Close Call

The silly old moo had pulled into the middle of the road, which left me a narrow gap kerbside to head for. There was no time to think about it, flick to the right, hold on tight, BANG! That's her mirror gone. I hadn't even finished passing her before an even loader noise rent the air. Instinctively I hopped onto the pavement and anchored to a slightly panicked halt.

By the time I could look back up the road it was pretty much all over. Whilst I had realised what was about to happen it seems the moped chasing me hadn't and the second bang had been said machine impacting the now stationary old bat mobile - shit! I hit 112 on the handy even as I hobbled; you try running in cleats, towards the carnage.

I'm not good with this stuff, I guess its instinct that draws us towards the injured, so I was thankful that some folks from the garage beat me to the mess.

"Emergency services."

"There's been an accident . "

"Stay calm, fraulein, where are you?"

"Um Altenahr, I'm not sure what the road's called, just below the Aral Tankstelle."

"Okay, I have you, what's happened?"

"A car pulled out and like I just missed it but a guy on a moped hit it, " I rushed out.

"Are you injured?"

"No I...oh shit, my hand's bleeding . "

"Okay, what's your name?"

"Er, Gaby."

"Okay, Gaby, help is on its way, is there anyone else there?"

"Some guys from the garage, they're trying to get the car off the rider."

The sound of sirens dopplering through the town below alerted me to the imminent arrival of assistance. The operator stayed on the line until they arrived.

"Er, Dad."

"Where the hell are you?"

"There's been an accident."

"Which hospital?"

"Not me, well not really." I winced as the paramedic taped my broken fingers together.

"So where are you?"

"Altenahr, I should be home in like twenty minutes."

"You do remember we have to get to the airport? I'll come pick you up or we'll never get there on time."

"Er okay."

"Everything's packed?"

"Uh huh."

"Passport?"

"In my handbag."

"Get yourself to the Bahnhof, I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Why today?

"Okay, Dad, see you soon."

There's no point in arguing and he's usually right.

"Okay, fraulein," the policewoman caught my attention, "have you got a contact phone number?"

"Er sure." I fumbled with my handy and she copied it off the screen.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Sore but the doctor seems to think that apart from his broken leg he'll be alright."

"Good."

"You were very lucky,” she noted.

"Years of practice."

"Well take care, eh ? "

"Thanks."

I gathered myself together and mounted up, I was still a bit shaken up, the adrenaline level had dropped but my heart was even now still going 'bumpity bump'. I pushed away from the kerb and quickly noticed a problem with my bike, click, bump, click, bump, now what? I couldn't see anything but when I put the brakes on it was obvious where the problem lay. Sugar . Well at least it's mostly downhill to the station.

Gingerly I set off again, barely turning the pedals and braking on the front wheel to keep the speed down. I barely made the car park before Dad arrived in the bus.

"Sorry, Dad."

"Get yourself inside, you can tell me what happened once we're moving."

By the time I'd climbed aboard and lost my shoes Dad had my steed in the back and less than five minutes had passed before we were on the move.

"You're like a trouble magnet, " Dad noted after I'd told my tale.

"It wasn't my fault, it was that silly old woman."

"So you weren't sprinting for the sign?"

"Yeah but..."

He gave me a look, " Whatever the rights and wrongs this morning you need to think about the consequences, I don't want to get a call summoning me to Manchester General."

"Why would...oh right."

We'd made good time up to the airport which was just as well as a quick splash and change of clothes were definitely in order.

"Ná¤chste."

I shuffled up to the desk and presented my ticket and passport.

"One case and bicycle?"

"Yup," I agreed.

Well you know the score, did you pack it yourself, any nasties and so on.

"Take these and your bike to the desk at the end, have a nice flight, " the check in girl smiled.

"Thanks."

Dad grabbed the handle of the bike box and I trotted along behind with my flight bag. We soon had the bike checked in, goodness knows how I'm gonna manage that at the other end. We found a cafe where we got a coffee before heading to security.

"So kiddo, this is it, do yourself proud."

"I'll try Dad."

"Don't forget to ring."

"As if."

I grinned to cover up the emotions going through my head. Yes I've been away from home without the rents before but only for like a couple of days. Six weeks is a whole other ball game, away from not just my family but my friends too - okay I'll see the Warsop gang this first week but then - well its gonna be weird.

Dad pulled me into a hug, " Look after yourself Drew."

"I will." I sniffed back a tear.

"Uncle John will be at East Midlands."

"I know."

He pushed away, "Your Mother sent this." he passed me an envelope, " and I'm sure this'll be useful." he pushed a couple of notes into my hand.

"Thanks Dad."

"Get on with you, you don't want to miss the plane."

I gave him a last peck on the cheek and with teary eyes headed towards security.

We were in the air before I got a chance to see what was in Mum's envelope, Dad had stuffed five crisp twenty pound notes in my hand - very useful indeed. There was a 'Bon Voyage' card inside, a Diddle cartoon on the front, inside was a short message.

Dear Drew,

Sorry I couldn't get back to see you off but you know how it is.

You can use the card to get cash at most machines, there's  £300 on it, try to make it last, the PIN is the same as your German racing licence.

Give your Gran a hug from me when you see her, enjoy yourself and kick some ass! I'll ring when I get home on Tuesday.

Have fun

Lots of love

Mum

xxxxxx

Kewl, I'm rolling in it . Well , not exactly rolling , but I'll not be short.

The flight was uneventful, an hour and a half sat above the clouds before descending through the clouds to an overcast but at least dry East Midlands airport. It's hardly the exciting and busy place that Manchester is - or even Ká¶ln/Bonn, there're no arm thingies, you have to climb down the steps and walk across the tarmac to the terminal. The queue for passport control seemed to take ages but at least the wait there meant my bags were already on the carousel when I got through.

"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.

A moment later I was nearly bowled off my feet.

"Drewbie."

"Mad," I managed to get out.

"Let go of the poor lad, Madeline, welcome home, Drew.

"Er hi, Unc."

"Where's your bike?"

Bike, it should be, oh bum.

"I'll be right back."

"Drew?" Mad called after me.

I took off in the direction Chris had headed and nearly ran into him.

"I seem to have something of yours , " he grinned.

"I'd forget my head sometimes according to Dad."

"Now that would be a shame."

"Thanks, Chris," don't ask me why but I leant up and planted a smacker on his cheek.

"Och, I won't be able to wash now," he chortled, "get on with yer, see you next week."

I was blushing pinker than a strawberry by now, " Next week," I agreed.

"Who was that?" Mad enquired on reaching me.

"What? Who?" my mind finally re-engaged, "only Chris Hoy!"

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 07.03.2012

Warsop Welcome

I know its only been six months since I was here but so much has happened, all the stuff with Bern, society weddings, loads of racing, the trip to France oh and my diagnosis as a card carrying woman in waiting.

"Flibbidy flobby blabbery guh?"

"Eh?"

"Blippidy flab? Aarty libbery Drew?"

My brain still wasn't caught up, what is Mad on about and why is she speaking foreign?"

"Speak English Mad, I can't understand what you're saying."

"Lilly blem anoon." Uncle Pete offered.

"Wallabloo!" Mad huffed.

Without the foreign chitchat from Mad I needed little encouragement to drop off.

"Come on Drew, we're home."

I stretched theatrically before replying, "I needed that."

"Well at least you aren't speaking German now."

"German?"

"Yeah, I was talking to you at the airport and you kept saying 'sprechen ze Englische bluh bluh bluh.'"

"Really?"

"Really, you know I don't understand it." Mad huffed.

"Um sorry."

"You two coming in?" Aunt Carol enquired from the door.

Aunt Carol enveloped me in a hug as soon as I was inside.

"Someone's grown."

"Er yeah, a bit." I didn't really want reminding, now if it had been up it would've been cool.

"You're in the spare room, get yourself settled in and I'll rustle up some tea."

"Thanks."

"Spag bol ok?"

My eyes lit up, "oh yeah!"

"I'll give you a hand." Mad offered.

"You've not brought much,” my cousin noted as she surveyed my case.

"Not much, what do you call this lot?"

"That's cycling kit," she pointed out, "you won't be riding all the time."

"I've got jeans and cargo's."

"No dresses or skirts?"

"No."

"I suppose you can borrow some of mine."

"And just why would I need to?" I've learnt to smell a rat and this has the makings of a doozie.

"You never know." she shrugged.

Rat, a big one!

"Five minutes girls!" Aunt C called up the stairs.

"You changing?"

"I wasn't going to."

"Wait here a sec."

She wasn't gone a minute before reappearing brandishing a hanger.

"Here ya go."

"Ma-ad." I complained, I've only been here half an hour and she's at it.

"See ya downstairs!"

Geez Louise. I should just go down without changing, hmmm. I looked at the garment that she'd thrust into my hand, a dress of course, summer, one of, for the use of. I've got a similar one at home except mine's yellow and this one is pale pink. What the heck!

"There you are, we were about to start without you." Aunt C offered.

"Someone," I glared at a speechless Maddy, "said I should change."

"Very nice too." Uncle Pete opined.

My cousin was still goldfishing; I think I've called her bluff. Yes I was wearing her dress but you don't spend a couple of years appearing as a girl and not pick up a thing or two like taking your makeup bag everywhere and I'm a dab hand at braids and quick fix hairdressing. Oh yes, the Weinká¶nigin has arrived - well okay, ex but you know what I mean.

"You not eating Mad?"

"B, but..."

"Oh and cheers for the dress, I should've packed something more dressy."

"You didn't need to dress up Drew." Aunt C noted.

"I'd never get away with jeans at home." I fibbed, rubbing it in.

"Maybe you should follow your cousins example Maddy,” her Dad suggested, earning a look of disapproval from his daughter.

"Help yourself to sauce Drew." Aunt Carol instructed as she passed me a plate of steaming spaghetti.

The food was every bit as good as I remembered, pasta just so and the bolognese sauce just the right consistency to coat the pasta and not spray everywhere. I did have to rescue some from my chest when it slipped off my fork but I think I avoided getting a spray on my dress, well Mad's dress.

"Aah!" I allowed sitting back from the table.

"Someone enjoyed that." Aunt C smirked.

"Anyone would think she doesn't get fed at home." Mad pouted, clearly still upset by my dress ploy.

"Its different when someone else is cooking." I noted.

"You cook at home Drew?" my aunt enquired.

"Well it's usually just me an' Dad and he can burn water!"

"You have a lot of beans on toast then." Mad surmised.

"Not likely! Dad'd go ballistic, I do a mean schnitzel you know!"

"Those flat things?" Aunt Carol confirmed.

"Yeah," I sighed, "I wonder what they'll feed us in Manchester?"

"Chips and black pudding." Mad suggested.

"Not every meal I hope." I replied with a straight face.

"You are a one Drew!" Mad's mum chortled. "Tell you what, why don't you invite the others round during the week and you can demonstrate your culinary skills."

"Yeah, you can make snotty or whatever it is." Mad suggested.

"Schnitzel." I corrected. Bum, what have I landed myself in now?"

"I'll look forward to that." Uncle P opined.

I tried to stifle a yawn.

"Er sorry, long day."

"You slept all the way from the airport." Mad observed.

"Let her alone." Aunt C instructed.

"I was only saying." Mad almost whined.

"You'll have to excuse your cousin Drew, she's been a right pain lately,” her Mum offered.

"Have not!" Mad snapped.

Aunt C just rolled her eyes.

"You coming up?" Mad asked."

"Shouldn't we do the washing up?" I suggested.

"Its alright Drew, you're excused tonight." Uncle P stated.

"Come on Drew." my cousin insisted.

No escape then, I shuffled out of my seat and followed Mad upstairs.

