out, must’ve read my mind. Once upon a time though it wouldn’t have been girls but either Drew or a gender neutral kiddo, the oldies seem to have adapted to having a second daughter easier than said daughter.

“Pizza?” I enquired hopefully.

“I was thinking more like egg on toast when we get home,” she opined as we climbed in the back of the Stuttgart tank.

“Dang!”

“That’s fine, Mrs Bond,” Mand allowed.

“Looks like we’ll have to make space for a double pepperoni Jen,” Dad put in as we eased out onto the road.

“Wha?” I spluttered.

“The look on your face, kiddo,” Mum chortled.

“Does that mean?”

“Yes, we ordered before we set off.”

“Why you!”

“Yes?” Mum queried.

“Thanks, Mum.” I mentioned.

“Don’t I get a look in,” Dad queried, “I’ll be paying for it.”

“Thank you, Mr Bond.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

 
 
We diverted into Mayschoß to pick up said baked treat, a 30cm monster with not just the pepperoni but double cheese, black olives and onions. So okay it’s not the healthy option but it’s not like we get to have pizza very often, it really is an occasional treat. It was tempting to dive in on the ride home but Dad would’ve gone spare and we could wait five minutes – just!

 
 
“The washer’s making that noise again Dad.” I volunteered after setting said appliance into action post pizza.

“We’ll have to get a new one Dave,” Mum stated.

“Could do with being sponsored by AEG,” the male parental unit lamented.

“Maria got a deal from that place in Sinzig, you know, by the bridge?”

“We need an industrial washer I guess.” Dad observed.

“They’re well expensive,” I mentioned.

“So’s buying a washer every six months.”

“Coffee!” Mand announced arriving in the lounge with a tray of stuff.

I helped sort the beverages out before sinking into my preferred seat to watch the telly, some mind numbing Magazin on RTL was better than a badly dubbed American cop show on Channel two.

 
 
“Have you packed yet, Gab?” Mum asked when the commercials started.

“Packed?”

“For the weekend, you do remember the weekend?”

“I can hardly forget can I? Bye bye, Drew,” I sighed.

“You know there isn’t an option B, kiddo,” Mum mentioned.

“I know,” I agreed, “I don’t have to like it though.”

“Not tonight but tomorrow pack a bag, you should only be in a couple of days so wash kit and a night dress.”

“Nightdress? Why can’t I wear my PJ’s?”

“Think about why you’re going in, kiddo,” Dad opined.

Duh, okay so I’m blonde, “Er right, nightdress.”

 
 
Maddy Bell 08.12.15

 
 
“So what do you think?” Steff asked the assembled Angels.

“It’s certainly different,” Pia noted.

We were making use of Thesing’s closed coffee bar for our usual gossip fest this week, not as cool as the wine cellar but we are left to our own devices.

“Well I’m in,” Brid stated, “Zombies and vampires are getting a bit old.”

“So where did you find this ‘Dia de los Muertos ’ stuff?” Con asked.

“My cousin Kristina,” Steff started.

“From Dortmund?” Nena interrupted.

“The same, well she and her man went to Cancun last year and it was on.”

“Lucky sods,” Pia mentioned.

“You up for it Mand, this Day of the Dead stuff?” I asked our newest recruit.

“I guess so, I don’t really go for costumes, it’s just like face painting right?”

“So what do we wear?” I posed to the others.

“Party frocks I guess,” Steff supplied.

“That’s a relief, I’ve not got time for costume shopping.” I opined.

“You not coming to Koblenz Saturday?” Brid asked.

“Duh! You know she’s going to the clinic this week,” Con supplied.

“That this week?” Brid bounced back, “I thought that was weeks away, sorry, Gab I forgot about that.”

I wish it still was.

“So?” Mand prompted.

“Yeah just normal party dresses.”

“That I can do.” She allowed.

“So when do you go in, Gab?” Pia queried.

“Friday evening after school,” I can’t even have any dinner, I’ll waste away.

“Amanda can come though?” Nena proposed.

“You wanna go with the girls to Koblenz Saturday?” I asked.

“What about training and stuff? I should come visit you in hospital.”

“You can ride up to Adenau and back first thing, we don’t usually go till like ten o’clock. I’ll probably be out of it till late on so I won’t be seeing visitors.”

“I guess, okay, if it’s okay with your rents.”

“She says yes, anyone want more coffee?”
 
 
 
 

 
 
I couldn’t sleep, the moon was doing a good searchlight impersonation, illuminating my eyrie like daylight – well it seemed that way leastways. My mind kept taking its thoughts towards the weekend and my impending surgery, surgery that I don’t really want but could save my life. There are lots of medical names for my ‘issue’ but essentially its called labial fusion – in my case it’s a bit more extreme than usual.

What I had thought was my John Thomas is in fact a malformation of my peephole due in part to the other issues; the surgery is in effect a cut and stitch to make everything normal. Yeah normal for a girl, not for Drew Bond.

Did Drew ever really exist? Have I always been Gaby in all but name? Well I guess the latter, I have two X chromosomes, which makes me 100% girl, only a plumbing issue gave the lie any life. It still doesn’t mean I have to like it or want it.

How many times I went over everything I don’t know, too many for sure, there certainly wasn’t, couldn’t be any change to the situation. I’ve seen the scans, endured the endo camera thingy, in all but one small detail I know I’m female like a stick of Whitby rock. Aaargh, why me?

 
 
At some point I must’ve dropped off as I was woken by Dad banging on my door.

“You getting up, kiddo?”

“Swots the time?”

“Five past seven.”

“Shitza!”

I did bed to breakfast in five minutes flat.

“You might want to use a mirror before you go,” Dad suggested.

“Er yeah.”

“Bad night?”

“Could say that, I didn’t sleep much.”

“It’ll be fine, luv,” Mum put in before giving me a hug from behind, “get your tea and I’ll sort out your hair, it’s a right rats nest.”

 
 
“You look like a right Prussian princess,” Con mentioned when I walked into the bakery twenty minutes later.

“Mum,” I noted.

‘I’ll sort your hair’, yeah it’s been braided and clipped into total submission, not the twin pretzels but coiled around my head and somehow finished off with some sort of Gordian knot on top – like she said, very Prussian.

“Didn’t think you were coming,” Pia told me.

“Got up late, I couldn’t get to sleep last night.”

“Be all that coffee you put away last night,” Steff suggested.

“Yeah,” I agreed unwilling to share my fears at this time of the day before I’ve got my head around them.

 
 
I pulled my coat’s collar up further, the hair wasn’t an issue in itself, no it was the fact that it wasn’t covering my neck and this morning there is a distinct chill to the air. Thanks, Mum! I guess it’s not blowing about and getting in a tangled mess, maybe braids aren’t so bad – occasionally.

“Tell Amanda we’ll get the ten thirty Express on Saturday,” Pia requested as we bowled down the cycle track.

“Sure, you’ll go easy on her eh?”

“Of course,” Steff agreed.

Not sure I trust them but Mand’s a big girl, she can look after herself.

 
 
The next couple of days were notable only in their uneventfulness; nothing to make them stand out right up to my, well our, Con came along again, return to Eloise Couture. I was surprised when we arrived to find Gerta in attendance to another customer when we arrived.

“Fraulein Bond, I will be with you shortly, go through, Dotty will assist you.”

“Er thanks,” I allowed. The young woman looked somehow familiar but I couldn’t place her, she’d looked over and smiled when Gerta mentioned my name – strange.

 
 
“Wish I had your bod,” Con sighed as she ‘helped’ me undress.

“It’s yours for the weekend.”

“Maybe next week, I think I’ll pass on this weekend’s activities.”

“Huh, call yourself a friend.”

“Wouldn’t want to deprive you.”

“Thanks,” I mentioned with the merest hint of sarcasm.

“You’re welcome!”

Dotty bustled in preventing any further discourse on the forthcoming weekend.

“Let’s get you into the corset fraulein Bond.”

“Um sure.”

 
 
I always thought of Dotty as the softer of the pair but after she tugged, tied and cajoled my body into the vice like grip of the corset I need to re-evaluate on that. I swear it was tighter than Monday, my torso was rigid and unbending, the girls almost spilling from the top, not totally uncomfortable – less so when I stepped into the shoes Dotty fetched out with the promised twelve centimetre heels.

“Come on, girl, give me a hand,” Dotty instructed Con.

“Okay.”

The bell on the door preceded the arrival of Gerta.

“Sorry about that, I see Dot has you laced down nicely.”

“Fifty,” Dotty mentioned.

“Gut,” Gerta smiled.

Hang on; did she say fifty as in half a metre? Nah, must’ve misheard.

The petticoat first then the dress in turn were snugged into position, even I could tell the difference from Monday. The slight gappiness around my décolleté was now absent, the fabric was tight over the corset and with the higher heels the skirts were ground skimming rather than dragging. Yeah, I’m not gonna be doing much bending or running about but despite my reluctance to fill the post, I can live with this.

“Spectacular!” Gerta allowed stepping back to get a better view.

“I think so too,” Dotty agreed, “such proportions suit the style so well.”

“Are we done?” I enquired.

“The impatience of the Jüngere,” Gerta sighed.

 
 
“Flippin’ heck, Gab, that dress fits where it touches.”

“Yeah.”

“And fifty centimetres, I’ve not seen a waist so tiny,” she went on.

“It can’t be that small, my jeans have sixty waist.”

“I’m telling you it was fifty, Dotty measured it enough times.”

“And the dress is that size, bum, I best not put any weight on.”

“As if you could, I bet you weigh under sixty.”

“Fifty?” I offered.

“Fifty? In my dreams,” she lamented.

“You are er bigger than me,” I pointed out.

“Still.”

“Let’s face it, nearly everyone is bigger than me.”

 
 
“You all fitted up?” Mand asked as I sagged onto the sofa.

“Yeah, can you believe it, I need a fifty centimetre waist to fit the dress.”

“What’s that in English?”

For a country that is supposed to only use metric in schools, how come everyone young and old still use the old imperial standards?

“Erm,” I did a quick calculation, two and a half to one, “twenty inches?”

“Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not, honest, ask Con.”

“But that’s like…tiny.”

“No kidding,” I agreed, “my jeans are sixty”

“So how?”

“Duh, a corset of course.”

“You wear a corset?”

“Not usually, I have got one upstairs, but it goes to maybe fifty six or seven, I know, you can try it,” I enthused.

“Think I’ll pass for now.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Your parents said they’d be late so can you lock the garage.”

“Mum mentioned something about seeing Maria. I suppose I’m cooking dinner?”

“Well you do it so well.”

And I’ve sampled De Vreen cuisine once this week already. “Pork medallions and croquettes?”

Maddy Bell ©10.12.15

 
 

Friday – not quite the day of doom but I had more on my mind than Bavarian geology and German colonialism, which didn’t go unnoticed by the respective tutors. I think I have the right to be preoccupied, tomorrows surgery nails the coffin on my life as Drew. So okay Drew hasn’t really been around since Switzerland and only just even then but even so I felt that Drew was at least still an option.

 
 
“See you Monday!” Steff called out.

“Monday,” I agreed pointing my steed towards home.

“Come on, Gab,” Con encouraged.

I’ll admit it; I’ve been a wet blanket all day, the condemned man with the clock ticking the moments of my life away one by one.

BEEEEP!

I yanked on my brakes and nearly tipped the Schauff over getting it to stop forward motion.

“Dumkopf!” the yoof driving the Prat mobile shouted from the safety of his tin box before screeching away across the junction.

“Gab! You okay?” Con asked returning across the road to where I stood.

“Er yeah.”

“Arsehole!”

I’m sure she meant the car driver rather than me, “Yeah.”

“You sure you’re okay?” she pressed.

“I think I’ll walk, you go on.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

It wasn’t far back to mine, about two minutes by bike, ten walking with said vehicle – ten minutes in which we hardly exchanged a word.

“So you’ll call Sunday?”

“Providing I’m home,” I confirmed.

“It’ll be alright, Gab,” she offered pulling me into a hug.

“I’m scared,” I admitted.

She pulled me closer, “Everything’ll be fine, in a couple of weeks you’ll wonder what all the fuss was about.”

Not sure I can agree with that prediction but it was meant well.

“Thanks, Con, I guess I better go in.”

“Sunday, Bond.”

“Sunday,” I agreed as she set off to return to the bakery.

“Tschuss!”

 
 
“I’m home.”

“You’re late,” Dad noted from the lounge.

“Herr Boltt kept me back.”

“Oh?”

“I wasn’t paying attention in class so he gave me extra homework,” I advised.

Dave didn’t have to ask why his offspring wasn’t being attentive today, if the boot were on the other foot he’d likely be pre occupied too.

“Not too much I hope?”

“An extra chapter to read and write one of those sin things on it.”

“Synopsis?”

“Yeah one of them. Where is everyone?”

“Your mum’s upstairs and the others should be here before we leave, Jules rang, there’s been another jumper so all the trains are delayed.”

“Bummer,” I noted. Why would you do something like that? Commit hari kari that is. I might be having a shitty time but I’ll get by, maybe if I didn’t have the family and the girls it would be different but I can’t really envisage intentionally stepping in front of a train or jumping off a bridge to end things. You must be in a really bad place to do it, worse than finding out you aren’t what you thought.

“Snap to it, spud, your mum wants to leave before six.”

 
 
“You ready yet, kiddo?” Mum called up to my eyrie.

“Nearly.”

“Nearly?” she queried climbing the few steps up to my room.

After showering in my ensuite I dried myself but then found myself looking in my long mirror at myself. I’ve no idea how long I was stood there looking at my ‘bits’ and wondering what it’ll be like to not have them. They are part of me even if they, well it, isn’t what I always believed it to be and tomorrow it’ll be gone and something else will be in its place.

I didn’t hear Mum come in so gave a little jump when she wrapped her arms around my naked body.

“It’ll be alright, kiddo.”

“I won’t be the same though will I?”

“You’ll still be our child, you’ll still be a demon bike rider, and you’ll still have the same friends.”

“But I’ll be different.”

“The same but plumbed differently. Time to get some clothes on eh, we need to pick the others up in Remagen, they’ve put buses on as the trains still aren’t running.”

“’Kay.”

She kissed the top of my head and disappeared back downstairs.
 
 

We left a little after five thirty in the end, of course food was out – I’m starving already! Whilst all the tests and stuff have been up in Köln, due to us living in the Rheinland my surgery is taking place in the Frauenklinik at Remagen – at least it’s not far to go. We collected Jules and Mand then drove the short distance to the clinic – even its name forces me to confront my changing status.

As you know I’ve ended up in hospitals more than once, usually after a cycling incident but this is the first time for a planned procedure. Dr Fischer would be carrying out the procedure in the morning but tonight is all about getting me checked in and prepared for surgery.

“See you Sunday, sis,” Jules allowed giving me a hug before being replaced by Mand.

“Don’t let the girls con you into anything tomorrow.”

“They don’t call me Gaby Bond,” she replied with a grin.

“Hey!”

“Come on, kiddo, time to go up,” Mum instructed.

“Take care, Gab, see you Sunday.”

“Sunday.”
 
 

 
 
 
 
Dad and the girls stayed in the reception area whilst Mum and I followed the nurse up to the surgical ward, I wasn’t to be the only incumbent, I’d be sharing the space with three other girls, women. Yeah women, women’s clinic, women’s problems and I’m getting my ‘women’s problem’ sorted. It still felt wrong to be here in this most female of places despite everyone insisting I’m as female as…well a female just plumbed wrong and after tomorrow that’ll be fixed.

Mum stayed until nine, the end of visiting hours by which time the other beds were all occupied, two older women and a girl about Jules age I guess. The frauen chatted like long lost friends, the girl was listening to her MP3 player leaving me to my own thoughts and geography homework.

 
 
“Gaby Bond?”

“‘S me.”

“Time to get you ready for the morning,” the nurse told me.

“Tonight?”

“Unless you want to wake at five, you are in theatre at seven.”

Seven? Flippin’ ‘eck. I slipped my er slippers on and followed my warder out of the ward and along to a bathroom.

“You’ll need to remove any jewellery please.”

“’Kay,” it’s not like I wear loads of stuff so it didn’t take long to remove a pair of sleepers and my St Christopher chain and put them in a bag with my watch which Hanelore, the nurse, marked up with my details.

“I’m afraid we have to shave you,” she instructed.

I rubbed my hairless chin, “Shave?”

“Not there, the area for surgery,” she grinned.

“There?”

“Yup.”

Now I might be used to the fantastic changing facilities of amateur cycling but actually exposing myself to a complete stranger is not something I ever planned on doing.

“Around my er…?”

“Clean as a babies bum.”

It’s part of being a teenager right, sprouting hair in different places, makes you an adult, I was quite proud of my few sparse hairs. Now even they are to be stripped away.

“You’ll be careful?”

“I have done it a few times before.

 
 
The antiseptic bath after my scalping was interesting, I had to grit my teeth against the stinging in my crotch. It was gone ten when we returned to the ward, me walking slightly John Wayne to avoid rubbing my tender bits. The girl was now asleep; the old ladies both watching the telly, one of those sketch shows that populate RTL’s evening schedules.
 
 

I can’t tell you anything about my surgery – I was out cold. Breakfast was half a cup of water before riding a chair to the theatre where I was swabbed down again before the anaesthetist did his stuff.
 
 

“How you doing, kiddo?”

“Mum?”

“You remember!”

“Mu-um, stop being daft.”

“You feeling okay?”

“Apart from starving and thirsty.”

“Well you can have some water,” she advised passing me a cup with a straw.

I took a long draw of the tepid liquid, it was wet at least.

“Dr Fischer said it all went to plan.”

My hand went to my crotch to be met with what felt like a nappy covering stuff.

“Shouldn’t I hurt?”

“They have you on morphine kiddo, you will have some pain as things settle down, it’s early yet.”

“What time is it?”

“Half two,” she advised.

“How long..”

“You came out of surgery about an hour ago.”

“I went in at seven, that’s over six hours!”

“There was quite a lot to do,” Mum pointed out.

 
 
I’m sure they told us before but I hadn’t been listening, listening would make it real and I didn’t want it to be real. But real it was and now, now it’s done, there won’t be any doubt from anyone but me, I don’t just have the chromosomes but the body too that says I’m a female of the species, full card carrying and operational. I drifted off to sleep – the meds doing a good job of keeping any pain at bay.

The ward was dark when I next woke with the urge to pee, how the heck do I?

Hanelore was on duty again and must have seen me squirming about because she appeared at my bedside, turning a low light on.

“You okay, Gaby?”

“I um need to wee.”

“You have a catheter, just relax and let it flow.”

How embarrassing, I might be a girl but I need to learn some skills that other girls have been practicing since, well, birth. All the gear and no idea that’s me.

Maddy Bell 15.12.15

 
 
I’m not a good patient, the impatient patient, that’s me. Remember when I was a boy, thought I was a boy, I’d wear a skirt over my injuries just so I could get out and about – how many boys would do that? Most kids would be playing the woe is me card for all it’s worth not making embarrassing clothing choices to avoid resting up.

The effects of the meds – in terms of dulling the pain and making me a bit dopey, had faded somewhat by the time I woke a little after eight Sunday morning. I was a bit disorientated, I missed most of yesterday and it took a minute or two to get my thoughts in order.

“Good morning, Gaby,” a bright voice cut through the fug in my head.

“Er yeah,” I managed as I tried to scoot into a more upright position.

“Hang on a sec, I’ll tilt the bed.”

My carer, Giselle according to her nametag, wound the top of the bed up before helping me to a more upright position.

“Better?”

“Uh huh.”

“Frühstuck will be coming soon, the doctor will be checking on you before lunch okay.”

“When can I get up?”

“Not this morning, missy, bed rest today, you’ve had surgery, you don’t want to ruin the surgeons work, eh?”

“I guess not.”

She made sure the buzzer was at hand, “Use this if you need anything.”

“Sure, thanks.”

The pain, well it was more of an incessant ache, was a constant reminder of yesterday’s butchery, I could feel the dressing but I was still largely numb in the affected area. I might not have wanted the surgery but I was impatient to see my ‘new’ bits – I have seen what girls have, what I now have, but it’s different when it’s your own. Of course I couldn’t even feel past the mass of padded dressings so I guess I’ll have to wait.

Breakfast arrived, apparently I’m allowed food and even coffee today not that the single cup slaked that thirst. The food was of the meat, cheese and bread roll variety, entirely eatable but after best part of forty-eight hours without eating it did little to assuage my hunger. Still it’s not like I can go raid the kitchens for more, I’ll just have to put up with it until lunch – whenever that is.

Giselle and another woman came around and I suffered the indignity of a bed bath before being left to occupy myself until the doctor’s rounds. Well I had Herr Boltt’s homework to finish, nothing else doing so I set to with slightly more enthusiasm than I’d attached to the surgery.

 
 
“So, fraulein Bond, how are we feeling today?” Dr Fischer enquired.

Morning rounds? It was close enough to noon that it would be afternoon before he finished with me.

“Sore,” I allowed.

“Any nausea, cramps?”

My stomach chose that moment to rumble quite loudly.

“Apart from being hungry, no.”

“Well let’s have a look then, nurse, if you can do the screens.”

Look it’s all a bit personal so no I’m not giving a blow by blow account, suffice to say I was poked and prodded before the wound was re-dressed. Everything was doing as expected and providing things continue as they are I’ll get the nod to go home about teatime. From what I could see, apart from being swollen I look quite normal – for a girl, apparently they were doing tests to make sure the potentially cancerous stuff is benign – after our scare with Mum I take that possibility very seriously.
 
 

Lunch was thankfully delivered at one, chicken, potatoes and steamed veggies – very healthy and I did at least feel a little less hungry. Of course the main reason for the earlyish midday food was to get everything cleared before visiting starts at two. I returned to writing the synopsis thing, no point in wasting my enforced bed rest, it’s either doing it now or later.

The families of the two biddies arrived within minutes of the clock passing two, and a lad who I’m guessing to be the girl’s boyfriend turned up not long after. Typical, everyone else has visitors bar Bond! Oh well, it’s not like I’m going anywhere – at least not yet.

In fact it was nearly three before Mum, Dad and Manda found their way to my corner of the ward.

“Well you look better,” Mum advised.

“I don’t feel it, thought you weren’t coming.”

“Erm my fault,” Mand offered, “I er got lost training.”

“Had to rescue her from Mayen,” Dad put in.

“Mayen? How’d you end up there?”

“I went up to that Nurburg place but I must’ve missed a turn, I thought it looked familiar but then it didn’t.”

“But you kept going?”

“I thought I’d see a sign,” she defended.

“So what did the doc have to say this morning?” Mum interrupted.

“Not a lot, I should get out of here later.”

“We’ll see,” mater noted, ”we don’t want any complications do we?”

“Anyone want a drink?” Dad asked.

“Can I get a Sprite or something?”

“Sprite, Mand?”

“Same please.”

“I’ll come with you, Dave, see if we can get a word with the doctor.”

 
 
“Welcome to the sisterhood,” Mand chortled.

“It’s not like I had much choice,” I observed.

“Who does?”

“The Doc says there are loads of people who don’t identify with the sex they are born.”

“Wearing a dress doesn’t make you a girl, that’s chromosomes, you can’t change them.”

“Worst luck,” I lamented, “know where I can get a Y?”

“You are so funny, Gab.”

“Yeah, so Mayen?”

 
 
It wasn’t Dr Fischer who checked me out after visiting was over but a woman, Dr Schindler.

“So, young lady, the swelling is going very quickly.”

“I heal quite quickly,” I suggested.

“Your mother said so earlier. Even so we have to be very careful to avoid infection, you will need to be fastidious in cleanliness until the stitches are gone.”

“But I can go home?”

“You will need the bag for a couple of days but yes you can go home.”

The bag is a bummer but I sort of get the why.”

“Great!”

“I’ll get one of the nurses to show you how to sort the bag out at home and of course you’ll need to dilate regularly too.”

“Dilate?”

“Dr Fischer mentioned it for sure, you need to keep your passage open so we don’t have to repeat this business eh.”

“So I have to er put something inside?”

“We’ll send you home with a set of stents, you’ll need to do it three times a day.”

Oh joy, I didn’t want this in the first place and now I have to – who the hell would want this?
 
 

The rents returned to collect me just before six so I missed the cauliflower cheese that my roommates were served for dinner. I didn’t leave light handed of course, painkillers, birth control, replacement leg bags and those flippin’ stents. The Doc had removed what seemed like tons of packing, the replacement dressing was much lighter and as my own knickers are a little erm, brief I got to wear some disposable granny pants to go home.

“What’s for dinner?” I enquired once I’d made my escape and made the gingerly walk to the car.

“Not sure,” Mum told me, “thought we’d stop off on the way back somewhere.”

“Kay.”

Getting in the car was a trial, it was like every move pulled something down below, I ended up sitting on the seat before scooting across the car to get my legs inside. Talk about a faff. We took the old road out of Remagen but to be honest, it was almost dark and there’s not a lot to see so I wasn’t taking much notice of where we were going.

In fact I dropped off for a minute or two, waking as we swung off and across the railway line.

“Where we going?”

“Here,” Dad advised.
 
 

 
 
 
 
‘Here’ was the property inhabited by the Pinger’s. Dad helped me out of the car so that I could waddle to the house.

“Hi guys!” Kat greeted us a minute later.

“Heya.”

“We’re in the lounge!” Maria called out from inside.

Of course we are hardly strangers here, Henryck’s summer barbeques, meals after training, even before we moved to Dernau we’d been here.

“Here she is,” Maria stated when I followed the olds through.

“They couldn’t keep her,” Mum joked.

“So everything is fixed?” Kat enquired following us through.

“Er yeah,” I allowed.

I hadn’t really thought about it but I was a little surprised to find not only Mand but also Anita in the Pinger’s lounge.

“Hi, Gabs,” Mand offered.

“So, Wunderkind, we are all fixed, eh?”

Geez they make it sound like one of the Preiser’s horses.

“Hopefully,” I put forward in answer to the multitude of questions regarding my health.

“Sit yourself down kiddo,” Mum instructed.

I eyed the Pinger’s very comfortable but low leather seating, if I get down there, I’ll never get back up, well not in a dignified manner anyhow.

“Think I’ll stand for now, I’ve been in bed for two days.”

Well not strictly bed for all that but laid down at any rate.

 
 
Henryck was in charge of the food as usual at the Pinger’s, it’s not that Maria can’t cook but her significant other does it better. When we adjourned to the dining room it was to a veritable feast of fried potato, sauerkraut with peppered steak. Now we’re talking – after the pigeon portion of lunch at the Frauenklinik this is something to get my teeth into and sink my hunger.

Used to feeding hungry cyclists, there was plenty on the plates and a reserve dish of the vegetable elements – not that I needed that – well okay I had extra Bratkartoffeln. Main course eaten the conversation turned to the inevitable cycling related stuff, gossip about some new team starting in Blighty, how Anita was faring in the early season cross races then Japan. They say time flies when you’re having fun and it seemed no time at all before Dad suggested it was time to leave – it was only ten thirty – shitza!
 
 

“How you doing, spud?” Dad enquired after I’d extracted myself from the car at Bond acres.

“I didn’t think you could hurt inside like this.”

“It won’t be forever.”

I flippin’ hope not!

“Yeah,” I agreed.

 
 
Of course before I could hit the sack I had to practice changing my wee bag and even worse stick a lump of plastic in my new opening and waggle it about. Bum, I didn’t ring Con, I grabbed my handy and sent a quick text:

‘Back hm c u 2moro ++Gab’

Maddy Bell 17.12.15

 
 
Apparently I’m not ill enough to bunk off school although riding is out for a few days, I go back to the Frauenklinik Mittwoch when hopefully I lose this flippin’ bag.

“Come on, kiddo,” Dad pressed.

“I’m coming as quick as,” I bad temperedly replied.

In truth I should’ve let Dad fetch my school bag down, he did offer, but no, I had to clamber up to my eyrie myself and now – well let’s just say stairs are not good for me right now!

“There you are, got everything now?”

“Think so,” I mumbled.

It’s bad enough I have to go to school, worse that I must needs wear a skirt – okay that’s not the worst but because of my er sanitary arrangement it’s a long ugly thing from Goth Gurl’s wardrobe.

“Come on then, we might just get you there in time.”

I went the long way round to the car to avoid more stairs, Dad was sat tapping the steering wheel by the time I got there. It wasn’t quite as bad this morning getting in, the swelling has reduced and the bruising is coming out nicely now. I made myself as comfortable as possible and the parental unit set off for Silverberg Gymnasium somewhat quicker than my usual transport.
 
 

“Nice outfit,” Nena offered as I hobbled into school.

I gave her a look.

“Just saying.”

“So you are all sorted now?” Brid enquired.

“Hopefully,” I mentioned, “I have to go back Wednesday then I have to go for check ups every month.”

“Sooner you than me,” Steff mentioned, “I hate gynae exams.”

“Who doesn’t,” Pia agreed.

“You are still on for Mart’s?” Con queried.

“I probably won’t be up to disco diva but try keeping me away.”

 
 
School is school, if you make it to registration you’re taught with no regard to how you feel, I might not be measles like ill but I’m not exactly firing on all cylinders. My teachers were aware that I’ve had some sort of surgery of course; something female which gets some sympathy from the females and scant allowance from the male Lehrer. Thing is, apart from walking like John Wayne I don’t look ill.

 
 
“Did Amanda tell you what we’re doing for the party?” Pia asked as we set about our lunch.

“We’re doing that Day of the Dead thing yeah?”

“She didn’t tell her,” Steff stated.

“We haven’t really talked that much, so we are still doing that?”

“Well yeah but we thought we’d ramp it up,” Brid chuckled.

“Ramp it up? I thought it was like the whole skull face thing.”

“It is, but we thought we’d make it a bit more, er exciting,” Pia supplied.

“Exciting?”

“Well maybe exciting is a bit strong,” Con put in.

“Just how does this manifest itself?” I queried around my banana.

“We all bought the same dress, with the makeup you won’t tell us apart,” Brid offered.

“We got you one too, Gabs,” Nena added.

Joy, “So what’s this dress look like?”

“Hang on, I’ve got a picky on my handy,” Pia supplied.

She fiddled with her phone before presenting the tiny screen to me.