"So come on Drew, what's with the makeup and everything, I thought you weren't doing that stuff now?"

"I wasn't going to, it was you insisted on the dress."

"Well I didn't expect you to wear it."

Like I believe that.

"So what's all the rush about?"

"Nothing really, Mum's been on my back lately, do your homework, tidy your room, don't wear that , last week she made me miss Chrissie's party!"

Didn't sound like Aunt Carol, I'm betting Mad is doing a Juliette, remember all that hassle with the scooter and stuff last year? And who is Chrissy?

"Anyhow, what's the goss?"

"Regarding what?"

"Well you know."

I wish I did. At one time we used to work on the same wavelength but now, I don't know.

"You won't know anyone."

"I guess, so what was it like at the wedding?"

"I told you on the phone."

"No, you skimmed over most of it, I want detail."

Joy.

"Come on Drewbie, nothing ever happens 'round here." she moaned.

When I look back, I guess compared to Dernau Warsop is pretty quiet.

"Okay, well it all started...."

"Geez Drew, you couldn't make it up." Mad exclaimed a couple of hours later.

"Who'd want to?"

"Well its more exciting than a walk t'Fisheries."

"A lot more hassle too."

"But you even danced with Prince William."

"Me and half of Germany."

I engaged my cleats and pushed off from the Peters' drive, I got to the main road before realising I was on the wrong side of the road. Oops, whata mistaka to make-a! It wasn't that early but the roads were quiet, the occupants of Meden Vale clearly favouring their beds over fresh air. I didn't have a set route in mind but I started towards Fanny's Grove, which is as good a direction as any.

It was a fine morning promising some heat later, a swirl of mist doing its best to hide the river across the fields. Yesterday the Eifel Mountains, today Sherwood Forest, considering how long I lived here it feels...alien, a little off. It could be the terrain, its just so flat here, well not Lincolnshire flat but compared to back home where its either up or down North Nottinghamshire is tame.

I caught a bit of Thoresby traffic at the Grove, but I managed to dodge the procession of 4x4's and started up the Worksop road. I only realised that I'd climbed a bit when the road started to drop down to the Clumber crossroads. I swung left towards Cuckney and settled into a steady mileating cadence, the familiar yet not countryside shrouded more fully by early morning mist.

Rather than loop straight back to Warsop I hung a right at Norton to head towards Creswell via a stretch of the Cuckney 10 course. I got down into a tuck and thrashed the pedals around for a comfortable forty kph but only until the Creswell turn; I was quickly back to a more manageable thirty. Left towards Cuckney and up the mad mile before hitting the series of bends that take you back to Cuckney village.

Onto the main road and the drag up past the ten start then the fast descent to Church Warsop and the turn back to the Peters domicile. You couldn't call it training, more of a leg stretch but I felt better for it.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 30.03.12

Conned Again

"Morning," I called out as pushed the kitchen door open.

"Thank heavens: your aunt was just about to call the police," Uncle John supplied, "where've you been?"

"Just a quick leg stretch."

"Well next time let someone know eh?"

"Er yeah, sorry. Where is Aunt Carol, and Mad for that matter?"

"Your cousin's still in bed and your aunt's in the shower."

"That's what I need."

"She'll be a while yet, get some breakfast first."

Well I suppose I don't smell too bad; and the fry up was giving off some great aromas.

"Ok." I agreed pausing only to slip my Carnacs * off.

I was tucking into my egg and bacon before, attracted no doubt by the smell, Mad arrived in the kitchen.

"Morning Drew," she yawned.

"More like afternoon," I suggested with a smirk.

"It's barely nine o'clock," Mad grumbled.

"Drew's already been out on his bike for an hour," her dad told her.

"And frightened me half to death," Aunt C mentioned from the door, "morning everyone."

"What'd she do?" Mad asked.

"It's what he didn't do." Aunt Carol looked pointedly at me.

"Sorry."

“So um, what's happening today?” I enquired when I returned downstairs after showering.

“Thought we might go up to Doncaster,” Uncle John offered.

“Doncaster?” Mad and me questioned in perfect stereo.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure the place does have its good points but its reputation leaves a lot to be desired, not somewhere you'd really make a point of visiting.

“Why Doncaster?” Mad pressed.

“There's a one day comic con on at the Dome, thought we could take a look.”

“In costume?” I enquired.

“Only if you want,” Aunt C told us.

“Sounds okay to me.”

“That's settled then, we'll leave about ten*,” Unc instructed.

“Come on Drew,” Mad grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the stairs.

“What're you up to?” I asked plonking myself on her bed.

“Finding us costumes.”

“We don't need costumes, your mum said,” I pointed out.

“You think I'm going to a con in drab? My cred would be down the drain.”

“If you say so,” I sighed.

“And if I'm playing so are you,” she stated.

“Ma-ad,” I moaned.

“Pretty please Drew?”

I'll get no peace if I don't will I?

“Alright then — but nothing too revealing.” I have no illusions about her coming up with a male costume, look at what she's conned me into in the past.

“I feel like a right prawn.”

“Stop moaning, she looks gorgeous doesn't she Mum?”

“You've certainly got the look Drew.”

Now as you know, back home I've done the Lolli Goth thing a couple of times but this get up goes way beyond that, I'm not sure I can even really describe it . Revealing it's not, i'll say that for it but instead it's so saccharin sweet it can rot teeth at twenty paces, all lace and flounces — and not revealing. If Mad can find this in her closet I'm a little worried.

“Are we ready then ladies?” Uncle John asked from the door.

“Yes love, come on you two.” Aunt C started to usher us out to the car.

Oh geez, I've got to go outside in this lot and I know people round here. At least some attention might be diverted to my cousins much briefer Harumi café outfit.

It's not a long drive up to Doncaster, there are several options and Uncle J took potentially the quickest, out to the A1, up to the M18, one junction north on there and in to the eastern industrial and leisure estate that the Doncaster Dome sits in. once parked in the flood of tarmac that forms the car parking we followed the signs for the imaginatively named ‘Don Con'.

The leisure centre was of course open as usual so we had to manoeuvre through flocks of juvenile swimmers and middle-aged gym fanatics before reaching the exhibition halls. We joined the queue for accreditation, there were quite a few in front of us and I found myself idly twiddling the lace parasol Mad insisted I bring.

“Watch out with that thing,” a voice petulantly stated from behind me.

“Er sorry,” I offered turning to look at the complainant.

“Yeah well, you could put someone's eye out with that thing.”

“I said sorry.”

“James, stop winding her up,” Mad huffed beside me.

“Sorry, couldn't resist Mad, your parents here?”

“Hi James,” Aunt C called back.

“Hi Mrs P, Mr P.”

Do I know this joker?

“You never said you were coming Mad, or that Momoko would be here.”

Momoko?

“It was a bit last minute, how'd you get here?”

“Drove,” he grinned.

“Drove?” Mad repeated.

“Passed me test last week so there'll be no holding me now,” he beamed.

I'm sure I should know him.

“So are you reprising Momoko today, Gab?” he asked.

He seems to know who I am.

“I didn't plan on it.”

It all makes sense now, the outfit being ready, coming to the Con, that cousin of mine is still conning me into stuff; you'd think I would have learnt by now.

“For not planning you look pretty ace.”

Got it; he was at some of the cons back when I lived here. I remember now, his uncle or someone had a costume shop, he had that girl mask**, yeah that's it.

“Mad's work, I wasn't expecting to do a Con while I'm here.”

“You not cosing?” Mad asked him .

“Dur?” he opened his jacket, “Spidey,” he grinned revealing a close fitting Spiderman  ® outfit. “I'll mask up when we get in."

The queue was inching forward; it felt like we'd been there hours already.

It was clear that Mad was ‘interested' in James which, when I realised it, caused a momentary pang of jealousy. Wasn't I her boyfriend? Thinking about it was I? I mean we shared rooms and did stuff together but who was it that was there? As I went through some of those times in my head I realised that invariably I did stuff as Gaby, not Drew. Okay not exclusively but a large percentage of the time.

“Come on Gab, you've been staring at that mirror for like five minutes,” Mad chided.

“Er oh right.” I picked up my handbag and followed her back out into the halls.

Don Con was certainly smaller than pretty much any other event I've been to but the con community were nevertheless out in force and whilst I didn't know anyone myself, Mad and James certainly did, costumers and stall holders alike. I had no idea that Mad was still so much into it; she doesn't mention it that much when we talk, if anything I go on about it more.

“You guys go on I want to look at some of this Manga.”

“You sure, we don't mind waiting do we James?”

“‘Course not,” his eyes told a different story .

“Go on, I'm a big girl now,” I declared .

“Yup,” James agreed.

Mad missed that comment thankfully, “ Don't forget the concourse at two.” she reminded .

“Jawohl Herr Kapitan,” I snapped back in German.

I watched Mad unconsciously thread her arm through James' as they walked on, yep, definitely an item. Another dent in my battered ego.

“And next is Momoko from Kamikaze Girls.”

I stepped out onto the stage, erected my parasol and walked across the platform before joining the other costumers along the back wall. I might have turned up for the ‘competition' but there was no sign of my cousin or James although I did spot my Aunt and Uncle at the back of the room. Wonder where they've got to, you could hardly get lost in a place this size.

Personally I wouldn't have bothered with this stuff, it was Mad who insisted I enter. Whilst most attendees were in costume there were only about two-dozen entered in the judging with costumes across a wide range of genres. The inevitable Sailor Moon at one end through to more obscure stuff like the Clown from Remote, some shop bought, some home made and variations in between.

Whilst I've done this a few times now, I was getting a bit antsy long before the judges' decision was made. We all paraded around the stage again before the MC started the usual spiel about great costumes blahdy blahdy blah.

“But we must have a winner and this year's Don Con costumier par excellence is,” he paused a moment, “Gaby Bond, all the way from Germany, playing Momoko from Kamikaze girls, come on over Gaby.”

Me? I've won? Wait until I tell the girls .

The prize wasn't a lot, it's the taking part, well it was a stack of gift vouchers for several of the bigger booths along with a one-month access membership to the Dome. Well the vouchers will be damned useful, I've seen some stuff earlier I quite fancy. I found the elder Peters waiting to congratulate me when I descended from the stage.

“Well done Gaby,” Aunt C gave me a hug.

“It's Mad's costume, I'm only wearing it.”

“She did make it for you, you know?”

Bugger. “ Where is she by the way, I thought her and James were entered.”

“Not seen them for a while,” Mad's dad mused.

“You going to spend your prize?” Aunt Carol asked.

“Shouldn't we look for Mad?”

“We'll look for Mad, you enjoy yourself, ” Uncle John directed .

Don't mind if I do.

It was a good hour later, knocking on four o'clock in fact when I literally walked into my cousin; well I was distracted by a girl doing the Leia slave girl bit in not a lot of clothes.

“Heya Gab.”

“Hiya guys, your rents are looking for you, Mad.”

The two exchanged guilty looks, “ We um went outside for a bit,” James supplied.

Yeah I bet you did, but which bit ?

“I won the contest, just been spending my winnings.”

“Oh cool, I knew you would, that outfit is just so.”

“Don't you dare say the s word.”

“I was gonna say cute.”

Grrr, I hate cute.

* Leading brand of cycling shoes

** See Book 3 chapters 30 + 31

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 07.05.12

Aisha

Nothing was said about the lovebirds' disappearance when we all reconvened prior to departure although I'm sure Aunt Carol was having to bite her lip.

“Nice seeing you again Gaby,” James grinned.

“And you.” Well politeness costs nothing even though in truth I'd barely spoken to him all day.

“I'll mail you about Salford Mad.”