“It’s a bit er brief.”

That description hardly does the frock justice, it barely covers your fundament with a flared skirt and a chest baring off the shoulder bodice, the whole in a dark red taffeta by the look.

“That’s the thing,” Steff noted, “we don’t usually wear this stuff so people will be confused.”

“We’ll wear the same hose with heels,” Brid enthused.

“The only thing different will be our faces!” Nena finished.

Yeah, apart from I’m a short arsed blonde; the others tower over me so I’ll fit right in – not.

“So um, where is this Kleid?”

“Amanda took it for you,” Con advised.

 
 
“When were you going to tell me?” I quizzed as we waited for Hannah at the Tanzklub.

“Tell you what?” Mand enquired.

“About the party, something about a dress?” I prompted.

“Oh sh…” she did at least look contrite, “I forgot all about it, Gabs.”

“I let you out of my sight for one day, you get lost and shanghaied by the girls!”

“I’m sorry.”

I just chuckled, the dress is typical Angels – even without Anna’s influence things get a little bit out of hand.

“I just hope I can wear it,” I mentioned.

“I never thought.”

“Neither did I, I’m sure the doc never mentioned me having to wee in a bag.”

“Ew, gross!”

 
 
Clearly I couldn’t be directly involved with cheer tonight, I really was the coach – at least for this week. Maybe I should see if I can get some coaching tips off the web, I’ve only got a limited number of moves I can teach this lot easily. Perhaps I can mail Miss, I mean Fran Cowlishaw, see if she has any tips, she’s been on coaching courses and everything.

Well apart from not training Tuesday wasn’t that much different to usual – well I caught the Ahr Express instead of Dads taxi as he had a meeting in Dusseldorf at nine. Apart from the bruising everything downstairs seems good, the swelling is much less at any rate. I’m really not very happy about the dilating business – it’s just wrong!

“You know how you’re doing your face for the party, Gab?” Mand asked as I stirred the spätzle I was doing for our tea.

“Dunno,” I admitted, “I’ve not even seen this dress yet.”

“Erm sorry about that, I’ll go fetch it.”

With that she disappeared, I was plating up our food before she got back.

“Where’d you get to?”

“I printed this off.”

“What is it?”

“I printed it off the internet,” she advised showing me the picture.

“Looks simple enough.”

“There were some a lot more elaborate but I’m not exactly Picasso.”

“Might have a look later.” I mentioned plonking the plates on the table.

“What do you reckon?”

“Eh?”

I looked up to see her holding the frock up with one hand and the printout in front of her face.

“Scary?”

“Really?” she lowered the paper and looked at it.

“Aaargh! No it’s too terrible, cover it up!”

“Huh?” the penny dropped, “Gaa-ab!”

“Sorry couldn’t resist, put them down, your spätzle is getting cold.”

“Yes, mum!”

“Why you!”

 
 
Wednesday was nearly a repeat of Tuesday – well until school kicked out. Mum was waiting outside to take me to the Frauenklinik, a visit that I’m not looking forward to.

“Everything okay?” Mater queried as we negotiated our way out to the bypass.

“I guess, it’s been easier on the stairs today at least.”

“Well that’s good.”

“Still feels like there’s a saddle in my knickers.” Well it does, it’s like having three maxi pads down there.

“Too much information, kiddo.”

“You did ask – watch that tractor!”

We swerved around the slow moving farm machinery, far too close for my liking.

“I saw it.”

“Yeah, at the last minute.” Mum’s driving is legendary – it’s that bad.
 
 

It was actually the first time I’d seen the clinic in full daylight, it’s a typical concrete public building of the seventies, only the name over the entrance differentiating it from so many other office type blocks. Mum slotted her A Klasse into the only vacant parking spot, the seats being higher than the C Klasse estate I managed to get myself out unaided. Well here goes.

 
 
“Gabrielle Bond for Dr Schindler,” Mum offered at reception.

The woman found me in the appointment book, “If you go along the corridor, there’s a waiting area, they’ll call you.”

“Danke sehr.”
We walked through to as instructed, inside the clinic is a lot nicer than it looks from the exterior and the waiting area was nicely decorated with comfortable chairs.

“Hope it’s not long, I need a wee.”

“There’s a toilet just back along the corridor,” Mum advised.

“Be right back.”

So of course I had to change my bag, after the first couple of times I worked out how not to get wee over me and the floor – well at least only a few drops. But of course I’m in a hurry and it ended up with as much on the floor as in the bag, talk about embarrassing.

“You were a long time, the nurse has just called us.”

“Flippin’ catheter,” I mumbled.

 
 
“So, Gaby, how are we?” the Doc asked once we had the niceties out of the way.

“Not quite as sore but this bag is a real pain.”

“We’ll see about losing that if everything is okay, so if you can pop next door, change into the gown and hop onto the chair, I’ll be through in a minute.”

I did as instructed although I left my BH on; she’ll be looking downstairs not at my boobs. I’d only just got onto the torture machine that is a gynaecological examination unit. I’ve seen one before, when Bernie went to antenatal but I never dreamt then that I’d be subject to its indignities before the year was out – well at all actually.

 
 
“Good girl,” I winced, “have you been on one of these before?”

“Ut uh.”

“Hilde will get you all set up, if you feel anything pulling tell her, we don’t want to undo all of Dr Fischer’s hard work do we?”

Going through this once is once too many; I certainly am not looking for a repeat. The nurse, Hilde, placed my legs into the stirrups and with a few deft cranks of the controls had my lady bits exposed and accessible for the doctor. First of course the dressing had to come off, that empty space between my legs feels weird on a level of eleven, there wasn’t much there before but it was my not much and I miss it.

Yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s undignified and no one should go through this voluntarily!
“Ah, very good, let’s get rid of this bag at least for now then we can see the wood for the trees.”
 
 
Maddy Bell 19.12.15

 
 
“Well I think we can lose the bag now, everything is healing nicely, you are using the stents?” Dr Schindler announced as she pulled her gloves off.

“Um yeah, it doesn’t feel right doing it though.”

“Well it shouldn’t be for too long, we don’t want things closing up on us do we, we’ll review things next time okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed, another month of sticking those things in me.

“Hilde will remove the catheter then if you dress and come back through to the office.”

 
 
I missed the insertion but if the extraction of the catheter was anything to go by it wasn’t enjoyable in the least.

“You should use a pad for a couple of days, you will probably leak a little,” Hilde advised.

Joy of joys. I dressed and whilst I now had a pad in my pants it was nothing like as bulky as the dressings – and it’s so much better without that pipe pulling my bits too.

 
 
“Well that all sounded positive,” Mum suggested as we set off back up the valley.

“Yeah,” I allowed somewhat less enthusiastically.

Positive if you want to give birth and all that goes with that, not quite so positive if you just want to get on with your life. I can hear her now ‘I want to take you off the pill for a cycle, we need to see you through a period as naturally as possible.’ It’s all right for her – it scares the bejesus out of me. So that’s me, I just hope it doesn’t coincide with the wedding – that really would be worst-case scenario.

 
 
Of course it might not have been the real McCoy but my ‘kit’ did allow me some control over where my wee ended up. My first attempt using my ‘proper’ girl kit was messy, messy and painful, Hilde had warned me but you can’t imagine the reality unless you’ve been there. Any pretence at control was gone and despite being sat (duh!) I still managed to get wet on the floor, my legs and my knickers – deep joy indeed.

 
 
Mand had homework to do so after eating I turned on the pooter to have a look at this ‘Dia de los Muertos’ stuff, Mand’s pic looked a bit basic to me. So of course all sorts of stuff comes up from very basic kids stuff to completely over the top. There was always the basic scheme of the grinning skull of course but one image had me transfixed, yeah that’s gonna be what I do.

I printed the picture for reference then set about finding the materials required – something a bit more than some face paints. No, I need fake jewels and glue and I know just where I can get them. I found my handy, now then Hannah.

 
 
The Doc was insistent that I don’t ride my bike until at least Saturday so I managed to con Mum into providing the taxi Thursday morning.

“You want to scratch Sunday?” Mum queried.

“Sunday?”

“The cross with Erika and Anita.”

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“So?”

“Well I’d like to do it and I’m healing up well.”

“I don’t want you tearing anything, it won’t hurt you to take a rain check.”

“I’ll go out Saturday for a practice, if I don’t feel right I’ll scratch Sunday,” I offered.

“Hmmm, I’ll run it past your dad, best hop to it, you don’t want to be late young lady.”

“Sugar!”

 
 
“How are we getting to Mart’s?” I enquired of the assembled Angels at lunchtime.

“Our bus is in the garage,” Pia supplied, “something about a broken drive box I think.”

“We could book a taxi bus,” Brid suggested.

“Won’t that be expensive,” Con asked.

“There’s seven of us,” Nena pointed out.

“Eight if we get Max, it wouldn’t be so bad then,” Steff offered.

I had a light bulb moment.

“I can see if Dad can borrow the Apollinaris bus.”

“That’d be cool,” Con enthused.

“I’ll text him now.”

 
 
Whilst I wasn’t quite up to Garde this week I still went up, catching the bus, I can get a lift back down with Pia or one of the others.

“Hi, Gab,” Hannah greeted me, “not training?”

“Still a bit sore, I don’t mind helping tho.”

“You want to sort out the other stuff?”

“Yeah please.”

“Have to admit, I’m quite intrigued,” she mentioned.
 
 

“And the first sign of pain off that bike,” Dad ordered.

“Yes, Dad,” I sighed.

“I mean it, Gaby, you were in surgery this time last week, it takes time for stuff to heal properly.”

“I know,” I supplied, “first twinge and I’ll stop.”

“Hmm, well off with you then, you got your phone?”

I patted my pocket, “Check.”

 
 
I set off for the vineyards, gingerly at first, it did pull a bit when I first got on but I wasn’t gonna tell that to Dad. Considering I’ve not ridden for a week I actually felt quite good, the saddle on the crosser is a tad lower than my other bikes to ease mounting and dismounting and that certainly kept the twinges on a reasonable level. It felt good to be out riding again, I hate not being able to and this has been the longest I’ve gone without a ride for like forever.

This morning wasn’t about fancy stuff – riding steps and the like, no it was the basics, if I can’t get on or off well even I know racing is a no no. I did two short laps; zig zagging up the hill then taking the direct route down and then I found a dead end to practice mounting. On, ride a few metres, off, run a bit, mount and repeat.

I did hurt myself, well I cracked a shin on a pedal which made my eyes water somewhat but other than the unfamiliar sensations as my shorts moved down below gave nothing more than a little twinge. Running was the worst but as you know I’m not the valleys greatest two-footed exponent. Satisfied that I wouldn’t be doing myself any real damage riding the race I headed back down to Dernau and Schloss Bond.
 
 

Of course yours truly had cooking to do for the night’s festivities, each of us had some comestible to supply and turning up with a box from Lidl is not an option! With Mand’s kitchen skills it doubled my workload but De Vreen can help – she’s not getting off scot-free! Oven on, double boiler for the sugar – “Mand, gis a hand!”

 
 
“They look right pukka,” Mand announced.

“They’re only apples on sticks,” I observed.

“And bonfire toffee – if you ever give up bikes you can always cook.”

“That’s a big if, hey hands off!” I barked at Dad.

“Hmm, taxi fare,” he stated finishing off the stolen food, “not bad these, Gab.”

‘These’ were four dozen mini sausage rolls, well three dozen and eleven now, an English delicacy I’ve never seen in Germany.

“Anyway, what time are we leaving?”

“We’re supposed to be at the Preiser’s about seven,” I supplied.

“Best set off in plenty of time, tell Connie six and we’ll take it from there.”

“Six,” Mand repeated, “hell it’s nearly four now!”
 
 

Showering and dressing was the quick part, it was ten to six when I returned to the kitchen.

“Gab?” Mand queried.

“Well, what do you think?”

“Erm spectacular.”

“You look pretty good yourself.”

“Not on your level though.”

“I just hope they stay stuck.”

“Come on you two, I’ve put your goodies in the bus.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Bloody hell kiddo, wasn’t expecting the Bride of Frankenstein!”

“Love you too.”
 
 

It was a nightmare doing my face, Hannah assures me this adhesive will keep it all in place. I didn’t count but there must be over a thousand dance jewels on my face – well you can count if you want. The design isn’t much different to Manda’s but just with the three D effect – I hope they all appreciate it.

They’d better, this dress is ridiculous, definitely Essex, it covers less than it exposes – but you already know that. Shiny black hose and black stilts complete the outfit – I’ve put a pair of flats in my bag. The overall effect is pretty amazing, can’t wait to see the others.

 
 
Well my take on ‘Dia de los Muertos’ was easily voted the best not that anyone had failed and it wasn’t really a competition. The overall effect of seven of us dressed almost identically was lost until we got to the farm. So okay Max picked me out from the get go, I am, even in heels, several centimetres shorter than any of the others.

“Wow, you guys really went all out!” Mart exclaimed, his Dracula costume wasn’t too shabby.

“If it’s worth doing,” Steff mentioned – or was it Brid?

“Can you give Dad a hand with the food?” I requested.

“Sure,” Max the zombie agreed.

 
 
Parties at the Preiser’s are legendary – it’s not just the few of us that attend of course, a good chunk of our classmates were here tonight, maybe fifty excitable teens. Do you remember that fancy dress thing at Warsop College? It would be polite to say that a lot of the kids made the smallest effort they could, yeah some went the extra mile like the girls and me but otherwise it was pretty lame. Here costuming is almost a national sport whether it’s for Karneval, local Kirmes or specific parties like tonight.

The food went down a treat, not just mine of course, between us there was everything from Halloween pizzas to my toffee apples, pumpkin soup (Frau Preiser made that) to zombie hotdogs. Marty and co supplied the music the highlight of which was when we all did the zombie dance to MJ’s Thriller – fun? You don’t know what it means until you’ve been to a Silverberg party! Of course towards the end of the evening the music took a decidedly slower turn.

“Dance, your ladyship?”

“Don’t you start.”

“Start? You are the Lady of the Dead aren’t you?” Max stated.

“Oh right,” I know, I sometimes fly off the handle, it’s my ‘mones!

“So, you wanna dance?”

“Alright – but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes!”
 
 

“Come on you two, the music finished five minutes ago,” Steff mentioned.

Our audience whooped and made lewd comments, I’m sure I was only saved from further embarrassment by my makeup. Look it’s been a long day, a long week and I was just hanging on to him to save falling over, honest.
 
 

With the party officially over – we get free reign until eleven but much after that and the Preiser’s get a bit tetchy, the bulk of the guests departed in a stream of parent taxis heading out and around the Ahrtal. As part of the ‘organising’ team, we couldn’t disappear so easily, well we had to clear up the food remnants – it might be a farm but they don’t want to encourage vermin. The Apollinaris bus had been in the yard for a while of course, Dad was chewing the fat with Stefan over a beer (well a soft drink for Dad as he’s driving!)

It was midnight turned before we returned to Bond Acres.

“Early start if you’re riding tomorrow,” Dad stated.

Urgh – and I’ve got to get this lot off my face too!

Maddy Bell 20.12.15

 
 
“You sure you’re up to this?” Dave enquired of his daughter.

“I’m fine,” Gaby supplied.

“She does look a bit peaky,” Mand put in.

The Wunderkind poked her tongue at her friend.

“Here’re the girls,” Dave observed.

“Hi Dave,” Erika enthusiastically greeted, “girls.”

“Morning everyone,” Anita added.

“Morning.”

“This is my Dad, Carsten,” Anita advised as she tugged on an older chap’s sleeve.

“Nice to meet you,” Dave proffered a hand.

“Another bike widow eh!” he chortled as they enthusiastically shook, “giving us a hand in the pits?”

“Yep, Gab’s only has one bike for now though.”

“Anita said, I’ve got a spare from when this one was younger, she can use that, it’s gonna be dirty out there today.”

Sounds like Carsten has been doing ‘Dad’s bike taxi’ for a while!

 
 
“You still look a bit rough,” Mand observed.

“Thank you for that vote of confidence.”

“If you are feeling off there’s no shame in packing,” Dad stated as he rubbed the greasy embrocation onto my legs.

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious kiddo, you had major surgery last week, I can’t believe you are well enough to even be here.”

I crossed my fingers, neither am I.

The Eupen Supercross is actually just over the Belgian border a few klicks south of Aachen and it’s a pretty serious event. Yeah, talk about deep end; the other competitors are, almost to a woman primarily cross riders. There might be a few road crossovers and the crossers likewise might do road in the summer but off tarmac racing is their thing.

With damp conditions I was glad we were racing before the men – we’d have the best of the conditions. The three of us managed a couple of warm up laps, Anita pointing out the best route and where running might be advisable. I might’ve had a couple of training sessions but really it’s been a couple of years since I competed off road, my tummy was doing somersaults.

We lined up, Anita and Erika getting us up near the front of the grid – well it never hurts and could save a lot of effort. I eyed the sky, we might get around without being rained on but I wouldn’t put money on it.

 
 
“Drei, zwei, eine, go!” the starter shouted before setting off a klaxon too.

The start finish area was at least on a sort of tarmac track, I lost a bit of ground clipping in to the unfamiliar off road pedals but I was soon enthusiastically chasing after the others. Then it was onto the mud and the start of the slugfest. Up ahead I could see Erika but of Anita there was no sign, there again I was trying to pick my line rather than watch my teammate.

For someone more used to the restrained spectators at road events and even less vocal supporters back in England all the shouting, bell ringing and board slapping were a surprise. Not unwelcome just unexpected. I was holding top twenty as we went into the first dismount – okay I got a bit tangled up but I wasn’t the only one and I think I actually gained a couple of places on the uphill scramble.

Unlike the circuits back in blighty – long loops around a park or even just playing fields, today at least is more like a series of loops and hairpin turns. Already I could see riders going the opposite direction just a few metres away beyond the crowds. The field was splintering quickly, none of the sheltering in the bunch stuff of road riding here.

There are properly only two run-ups on the circuit but a couple of times I had to dismount on rideable sections as I was baulked by other riders. Carsten had been insistent we change bikes every lap, I didn’t think my bike was in too bad shape but like he’s the expert. I slithered to a stop in the pit area, grabbing the replacement from Dad without pausing.

Back on two wheels I set off again, dodging others doing the same thing before returning to the circuit.

“She’ll do well,” Carsten mentioned as Dave hung bike three on the scaffolding ready to be blasted clean of mud.

“Not sure she has the stamina,” Dave supplied, moving clear of Carsten’s power washer.

“We’ll see.”
 
 

They were only one lap in and already the field was spread over a third of the circuit.

“Nineteenth!” Mand shouted as Gab made best use of the couple of hundred metres of tarmac, running might not be her thing but outright speed…

With fewer riders around her Gab was able to ride more of the circuit that was already starting to rut on the corners. Meanwhile Anita was up with the leading pack of five, Erika a short distance in arrears, yo yo ing due to lack of technique rather than ability. An hour plus a lap – a similar format to a road crit, would probably make about fifteen laps in total and Gab was flagging a bit at less than two laps.

 
 
“Pace!” Dave shouted as his offspring grabbed the clean bike.

‘Pace he says’ Gab thought to herself, ‘you try it!’

Even so, she realised the wisdom there so she took the tarmac in a more restrained manner. The bad news was that the first few spots of liquid sunshine arrived about then, not heavy – at least yet, but it wouldn’t help the already muddy conditions. The more measured approach quickly started to pay off, her breathing already calming by the first run up.

The pattern was set for the next few laps, gaining a few places, by lap eight Mand was claiming twelfth spot for her. Around her there was now an almost constant stream of riders around the circuit, mud splattered, tired but apparently having ‘fun’. The rain of course was contributing to a change in the going from merely muddy to stretches of decidedly gloop!

Gab was adapting to the riding well, so okay she’d greeted terra squidgy a couple of times but in general was riding where others were already taking to foot as the going deteriorated.

 
 
“Twenty minutes,” Dave told his daughter next time through, both he and Carsten almost as muddy as the riders.

“Urgh!” was as much as Gab could manage in reply.

The timing display suggested the leaders were nearly two minutes ahead, maybe half a lap, in theory she wouldn’t get lapped at least.

“Come on, Gab, dig in!” Mand enthused moments later from under her umbrella.

All right for some. Twenty minutes Dad said, maybe time to up the pace a bit.

 
 
The incessant rain intensified to torrential – not for long but it added puddles to the churned surface of the course and completed the saturation of the remaining riders.

 
 
“Is it always like this?” Dave asked.

“Sometimes worse, some better,” Carsten offered.

“I thought it was intense on the road but this is non stop.”

“But fun eh?”

“Maybe my idea of fun is different,” Dave admitted, “incoming!”

Anita dropped one bike and was jumping on the replacement all in one practised movement; three girls were fighting for the lead, bare metres separating them. Erika, having started quite strongly was starting to flag some – not affecting her position but the distance to the leaders, now almost a minute ahead.

 
 
Gab had picked off another couple of riders before the bell signalled the start of the final lap. The rain was close to stopping but it had made its impact on both circuit and riders, decimating the field to leave a couple of dozen hardy women to fight things out.

“Last lap!” Amanda shouted needlessly.

Gee thanks Mand.

The spectators were noticeably fewer now, they were probably heading to see the finish, those that remained were witness to perhaps the smallest rider out in the mud motoring through the gloop with glee. She was gradually hauling back the rider ahead, was there enough lap left? No bike change this time so it would be full gas to the finish now just a couple of minutes away.

Anita looked under her arm, yes! The others were twenty metres adrift; it was hers for the taking. Races have been lost by complacency at this point but the newest Apollinaris signing was better than that. She had time to sit up and straighten her surprisingly clean jersey before raising her arms in a victory salute.

Two, three, six, seven more riders crossed the line, a gap of perhaps thirty seconds passed before two more riders hove into view.

 
 
Gab was almost in touching distance now; the rider ahead was clearly running on empty, the strip under the mud was Apollinaris so it was either Erika or Anita. The Wunderkind dug deeper and as they hit the tarmac was just a bike length behind.

“Come on, Gab!” Mand screamed.

“‘Pollinaris!”

The cheering alerted the older woman resulting in a close run thing for ninth and tenth places.

“Flippin’ ‘eck!” Gab allowed as Dave wrapped a blanket around her moments later.

“Well done kiddo!”

“Coffee?”

They at least had the use of the village hall for changing although first stop was a blast from Carsten’s power washer – if you are already soaked you might as well wash the mud off with more wet. Dried, caffeinated and warmly wrapped Gab joined the others for the presentation – only the podium get their prizes presented, the Germans gave Anita’s win a rousing cheer. Tenth place earnt the same as ninth when it came to it, a hundred euros so Gab having lost the sprint was no worse off except in series points.

 
 
“Hang onto the bike Dave, she’ll need it next time,” Carsten advised.

“Thanks,” Dave replied, “we appreciate it.”

“Ach, it was just propping up the shed, it’s good to see it get some use again, she has potential eh? I said.”

“You did,” Dave agreed.

 
 
“Enjoy that?” Dave asked as they started a trans Eifel route back home.

“Bit of a mud bath.”

“Yeah I don’t fancy that,” Mand put in.

“You got the rough end today,” Dave mentioned.

“Well in that case, bring it on!” Gab crowed.

“How are you er…?” Bond senior enquired.

You didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to work out what he was referring to.

“Fine,” Gab replied perhaps a little quickly.

Yeah, up to a point, she ached down there and slightly worryingly there had been a few spots of blood on the towel she’d worn in her shorts – not a lot but it shouldn’t be there. Not that she was gonna tell her Dad of course. If he found out he’d cancel next week’s race for her and that’s not going to happen, ut uh!

 
 
They were nearly at Bad Münstereifel before Mand’s stomach suggested they’d missed something – lunch!

“Is Mum cooking?”

“I doubt it, she was going out with Maria I think, “ Dave told them.

“What are we doing for lunch then?”

“Altenahr?” he suggested.

“Sounds good, Mand’s not been.”

“That okay with you, Manda?” Dave enquired.

“Sure,” she agreed.

“We’ve been going there for years,” I enthused.

“Don’t exaggerate, Gab.”

“Well we have, we went that first time we came over.”

Dave glanced over at his youngest child, ‘yeah, that trip was probably the first time Gaby was more evident than Drew, pretty much everyone here thought he was she.’

“You’re right, I’d forgotten about that,” Dave fibbed.
 
 
Maddy Bell 05.01.16

 
 
“You okay, Gabs, you look a bit pale,” Mand observed as I joined her at the mirrors – I know but it’s expected okay.

“Yeah, fine, just a bit tired.”

It wasn’t much but there was more red in my pants, hopefully it’s nothing serious.

“You coming?”

“Er, right, yeah.”

 
 
Despite my earlier enthusiasm for the food at the Krone I struggled to clear my plate – usually I’d be looking for dessert but not today.

“You feeling okay, kiddo?” Dad asked as we headed back to the car.

“Just a bit off,” I allowed.

“Hmm,” Dad didn’t sound convinced.

 
 
Back home Mand claimed homework, Dad, after making a brew started on the bike maintenance whilst I, after putting the washing on, retired to the lounge.

 
 
“Gab love, gi’s a hand,” Jenny called through from the kitchen.

Silence was the loud reply, the TV and teens often gets that result of course.

“Gaby!” Jen prompted a bit more forcefully as she came through from the kitchen.

“Shit! Dave! Now!”

She rushed over to where her youngest was lying unconscious on the sofa, a not inconsiderable amount of the red bodily fluid staining the denim of her skirt.

“Dave!”

“What’s up?” Dave enquired from the top of the garage steps.

“One one two quickly!”

Dave spotted the unmoving figure on the sofa, “Sugar!”

“What’s up?” Mand enquired a couple of minutes later, the shouting having drawn her attention.

“Gaby,” Jen supplied, “be a love and turn the cooker off. Oh and bring me a couple of towels off the drier.”

“’Kay.”

Dave put the phone down, “On their way, Notarzt should be here in a couple of minutes.”

He’d barely finished talking when a siren dopplering reached their ears.

Jen was at a loss as to what to do other than hold her unresponsive child.

“She is gonna be alright?” Mand asked handing the towels to Jenny.

“Course she is.”

“Manda,” Dave started, “can you go and lock the garage up please?”

“Er sure.”

“Dave?” Jen sniffed.

“I knew she shouldn’t’ve raced today, it was too soon.”

The siren got louder before cutting off, moments later Mand let the paramedic into the house.

 
 
My eyes didn’t want to open, everything was blurry and bright, very bright and the noise, loud beeps close by, a background murmur behind it all.

“Mum?” I mumbled.

“She’s awake!”

“Thank god!”

The voices, I recognised them but couldn’t place them. My hand was squeezed and for a couple of minutes there was a lot of activity, where am I? I gave up trying to focus and closed my eyes again.

 
 
A conversation nearby brought me back to consciousness, when I tried my eyes they worked a bit better allowing me to take in my surroundings. Hospital? Why am I here? What happened?

“Ah our patient is back with us!” Dr Schindler announced.

“Erm.”

“You had us a bit worried last night, young lady.”

“Mum?”

“I sent your mother to get some sleep, she’s been here with you all night.”

“What happened?” I enquired trying to sit up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, nurse, can you give us a hand please?”

The bed was raised; the doctor sat on the edge.

“What happened, you did, young lady.”

“Me?”

“You. When your doctor says to take things easy that doesn’t mean tearing around the countryside on a fahrrad.”

“I…”

“I said I didn’t want to have to repair my work, but you didn’t listen.”

“Sorry?” I mentioned in a small voice.

“You were lucky your mother found you when she did as it is you lost a lot of blood, we had to give you two litres before we could get you stabilised.”

“What?”

“Did you do? Well you tore your new equipment apart, not sure how, I managed to repair things but we might not be so lucky again.”

“Um.”

“We’ll be keeping you in for a few days, complete bed rest, no bike for at least three weeks.”

“Three weeks?”

“Three weeks, missy, you’ve got the rest of your life to race about, you can afford three weeks to let your body heal.”

“You’ve told her, Doctor?” Jen suggested joining them.

“I have, Frau Bond, how long without riding, Gaby?”

“Three weeks,” I confirmed.

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” the Doctor advised.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Jen noted.

“Gaby, Frau Bond.”

 
 
Dr Schindler departed leaving me with Mum and the beeping machinery for company.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Mum raged.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I mean it, Gabrielle.”

Ot oh, Sunday names.

“Yes, Mum.”

She perched next to me and pulled me into a hug, “No bike race is worth your health, kiddo.”

 
 
“Geez, Gab, talk about a drama queen!” Mand stated when she arrived to visit.

“Yeah well.”

“Your Dad’s been in pieces, something about Hamburg again.”

“‘S’not his fault.”

“So what did you do? There was tons of blood, the sofa’s a goner.”

I winced at that, they only bought it in the summer.

“I um tore my um new bits, inside somewhere.”

“Ouch, not nice. I take it they fixed it?”

“Yeah but I can’t ride for weeks.”

“Doesn’t hurt to have a rest,” she opined.

“Where’re the rents anyhow?”

“Talking to your doctor I think, tall blonde woman?”

“Dr Schindler.” I confirmed.

“Oh I told the girls, they send their love.”

“Tell ‘em thanks.”

“So how long you here for?”

“Dunno, the doc said a few days, maybe till the weekend I guess.”

“Friday,” Dad confirmed as the rents came and joined us.

Another week off school, Frau Boxberg’ll be on my case big style.

 
 
“There’s nothing to stop you doing school work, young lady,” Mum stated, Dad and Manda having already set off for the car.

“Yes, I mean no, Mum,” I agreed.

“Connie will bring us some work for you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mum,” I sighed. “If I can’t ride does that mean I don’t have to go to the wedding?”

“There is no reason whatsoever that you can’t go to the wedding although you’ll have to sit out the dancing.”

“Bum!”

“Anyone would think you don’t want to go.”

Well given a choice.

“So I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, some of us do have to train.”

Rub it in why don’t you.

“Kay.”

“Nite, kiddo.”

“Nite, Mum.”

She kissed me on the top of the head and left me to the ministrations of the beeping monitors, bright lights and muted sounds of late evening in the Remagen Frauenklinik.

 
 
“Look who I found,” Mum mentioned in greeting.

“Heya, Gabs,” Roni mentioned before giving me a hug.