Mad was doing the ‘shut up' thing with her eyes, which James of course failed to see.

“Er yeah, I'll just walk James to his car, ” Mad advised us.

“We're off now too, ” her dad stated.

“I'll be quick,” she pouted.

The two of them made good their escape, the rest of our party following behind.

“I was thinking of stopping off at Tickhill to eat?” Uncle John proposed.

“Good for me,” Aunt C agreed, “Gaby?”

“Eh? Sorry.” I was lost in thought.

“You okay with a restaurant for dinner?” she prompted.

“Er sure.” I replied without really thinking about it.

We exited the building and started the walk to the Peters' car.

That's it . “I need to go back in, I forgot to do something, I'll be really quick?”

“Go on, we'll be waiting for your cousin anyhow; give us your bags,” Uncle John directed.

I hurried back towards the complex but instead of going inside I headed off to the side, yup, she was still there.

“What choo want, Miss lardy dar?”

“I saw you earlier.”

“So? S'free cuntree innit?”

“You hang around here a lot?”

“Nuffink else to do like, you've got a funny accent, you forrin like?”

Funny accent?

“Not really, do you go in?”

“Ain't got no money like, I watches froo the windas s'better than nuffink.”

“I guess.”

“So what's wiv the frills an' the twenty questions?”

“I've been at the con.”

“Wass that then?”

“Everyone dresses up like comic characters or people in films, there's stalls to buy stuff and prizes for the best costumes.”

“Wondered what all the weirdo's were doing here, so wot you dressed as, never seen nuffink like that before.”

“It's from a Japanese book.”

“Glad I'm not wearing it.”

Wish I wasn't but there again what she was clothed in wasn't exactly haute couture, a washed out yellow t-shirt over pink leggings that I'd possibly use for cleaning my bike — if they were washed first.

“Wasn't my idea either.”

“So wotcha want, you ain't the social an I don't do smack like.”

“Look, would you like to go in?”

“Told yuz, ain't got no moolah like.”

“But if you had?” I pressed.

“Yeah but like I ain't got a cozzie so what'd be the point?”

“Look, I won the costume thing earlier,”

“In that?” she interrupted.

“In this.” I confirmed, “Anyway part of the prize was a pass for this place and like I don't live round here so I was wondering if you'd be interested?”

“Don't do charitee, ” her eyes gave away her desire.

“It's not charity; it'll only go to waste if you don't want it.”

“Told yerz, I ain't got no cozzie.”

“What if you did?”

“But I ain't.”

“Look,” I dug the pass and a twenty note out of my handbag, “one pass and this'll buy a swimsuit inside.”

Her eyes hungrily followed my hand.

“Why me?”

“Because you need it, I'm Gaby by the way.”

“Aisha.”

“Well Aisha, you want?”

She gave the slightest of nods. I could be just throwing away twenty quid but I don't think so, I bet she hangs around the place all the time, watching through the glass as Doncaster's middle classes enjoyed the facilities, feeding off her more affluent neighbour's enjoyment but slowly dying inside.

“Look, I have to go, take it eh?”

She hesitantly took the proffered gift, “Fanks Gaby.”

“No problem.”

“There you are Gabs, what've you been up to?” Mad enquired when I reached the car.

“A bit of first aid,” I supplied rubbing my foot.

“Yeah, those shoes do rub a bit.”

I shot a look back to the Dome, Aisha had gone from her perch by the windows, I hope I did right with that.

I'd almost forgotten how I was dressed, that was until we got to Tickhill and the restaurant. Not that Mad was any better off, in some ways my Lolli outfit was easier being less revealing - not normal for a teenage girl, which is what I look like, but I've ended up in more embarrassing outfits .

"You can leave the brolly Gab,” my cousin suggested as we unloaded.

"Oh right, I forgot I had it." I noted dropping it back in the car.

"Come on you two, the restaurant's just up the road," Uncle John told us.

Joy, I get to parade through the town in all this frippery.

"So where did you and Jimmy boy go, you weren't in the garden cos I looked."

"He was showing me his car," she admitted.

"Oh aye." I've got an older sister so I can translate girl speak. "Thought you had different lippy on." I observed.

"Shush."

"Your olds aren't stupid Mad; they know you were up to something."

"You think?"

"Trust me, they know and lover boy wasn't exactly being subtle either."

"I guess not."

"And what's at Salford?"

"It's another Con."

"Another tryst more like."

"Might be," she replied coyly.

We almost bumped into the elder Peters as they perused the street menu.

"Looks good to me," Uncle John announced, leading the way inside.

Now I'm no stranger to restaurants but this particular example was as weird as any I've ever eaten in.

"Whoa," I allowed.

"Thought you'd like it, Mick from Planet told me about it earlier."

Outside it looked like a twee teashop but inside the decor was a heavy dose of comic culture from around the globe, the walls covered with super heroes from Marvel, Beano and Tokyo . My discomfort at my attire disappeared, I fit right in, jeans and a T would be out of place here.

"Welcome to La Comique, table for four?"

"Please."

The waitress / host was wearing Japanese Cafe Maid, they weren't skimping on things. We were seated by the front window, an old trick for quiet eateries; anyone looking in would see customers inside.

"Drinks?"

"Diet coke for me, Carol?"

"White wine, girls?"

It was tempting to ask for the same, I would've got away with it back home but this is England.

"Sprite?"

"What she's having,” Mad agreed.

I don't want to bore you too much but I'm sure you'd like to know a little more. The menu was interestingly diverse, not messy but there was something for everyone so whether you fancied Japanese noodles or American Burgers, Sunday roast or high tea there was something on the menu.

“I fancy the roast,” I offered.

“I was going to do the works tomorrow Gaby,” Aunt C told me.

“In that case I'll have Wonder Woman.” I must point out that Wonder Woman consisted of a quarter pound cheeseburger with salad, wedges and onion rings — not exactly haute cuisine but it ticked my hungry box.

The others had an assortment of global food offerings finishing with the old favourite, ice cream. It was a fun place, the food wasn't bad, the décor interesting — I spent ages trying to identify the stuff hung and displayed around the room, the prices were a little high but if you go in costume you get 10% off, me and Mad counted so it didn't hit Uncle John's wallet quite so badly.

“Are you out in the morning again, Drew?” Aunt C enquired when we got back to Warsop a bit after nine.

“Not sure, see what the weather's doing I guess.”

“Well if you do, leave a note okay?”

“Uh huh. I'm bushed; I think I'll go to bed.”

“Lightweight,” Mad sniped .

“Night Drew,” Uncle John offered.

“I'm doing washing in the morning so if you've got anything pop it in the bathroom hamper,” Aunt C instructed.

“Okay, night everyone.”

“Night, oh yeah, Gabs, remember we're meeting Helen and Al in the morning,” Mad advised.

“Sure, see you in the morning.”

To be honest I wasn't that tired but the idea of a bit of time to myself appealed greatly. Once in ‘my' room I stripped out of the frills and sugar, I forgot to mention that the dress had an appliqué of assorted cakes around the skirt, then headed to the bathroom for today's second shower. Boy, to be free of that outfit, it actually weighs a ton by the time you have the under dress, petticoats, bloomers, the actual dress and a cardigan on top.

I let the water play over my shoulders and neck, closing my eyes as the water washed away the tension I didn't realise had built up. I'm glad I'm only staying for a week; I don't think Drew would survive any longer than that. I mean, Mad has already had me in a dress for a full day and I only arrived yesterday.

Yesterday's pre- flight excitement provided some concern though, my poor left hand was now coming out in a not so nice multi-hued bruise, hidden all day by the lace gloves I've been wearing. I hope it's alright, the paramedic reckoned there wasn't anything broken, I can move my fingers but it's certainly sore. A check in the mirror to make sure my face was paint free only revealed a girl without makeup, not even a slightly girly looking boy, definitely a girl.

This summer really does look like it's going to be a last fling for Drew, the thought made me sad, enough that once in bed I found myself sniffling into the pillow.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 0.05.12

Ganging Up

I've no idea what time I dropped off and to be honest I was still feeling quite maudlin when I thumped the stop button on my alarm a little after six Monday morning. With the sun streaming in through a gap in the curtains there was no reason not to go training and a good ride would work wonders in sorting my head out. I wasn't the first up this morning though, by the sounds of it, Uncle John was getting ready for work downstairs.

"Morning, Drew."

"Morning Unc," I half yawned.

"Tea?"

I prefer coffee first thing but when in Rome.

"Er please."

"Training this morning?" he asked as he made my brew.

"Yeah, I need to get a few miles in this week or they'll think I'm a right plonker at BC."

"Well be careful eh."

"I will." I agreed between mouthfuls of tea.

Unlike yesterday's twiddle around the lanes, this morning I wanted to get in a proper session so I set off with a 75cl bottle and an energy bar, enough to tackle a good couple of hours in the saddle. I headed down to Mansfield before picking up the Newark road not that I intended going that far.

Once I cleared the traffic-light riddled stretch to Rainworth I settled into a more even, mile-eating cadence. Over the Ollerton road then a fast drop to Kirklington before the nasty little climb onto the wold. I almost missed my turn as the road once again headed downhill, spotting the sign for Winkburn at the last minute.

Mum used to like these largely traffic free lanes criss-crossing the wolds between Ollerton and Newark. It's not a big area but there are some reasonably testing uphill bits with just enough twiddly bits to prevent insane boredom. Up over the first rise, the first real indication of the wind direction became apparent then after dropping through the village its potential to make things uncomfortable was more than hinted at on the drag up towards Maplebeck.

I took a long swig from my bidon over the summit before dropping through the village onto the slightly more main road along to Eakring. Overall it's a climb but most of the height gain is in the last mile up into the village, the other few miles losing as much as they climb. The wind didn't make it any easier, I was thankful for the bit of shelter as I rode through the village.

The Wellow road past the windmill was the one I took, more open, rolling road but at least the wind wasn't directly in my face. Mum used to say the same stuff every time we went through Wellow, the tallest Maypole in the country blah de blah, whatever , Mum. Today when I reached it though it was like finding an old friend, I kind of missed Mum's narrative.

The main road was full of commute r traffic but I was only on it for a short way before I took the Rufford road. It's pretty flat across to the country park so I took the opportunity to snaffle my energy bar before the last headwind blighted leg home. There was a short bit of A road before I lost the traffic again, turning for Clipstone to avoid Edwinstowe's one-way system.

What a slog and when it turned more into the wind just before my turn I cursed my choice of route. The climb up Bradmer*, whilst hardly a mountain, was plenty tough enough this morning. At least it's basically all downhill from here so after emptying my bottle I let fly down into Warsop, managing to set off the speed camera with 35mph .

Just past Bernie's road I cut through the estate to come out near the school before looping over the river into Church Warsop. It felt strange riding past the old house, not our car on the drive; I guess the red Micra is Hel's mum's car. My computer was showing just under 55km when I arrived back at the Peters, a little under two hours after my departure.

“Breakfast?” Aunt Carol enquired as I pushed the kitchen door open.

Despite the energy bar I was ready for more, a nice cup of coffee and a raisin Danish, hmm.

“Please.”

“Cereal? Toast? Or I can do some scrambled egg?”

No pastry then.

“Scrambled egg, please.”

“Right, you go get showered and dressed then, oh and can you give your cousin a nudge.”

“Sure.”

Once upstairs I knocked on Mad's door.

“Mad? You awake?”

I listened at the door but there was no reply.

“Mad, it's gone nine, time to get up.”

I thought I heard a heavy sigh. What the heck, I'm not standing out here all morning; I pushed the door open and poked my head around the edge.

“Mad it's — oh shit!”