“Hi yourself, you not supposed to be in college?”

“What’s more important, my best friend or studies?”

“Studies?” I offered in jest.

“You!”

“I’ll leave you girls for a bit,” Mum stated, “I need to see the doctor.”

“’Kay,” I allowed.

“You never do anything by halves do you?” Roni mentioned.

“If it’s worth doing…”

“Your Mum said what happened, you really need to be more careful, girl.”

“Yeah, I know it was stupid to race, it’s just…”

“I know you, Gaby Bond, you just can’t help yourself.”

I shrugged, she’s not wrong.

“Oh yeah mum sent this for you,” she plonked a box into my hands.

“What is it?”

“Open it and you’ll find out won’t you?”
 
 
Maddy Bell 07.01.16

 
 
“Oooo!” I allowed on opening the box, “Excellent!”

“She knows you like it,” Ron filled in.

“Not many,” I agreed surveying the homemade Pflaumkuchen nestling in the box with some delight.
 
 

We had some catching up to do, we’ve not seen each other for weeks what with Japan and other er, stuff.

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope, straight up,” I confirmed.

“Geez, Bond, you are like some soap opera.”

“Tell me about it,” I sighed.

“Okay, girls?” Mum enquired.

That still grates – maybe not so much but still and yes I know the evidence is pretty strong against me.

“Yes, Frau Bond, Gaby was just telling me about the wedding.”

“The wedding,” Mum noted, “just glad I’m not paying for it. Anyhow, anyone for coffee?”

“Please,” Ron replied.

“We’ve got cake,” I volunteered pointing to the box.

Mother like daughter, “Excellent! Angela’s?”

“You Bond’s are all the same,” Ron stated.

“No we’re not!” we both chorused before falling about in laughter.

“I’ll get the coffee,” Mum volunteered.
 
 

I might be in a private room but they are still quite rigid with visiting times, Mum and Roni left at five. Seeing Ron had cheered me up no end, I might’ve spent most of the time rabbiting but time spent drinking coffee, eating cake is always good. It certainly left me feeling a bit less depressed.

 
 
I woke with a start; my dinner tray was gone so I must’ve been dozing for a while after eating.

“She’s in here,” Steffi’s voice announced to persons unseen.

“Steff? That you?”

“Gabs!” she greeted leading the Angels into my room behind a huge spray of flowers.

“Guys!”

 
 
“Flippin’ heck, Gab,” Pia mentioned after we’d exchanged greetings all round, “you look like shit!”

“P!” Con admonished.

“She’s looked better,” Nena observed.

“Guys? I am here,” I pointed out.

“Makeover!” Brid stated.

Sugar, I’ve no chance of escape.

 
 
“So you are here until Freitag?” Nena queried as she painted my toenails.

“Worst luck, that tickles.”

“Soz. That sucks.”

“Yeah but she gets out of school,” Bridget pointed out.

“That reminds me,” Con mentioned digging into her bag and retrieving a folder, “you owe Herr Ansbacher an essay, there’s a sheet of stuff from Viessner and Frau Dürst has set some algebra for you.”

“Great,” I groaned.

She plonked it on my lap, I was defenceless, Nena was working her magic on my fingernails, Steff was tugging at my hair and Brid was plastering stuff on my face.

 
 
The girls left to catch the ten to eight Express, after all the activity it was strange to return to just the beeping of the monitors. The girls had done a number on me; defenceless I just had to accept my fate from the intricate braids on my head to the French manicure and slightly over the top makeup.

“Interesting look, Sis,” the Goth One observed arriving in the vanguard of the Bond household visitation, “nice eyebrows.”

“What happened, Gab?” Mand asked.

“The girls,” I allowed, “er hi, Dad.”

He moved in for a hug that I was only too willing to return.

“Did Connie bring your school work?” Mum asked.

“Yeah but I’ve not got any pens or stuff.”

“Wrong!” Mum dropped my school bag onto the side table.

“Urgh!”

“We can clean you up before we leave, I’ve got some remover pads in my bag,” Mum supplied.

“Not before I get a picture, the guys at school will love this,” Jules chuckled.

“Be nice to your sister, Jules,” Dad instructed.

“I always am,” she returned as she fished for her phone.

“Don’t I get a say?”

“Nope!” the dark one told me.

Great, so now I’m the entertainment at the British School as well as captive Barbie for the Angels – joy!

 
 
It’s a very artificial atmosphere in the clinic, well in any hospital and visiting the incumbents can be quite awkward on both sides. There’s only so much small talk you make, so much catching up, stuff outside often has little relevance to those inside. Although kicking out is nine thirty my visitors left just after nine, all conversation having ground to a halt.

“Oh I’ll leave you the remover pads, don’t forget to take that paint off,” Mum instructed.

“I won’t.”

“Sleep well, kiddo, see you tomorrow.”

“And don’t forget your schoolwork,” Dad added.

 
 
I might be having enforced bed rest but that doesn’t mean I’m bed bound, as long as a nurse, at this time of night it’s usually Hilde, helps me I can use the en suite – not to shower yet but I can have a sit down bath and empty my bag myself. Oh yeah, I’ve got the catheter again. I propped myself against the sink and took a look at Bridget’s handiwork – I looked ready to work the streets!

Dramatic doesn’t come into it, bright red lippy, more massy than is possible to use on two eyes and the thinnest, extremist eyebrows I’ve ever seen – glad they’re only drawn on!

“You okay there, Gaby?” Hilde enquired.

“Er, could you give me a hand cleaning this gunk off my face.”

“Sure, sit yourself down, soon have you cleaned up. You want the braids out?”

I know I complain about them but they do keep my hair under control even if I look a bit like a parody of High German womanhood.

“They can stay for now.”

“Right then, let’s get you cleaned up.”

The remover pads made short work of Brid’s ministrations, I can’t remember them stinging before though.

“Phoo! That stings.”

Hilde removed the pad looking a bit confused. She looked at my face, the pad, my face. “Hang on I’ll just fetch some antiseptic cream.”

“What for?”

“I think perhaps your friends got a bit carried away with your brows, won’t be a minute.”
She trotted off on her errand leaving me still confused, eyebrows? I had my back to the mirror so I carefully stood and turned to take a look.

“AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!”

Hilde and another nurse arrived at a trot.

“My brows! They’re gone!” I exclaimed, my eyes still glued to the mirror and the spots on my reflection where eyebrows should be.

“It’s alright Susan, I’ll look after this,” Hilde told her colleague.

“Okay,” Susan allowed before departing.

“They’ve gone!” I confirmed running fingers over the now hairless areas, “Gone!”

“Calm down, Gaby, they’ll grow back.”

“I look like a freak!”

“No you don’t, a little different maybe.”

“Just wait till I get hold of her,” I fumed.

“Let me have a look,” Hilde examined my face, “hmm, they’re not plucked, you’ll be okay, you can draw some on for a few weeks.”

“They’ll never grow back!” I insisted.

“Yes they will, listen to me, Gaby, it’s neither the end of the world or permanent.”

“How do you know, you’ve got eyebrows!” I shot back.

“But I didn’t always,” she started, “sit down and we’ll get some cream on there, you have a bit of razor rash, that’s what’s stinging.”

I returned to the stool and sagged back down.

“When I was I think thirteen I had just discovered the fashion magazines, all the models looked so beautiful, perfect makeup, fantastic hair and thin brows. I was fascinated by those brows, how elegant and thin.” She carefully smoothed cream onto my forehead. “I didn’t realise they just covered up with makeup before drawing them so having been introduced to hair remover for my legs I used it on my brows. My mother went ballistic; she had to draw them in for me for months! At least with shaving they come back faster.”

I giggled a little at the picture she painted.

“I got my wish for drawn brows but as you can see they are back in force now.”

“Sugar! I’m in a wedding next week, I’m in so much shtick, Bridget, you are so toast!”

“You can practice drawing them before then.”

“I can’t even remember what they looked like.”

“You’ll be fine, let the cream work tonight, you can have a play in the morning.”

 
 
I couldn’t get to sleep of course, all I could think about was my freakish appearance. I plotted revenge on Brid, revenge on the others for not stopping her, scenarios of my lack of brow hair being discovered. Fingers were pointed, abuse shouted, it ruined the wedding, they never grew back, I’d forever look like some sort of alien. I needed a disguise, I’ll have to always wear a long fringe, what a pain, maybe I can…

 
 
Rather than eyebrows it was food on my mind when I woke, I could murder a full English! Of course that wasn’t on the menu, no it was the usual ham, cheese, broetchen and coffee supplemented by a boiled egg and some toast. The food’s not bad here but I’m looking forward to real food on Friday.

“We alright this morning, Gaby?” Dr Schindler enquired joining me as I finished up.

“Okay I guess, bit sore.”

“No bleeding?”

“Don’t think so, it’s a bit difficult to see,” I observed.

“Best have a look then,” she stated.

 
 
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to someone else prodding me down there, particularly sticking things inside, the nerve feedback is very confusing, discomfort and a strange feeling of something like pleasure that caused me to squirm a bit.

“Hmm, everything seems to be coming along nicely, you can start with the stents again today.”

Oh joy.

“And we can lose the catheter again, don’t want you getting to rely on it do we?”

No we don’t!

Maddy Bell 09.01.16

 
 
With nothing else to occupy me I started on my homework, a task that kept me occupied not just for the rest of the morning but through my visitor free afternoon too. Well it’s not like Mum or Dad being here makes any difference; they have stuff to do besides baby me. It was only when I hit the bathroom to bath before dinner that the subject of my missing eyebrows came up again.

“You want me to draw your brows before your visitors?” Hilde queried.

“Could you? I mean I’d forgotten about it.”

“So it wasn’t the end of the world then?”

“I’m still going to get my revenge on Brid,” I stated.

“I’m sure she didn’t do it to upset you,” Hilde placated.

“It’d better be something good.”

“Get yourself dressed and I’ll fetch a pencil.”

 
 
“There we go.”

I looked in my hand mirror, “it doesn’t look drawn on at all.”

“I told you I had some experience.”

“So how do you do it?”

“The trick is to use short and light strokes, as if you were adding individual hairs. That way you don’t get any harsh lines.”

“I’ll need to practice that.” I observed.

“The good news is that I can already see a few bits of stubble.”

It wasn’t my ‘normal’ brows but her work had given me something acceptable at least, maybe Mum won’t notice – and maybe the moon is green cheese.

 
 
That confrontation was however delayed as just Dad and Mand arrived to visit.

“How you feeling kiddo?”

“Better, where’s Mum?”

“George has all the seniors doing circuit training for some core fitness off the bikes.”

“Sounds like torture, surprised he didn’t want me and Mand doing it too.”

“He did suggest it but I convinced him your dance stuff filled the same criteria.”

“And that’s bad enough,” Mand mentioned.

“It’s not that bad,” I defended.

“Maybe not for you, you’d best have these, Con dropped them off earlier.”

‘These’ were more work from my teacher’s; I’m working harder when I’m ill than I do at school!

“Best swap then, can you drop yesterday’s off for me?”

“I’ll get them to Connie,” Dad stated.

 
 
“We’re going up to the Radstadion at Solingen tomorrow so it’ll just be your mother coming.”

“‘Kay, Ron going?”

“She is, you’ll be doing cross – when you’re fit again,” Dad mentioned, “ Mand and Roni get to do the Thursday track league in Solingen.”

I thought back to the summer in Manchester, a smile crossed my lips as I remembered my duel with Vicky Pendleton and Chris Hoy.

“What you smiling at?” Mand asked.

“Just remembering Manchester.”

“And that’s exactly why you won’t be riding Solingen,” Dad stated.

“Spoilsport!”

“The others are coming for a training camp between Christmas and the New Year, you can show off your track skills then.”

This ‘camp’ was news to me.

“It’ll be good to see everyone, it seems like forever since Denmark.”

“Six weeks?” Mand suggested.

“Seems longer,” I noted.

 
 
Thursday went much the same way as Wednesday except the Doc excused me from being wired up to the monitors so of course I couldn’t concentrate on my school stuff because it was quiet, grrr! My pencilled brows survived the night just needing a bit of a touch up but of course Mum honed in immediately.

“Do I want to know about your eyebrows or lack thereof?”

“It’s a long story,” I volunteered.

“I’ve got time,” she supplied.

 
 
“Kids,” she sighed as I finished the tale.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“I guess not, hopefully we’ll have a bit more to work with by next weekend, which reminds me, the Strechau’s send their love as does everyone at Apollinaris.”

“Well I’ll be home tomorrow anyhow.”

“Which does not give you the green light to start chasing about.”

“I know,” I allowed.

“I’ve been talking to Frau Boxberg earlier.”

“Oh?”

That can’t be good news.

“You’ll be staying home next week, your teachers will set you work to do, Connie will act as gopher again.”

Well it’s not all bad news at least.

“I won’t have to stay in bed when I get home will I?”

“I’m sure Dr Schindler will tell you what you can and can’t do before you leave here.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a sigh, did I mention that I’m a terrible patient?

 
 
I was like a five year old at Christmas, awake and bouncing at silly o’clock.

“Someone’s keen this morning,” Dana, the morning duty nurse opined.

“Going home today,”

“Well in that case I probably won’t see you again, I hope not to see you here again soon.”

“Me too, I hate hospitals, well being in one.”

“Well we aren’t exactly a holiday destination,” she agreed plumping my pillow.

“You can say that again.”

“Well good luck and take care of yourself, eh?”

“I will, I promise.” I so do not want any repeat of this.
 
 

Dr Schindler arrived on her round mid morning as usual.

“So, we are ready to go home?”

“Itching!”

“Best have a look to make sure we can then.”

I assumed the undignified position to give the Doc access to my er bits, laid back and turned my thoughts to England – well figuratively at least. She prodded and poked.

“Still sore?”

“Well not so much,” I volunteered.

“Any sensation?”

I jumped a little as she touched something, not sure what it was.

“Some, it does that when I dilate sometimes too,” I admitted.

“Hmm, that’s excellent, you might get full sensation in time.”

“That’s good is it?”

“It’s what most women have but don’t always appreciate, I wasn’t sure how much feeling you’d end up with.”

“I thought there was something wrong with it being sensitive,” I told her.

“The opposite young lady, you’ll appreciate it when you become sexually active.”

“Like that’s gonna happen,” I snorted.

“Not that I suggest you start having relations but I reckon you’ll get everything out of intercourse that any other women does.”

“Including kids.”

“Including kids,” she confirmed, “at least in theory, you do have full fertility.”

“Joy.”

Kids are not something on my life plan, me giving birth to them is so far off the scale it’s unbelievable.

“Well I need to talk to your mother when she comes but I think we can send you home.”

She said the last that suggested there had been some doubt on the issue.

 
 
Mum arrived sharp on two and after making here presence known was whisked off to meet with the doctor. I hope she’s brought me some clothes to wear.
 
 

“Right young lady,” Mum stated on returning to my room, “dressed and we can get you home.”

“Clothes?”

She pulled a distinctly small carrier bag from her shoulder holdall, “Dress, knickers, bra.”

“Thanks,” I offered sliding off of the bed.

“And don’t take all day,” she admonished as I headed to the bathroom.

“I won’t.”