My exit was far quicker than my entrance; I took refuge in the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Shit, shit, shit! I so did not need to see that. I won't go into detail but I'm sure you'll get the idea if I say she was lying naked on her bed playing with herself, lost in some other place. Talk about embarrassing, and I did knock.

I pulled my sweaty togs off, the cuffs of my tracky were drenched, my bib shorts rimed with salt and my mitts a sodden lump — yuck. Usually in my post race shower I go over my ride in my head but this morning my thoughts were hijacked by images of my cousin doing whatever it was. I'm not quite sure what my feelings are, shock maybe, surprise certainly ; it's not like I don't know girls do that stuff, my friends back home are certainly not shy discussing it , but to see Mad at it…

“You done Gab? I need a wee.”

“Minute.”

Geez, how do I face her? I gathered up my sweaty kit and stuffed it in the laundry bin; Aunt C did say she was doing washing today didn't she? I tugged the bathrobe a bit tighter around me and opened the door.

“Thanks Gab, I'm bursting.” Mad pushed past me allowing me to escape to the spare room.

Well I think my best plan is to say nothing unless she does.

“Thought you'd fallen down the plug hole.” Aunt C grinned when I reached the kitchen again.

“Sorry.”

“Only joking , Drew, here you go,” she plonked a plate piled high with scrambled egg on toast in front of me, “there's tea in the pot. Is that daughter of mine up yet?”

“Yeah, sorry to be a nuisance but is there any chance of a cup of coffee?”

“It'll have to be instant?”

“That's ok, I'm just used to it, no one drinks tea in the morning at home.”

“Well eat up, nothing worse than cold scrambled eggs.”

I was halfway through the mound of food before my cousin bounced into the kitchen.

“Morning.”

I waved my fork in greeting, as my mouth was full.

“I thought you two were meeting the girls at ten?”

“Change of plan, Manda's giving us a lift, she's picking us up at ten past.”

“You still need to shake a leg it's nearly ten to.”

“Who's Manda?”

“Hel's mum of course.”

Well I didn't know, with a shrug I continued feeding my face.

“You going like that, Gab?”

“That was the plan.” I managed between mouthfuls.

“Hmm,” she grunted.

If she thinks I'm changing she's got another think coming.

BEEP, BEEP .

Our lift announced its arrival.

“What time are you back?”

“Not sure Mum, I'll ring later.”

“Say hi to Mand for me, have a good day and don't get into any trouble.”

Trouble? What has Mad been up to?

The red Micra I saw earlier was waiting at the curb when we finally got out of the door.

“Morning Mad, hi Drew.” Helen greeted us.

“Morning Hel, Mrs Joyce.” Mad returned.

“Hi,” I offered in turn.

“Get in then girls.”

It only being a two door that meant Helen getting out first before me and Mad could scramble into the back.

“Mum says hi.” Mad mentioned once we were seated.

“So what are you planning on doing today girls?” Mrs J enquired.

“Just the usual Mum,” Helen supplied, “do the shops I guess.”

“Reacquaint Gabs with the delights of Nottingham,” Mad added.

By now we were turning into Ally's estate, she was stood on her corner waiting for us. Now a Micra is not a big car so even given that neither Mad nor me are very big, with Ally as well it was a bit of a squeeze. Once we were settled, I was perched in the middle; we set off for the county seat.

Of course with four females in the car it was soon abuzz with conversation, I had to tell them about Don Con after Mad let it slip I won the top prize. I gave the edited version without mentioning Aisha or James, if Mad wants people to know about that she can tell them.

“Did you see James then?” Al asked as we threaded through the traffic in Mansfield.

“Might of,” Mad admitted.

“Geez Drew, you'd think she was in lurv,” Hel mentioned from the front.

“Lust,” Ally giggled.

Mad made shushing signs, indicating she didn't want Mrs Joyce to hear more.

“So Drew, you looking forward to the summer?” said parent posed.

“Sort of, I'm not really sure what to expect.”

“From what I've been hearing, you're following in your mum's wheel prints.”

“I guess.”

“Hey Gab, you could ride the ten tomorrow then everyone can see you race, ” Mad suggested.

Actually Mad, that's not such a bad idea.

“Yeah that's a great idea , Mad,” Hel noted, “go on Drew.”

“I guess I could.”

“We can get Chrissie and the others to come,” Al enthused.

“Who's Chrissie?”

“Captain of the Foresters dummy,” Mad told me.

“Didn't know there was one?”

“I told you at Christmas.”

“A lot was going on.” I'm sure I would have remembered if she had said.

We parked at the Radford Park + Ride, next to where they hold the Goose Fair and waited for a city bound tram.

“Right girls, back here for three, I need to go to Ikea ® on the way home.” Manda instructed.

“Yes Mum,” Helen agreed.

There's usually a catch with any lift .

The tram rattled to a halt and the waiting throng surged onboard. Seats are at a premium on Nottingham's cattle movers so we commandeered the space between a pair of doors. I'm glad it wasn't far into the centre, considering how new the trams are they lurch about like a drunken sailor.

“Three o'clock, ” Mrs J reminded as we left her in the main square.

“We'll be there, ” Ally replied as the doors closed leaving us on the platform.

“So, what're we doing?” I enquired.

“Toilets in Marks, ” Mad stated.

* Bradmer Hill, at 100m the local high point

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 13.05.12

Not In H&M

Not that a wee is a bad thing but it wasn't high on my priority list, still if the girls need a lav who am I to delay things. Although Warsop College has broken for the summer, the same is not true for Nottingham so the number of teens on the streets was pretty low. One thing though which marked my friends out from those that were about was their conservative dress.

Back home the fashions even for teens are pretty restrained, so okay I do have a pair of those new denim shorts which I've been conned into wearing a couple of times. Generally though it's jeans, capris or skirts and usually trainers or some sort of flat sandal. Not in Nottingham, pretty much everyone under twenty five seems to be squeezed into shorts two sizes too small and a significant number have added stupidly high heels — not a look I'd recommend especially if you are bigger than a six .

“Come on Gab, ” Al urged as we entered middle age land aka Marks & Sparks.

The toilets are upstairs and surprisingly there wasn't a queue for the ladies.

“Where are you going?” Mad enquired as I headed towards the gents.

“Toilet, I thought that's why we were here?”

“Geez Gab, in here.”

And with that I was dragged into the ladies. Whatever, I can pee here as well as anywhere.

“We wondered where you'd gone , ” Hel noted when they emerged.

“You not changing?” Al added.

I might not have but they certainly had . All three were in variations of the denim shorts look, Mad had teamed her stupidly tight pair with black tights and teetery heels I bet her mum doesn't know she has. Ally was a bit more conservative; at least hers were the right size and teamed with nude tights and Skechers. Hel, whilst not fat or anything is a bit big to carry it off and without meaning to be nasty she looked terrible even if her shorts weren't as tight as Mad's.

“Cool eh?” Mad offered.

“If you say so.”

“Geez, you are so not with it Gab, ” Al put in.

“Don't you think they're a bit er revealing?”

“Oh come on Gab, I know you wear some edgy stuff.”

“Not by choice.” I muttered under my breath.

“I've got an idea , ” Hel mentioned.

“Go on, ” Al prompted.

“SJ's.”

“Ooh yeah, ” Mad agreed.

“Just what is SJ's?”

“You'll see, ” Al grinned.

I actually felt embarrassed walking along the pedestrian precinct with my short clad companions, the fact that ninety percent of the other teens we encountered were similarly clad in no way lessened my unease. I mean they don't exactly leave much to the imagination do they, the leering looks from any lads we passed did nothing alter my opinion.

“So what happened with James , yesterday?” Al asked my cousin.

“Yeah come on spill, ” Hel added.

“Well you know he was taking his driving test, well he passed so he drove up in his mum's car.”

“Cool, ” Helen noted.

“Anyway we gave Gab the slip and went for a quick snog in the car.”

“Quick? You were missing for at least two hours, ” I complained .

“You're not jealous Gab? Your Max sounds proper studly, ” Al put in.

“Not interested, Drew here, remember? ” I pointed out.

“If you say so cuz.” Mad teased.

“So was it just tonsil hockey, then?” Helen prompted.

“Well…”

“You never?” Al exclaimed.”

“In the back of his mum's Polo, get real Al.”

Clearly I don't know these girls like I thought I did. The trouble with Bern had given some indication of that but I never thought I was this far out of the loop.

“Do you think you will?”

“If the rents let me go, the next con.”

“It's great cover, wish I had something like that , ” Hel lamented.

This lot are sex mad .

“What about you Al, wasn't Em over this weekend?” Mad asked.

“No, her Dad's bringing her back today.”

“Rhod?”

“Only where it counts, ” Al winked.

My god, all my friends are at it .

“SJ's, ” Hel announced.

SJ's it turns out is a teen boutique, H&M on acid. I'm hardly a stranger to these places so I just followed the others inside. I mooched along, not really that interested in crude t-shirts, skimpy denim or catwalk rip offs, I let my friends go their own way.

“Gab, Gab. Over here, ” Al shouted.

No doubt they've found something they want my opinion on. I made my way across the store to where I could just see Al.

“Wassup?”

“I was just wondering Gab, if you could do me a favour?” Mad enquired.

“What kind of favour?”

“I was thinking of getting this dress but I can't see what it looks like, the changing room mirror is too small.”

“So you want my opinion?”

“Not quite.”

“Not quite?” I repeated back.

“Well would you mind putting it on then I can see it properly.”

“Why can't Al or Helen do it?”

“Well you're the same size as me, it'll look different on them. Pretty please?”

I'm sure there's a catch, I can't see what it is, just put on the frock, show Mad, get changed back, five minutes tops. I suppose it can't hurt even if I am supposed to be in Drew guise.

“Go on then, where is this dress?”

“Yes, ” Mad squealed.

“Here you go,” Al told me, “you might need this too.” She added passing me a padded bra.

“Do I have to?”

“Well Mad's got more up top than you,” Hel observed.

“I suppose so, ” I allowed taking the proffered garments.

There are changing rooms and changing rooms, this was of the less well-appointed variety. The cubicle wasn't big enough to swing a handbag and the mirror was inadequate I'll agree. I had to take my trainers off to get my cargo's off, I always feel exposed when I'm down to my undies and having to change BH's* you are nearly naked .

I slipped my sports bra off and with an ease I still find uncomfortable replaced it with the lacy affair that Ally had given me. Geez, talk about emphasise the bust, if this pair were on someone else I'd be lusting over them, that they are mine is a bit disconcerting. I hefted the dress and once I'd worked out what goes where, slipped it on: it was a tight fit, not as in too small but well fitted.

It wasn't something I'd have picked out, in Gaby mode that is, a bit too short and fitted for my taste and the neckline a trifle more revealing than I'm comfortable with. Still, it's not for me, it's Mad who's gonna be flaunting it.

“Ready.”

“Come on then, ” Mad urged.

“Ta da.”

“Ooh sexy,” Hel grinned .

“Give us a twirl,” Al suggested.

I obliged with a slow turn.

“The bra makes it,” Mad stated.

“Yeah, I didn't realise you were that big Gab,” Al observed.

“I try not to advertise it.”

“Flats or heels?” Hel asked.

“Try these Gab,” Mad requested stepping out of her skyscrapers.

Of course I had to pull my socks off to get them on and without any hose they were a bit sticky to get comfortable in.

“Oh yes, much better,” Al declared.

“That's the one,” Mad confirmed.

“Right, I'll get changed then.”

Did I see a glint in Mad's eye just then?

“Hey? Where's my stuff?”

I turned just in time to see Mad and Helen legging it out of the shop, Mad brandishing my keks.

“Shit!”