Least of all because I want to get home. The dress was what Anna dubbed my ‘Wednesday’ dress, not as in the day but as in the Wednesday Addams. It doesn’t get worn much so why Mum picked it I don’t know but being Mum I’m sure she has her reasons.

I dressed quickly; she had included a pair of black tights as well as the lingerie giving me the full Addams look.

“Shoes?” I enquired returning to the main room.

“On the bed.”

If I didn’t know better I’d think she planned it, on the bed were my black Mary Jane’s. Oh well, it’s not like I have a choice in the matter.

“Let’s sort out your hair, those braids are looking a bit sorry for themselves.”

“We’re only going home,” I complained.

“And?”

“Whatever,” I sighed as she started to unpin and release my locks.

Of course after a couple of days of being plaited the released hair almost had the full volume of an Afro; the only sensible recourse was a return to fresh braids. Mum damped my locks and deftly put my hair into two plaits, apart from being blonde I made quite a good Wednesday!

“Hmm, cute,” Mum stated as she stepped back to look at her handiwork.

“Can we go?”

“As soon as you’ve got everything.”

“It’s all in my schoolbag.”

“Nightdress?”

“Oops!”

I dived back to the bathroom, well not exactly dived but you know what I mean, retrieved my nightdress and soiled bra – I’ve been going commando for the duration of my stay at the Frauenklinik so no knickers, and stuffed them in my bag.

“Let’s hit the trail then, Wednesday.”

I knew it, she did pick this stuff on purpose, well two can play at that.

“Alright then, Morticia, lead on!”
 
 

Maddy Bell 10.01.16

 
 
“Right, young lady,” Mum started once we were in the car, “ground rules.”

“Ru-ules?” I moaned.

“Yes rules,” she confirmed.

“Go on then,” I sighed.

“The doc was deadly serious about not riding or any strenuous exercise for at least another fortnight, she might allow something gentle then depending on how you are healing.”

“I’m gonna be so out of condition!” I groaned.

“It’s your own fault, you had to push things last weekend, couldn’t wait.”

“But…”

“Don’t try blaming anyone else, instead of three weeks it might be eight.”

“That’s nearly Weihnachts!”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine,” I allowed.

I’m gonna go round the bend, no bikes or even dance class, I might as well join a monastery – on second thoughts maybe it should be a nunnery
 
 

“You still fancy going to the BLCA do?” Mum queried as we waited for the kettle.

“BLCA?”

“British Ladies, we’re both invited and Manda too.”

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Evidently, so?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Your Dad’s taking Anita and Erika on the ferry, he’ll pick us up from Leeds Bradford, I’ll book the tickets later.”

Anita and Erika.

“Guess I won’t be doing the cross,” I moped.

“Well we can go on the BLCA ride instead and watch the cross afterwards, our flight back will be about seven thirty.”

BLCA ride eh?
 
 

“The prodigal daughter returns.” Dad offered when he got in.

I blew him a raspberry.

“Nice I’m sure, your mother talked to you about Yorkshire?”

“Yeah, should be pretty cool.”

“Well some of us will be working.” He noted.

“Um, how are we all gonna fit in the car? There’ll be like six of us?”

“Seven, Carsten’s coming too,” he advised, “we’ll be using the bus – plenty of room.”

“Oh right.”

Yeah the Apollinaris bus, nine seats and a huge luggage area, makes sense.

 
 
“Ga-ab! Phone!” Mum yelled up the stairs.

“’Kay.”

Who’s ringing me at eight thirty on a Saturday morning, the girls are coming later so it won’t be one of them. I made my way downstairs, the house phone was waiting for me on the hall table.

“Hello?”

“Gaby, it’s Gloria von Strechau.”

“Oh hi er morning, Gloria.”

“Morning, next week,” she started.

“Analise's wedding?”

“The wedding yes but you are invited to the Polterabend Freitag also.”

“The what?”

“Polterabend, it’s a dinner for family and friends, there was the big meal in Augsburg if you remember?”

“Uh huh,” I agreed.

“It’s not so formal for Analise and Joachim, a restaurant in the city.”

“Okay,” I allowed, ever the conversationalist.

“Your mother says you are home schooling this week so I’ll pick you up in the afternoon and we can get ready at the hotel.”

“Hotel? We’re staying overnight?”

“Didn’t I say? We can’t be driving up on Saturday, silly, you’ll need to be dressed with the other maids and of course Willy will want a drink or several!”

“Um right, I hadn’t thought about that.”

“We’ll bring you back to Dernau Sunday morning.”

I’m guessing there’s a post-wedding do to attend, lot of fuss for someone else’s nuptials if you ask me. But of course no one is – asking me that is.

“Er right, so two nights then. Do I need to fetch my dress from the shop?”

“Of course not, everything will be there waiting, all you need to do is bring the prettiest girl in the Ahrtal.”

“Someone else is coming?”

Gloria spluttered on the other end of the line, “You are so funny sometimes. You have a dress for the Polterabend? Nice but not too formal.”

“Er yeah, I think so,” I allowed, the Biba probably, have to check it’s clean.

“Good, I’ll confirm the time later in the week, tschuss.”

“Yeah, um, tschussie.”

 
 
Deep joy, I thought I was just going as a guest, then it changed to bridesmaid and now there’s this Polterabend thing. And getting out of it isn’t going to happen.

“You sorted?” Mum enquired.

“We’re staying in Bonn Friday and Saturday.”

“Gloria said the other week.”

“No one told me.” I harrumphed.

“You were probably occupied elsewhere,” she opined raising a brow.

What’s that supposed to mean?

“I’m getting a shower!” I mumped as I set off back upstairs.
 
 

“And I’ve got to go to this Polterabend dinner thing too.”

“You are so lucky, Gabs,” Nena sighed.

“You can call it lucky, I, I, oh!”

“Nen’s right, Gab, we get to see it in Stern, you get to be in it,” Steff stated.

“But?”

“Hey, we could go up and watch,” Con suggested.

“That’s all I need, all my friends gawping at me.”

“Oh come on, Gab, how many chances do we get to see a society wedding?”

“It’s hardly society, Analise works for the Post and I’m sure this Joachim chap has a job, we aren’t talking landed gentry, are we?”

“So any old post clerk gets hitched in Bonn cathedral do they?” Bridget offered.

Hmm, Brid, I still owe you one for my bald forehead!

“I don’t see why not.”

That got several sets of rolling eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind getting married there,” Con stated.

“Ahrweiler will do for me, much more atmospheric,” Pia opined.

“Well I still think it’s all a bit much.”

“Where are you and Max getting hitched?” Nena enquired with a grin.

“That is so not happening!”

“It’s a broken record,” Con mentioned.
 
 

“Where’s Amanda, I thought she’d be here.” Steff queried.

It was a slightly sore point.

“Dad’s taken her and Roni to the Radstadion to train.”

“No rest for the Radrennen,” Brid told us, “ride, ride, ride.”

I want to ride!

“I was supposed to do a cross tomorrow.”

“You really have a one track mind, Gabrielle Bond.”

“Max, Max and more Max,” Pia teased.

“We’re just friends,” I stated through gritted teeth.

 
 
“We going to the Cosplay thing in Koblenz?” Connie asked.

“When is it?”

“Hang on, I got a flyer,” she dug in her bag and pulled out a slightly crumpled bit of blue paper, “erm first weekend of January.”

“I’ll have to check, I might be racing,” I suggested.

“For two days, Gabs?” Steff questioned.

“Probably not,” I agreed, “I’ll check with Dad.”

“Whatever her majesty is doing the rest of us can go anyway,” Pia stated.

“Maybe she’d be more interested if Max was going,” Brid put in with a smirk.

 
 
“How’d it go?”

“Better than Wednesday, Roni is a bit lacking in skills but she goes like a rocket!” Mand enthused.

The girls left just after four leaving me to help Mum with the ironing for the rest of the afternoon. It’s Devil’s work, ironing – I bet it was a man who invented it, no sane woman would! Dad and Amanda got back home just after six.

“What you been up to, Gab?”

“Oh you know, coffee and gossip with the girls, big pile of ironing and getting dinner going.”

Sheesh I sound like some middle-aged hausfrau!

“If I’d known I had some ironing to do.”

I gave her the look.

“I probably should practice.”

 
 
“That’s nice, “Dad told me when I mentioned the Polterabend, I thought I might get some sympathy there.

“Have I got anything in the diary in January? There’s a con down in Koblenz.”

“At the moment there’s nothing certain, have to see how you recover eh?”

Great, one little setback and everything is out of the window.

“Fine,” I sighed.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Sausage casserole,” I advised.

“You’ll make someone a great wife.”

Oh right, just what I wanted to hear from my Dad, what is it with people and weddings today?

 
 
Maddy Bell 12.01.16

 
 
“I’m under house arrest?”

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

“I’m not an invalid you know.”

“The doctor would beg to differ on that.”

I thought I’d try a different tack.

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

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

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

“You’re taking Mand.”

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

Well I’ll give him that I suppose.

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

“Mornin’”

I nearly jumped out of my skin!

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

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

“I didn’t hear you.”

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

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

“I’m sure it’s a very nice navel.”

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

“Keep your hair on.”

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

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

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

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

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

“At least you get to do it.”

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

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

“Well I’m not most girls.”

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

“You want to be a bridesmaid?”

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

“You can take my place.”

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

“What a crock!”

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

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

“Holding out for someone better?”

“No.”

“So it is Max then,” she noted.

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

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

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

“My what?”

“Weren’t you listening?”

Actually no.

“Your dress, what’s it like?”

“Like a dress.”

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

“Seriously?”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss.”

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

“A square neck?”

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

“I hope there’s pictures.”

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

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

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

“Naked?”

“You know what I mean, racing.”

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

“You are complaining about free food?”

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

“Such a hardship.”

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

“I win! Yes!”

“Now what are you on about?”

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

“When was this?”

“Before Japan.”

“Don’t remember, what’s the prize?”

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

“Seriously? That sounds a bit lame.”

“You agreed,” she observed.

“What if I’d won?”

“You wanted cash, thirty Euros I think.”

“Forty!”

“You remembered,” she gleefully grinned.

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

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

“If it makes you happy,” I allowed.

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

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

“Boris is coming over later.”

“So I gather.”

“He’s bringing Maccy D,” she advised.

“I like Boris,” I chuckled.

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

“But he’s not bringing burgers.”

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

“You ever been a bridesmaid?”

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

“Do all girls want to be bridesmaids?”

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

“Goth Gurl, she’s never been one.”

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

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

“She can join the queue!”

“Not you too? But you’ve been one.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do it again.”

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

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

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

“Fraud?”

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

“Define ‘been out with’.”

“Come on.”

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

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

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

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

“We did not!”

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

“Why you!”

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

“With his parents,” I pointed out.

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

“Because we’re not!” I humphed.

“You’d lose in front of a jury.”

Maddy Bell 12.01.16

 
 
I’m not even going to waste your time describing how bad the next few days were, my teachers didn’t stint on the amount of work they sent up the valley – I couldn’t claim to have nothing to do. I was effectively grounded, ‘it’s for your own good’, so I couldn’t even go to supervise cheer on Monday night, Mand went up, Hannah took them through the stuff I’d done previously. The highlight was Tuesday night, the girls came round after school for a while, but it was over far too quickly.

I was actually going stir crazy by Thursday when Gloria rang to arrange our departure for the wedding.

“I’ll pick you up at eleven then, Gaby.”

“Eleven,” I confirmed.

I might not be particularly looking forward to it but after the last couple of weeks it offers some escape from Bondatraz.

 
 
“Did I hear you say eleven?” Mum queried after I finished the call.

“Uh huh.”

“That’s early,” she opined.

“Apparently we have to go to the rehearsal tomorrow afternoon as well.”

“Never had that when me and your Dad got hitched.”

“You didn’t get married in a cathedral either,” I pointed out.

“True,” she allowed, “we’d best get you packed then.”

“I guess,” I agreed with somewhat less enthusiasm.

 
 
When I was Drew, there’s the rub, well anyway I could’ve packed in five minutes, best togs, change of underwear, best shoes and wash kit. Now, well I need stuff for the dinner, stuff for before the wedding, stuff to come home in oh and stuff to go in, shoes, bags, undies, makeup – well it won’t all fit in an overnight bag will it?

“So what are you wearing for the rehearsal?” Mum enquired.

“Dunno, I’m guessing jeans are out?”

“You are not showing me up young lady.”

She won’t even be there, it’s only the wedding party, maybe a few family taxi’s like Gloria I guess so who’s gonna be bothered?

“Mu-um.”

“You can wear one of your suits.”

“Do I have to?”

Her look was enough to end any argument on the matter.

“Whatever.”

“Where’s your wash kit? You got perfume?”

“In with my bike kit.”

Mum grabbed my kit bag and extracted my slightly manky overnight stuff.

“Flippin’ ‘eck, Gaby, you can’t take this it’s disgusting.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I would, I think I’ve got a spare bag downstairs, smellies?”

 
 
I’m not allowed to carry stuff so it was Mum who bumped and slid my suitcase downstairs – a benefit to being an invalid! I couldn’t see anything wrong with it but Mum decided my pink suit, well it was originally Mum’s, that I wore in Munich was, a bit tired and crumpled. I did draw the line at wearing that silly hat thing and the stockings, I’m a tights girl given the choice and I had that at least.

“Geez, Gab, how long you going for?” Mand asked seeing my cases waiting in the hallway.

“Tell me about it, it’s a nightmare.”

“Don’t tell me you won’t enjoy it.”

“I won’t enjoy it.”

“Even spending time with Max?”

“Especially spending time with Max.”

 
 
We’d had dinner when my handy started playing a tune.

“Bond…oh hi Soph.”

“You are going to the matrimonies Saturday?”

“Bridesmaid remember, worst luck.”

“Someone sane to talk to.”

“If I survive tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she enquired.

“Rehearsal at the Dom and this Polterabend thing in the evening.”

“You going out after? We’ll miss dinner but should be in time for the rest.”

“After? What rest?”

“Well duh, the batchelorette party, after the Polter the guys go some place, the girls separately, dancing, drinking, a last night of freedom, you must know this, girl.”

“I er hadn’t given it any thought, Gloria never said anything.”

“It’s only the junge who go on, bridesmaids are expected to go to keep the bride from going AWOL!”

“But we’re not old enough to drink,” I noted.

“You kidding, well okay maybe not strictly legally but we’ll be with the wedding party and even you pass for eighteen when you are dressed up, a short, cute eighteen but eighteen nonetheless.”

Great.

“I’d best bring a coat then.”

“Unless you want to freeze I guess,” Sophia giggled.

More for my case, talk about a nightmare.

“I should get off of this phone, it’s nearly curfew.”

“You still at school?”

“That’s why we’ll miss the Polterabend, I can’t get ought of this place until after classes tomorrow. Aren’t you at school tomorrow?”

“I’ve been off for a couple of weeks,” I offered, “I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

 
 
“Take your diamond studs.”

“Yes, Mum,” and the rest of my possessions.

Of course she’d had me up at silly o’clock to make sure I was suitably de-haired, perfumed and painted. You’d think it was me getting hitched heaven forbid. Anyway it’s now ten to eleven and I think I’m finally ready, well Mum ready, I was good to go over an hour ago.

“Ring me later and don’t get carried away dancing.”