“Looks like you're wearing it out,” Al giggled.

“I get lumbered paying for it too. Just wait until I get my hands on her.” I fumed.

“Nah, we paid for it before, didn't you notice there were no tags or security on it?”

I hadn't but what's unusual about me not noticing things?

“She got my bag too?”

“Nah, here you go.” Al passed me my bag; I checked the contents, all present and correct.

I should just find somewhere to get some more boy stuff but that'd dip into my trip money for stuff I don't actually need.

“Come on then,” I sighed.

“Hang on, you need some slap.”

“If you say so.”

Five minutes later we headed for Maccy D's where the others were supposed to be waiting. At this point I'd have gladly swapped for the Daisy Dukes, I'm sure I look like an apprentice lady of easy virtue although I wasn't entirely alone in either the brevity of my dress or the height of my footwear.

“Just you wait, Maddy Peters,” I hissed when we found them.

“Oh come on Gab, it's just like old times.”

Yeah, you pull a stunt that leaves me in a dress or skirt.

“You've had your laugh Mad, can I just get changed now?”

“Get your arse in here quick,” she hissed.

“But…”

“Hello ladies,” a voice stated from over my shoulder before my bum was pinched .

Geez, I jumped into the booth double quick.

Four of them, four of us.

“‘Ello‘ ansome,” Hel offered.

“Can we join you?”

“Oui, our pleasure, ‘utch up Marie.”

“I'm Rob, the ginger is Adam, Sam's the rugger lout and the shy one's Steve.”

“Helga, Marie,” Helen pointed to herself and Ally, “Katrina and ‘er cousin Sarah.”

“Well hello ladies.”

* BH abbreviation of Bustenhalter, German for bra

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 13.05.12

Trammed

What the hell is going on? Helen's talking in bad French, we're being hit on by some lads who look like they are probably at Uni and I'm sat here flaunting my chest at anyone who looks my way.

“So where are you ladies from?” ginger Adam enquired.

“Kat and Sarah are from Germany an' Marie and myself from ‘olland. And where do you boys come?” Hel was controlling things and I just get the feeling the girls have pulled this stunt before.

“Steve's our only foreigner, he's from Derby, the rest of us are from this fine city,” Sam supplied.

Al poked Hel then whispered in her ear.

“We do not know this country Derby , where ees it please?” Talk about hamming it up.

“It's not a country,” Steve informed us, “just a town about twenty miles away.”

“So are you girls on holiday?” Rob asked, clearly determined to not let language get in the way of wooing.

“From ze college,” Ally joined in.

I won't subject you to any more of the play acting, it was embarrassing especially when Adam claimed to know a bit of German and tried it out on Mad who clearly didn't have a clue. So of course I had to translate, he wasn't that bad really but by the time he gave up I'm sure his confidence had taken quite a bashing. I might have been more up for it if I'd known in advance about the set up, but getting dropped in it like that, well…

It ended when the lads realised that we weren't in the market for any action, but I'll give them their due, they tried hard. Rob did manage to get his lips locked to Helen's at one point and Mad was certainly getting Steve a little warm under the collar.

“So what was that all about?” I demanded once they'd gone.

“Just a bit of fun,” Al offered.

“Last time we scored ice cream,” Hel chuckled.

“God, I nearly died when Ginger started with the German,” Mad told us.

“He was actually quite good.”

“Whatever, so what now?” my cousin enquired.

“Vic Centre?” Al suggested.

“What about up the Castle?” Hel put in her offer.

“Sounds good to me, Mad?”

“Castle's good,” she agreed.

I'd forgotten how I was dressed; standing up in the stilts soon reminded me.

“Any chance I can change first?”

“We'll do that up the castle.”

“Ma-ad,” I complained.

“Come on, the others are already outside.”

I sighed in resignation and clomped along behind her.

“This is the life,” Ally sighed before taking another lick of her ice cream.

“Hmm,” I agreed.

It certainly wasn't bad, laid in the sun, ice cream in hand, the sounds of the city a distant hum. So okay I was still wearing the stupid dress but my feet were now free of the tortuous heels and I luxuriated in having the grass in direct contact with my tootsies.

“What's the time?” Hel asked.

“Just turned two,” I supplied.

“Bum. We need to shake a leg, Mum'll go ape if we're not back on time.”

“You and Mad go first, we'll look after the bags,” Al proposed.

Helen and Mad set off for the loos, which allowed me and Ally to finish our Eis before our turn. They weren't actually gone more than five minutes but it felt like a lot longer.

“Come on Gab, hurry up.”

“This dress is tight,” I moaned.

“You need a hand?”

“No, got it now.”

“Don't bother changing your bra, we haven't got time.”

Good advice, I tugged my t-shirt into place and dragged my shorts up, slipping my feet into my trainers as I straightened everything out. The others were impatiently waiting when we emerged from the lav's, its not far to the tram stop but we had to cross the dual carriageway which cost us nearly five minutes, luckily we reached the stop just seconds before a northbound tram.

“I thought we'd messed up there,” Hel sighed .

“We should have a few minutes to spare,” I observed.

“Good day, eh?” Mad proposed.

Having been on the receiving end of Mad's prank with the dress and getting dropped in at the deep end in MacDonald's ® I wasn't entirely in agreement with that observation. The tram rattled and clanged up over the hill then dropped down to the Park & Ride.

“Our stop,” I prompted.

We got off and headed for our transport, arriving to find a locked car.

“Ha, it's Mum that's late,” Hel crowed.

“No she's not, she must've been on the same tram.” I indicated where I could see Mrs. J navigating the car park.

“Drat, I thought I'd got one over her,” Helen grumbled .

“Okay girls?”

“Yes Mum.”

“Let's get on then, if we're lucky we'll hit Ikea before the evening rush.”

We clambered into the little Nissan and were soon heading towards the motorway and the Swedish furniture store a little beyond. I'd got myself in the corner this time and while the others chatted I found myself dozing off.

“We could leave her here,” Mad suggested.

“Eh?” I groggily gasped.

“First mention of food,” Al giggled.

“Wassup?”

“Come on Gabs, we're gonna eat here after Mrs. J has got her shopping.” Mad supplied.

“Hang on then.”

I extricated myself from the Micra's back seat and joined the others.

“Looks like your Mum's found a trolley,” Ally noted.

“Yeah.” Helen agreed as she pointed the lock fob at the car, which beeped in reply.

We ambled up to the entrance where Hel's mum was waiting for us.

“Okay girls?”

“Yeah, Gab woke up,” Helen advised.

“I can see that, come on, we should get round before the tea time rush.”

You've all been to Ikea right? A maze of soft furnishings, cheap and not so cheap furniture, gizmo's and gifts. There are short cuts but they are well hidden so 99% of visitors end up winding their way around the whole store. Back home in Germany there are quite a few stores so you don't get the crowds that epitomize any visit to Ikea to the UK's handful of locations.

Mrs. J clearly knew what she wanted, managing not to be distracted too much by the displays, the four of us trailing in her wake.

“Mad?”

“What?”

“Shouldn't we ring Aunt Carol to tell her we're eating here?”

“I should let my mum know too,” Ally noted.

“I guess so.” Mad agreed pulling out her Handy, I mean mobile.

“Mum...Ikea, we're gonna eat here…dunno, seven maybe…what the little ones in a bag?…I guess…I suppose so…with dill?…I'll see what they've got…yeah…alright…yes Mum…by-ee , ” Mad ended the call.

“Sounded complicated.”

“No kidding, I've got a shopping list now,” Mad moaned.

“You'll have to ride on the roof if there's too much,” Hel joked.

“I bet she wants tea lights,” Al chimed in.

It is a bit of a standing joke that nearly everyone takes a bag of mini candles home, it's like a compulsion.

“How'd you guess,” Mad giggled, ”she wants a jar of herring and a bag of meatballs too.”

“Haute cuisine Swedish style,” Hel chuckled.

Mrs. Joyce had by now disappeared into the kitchen department so we hurried through the maze in pursuit, dodging toddlers and pensioners and fraught mothers. Our quarry was soon located perusing oven dishes.

“Hi Mum,” Hel announced our presence .

“There you are, what do you think, red or white?”

“Has to be the red, white is so boring.”

“Maybe you're right. You girls found anything?”

“I've got a shopping list off Mum,” Mad volunteered.

“Let me guess, tea lights?”

Of course that set everyone off in a bout of giggles — I know but I couldn't help myself.

I don't know where the time went but it was nearly five by the time we found a table in the restaurant by which time I was starving.

“Meatballs everyone?” Manda enquired.

“Yes please,” yum .

“Best get Gabs the twelve, she's got hollow legs,” Mad chortled.

“Have not.”

“If you say so.”

“Ally?”

“Please.”

“I don't need to ask you Helen,” her Mum stated.

“I'm hurt,” Hel pretended to pout.

“Won't be long.”

Whilst the place wasn't super busy I think she had to wait for more meatballs as it was nearly twenty minutes before she returned bearing a tray of meaty delight.

“Hel, get the drinks please love.”

“Sure.”

“Here we go, twelve for Drew and Helen,” she plonked the plates onto the table, “and six for the rest of us.”

“Mad was only joking,” I protested.

“Eat what you can.”

I can easily eat them, but like you don't exactly ask for a bigger portion when someone else is paying do you?

“Ha, she got you twelve then Gab, race you.”

“Helen Joyce, what have I told you?”

“Mu-um.”

“Don't you mum me, young lady.”

“No Mum,” Hel sighed.

I'm not into eating contests anyhow, which is just as well as Helen finished her plate well before me; I prefer to savour each and every meaty morsel. I have to say that I was pretty stuffed by the time I was done, happy but full.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 15.05.12

I managed to repeat my earlier travelling snooze on the ride back to Warsop waking as we pulled into Mad's road.

“Geez, Drew, you fall asleep every time you get in a car,” Mad complained.

“I don't,” I huffed.

“Girls,” Mrs. J interrupted the brewing argument.

She pulled up outside the Peters' where everyone had to get out just so me and Mad could — note to self, never get a two door car .

“Thanks for taking us Mrs.Joyce.”

“That's alright Drew; it's nice to see you again.”

“You going to c heer practice tomorrow, Mad?” Ally enquired.

“Yeah I guess.”

“See you there then,” She added as she climbed back in the car.

“Nite Hel, Mrs. J, nite Al, ” I called out as our chauffeuse set off.

“Good day , kids?” Aunt Carol enquired.

“Okay I guess,” Mad allowed, “you owe me five pounds sixty.”

“I love you too. You okay, Drew?”

“Yeah.”

Other than being duped into a dress twice in two days.

“Buy anything nice?” she asked seeing the bag I was gripping.

I can hardly show her the dress can I?

“We got a party frock for Jules' birthday,” Mad put in.

“Nothing too risqué I hope, Madeline?”

“No Mum,” My cousin sighed, “Gabs is gonna do Cuckney tomorrow.”

“Is that wise, Drew?”

“It's only a ten; it'll save me going out in the morning.”

“I'd best check with your dad; I hadn't noticed how much you've grown.”

“Grown?”

Mad was trying hard not to giggle.

“Up top?” Aunt C pressed.

Up top, up top? My eyes dropped to my chest, oh sugar; I still have the padded monstrosity on .

“It's just a bra Aunty; I'm nowhere near this big really.”

“I won't ask how they got you into it.”

Mad was frantically motioning for me to not enlarge on that bit of the day.

“You know us girls?” I offered.

As we'd already eaten, once I'd divested myself of the chest enhancement, I got permission to use the Peters ' computer to catch up on my emails and so on. Of course it was the usual stuff, messages from the Angels, one from Mum a bit of spam, hang on what's this, [email protected]? Looks a bit dodgy but the title looked intriguing - 'home Thursday'.