“No, Mum.”

“I mean it, we are not having a repeat of last week, I don’t think me or your Dad could take it again.”

Lay the guilt on why don’t you.

“I’ll be careful.”

DING DONG

“That’ll be Gloria,” I opined heading for the door.

The shadow through the glass however was distinctly not Gloria.

“Max,” I allowed on opening the portal.

“Morning, Gab, you look nice.”

So of course the junior Baron is pretty much in ‘smart casual’, slacks, shirt and a jumper artfully draped across his shoulders – do I feel like a right prawn!

“Didn’t know you’d be coming.”

“How else would I get there? Dad’ll be late, some meeting in Neuweid I think.”

“Hi, Max,” Mum greeted joining us.

“Morning, Frau Bond.”

“So we going or what?”

“Er sure, you want me to take your bag?”

“She’s not to carry anything heavy or go silly dancing.”

“Leave it to me, Frau B, I’ll keep her in order.” Max stated.

“Purr leese,” I huffed.

“Both of these?” Max queried eyeing my bags.

“Yup,” I grinned.

Mum did the air kiss thing; just as well, she’d choke on this makeup.

“And remember…”

“I’ll ring okay, geez we’re only going to Bonn. Laters! Come on, Max, times a wastin’!”

I trotted off on the longer route down to the road, much easier in heels and a tight skirt than the more direct steps.

 
 
“I see you have him trained,” Gloria chuckled when I got to the Cayenne.

“They have their uses,” I agreed turning to watch the object of the conversation struggling with my bags on the steps.

A moment later my borrowed vanity hit the deck and the suave youth proceeded to trip over my case.

“Men!”

His mother chortled again.

 
 
“You look very nice,” Gloria supplied when we set off towards the motorway.

“It’s not a bit overboard?”

“Maybe a little,” she allowed, “but we lead by example.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

 
 
It was just turned twelve by the time we were checked in at the hotel, the very swish Günnewig on Kaiserplatz. To make accommodation easier I was sharing with Gloria and Max with his Dad. The Baroness is commuting with Max’s Tante Catherine, the Countess Schillingsfürst who’s not so closely involved with the wedding and is staying at Rech.

The hotel is pretty posh, four star with all the bells and whistles, tonight’s dinner is just up the road but the do tomorrow will be here, it’s only a few minutes walk from the Dom which is pretty handy.

“Just put your cardigan on, Gaby, the jacket is perhaps a bit much.”

“Mum wouldn’t listen.” I moaned.

“She meant well I’m sure, come on, we have time for coffee before we go to the Dom.”

The coffee turned into more of a production when Gloria took a shine to the kuche in the hotel coffee shop. Not that I was complaining, I got a generous slice of marzipan bombe, all fresh cream and drizzled with choccy sauce and vermicelli, you know, chocolate sprinkles. Hmm, I could do this every day.

So of course by the time we’d crossed the Hof Gärten and found the right door into the dark edifice we were ten fashionable minutes late. We weren’t the only ones to be tardy; while we waited for the groom to arrive Gloria took it on herself to introduce me around. These were of course largely Max’s relations, I remember seeing one or two at his Gran’s bun fight the other week.

“Ah, Gaby, so glad to have you in the party!” Analise enthused.

“Er thanks for inviting me, I’m not sure why you would want me though.”

“You are nearly family so of course you should be here.”

“I thought bridesmaids were like your friends and close relatives.”

“When you marry Max we’ll be cousins, that’s close enough for me, ach, looks like the stragglers have arrived!”

Now people I barely know are marrying me off to Maximillian Maria von flippin’ Strechau.

“Come on, Gaby, time to earn your keep,” Max stated as he grabbed my hand and dragged me to the centre of operations.

Maddy Bell 14.01.16

 
 
All the other bridesmaids were older by at least a couple of years, six of us with our equivalent groomsmen. In addition there were of course the best man and maid of honour and one of Analise’ friends supplied two flower girls, both under five and cute as buttons – if you like sprogs that is. The priest explained the order of service then we had the actual practice complete with music.

For the main party we’d not be finished of course after the service, apparently we’re going to the Botanical Gardens for the wedding photos using, wait for it, horse drawn carriages. I hope it’s not too cold, there’s a lot of us girls exposed in those dresses!

As most of the almost thirty strong group were staying at the Günnewig we headed en masse for the hotel much to the bemusement of students and shoppers alike. It was after three, where did the time go? My part in the bun fight is as a costumed extra, you know, in a few shots but doesn’t get to say anything, which I’m rather glad of.

Back at the hotel coffee had been arranged and whilst that was appreciated my stomach was crying out for food more substantial than Lotus biscuits.

“When are we eating?” I whispered to Max.

“‘Bout seven I think, why, you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“We could slip out and get a burger or something,” he suggested.

Not sure I wanted a burger but the something sounded good.

“Sounds good to me,” I enthused.

“I’d best let Mum know.”

“I’ll fetch my coat, back here ten minutes?”

 
 
“Mum, me an Gab are gonna go for a walk,” Max told Gloria.

“Don’t be out too long, you both need to get ready for tonight.”

“We won’t, just gonna look in a few shops.”

It probably wasn’t politic to mention food, there’d be a lecture and possibly orders to desist, no, shopping was much less controversial.

 
 
I would’ve preferred to have changed but with time running on I refrained from more than changing out of heels to the trainers I’ve brought for going home in. Okay, they’ve got some pink on them, they are girl’s after all, they sort of don’t look too dorky with the skirt. The jacket is white and purple; its main feature is that it’s warm and when we stepped out of the Hotel I was glad I’d brought it.

“So where to?” Max asked.

“Well if we go round by the Dom, we can take a squint in Puppenkönig then there’s a Bäckstube down towards the station.”

“How do you know Bonn so well?”

“Duh, shopping!”

I sound like a girl.

“Oh right, you girls do a lot of that,” he noted as he shuffled along in my wake.
 
 

“Puppenkönig’s a toy shop?”

“The clue’s in the name,” I observed.

“Aren’t you a bit old for dolls?”

“Doll’s? Nah, come on, second floor.”

I grabbed his arm and dragged him inside where it was thankfully warmer than the streets of Bonn outside.
 
 

“You collect model cars?”

“So?”

“Not very girly is it?”

“And your point is?”

“Dunno,” he admitted.

“You don’t have to be male to like cars…or female to like dolls,” I added for clarification.

“I guess, so you buying any?”

Good question, I’ve not added to my collection for ages, not been to a model shop in forever. I perused my chosen products, Max wandered off after a bit – radio control helicopters having caught his attention. There were a couple of new models out; I can use my card, yeah why not.

 
 
“So whatcha get?” von Strechau asked as I tucked into my frikadel sandwich.

“Minute,” I managed as I chewed.

“I could fancy one of those helicopters,” my companion supplied.

“Looks fun,” I allowed having swallowed my food, “here.”

He took the small bag, the contents of which had just made a near fifty euro dent in my bank account.

“They’ve even got seats and stuff,” he noted as he inspected my haul.

“Of course,” I agreed before taking a second unladylike mouthful of German burger.

“Pretty cool,” he allowed as he re-bagged my treasures.

 
 
I ‘only’ had two hours to get ready for the evenings festivities when we got back to the Günnewig.

“Thought you’d got lost,” Gloria stated.

“Just forgot the time.”

“Well the bathroom’s all yours, Willy arrived while you were out so I’ll probably be downstairs when you finish, you need to be down for seven okay.”

“Er sure,” I agreed rubbing my slightly sore feet.

I got my evening attire organised then headed for the shower, hmm nothing like a nice power shower to de-stress with. After the washing bit I just stood under the water for a bit, the water needling my neck and shoulders, relieving the stress that I didn’t notice was there before. But I couldn’t stay there forever so the water was cut and it was time to make a silk purse from unpromising material.

 
 
My dress for this evening’s hostilities, I mean pre nup dinner? Look you don’t pay two hundred euros out on a dress to wear it once, well not in my world at any rate. So alright it’s not strictly speaking me that’s footed the bill, that’d be my unnamed benefactor at Eloise Couture (I suspect it’s the Baroness), but even so.

So yes the Biba has become my go to dress for posh do’s this season, different, shoes, hose, hair – it’s not like any of this lot will have seen me in it – unless they were at the Mart’s party back before Japan.

Gloria was indeed absent by the time I emerged from the bathroom, which meant I got a chance to do my dilation before getting ready – I’d likely forget later! I’ve been a girl for just three weeks but I’ve been a girl for a lot longer so it was of course with practised ease that I did my face and hair, donned my good lingerie and sealed myself into the dark blue crepe.

 
 
“I was just gonna come to find you,” Max advised when I slipped into the reception area.

“I’m not late am I?”

“No, but I was feeling a bit of a lemon on my own.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Gott knows, Tante Catherine and Gran are here somewhere,” he supplied.

Yeah, Analise and her hubby to be might not have titles but the wedding guests do, dukes, barons, a countess, duchess, baroness, world champion – and that’s only the people I know! So there might not be a king in waiting, president or princess but by my score this still rates as a Matrimony Noblese. There wasn’t any kind of announcement but everyone started drifting towards the dining room where we were directed to seats around a pretty impressive table.

So yeah it wasn’t old family silver on the table but the dressings were nonetheless impressive. Max and his plus one, that’s me, were seated towards one end, the happy couple sat opposite each other about mid table. Max has connections to both families apparently although it’s closer to Analise than the Heinemann’s.

There would be speeches tomorrow at the wedding breakfast so tonight’s cosier affair was thankfully spared all but the welcome and thank you niceties before the food started to arrive. I guess there were about fifty at the table and as most were family the atmosphere was pretty relaxed. Of course I still felt somewhat out of place, they aren’t my family and other than the Strechau’s I’ve not got much social history with any of them.

The meal ran to I think, eight courses – I lost count somewhere, it was big on fancy but thankfully the servings were small enough not to get everyone stuffed. Analise and Johannes did the rounds of the guests; I doubt they actually ate more than a few mouthfuls altogether.

“Taxis out front in fifteen minutes,” Sonia, one of the other bridesmaids advised in my ear as the sorbets were cleared.

“Er right,” I agreed.

Around the table people started to move, coffee was at a side table and whilst I quite fancied a cup I needed to fetch my coat and change bags.

“Max,” I tugged at his sleeve, “Max!”

“Wassup?” he asked breaking off his conversation with his other neighbour.

“I need to get my coat for the you know what.”

“Okay, might see you later.”

“Er right.”

My limited idea of hen and stag parties don’t include the two groups meeting at any stage, quite the contrary but what do I know?

 
 
“Gaby!” a voice squealed when I returned to the public area of the hotel.

“Soph, you made it.”

“We arrived while you were eating.”

“Apparently we’re going somewhere by taxi, we’re supposed to meet outside in,” I checked my watch, “er two minutes ago.”

“Best go then,” Fraulein Thun und Taxis suggested.

Outside the other members of the hen were waiting, we were the last.

“Gaby, Sophia, good let’s go,” Sonia, actually the Maid of Honour declared – I guess she’s in charge of this shindig.

We piled into the waiting cars, a dozen of us all told, bride, bridesmaids and a handful of other younger women not directly part of the wedding like Sophia.

“Where’re we going?” I asked as Matty squeezed in next to me.

“Godesberg, much nicer than the Zentrum for the Junggesellinnenabscheid!”

“Where?” Soph enquired.

“Bad Godesberg, it’s about ten minutes away.”
 
 

I must point out that I do not ordinarily frequent the streets late at night; if I did I would’ve been more aware of the order of the evening’s proceedings. Godesberg is somewhere I’ve ridden through, the northbound Rhein Express stops there but I’ve never actually visited the place as such. We poured out of the taxis in the town centre with high spirits and much giggling, Sonia immediately dragging Analise into the first bar on the street – of which I could see several.

“What’s going on?” I asked Sophia while we waited.

“Analise she will raise some money for charity, maybe selling cards or trinkets – the guys get off lightly!”

“So we aren’t on a pub crawl then?”

“Of course, where else will Ana find donors on a Friday night?” she pointed out.

There is that I suppose.

 
 
The bride to be returned dressed in a parody of a Dutch girl complete with foam clogs, pointy hat and wired wool braids. The assembled laydeez whooped with delight and the charity drive commenced.

Apparently Analise couldn’t have assistance from any of us so it was our job to act as advance guard in the hostelries, and by turns ‘protection’ for our girl. However this wasn’t the rowdy drinking party that I associate with hen do’s back in Blighty, this, whilst lively was more restrained but even I was having some fun as we invaded each hostelry. I was keen not to get drunk again; diet cola became my tipple although by how I was feeling by ten thirty some of them had something ‘extra’.

The charity drive, she was selling mini cheeses of course, was halted once they were all gone and Ana changed back to her party frock and we stopped at a previously arranged restaurant where we ate pizza and beer – okay I had a wheat beer, I was just joining in! It was not a lot before twelve when we returned to the Günnewig, jolly, not drunk, but ready for our beds.
 
 
Maddy Bell 15.01.16

 
 
I was woken, far too early, by Gloria doing her ablutions.

“Time is it?”

“Good morning, a few after seven, I’m nearly done then the bathroom’s yours, we can go down for frühstuck together when you’re ready.”

That sounded like instruction rather than request.

“Um yeah sure, “ I agreed.

 
 
“Morning, Gab,” Max greeted thirty minutes later when his mum and me arrived in the breakfast room.

“Er hi,” I’ve said it before, I’m not a morning person, I accepted the seat he held for me.

“Best make the most of this, Gaby,” Gloria mentioned, “you won’t get much chance to eat until the Breakfast.”

“I won’t?” I queried as I sipped at my first cup of restorative caffeine.

“Well you won’t be eating after you are dressed and there won’t be much time between hairdressers, makeup and dressing.”

“I er guess not.”

I hadn’t really given the getting ready business much thought until now, it’s obvious of course, but I’ve not done this before have I? I know back in Warsop Sylv did a few weddings, fancy do’s for the main players but often mothers, aunts etc too. Oh well, there’s no getting out of it so I guess I just need to put up and go with it.

On Gloria’s advice I had a breakfast that I considered would give me energy but not prove bloaty, I was mindful of that silly 50cm corset I have to get in to. Scrambled egg with salmon went down well, toast with Nutella® and a banana would hopefully keep me going. Of course, the rest of the wedding party were troughing too, I’d just about done when Sonia got everyone’s attention.

“Morning everyone, well today is the big day, the forecast is a bit mixed so I hope they have good heaters in the Dom.”

She paused to allow the chuckles and titters to die down.

“The gentlemen will be getting ready in suite three one two and ladies, we’ll be in the bridal suite on the fourth floor. The dressers should already be here so once you’ve done eating you can go straight on up. Ushers and groomsmen leave at twelve, brides party twelve thirty okay?”

Oh well, it’s not like I’d be doing much today anyway.

 
 
“Right, I guess I’ll see you all later,” I opined once my third coffee was drained.

“Enjoy it, Gaby,” the Baron told me.

“I’ll see you at the Dom,” Max advised.

“Er yeah.” I allowed.