I clicked to open it;

Hey Drew,

Guess what, I get out on Thursday!

I bet you're surprised to get an email from me, as you can see by the address it's through the centre and of course someone checks the content before it's sent. They've only started doing it today.

Are you in the UK yet?

See you soon

Bernie

Wow, I'll have to ring her mum and dig out her present. Better reply now, I guess she'll be able to pick it up before Thursday.

Hi Bern,

That's brilliant news; I'm in Warsop now so hopefully I'll see you Thursday or before I go to Manchester at the weekend anyhow.

Ttfn ,

Drew

That should do, I hit send with a smile. Bernie home, the baby must be almost due as well, guess I won't be around for that though.

I went through the other messages, now I'd got some real news to report. I dropped Mart a line too with the email address - I'm sure he'll want to write. That done I shut the machine down and went to give the news to Aunt C.

"That's great news Drew," Aunt Carol agreed.

"So I should be able to see her before I go to Manchester."

"You two got quite close when she stayed in Dernau, didn't you?"

"I guess, but she made loads of friends at school too, she was as much an Angel as anyone."

"Angel?"

Oops . Now I'll have to explain that.

"It's just like a nickname some of the kids use at school for me and the girls."

"Makes you sound like a gang."

"Well I suppose we are in a way, we usually do stuff together after all."

"As long as you don't go around terrorising people."

"Aunty?"

“Well, look what happened with Bernie.”

“Yeah but…” I ran out of steam as I realised the truth behind her statement, “I guess we might terrorise some of the shop assistants.”

“Mum, Drew, guess what?” Mad enthused as she bounded into the room.

“The moon really is made of green cheese?”

“What?” Mad had to think for a moment, “No, Bernie is getting out of prison.”

“Youth detention,” I corrected.

“Whatever.”

“We know Mad, she emailed Drew, too.”

The wind sucked from her sails, Mad's rampant enthusiasm subsided.

My internal clock had me awake at six again the following morning but as I wasn't out on the bike I managed to stay attached to my mattress until after Uncle John had left. Aunt C was in the kitchen however when I slunk downstairs.

“Morning Drew.”

“Morning.”

“Your washing's on the side, take it up when you go.”

“Sure, it seems a bit odd.”

“What does?”

“Clean clothes without me doing it all.” I supplied whilst helping myself to a cup of tea from the never empty pot.

“You do all the washing?”

“Usually, with Mum away and Jules hardly ever at home it's that or no clean knickers.”

“What about your Dad? I'm sure he could do some.”

“Not likely,” I retorted, “Last time he ruined three of my best bras.”

That raised a chuckle from Aunt C, “Sounds like my John.”

The clatter of feet on the stairs announced my cousin's arrival at a surprisingly early hour.

“Morning.”

“Morning yourself, you're up early,” I noted .

“Cheer practice at ten.”

“Oh right.”

To be honest I'm surprised that she still does it, I mean; she got enthusiastic about racing for about two months before she lost interest . My reasons for stopping weren't so much about doing it but other stuff, maybe when I get home and the Alles Stern team gets going I'll get all enthusiastic again. I missed what Mad was saying.

“Eh?”

“I said that you should come too ,” Mad repeated.

“Where?”

“Geez Gab, cheer practice.”

“Dunno about that.”

“It'd give you something to do Drew,” Aunt C opined.

“I'm sure Miss C would be pleased to see you.”

“I saw her at New Year.”

“Doesn't mean you can't see her again, you know, it's July now after all.”

To be truthful I hadn't really thought what I would do today. I could go for a bike ride but if I'm gonna do Cuckney this evening. Cuckney!

“Aunty?”

“Yes, Drew.”

“Did you talk to Dad last night? About Cuckney?”

“I did, sorry I forgot to tell you, he said it's okay but remember to breathe, whatever that means.”

“Cool.” I do know what he means; I have a tendency to forget to breathe properly when I'm trying hard.

“So you coming this morning?” Mad pressed.

“Suppose so.”

“Whilst I think about it , Drew, I'll get the stuff for your schnitzel later, what do you have with it?”

“Pretty much anything, I like rotkohl and mash but I guess erbsen and karotten would be okay.”

“You'll have to translate for us monolinguists.”

“Eh? Oh right, red cabbage, that's rotkohl but otherwise maybe peas and carrots.”

I had hoped she'd forget about that.

It was sunny but not overly warm, a stiff northerly wind doing its best to keep temperatures down but nevertheless I opted for shorts although I wimped by pulling a fleece on over my T. Mad had gone for the whole dance look that some of the Garde wear, loose bottoms over a ‘tard and several layers on top. We walked down past the former Bond acres; the Joyce's weren't in evidence although the car was on the drive.

It's not far along to the river — or along to the sports centre next to the college which is where the Foresters would be practicing over the summer. Arriving at about ten to I spotted a couple of half familiar faces amongst the animated throng but you know what it's like, the awkwardness of being outside of the group — I had it in spades .

“Come on , girls, times a-wasting,” the familiar tones of Fran Cowlishaw rang out over the car park.

“Chrissie? ”

“Oh hi Mad , ” A tall brunette turned and replied.

“You haven't met my cousin have you; she was on the squad when we first started.”

It was like she only then noticed me.

“The one from Germany?”

Not all blondes are blonde .

“Not from but she lives there now,” Mad explained, “Gab, this is Chrissie our captain, Chrissie , this is my cousin, Gaby Bond.”

“Hi Gaby, do you cheer, I hope we can be friends . ”

Oh boy, what a complete airhead .

“Hi,” Was all I managed before something else caught her attention.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 16.05.12

I followed the crowd of babbling girls inside feeling like that bit that's always left over when you make any sort of kit.

“Heya Gab, didn't know you were coming.”

“Morning Al, neither did I.” I advised.

Rather than the main hall of the complex Miss Cowlishaw led the way to a much smaller side room that I remember being used for stuff like gymnastics and circuit. When I say small, well it was easily the size of a couple of average classrooms although the ceiling was a bit higher.

“Ally, can you close the door behind you, everyone find a perch.”

All the girls found themselves places to sit; I hopped onto a table by the door.

“Good to see everyone here, yes I know Justine is in France Sam. The observant amongst you may have spotted that we have a guest this morning, do you want to come over Gaby.”

No I don't but I've been rumbled. I picked my way to the front now with a dozen pairs of eyes watching me and not a little bit of whispering.

“Er hi Miss C.”

“Hello yourself.” She replied before putting an arm around me and addressing the hoard.

“I'd like to introduce you to Gaby Bond, one of the original Foresters, you've all seen the footage from the States, Gaby was part of that team. She gave up cheering to concentrate on her cycling career which a little birdie tells me was a good move as she's now the German champion but I've also heard reports that she still does some dance, that right Gaby?”

Talk about on the spot.

“Er yes, I do some Garde which is sort of like German cheer.”

“Maybe you could help us a little this morning?”

How can I say no?

“I'm not really dressed for doing much.” I pointed out.

“I've got extra stuff.” My cousin offered.

So that's how I ended up in a skirt for a third day, railroaded by my old coach with my cousin providing back up to prevent my escape. Okay so it's not like parading around Nottingham yesterday but a leotard and cheer skirt are not exactly demure either. My ‘job' was to help some of the newer recruits get to grips with some of the basic moves, anyone can shake a pom but to do it properly takes practice.

Don't tell anyone; especially Mad, but I actually enjoyed myself. Not only that but when the ‘A' squad ran through the old school cheer I stood in for the missing Justine and never missed a step. I know, it surprised me too but I guess there are some things that you don't forget.

“Okay girls, same time and place Thursday.” Miss C reminded her charges before dismissing them.

“Thanks Drew or is it Gaby now?” Miss Cowlishaw guided me to a chair, intent on a chat.

“It's complicated.” I offered.

“That doesn't surprise me, when I saw you with your cousin outside I thought maybe you'd decided to cross to the dark side.”

“I'd prefer to be Drew Miss but my body seems to like the idea of Gaby better, the doc's reckon I've got some weird chromosomes and I seem to have like all the girl gear inside, you can't exactly miss the outside bits.”

“Oh Drew, you poor luv and there's me making bad jokes.”

“It's okay Miss.”

“Fran Drew, I'm not your teacher anymore.”

“'Kay, well anyway this summer is like Drew's last fling, I'm scheduled for ‘corrective' surgery when I go back home.”

Fran pulled me into a hug, not unwelcome just a little weird from a former teacher.

“Mad tells me you are on some sort of cycling scholarship over in Manchester.”

“Yeah, I go Sunday, I'm on the junior development squad.”

“As Drew or Gaby?”

“Drew, for now at least, they know about my er stuff so I guess that could change.” I told her with a sigh.

“If you need someone to talk to, you know I'm here.”

“Thanks, so how come you aren't using the small hall in school?”

“Money, its cheaper for the school to sponsor this room for a few hours a week than open up the main school.”

“But I thought teachers went in over the summer, to do planning and stuff.”

“Only for the week before the New Year starts, we're the only school team with summer competitions otherwise I wouldn't be doing this either.”

“And there's me thinking you were really dedicated.” I giggled.

“So you do this guard thing then?”

“Well not seriously, I've filled in a couple of times and I often go to practice to keep flexible.”

“You need that on a bike?”

“Well it doesn't hurt and the club is starting a proper cheer squad in the autumn which they want me to coach.”

“Coach Bond, has a good ring to it.” Fran mentioned with a grin.

“They say Bont, it doesn't sound so good like that.” I mused.

“You gonna come for a last stretch on Thursday?”

“Mad and Al will be I guess so unless anything else comes up I suppose I could.”

“You're more than welcome, you know that.”

“Thanks Miss, er Fran.”

Our chat was interrupted by a familiar voice coming through the open doorway.

“Where is she?”

“I thought she was changing.” Al noted.

“I'd best go.”

“It's been good seeing you again Drew.”

“And you.”

Fran pulled me into a quick hug, “Thursday.”

“Okay.” I agreed.

We ended up buying some healthy English food, chips and sausage, on the way around to Ally's place where we spent most of the afternoon doing friend stuff. Mad and I headed home just after four so that I could get ready for tonight's race. Not that there's much preparation to do, polish the bike, pump up the tyres, get some snap down my gullet and get my skinsuit on.

Even if she wasn't really into the racing Mad was still a member of the Notts Velo, which meant she had a fixture list so at least I was able to confirm the start time, seven thirty.

“I'm off.” I called out to anyone who was interested.

“Already Drew? Its only six.” Uncle John noted.

“I need to get a warm-up in before.”

“Okay then, we'll see you up there, be careful .”

“I will, bye.”

It felt a bit weird riding to an event; the last time I did it was that race down in Stuttgart, you remember, after the wedding, that was hardly the same as this though. I rode out to the A60 and turned up the hill, the steepening climb stretching away before me. I stuck it in a medium gear and let myself relax as I made the ascent.

Over the bridge and into the trees, I clicked up a couple of sprockets as the road tilted downwards towards Cuckney. You can't waste a good descent so I started winding it up a bit, flashing past the start then into the long sweeping right hander. Memories of being taken out by a car at the top junction had me easing off on the approach before hitting the last stretch of downhill.

I let the up gradient scrub my speed as I rolled up to the finish cum HQ area and was surprised to see a car already there, and I thought I was keen! One thing I have learnt over the last couple of years is that a good warm up is every bit as important as being mentally ready. I continued on towards Holbeck at a steady, but well below race pace.

Not having the option of a dedicated testing bike, I experimented with various positions, down on the drops, crouched over the hoods, I'm gonna be at a serious disadvantage tonight. I rode up to the Hodthorpe crossroads before turning around, there's no point in going right up to the turn, I'm assured it hasn't changed its weird priority set up. A ninety percent effort on the return ride, confirmed that an old school crouch like I've seen in old time trial pictures would be the most effective if not comfortable position.

The time was heading towards six forty-five by the time I reached the finish area and the verge was now quite busy with cars, bikes and people. I dug my wallet out after parking my steed out of the way and joined the short queue waiting to sign on. I didn't really recognise any of the riders, a couple looked familiar but there tends to be quite a turn over of riders at club level.

“Name?”

“Drew Bond.”

“Club?”

“Apollinaris Mercedes.”

“Like the German pro team?”

“The same.”

“Okay, age?”

“Fifteen.”

“You got a consent form?”

Bummer, there had to be something I forgot.

“Er, not exactly, I've got my race permit.” I pulled my licence out and gave him.

“John? You got a minute?”

“What's up Si?”

“Youngster here wants to ride, she's got some sort of foreign permit?”

“Lets have a look, hi lass.” John took my licence and whilst he hadn't recognised me straight off, a look at my permit had his face break into a wide grin. “Drew Bond, what the heck are you doing here?”

“Er hi John, I'm over to join the junior squad, I thought I'd blow out a few cobwebs but I forgot you need a consent form.*”

“Hmm.”

“My aunt and uncle are coming out.” I offered.

I gave him what I thought was a pleading look.

“Si, I think we'll let the lass ride, she is the German junior champion and on the National squad so I reckon we're covered, we'll get a sig off her uncle later.”

“Good for me John, okay lass, I'll put you at twenty, its two pounds for non members.”

“Thanks.” I fumbled in my wallet for the unfamiliar coins.

“She is a member, her and her Mum are both second claim.**” John told his colleague.

“In that case it's a pound.”

I swapped the coin for a number and signed on the sheet next to my name.

“Thanks John.”

“Just don't make a habit of it eh?”

“I won't.”

“Five minutes!” John hollered.

My skinsuit does little to hide my assets, well they get flattened a bit but there's no hiding them. I'd forgotten what it was like, I rarely use one as for road events it's generally bib shorts and jersey. Although this is just a club chipper some of my fellow competitors were riding some pretty fancy machines, my battered team issue machine looks positively second rate by comparison. But as Dad says, it's not the bike but the rider.

I ran through the gears again, settling on the seventeen to use for the start. I was getting a few funny looks, well not funny exactly but inquisitive, not sure if it was me, my seeding *** or my ‘exotic' team strip — maybe its all three.

“Twenty!”

“Here.” I confirmed edging my way down to the start line.

“Have a good one Drew, careful at the crossroads and the turn.”

“Thanks John.”

“Thirty.”

The pusher grabbed my bike and I clipped in. deep breaths.

“Fifteen……ten……five,” I was pulled backward, “four…three…two…one…GO!”

*All riders under 18 must have a parental consent form to ride for insurance purposes.

** Members but not competing for them, some riders are in more than one club but only first claim to the one they compete for.

*** Riders are generally seeded to prevent group riding, a zero or five number generally denotes the faster riders, each successive spot getting slower to 4/9 before repeating. In full competition this is further refined so that the faster riders start later in the field, the scratch man going last.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 17.05.12

I stood hard on the pedals forcing my mount forward, the down slope in turn helping to accelerate the bike up to race speed. You don't want to be stood too long once you've got the machine moving, so I quickly reseated myself and assumed as aero a position as the bike would allow. Of course in road racing we don't have tri bars anyhow so I'm well practiced in assuming ‘the position'.

A big part of time trialling is judging pace and effort, go too hard and you'll blow before the finish, too easy and you won't optimize your effort. The Cuckney start helps to get you moving without the handicap of having to return up the climb later on. My minute person had already lost some ground to me by the time I flashed, cautiously, across the first crossroads.

My computer indicated 52kph at one point on the descent but by the time I reached the HQ area it was hovering a little below 45kph. As I reached the first of the long straights I snicked up a sprocket and concentrated on my breathing. I'd started the second straight before I crossed the first returning rider, by my quick calculation they were on about a twenty-five.

Concentrate Drew. Number nineteen was coming back to me quite rapidly and I caught a quick glimpse of the two-minute rider on the slight drop to Holbeck. I shifted my position slightly, moving my hands up from the drops to lay them across the top of the bars. It was a little more comfortable if slightly less streamlined, my speed barely changed so I stayed there to the top of the ‘climb'.

By now I was within metres of claiming my first scalp of the evening, a lad of maybe eighteen whose lack of style saw his bike moving side to side nearly as much as forward. Subconsciously I engaged super smooth mode as I started to overhaul him, clicking up a gear as I drew level. At the Hodthorpe crossroads, which is about halfway my clock was reading just under 11.30, sweet .

The bumpy road up to the turn revealed three riders between me and the summit of the main climb, I should take them all by Cuckney. I managed to keep the speed over 35kph up the climb but rather than waste energy accelerating straight back to full speed I just kept the pressure on to negotiate the turn. It's a weird junction, not quite a roundabout, right turning traffic get priority going onto the island then has to give way at the two succeeding turns. The first one's not too bad as you don't need to cross traffic, the second is the more hazardous but I managed to clear it.

No holds now, barely four miles to the finish and a bit of a ramp to get you moving again. By the top of the drop I was almost on the next rider; number nineteen was only just heading up with two more riders in hot pursuit. Click, click, clunk — the chain settled onto the twelve sprocket and with a bigger than usual gulp of air I powered the pedals around with renewed vigour .

Back up to the Hodthorpe turn, number seventeen slipped behind followed in short order by eighteen. I nearly came a cropper in a big pothole on the road edge; I just managed to flick the bike around the edge. Eighteen minutes down, less than three to go, a twenty-four maybe?

Up ahead I kept getting glances of another couple of riders, I could possibly take the slower one by the line. I concentrated on my pedaling action, focus Drew, focus. The riders ahead provided that focus and I zipped through Holbeck village with renewed determination. It's a drag up to the last corner but I was making better headway than those ahead of me although twenty minutes clicked over before I took the corner.

The whine of a pair of motorbikes going hell for leather, caught my attention, I hope they're paying attention. The last straight takes you within 100 metres of the line dropping more than you seem to climb in the opposite direction. My hares were each about fifty metres between each other and myself; I'm going for it .

Behind me I heard the drop in pitch as the motorized road terrorists each dropped a gear for the bend. The clock was still showing twenty one something when the first motorbike flashed past, the second however nearly took me out, I'm sure his leathers scraped my knuckles. Whilst it put me off slightly, I got a degree of drag and I was quickly back in to race mode.

“Come on Drew . ”

“Dig in.”

“Up, up, up.”

There was still a little juice in the tank when I flashed past the gallery, determined to arrive on empty I stood and sprinted for the line, in the process overtaking fourteen but just failing with sixteen.

“Twenney,” I gasped.

Momentum carried me on towards Cuckney, just as well, I was knackered. I freewheeled nearly up to the bottom crossroads before having enough breath to start pedaling again. Sugar, I forgot to stop the clock–twenty three something I reckon–not too shabby. Rather than returning along the main road I decided on a warm down by heading around to Norton before turning back towards the A60 and the finish area.

I spotted my family and friends and headed over to where the Peters' car was parked.

“Where did you come from?” Mad nearly jumped out of her skin when I tapped her shoulder.

“Bit of a warm down.”

“We wondered if something had happened when you didn't come back down,” Aunt Carol sounded a little concerned .

“What did you do?” Ally asked.

“Twenty three something I think, I forgot to stop the clock,” I advised propping my mount against the car.

“Drink?” Uncle John offered me my bidon.

“Thanks.” I took a long slug of energy drink.

“You looked really professional Drew,” Helen noted.

“I try. Unc, do you think you could sign the consent form for me?”

“Go on then, where is it?”

“See the green Bimmer? The bloke with the hat.”

“Kids!”

“You want a lift back Drew?” Aunty C enquired.

“I'll ride.”

“There's a lift if you want.”

“Cheers.”

“What are they all looking at?” Helen asked motioning with her head towards the riders stood around the Bimmer.

“Probably my good looks,” Mad joked.

“Might be mine,” Ally put in.

I flaked out on the grass and closed my eyes for a moment.

“What's all the fuss?” Aunt C asked her husband.

“Something about a twenty two? I dunno much about this stuff but they seemed quite geed up.”

“Must've been number ten, he looked pretty handy,” I offered from my supine position.

“You want a leg rub?” Mad enquired.

“Hmmm.”

“Sit in the car then, I'm not leaning down there.”

I stood and feeling the number tug on my suit I remembered it needed returning.

“I'll do that,” Hel offered seeing me reach for a pin.

“Cheers Hel, can you take it back for us?”

“Sure,” She agreed freeing the last safety pin.

Mad certainly hasn't lost her touch; the low-level post race cramp was soon dissipated, if only Dad was as good .

“You see what I did Hel?”

“Oops sorry, I didn't think to look.”

Mad finished her ministrations and I stood up to pull my shorts back into place.

“Whoa," I offered making a grab for the door.

“You daft mare,” Mad chortled.

Yeah, forgot about that effect of Mad's massage.

“You okay?” Al asked.

“Yeah, just a bit too relaxed.”

Everyone was finished now, John Ward was talking with Si and those gathered around were getting quite enthused by something or other.

“Best see what I've done I guess.”

“We'll come with you,” Aunt C proposed.

The six of us made our way across to the BMW.

“How'd I do?”

“Ah Drew, there you are, not bad youngster, not bad at all.”

“What's won?”

“22.24.”

I sighed; I was quite a bit off the pace.

“So what was mine?”

“That's what I just told you, number twenty, 22.24,” John smirked.

“Oh.” I sighed, hang on a minute, I was number twenty .

“You whupped us all tonight lass.” The chap I recognised as number ten mentioned.

“Must be all those sausages,” some wag chipped in.

“Glad you're on our team,” another chap added.

So if I was number twenty I've done–“Yay !”

“I think she's got it,” Si offered.

“I'd be happy to be a minute behind,” Number nine sighed.

“Reckon yer mother needs to watch her back,” number ten opined.

“She's on the junior squad,” John supplied.

“Well done lass.”

Eventually everyone drifted away and I prepared to ride back to Church Warsop.

“See you next week Drew,” John stated.

“I won't be riding, I'll be at Manchester.”

“I jolly well hope you will be, I'll see you at the ‘drome.”

“I thought you meant ; well anyway, thanks for letting me ride tonight.”

“You opened a few eyes tonight kidda, it's easy for the club riders to fall into a spiral of diminishing returns with their fancy bikes and such. You turn up on a standard road bike and wipe the floor with them, no disrespect to Steve and co but it's the sort of arse kick they need from time to time.”

I blushed at the praise, “Well I'd best get off.”

“Take care on this road, they drive like maniacs sometimes.”

“Yeah, a geezer on a motorbike nearly had me earlier, next week then.”

“Next week,” John agreed.

“Drew, you want chips?” Mad called out the car window.

“Is there a D in Day?”

“'Kay, see you at home.”

It was after nine and the light was starting to go as I spun a low gear up the hill, no need to get too sweaty, its barely two miles back to Schloss Peters after all. A twenty-two, how cool is that? Maybe there's some mileage in what Chris was saying at the airport, maybe I should give the track a throw.

The others were only just getting out of the car when I rolled up the drive.

“What kept you?”

“The queue in Hygienic,” Aunt Carol supplied.

I guessed that.

“Best get yourself changed if you want some,” Mad suggested, “you stink like a polecat.”

I love you too.