 
 
I wasn’t the first to reach the Bridal Suite, organised chaos already occupied the rooms, a clothing rail was filled with the dresses, shoe boxes, hairdressers, bags of lingerie and bridesmaids everywhere. I’m sure you don’t need me telling you every detail; I was sucked into the vortex of excited energy and joined the production line. Around eleven we were pretty much ready apart from our dresses and there was a break in proceedings for sustenance.

The dainty sandwiches were morish but being in a tightly laced corset meant my ability to consume more than two was severely diminished. I’m sure the others weren’t laced as tightly, I think Gerta has it in for me.

“How you doing, Gaby?” Sonia asked as I tried to settle the girls a bit more comfortably.

“Er okay, I’d forgotten how the corset pushes stuff up.”

“Yeah, don’t think I’d want to wear one very often,” she agreed.

“I’ll second that.”

“Enjoying it?”

“It’s a different way to spend Saturday.”

“Well we’ll be dressing in a few minutes so use the bathroom before, there won’t be a chance until after the Dom.”

“Good point, thanks.”

 
 
It’s a good job the hotel has a lift, there’s no way I’d’ve got downstairs in the heels corset and dress hiding my feet in one piece. The hotel was strangely quiet, the grooms party and guests having preceded our departure, only the photographer who’d been snapping away all morning remained as we waited for the transport to arrive. There was an air of excitement, something I’d not experienced in Munich as a guest rather than participant.

The horse drawn carriages arrived, three of them looking resplendent with a pair of white horses pulling each, grooms and drivers dressed to the nines to match.

“Okay,” Sonia announced once Analise and her father were boarded, “Matty, Gaby and Maria, you take the second carriage, Chris, you Fabienne and Heidi take the other when we get to the Rathaus you’ll need to get down before Analise, I’ll fix the train there.”

It took a couple of minutes for us to load, I’d barely got sort of comfortable before we jolted away from the curb. It isn’t far of course but we had to go the long way round by road so it was twenty minutes before we drew to a halt in front of the Rathaus. The grooms helped us down and we prepared to do our assigned role, for now that’s train holders.

The idea is simple enough but the reality not quite so. We waited to for the bride to descend, Sonia feeding out the train behind her. There wasn’t exactly a hierarchy with the bridesmaids, we were instead paired in height order so I was with Matty at the end, the others spaced a couple of metres apart ahead of us.

“Ready everyone?” Sonia asked.

“Cold,” Heidi noted.

“Ana?”

“Let’s do it Son.”

Our little procession, Sonia leading, started the two fifty-metre walk to the Dom.

 
 
It’s one o’clock Saturday afternoon in the middle of Bonn we were bound to draw some attention. Being at the back I hadn’t seen that we had a police escort, yeah it’s not the huge event that Munich was but it’s still a bit out of the ordinary. The pace was necessarily slow – you try walking in 12cm heels across cobbles while carrying the weight of the train in one hand and a posy in the other. Thought so but that was my lot.

We reached Münster Platz, which is where the main bit of the Weihnachtsmarkt will be in a couple of weeks, and headed toward the door. There were more spectators here; the authorities had actually roped off an area in front of the doors, just in case.

“Gaby!” a voice I recognised yelled out, why me.

I glanced at the line of watchers and sure enough there they were, Con, Steff, Manda, Nena, Pia, Brid and Anna. I sort of waved my posy a bit so they knew I’d heard but today is definitely not about me. We quickly moved inside and once clear of the entrance our burden was allowed to sit on the ground. It might not have been far but that train weighs a ton!

 
 
Leaving Analise, her father, Sonia and now the two flower girls behind us bridesmaids moved into the church proper where our ‘partners’ waited to escort us to the front of the altar.

“Looking good, Gabs,” Max allowed as I threaded my arm through his.

“Er thanks.” He didn’t look so bad himself despite how he was dressed.

I never mentioned that did I? Us girls are in a vaguely Mittelalter style dress, the lads however have drawn the short straw. Yup they are in matching garb complete with bi colour hose, slashed doublet and I guess you’d call them bloomers, you know like in Shakespeare’s day. It sounds a bit comical and weird but on half a dozen reasonably buff young men accompanied by us beauties (bleh) it actually works – it’s certainly different to morning suits.

Bizarrely we were actually applauded, politely of course as we made our way through the pews, a group of musicians playing period music and garbed in similar fashion to ourselves provided the accompaniment – hang on what’re Mum and Dad doing here? They never said anything. At the front Johannes and his best man waited expectantly as the grooms and maids separated to our positions for the service. The priest signalled and the music changed to the Wedding March that sounds quite different played on lute, drum and recorders.

Analise started her last walk as a single woman preceded by the flower girls throwing petals and Sonia taking the full strain of the train. I’m not, but if I was at all, I’d think it was all quite romantic.

 
 
Being part of the wedding you get a different experience to those sitting in the pews, I was much more aware of what was going, what was said than in Munich. It also seemed to go somewhat quicker, it was about thirty minutes but it felt like five before the newlyweds left to sign the register. The temperature in the Dom wasn’t brilliant but bearable; I wasn’t looking forward to returning to the great outdoors.

A few spectators had hung around so we had an audience for the first photo session outside the Dom. My girlfriends weren’t amongst them, which is just as well with how Max is dressed, he’d never hear the end of it. Although there was an extra carriage to take us to the Botanical Gardens we were sardined, as we were twice the number – perhaps just as well as it kept us a bit warmer.

 
 
Although some of the photos were taken outside thankfully a lot were not, one of the hothouses providing warmth and shelter from the first flakes of snow that were now falling on the city. It was actually getting dark by the time we were done and someone had had the sense to organise motorised transport to get us back to the Günnewig. I think everyone was by now both cold and hungry, after being in these shoes for like four hours my feet were killing too!

The function room was considerably more crowded than last night; this evening is for a wider audience of course.

“You alright, Gaby?” Gloria enquired.

“My feet are killing and this corset,” I complained.

“You look gorgeous.”

Okay I’ll take gorgeous; it’s better than cute.

Max of course had slipped away, I’m guessing to change into more, erm, modern attire, an option I didn’t have, not having brought anything for this evening, I forgot okay?

 
 
“There you are,” Mum stated as I waited for Max to deliver some food – it’s a buffet this evening.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“We were invited of course.”

“You never said anything,” I accused.

“Didn’t we?”

“No you didn’t, what about Mand?”

“Staying the night at the Thesing’s.”

“Oh hi, Frau Bond,” Max greeted Mom.

“Hi, Max, not into the costume then?”

“It was a bit embarrassing but Ana always wanted a fairytale wedding.”

“I guess she got that, the girls looked nice.”

“She always does.”

“‘She’ is sat here,” I pointed out.

“I’ll leave you to it, can’t have your food getting cold,” Mum stated pinching what looked like a Nurnburger from one of the plates Max was holding.

Mum disappeared into the crowds and Max set down the plates.

“Ooo, hot food!”

“It’s still snowing out there,” he offered between mouthfuls of his potato cake.

“Great, it’s not even December yet.”

“You back at school this week?”

“Think so, I have to go to the clinic Monday morning for a check up.”

 
 
After the buffet was destroyed it was time for dancing, no the Mittelalter theme wasn’t carried through here – that would’ve been too much. My feet were still throbbing of course, my alternative footwear option was another pair of heels so no gain. The wedding party were all called to the floor once the first dance was underway with Ana and Johannes – I could hardly demur so I found myself once again in the arms of Maximillian Maria.

Mindful of the restrictions put on me by Mum I retired to my seat as soon as the tempo increased and waltzing became inappropriate. It didn’t mean I couldn’t tap my toes.

“Pfennig for them?”

“Oh hi, Soph, just a bit tired now.”

“Glad I didn’t have to wear that stuff.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Your waist is tiny.”

“Yeah, fifty thanks to the corset,” I supplied.

“Get on with you! Fifty?”

Maddy Bell 16.01.16

 
 
“Girls, the staff have beds to get to,” Duchess Marianne, that is Sophia’s mum told us.

We’d been chatting hard for a while with the party going on around us, Max flitting in and out, visits by parents, other bridesmaids and, well where had the time gone.

“Where is everyone?” I enquired.

“Mostly to their beds,” the Duchess advised.

“Come on, Gab,” Sophia prompted, “we should get some shut eye too.”

My watch claimed twelve fifteen so I guess I have been up quite a while. We followed Soph’s mum out of the function room and round to the lift.

“Oh bum, I’ve not got my room key, I’ll have to wake Gloria up.”

“You can share with me,” Soph offered.

“But…” I started.

“I’ve got spare pyjamas and anyway, you’ll need help getting out of that lot.”

“Take her up on it, Gabrielle, you might get some sleep,” the senior Thun und Taxis suggested.
 
 

When I accepted the offer I’d thought it was to use a spare bed but the room held just a single bed, queen size admittedly but in the singular nevertheless. Well I can hardly demur now I’m here can I.

“Erm, could you undo my shoes, Soph?”

“Hang on a mo,” she finished removing her own before wading under my skirts to reach the stilts I’ve now been wearing for a dozen hours.

“Ooooh,” I allowed as the first shoe came off, “ah!” when the other joined it, “that’s better.”

“You okay for a minute, I’ll get changed then we’ll sort you out.”

“Sure,” I agreed lying back onto the bed.

 
 
“Hmmm,” something tickled my nose, hmm hair. I tried to brush it away but instead pulled more across my face. I cracked an eye to investigate and was greeted not by my dirty blonde hair but somewhat darker, brown locks, eh? Then it came to me, I’m sharing with Sophia, not sure why the light’s on.

Further investigation revealed I was trapped by my right arm that was under Sophia and “Aaargh!” holding her breast! I released the body part but the still sleeping bedmate grabbed it with her free arm and put it back before snuggling down again.

Sugar, what the hell do I do now? Hang on, I don’t remember getting undressed. A quick audit with my free hand revealed I was wearing the promised PJ’s, which means Soph undressed me and put me in the jarmas. This gets worse. The bedside clock said ten past five, dammit – I groped behind me for a light control and turned the illumination off.

I lay there in the dark, not tight to the girl but as far away as my pinned arm and its contents would allow. That lasted a long time, she rolled over, not away from me but onto me, which released my now numb arm but pinned me to the bed bodily. She cuddled into me and by reflex I found myself holding her too.

 
 
“Mmmm, morning,” Soph offered from somewhere close by my ear.

“Morning.”

She lay back and stretched, “What time’s it?”

“Almost eight,” I advised having only just looked.

“Should get up.”

“I guess.”

“Not yet,” she changed her mind and turned to cuddle me again.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about this, sharing a room okay, done that before, a bed, well not really an issue but this, this intimacy I dunno. I really don’t know what I feel about it, a little voice is saying its wrong but well it’s sort of nice, a nice I can’t remember feeling before. Does that mean I like girls, is that why I’m not chasing boys? Or is the gender of my bedmate irrelevant and it’s just the sensations.

I looked down at Soph, as confused as I was three hours ago. She must’ve sensed me looking at her as she moved to look up at me.

“What?”

“Nothing, we probably should get up.”

“But it’s nice here.”

A knock on the door interrupted that line of thought.

“Girls, time to get up,” Duke Ludwig called through the door.

“Yes, Papa.”

Well that’s that sorted.

“I need to go get dressed.”

“Spoil sport,” Soph moaned as I extricated myself from both bedclothes and her clutches.

Bum, I’m barefoot in pyjamas, if anyone sees me it’ll look a bit suspect.

“Borrow my wrap, I’ll see you at breakfast,” my sleep partner pronounced.

“Erm, yeah, er thanks.”

I gathered my clothing and shoes and with a ‘ciao’ let myself out.

 
 
I knocked on the door to the room I’ve been sharing with Gloria.

“It’s open, Gaby!”

I pushed it open and somewhat sheepishly stepped inside.

“Er morning.”

“Morning, sleep well?”

“I stayed with Sophia, I didn’t want to wake you,” I explained instead of answering the question.

“I know, Marianne rang earlier.”

“Er right, um I should shower and stuff.”

 
 
The morning after the night before revealed plenty of people enjoyed the celebration, the newly weds were not in evidence – can’t say as I blame them.

“Juice, Gab?” Max enquired.

“Orange please.”

“Coming up!”

Got, how can he be so chipper at er quarter to nine?

Freed of yesterday’s food intake restrictions, both time and clothing wise, I made up for it this morning with the full works.

“What are you grinning at, Soph,” Max enquired as I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Hiya, Soph.”

“Ooo, nothing in particular.”

“Well either go or sit,” Max suggested.

“Given that choice I’ll sit.” She pulled out a chair and joined us.

“Come on, what is it?” Max pushed.

“I had someone in my bed last night.” Soph gloated.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”

“You not gonna ask who?”

“Why should I be interested?”

“It was me, Max,” I interrupted before it could go any further.

“Spoil sport, Gab.”

“It was late, I didn’t want to wake your mum so Soph offered to put me up.”

“Does it not bother you Maxxie that I’ve slept with your girlfriend before you?”

We both replied together “He/she’s not my girl/boyfriend!”

“A sore point, eh?” Sophia surmised.

“And anyway all we did was sleep!”

“Keep it down,” Max suggested.

“Soz, but it’s true.”

“Never said it wasn’t,” Soph grinned.

“Soph!”

“What? The look on your faces.”

Geez I’m glad she’s a friend; I wouldn’t want to be her enemy.
 
 

Outside it was cold, the snow hadn’t come to much but what had fallen was now frozen in place. I blew on my hands to warm them as I returned to reception after putting my vanity in Gloria’s Cayenne.

“Gab.”

“Oh hi, Ana, Frau Heinemann.”

“That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“No the thanks should be mine, we’d both like to thank you for being part of the madness.”

“I’ve enjoyed it,” that wasn’t just a platitude, I actually have enjoyed the weekend.

“Please, this is for you, all the maids have one,” she passed me a gift bag.

“Um thanks.”

We exchanged hugs.

“Be good, Gabrielle, see you soon cousin!”

“Er bye,” I allowed.

 
 
“You ready, Gab?” Gloria enquired.

“All loaded except this,” I waved the gift bag.

“Good, now where is that boy? Hold on here while I find him.”

Gloria had barely disappeared before Sophia found me.

“Caught you!”

“You did that last night,” I observed.

“Maybe we could do it again sometime?” she suggested coyly.

There are worse possibilities.

“Maybe,” I allowed.

“Papa said to invite you all for New Year at the Schloss.”

“All?”

“You, your parents, sister, Manda, we have a big party, please say yes!”

“I’ll put it before the committee,” I agreed, “sounds brill, so where is this schloss?”

“Oh it’s down south, Papa will send your dad directions.”

“Right,” sounds a bit vague, well whatever.”

“Ah, Sophia,” Gloria greeted Fraulein Taxis, “good to see you again.”

“And you, Tante.”

“Well I need to get Miss Bond back home.”

“Where’s Max?”

“Apparently he’s gone with his father.”

“See you soon then, Gaby,” Soph mentioned as we hugged.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “tschussie!”

“Ciao!”
 
 

The two of us walked out to the Porsche, the first fresh flakes of snow now falling onto the already frozen ground.

“So what have you in the bag?” Gloria asked as we started the journey back to the Ahrtal, back to what I now think of as home, the place where Drew has never existed. When I thought about it, even in Warsop I spent a significant amount of time as, well as me.

What will the next weeks, months bring?

 
 
Maddy Bell 16.01.16