“Okay already.”

Ten minutes later I was showered, dressed and feeding my face with deep fried potato fingers. Hmm, proper chips, you just can't get them tasting the same at home, the mixture of slightly battery, slightly greasy and with luck a bit squidgy — yum. If there's one thing that spells out where home is it's a bag of chips from Hygienic Fisheries after riding Cuckney.

“You know what Drew?”

“What Al?”

“I think I might have to take up racing.”

“How come?”

“Well you look sooo sexy in that skinsuit, it's a wonder you haven't got all the guys drooling with that bod.”

“She has Al, he's called Max,” Mad told everyone.

“Ooh do tell,” Helen enthused.

Yup, I'm home.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 21.05.12

Whilst a ride this morning was pretty much obligatory, I reckon that last night's exertions let me off from anything too strenuous. There's a nice little loop up to Clowne so I headed out up the S ixty towards Cuckney where I took the A616 towards Creswell. The road bobbles about a bit before dropping down the ‘Mad Mile' to the village; even at stupid o'clock in the morning they're doing their best to kill themselves with dodgy overtaking and too high speed. Some have clearly succeeded judging by the collection of mini shrines along the verge.

I kept it nice and steady around to the Whitwell turn then gave it a bit more welly on the climb up to Clowne. Whilst you can miss the traffic lights you can't avoid the squiggly bit through the centre, I nearly ended up in Tesco's car park as they've altered stuff since I was last here. There is a back lane down to Whaley but I wanted a faster ride so selected the Bolsover road.

Not that you get much of a view but the road follows the top of ridge with the M1 to the west and a gentler slope eastwards. It's by no means flat but the climbs are short, the drop's unimpressive allowing you to keep a fairly steady cadence. You miss Bolsover and I nearly missed the turn to Langwith too.

Turning up the power I made the most of the long descent keeping a bus at bay all the way to the lights at the railway viaduct. Once out of Langwith the road heads to Cuckney but I took a right to short cut back home. There's a bit of a climb up through the woods then you drop into the mining village bit of Church Warsop — not that there's a mine anymore. I had to wait ages to cross the Sixty, all the commuter traffic, but I was still at Peters ' central just after eight.

I checked the comp, just over an hour for 28km, not super quick but a reasonable workout nonetheless.

“Come on Drew,” Mad encouraged with some vim.

“What's the rush?”

“We're meeting the others at the Morgan's?”

“And?” It's not like we're going anywhere today, well not that I know of.

“I said we'd be there at ten.”

“It wasn't me who crawled from her cave gone nine,” I felt compelled to point out.

“Well?”

How did she turn that around?

“Come on then.”

It'll be good to see Sylv again and of course Rhod. I don't suppose I'll ever find out everything that happened in Wales, I'm just glad that things turned out okay — I think.

The walk isn't long, along the main road past the College, into the centre before turning into the rows of terraces that run down towards the river. Mad was gabbling away but I wasn't paying attention, instead my thoughts were focused on how Sylv's salon has impacted my life over the last couple of years. What with waxing, makeovers and extra piercings not to mention the stuff with Rhod / Em it's been quite interesting.

"Thought you two weren't coming." Ally commented as we reached the familiar frontage.

"Someone was playing on the computer," Mad accused .

"Someone didn't get up 'till after nine," I countered.

"Where's Hel?"

"She needed a wee so she's already inside," Al explained.

"Come on then," my cousin enthused pushing the door open.

"Hiya girls," Sylv called out.

"Morning." Ally replied.

"Hi Sylv," I added.

"Gaby ? Is that you?"

"I think so."

She left her bemused pensioner client and I was soon engulfed in a hug.

"No one said you were coming girl,” she noted giving Mad a hard stare.

"I er forgot Sylv."

Likely story.

"So how long are you here for?"

"Just till the weekend, I'm joining the squad over in Manchester on Sunday."

"You've certainly filled out girl."

"The others out back Sylv?" Al enquired before I could reply.

"Yeah go on through, I'll finish Mrs Brown and I'll be through."

"Come on Gabs." Mad grabbed my hand and started dragging me through the salon.

At least I'm not getting any 'treatments' this time.

"Gabbeee!"

I was barely into the Morgan's lounge cum dining room when I was assaulted by a veritable whirlwind of girl and engulfed in a hug. Given she was taller than me by at least twenty centimetres meant my face was pretty much thrust into her chest. I was held in her vice like grip unable to do much more than grunt for a small eternity before being released.

"Em?"

"You are a wag Gaby Bond, who'd you think it would be?"

"Er Rhod?" I suggested.

"Hey Em, you got any Sprite?" Mad enquired from behind me, apparently unfazed by the appearance of this girl formerly known as Rhod.

"In the fridge," she offered with a distinct Welsh lilt.

I'm confused now, last time I talked with Rhod, albeit by email and a couple of months ago, Rhod was back, Mfanwy wouldn't be returning and I got the impression there would be no return to Wales. Instead of the slightly gangly youth I was expecting to see, I'm presented with a bubbly red head dressed as girly girl as is possible, within the confines of the denim shorts phenomena. And gauging by the cute pixie cut and nail extensions, this was no short-term dress up for fun.

“So erm, how's it going?”

“Pretty good, but look at you — I'm so jealous.”

“Of what?”

“What of she asks, Gaby Bond, you are so cute and I bet that bosom is all you.”

“I am not cute,” I got out through gritted teeth.

“If you say so girl, but I'm right about the bits in your bra aren't I?” she pushed.

“Yes worst luck.”

“Mine are like a pair of fried eggs,” she lamented.

“Ostrich eggs,” I observed remembering the greeting hug.

“Hardly, cos I've been over with Da and Cherys I've got my falsies on, flat as a pancake without ‘em.”

“I thought you weren't doing that–this,” I motioned to her attire, “anymore?”

“It's a long story which can wait, come on, Mam's giving us a lift.”

“Lift?”

“Are you girls ready, I've got thirty minutes before Mrs Drake's due,” Sylv called through.

“Coming Mam,” Em replied, “come on you lot, time to go.”

The others came through from the kitchen dressed in the ubiquitous shorts teamed with a variety of hosiery and upper garments.

“You staying like that Gab's?” Helen, she of the thunder thighs, enquired.

‘That' just happens to be my good jeans and a baggy T, which does a reasonable job of hiding my chest.

“Yes,” I replied, facing down her query, “so like where are we going?”

“Dur,” Mad started, “skating at the new place in Sheff, we agreed last night.”

“We did?”

Maybe I wasn't part of that conversation.

“Come on Gab,” Em encouraged, “or we won't be going anywhere.”

I couldn't see how Sylv was going to get us to Sheffield and get back here in half an hour — it's about that each way on a good day. Anyhow it looks like I'm going to reacquaint myself with the ice, something I'm not so sure I want to do. We all piled out to Sylv's Multipla and soon we were heading at a rate of knots down the A60 towards Mansfield.

Instead of going right into the centre Sylv took the Mansfield Woodhouse road to cut the corner to the Chesterfield road.

“Here you go, I'll pick you up at five, be ready eh?”

“Yes Mam,” Em sighed.

“On with you then, the bus'll be here soon.”

By the time we got across the dual carriageway and along to the bus stop, our transport was itself waiting to cross the lights. The fifty-three isn't the most logical choice but it does go fairly directly to Sheffield via Bolsover, Renishaw and then into the newer southern suburbs of Steel City with a stop dead opposite the skating rink. The biggest problem is that it goes through three different counties each with their own fare elements, which meant that even the half fare cost  £2.30 . I'll have no money left at this rate.

We couldn't all get seated together, the bus was pretty full, I ended up with Rhod several seats back from the others on the top deck — a bit of a novelty for me as the buses back home are all single deck.

“So how come you're still Em? I'm sure Ally said you got back from your dad's yesterday. Am I missing something?”

“Well kinda,” she admitted.

“I sort of get the dressing up at your Dad's but I thought you wanted to be Rhod now.”

“It's complicated.”

“No kidding.”

“Look it's okay for you, it's not like you have to even try to be a girl, you're just so…natural. I know I can pass okay but it takes a lot of effort you know, well I guess you don't but there's stuff that makes it easier.”

“Boobs,” I observed.

“For one, but like people see what they want, you know?”

“Ducks,” I sagely agreed.

“Right, so the hair and nails add to the illusion.”

“I get all that, but why aren't you back in guy mode now?”

I know I would be given half a chance.

“Well Dad an' Cherys are taking me to Spain next week so it sorta makes sense to stay in Em mode.”

“They still don't know you're a boy?”

“Shush. Tell the whole bus, why don't you? ”

“Sorry, so?”

“‘Course they know, but like all the Welshies know me as Em and it's not like I hate the idea.”

I shook my head, me, if I had the chance to never put on another bra or skirt I'd be grabbing it with both hands. Rhod on the other hand seems to turn like the tide, first it's girl then boy, maybe a bit of each, maybe he's not really trans. I kinda get the logic with the boobs and nails, the girlie haircut too I guess so it sort of makes sense that Em is sat next to me.

“So how come you've got such a rack, they got you on ‘mones?”

“Mones?”

“You know, like oestrogen.”

“Sort of, “I admitted, “I'm on the pill.”

“Didn't think they used that for TGs,” she offered.

“It's not to grow my boobs , dumbo, it's for , like , girl type reasons?”

“To stop you getting preggers? Don't be so soft you can't.”

“The docs think I could,” I supplied with a sigh.

“You're jesting, only girls can get pregnant.”

“Duck?” I suggested.

It took a moment but the penny eventually dropped — I think.

“So it makes it look more like you're a girl?”

Heavens to Murgatroyd!

“I am a girl.” There I've said it, it's not like I can ignore all the test results and stuff but this is the first time I've told someone.

“That's cool.”

“Really, two X's, these are the real McCoy,” I indicated my chest.

“I bet they've had some help.”

“They've not.”

“Hang on two X's? That means…”

Finally!

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 01.06.12

The bus pulled away from Bolsover market place with Em still goldfishing.

“You, you mean to say that all this time you've really been a girl?”

“Apparently,” I agreed.

“But you've got — I've seen your…”

“I told you it was complicated , ” I pointed out.

We travelled along in silence for a bit, Em apparently lost in thought whilst I gathered my own.

“So you have monthlies and stuff?”

This really is embarrassing; I hope no one else can hear.

“Sort of, that's what the Pill is for, to stop them temporarily.”

“You doing it then?”

I suppose it was a reasonable enough question in the circumstances.

“You what? No way.” I must admit I did raise my voice some.

“Keep your hair on, I was only asking, why else would you be on the pill?”

“Remember me, Drew? No girly bits? I've sort of started doing the bleeding bit but it's got nowhere to go which can cause big problems like.”

“I guess.”

“You remember the times I got a bit anaemic?”

“You mean like in Grottoes?”

My mind engaged the search facility. Grottoes, Grottoes, oh yeah, on that ride, I passed out didn't I? If I'd known then what I know now ...

“Yeah, it usually seemed to be a problem when I was racing so everyone thought that was the cause then I had a really bad turn earlier this year, the blood found a way out which was really gross.”

“You don't mean your penis ?” Em whispered the last bit.

“Other end,” I replied in similar fashion.

“Ew!”

My sentiments exactly.

“So they did like ultrasound and stuff which was when they found the extra plumbing.”

“If you're really a girl, it isn't extra,” Em argued .

I suppose she has a point there. But I'm not a girl; I'm me, Drew.

“What are you two whispering about?” Ally asked breaking my train of thought.

“Just catching up,” Em offered, “so what's up?”

“We're gonna get off in a few, get the tram round the corner from Maccy D's.”

“Kay,” Em allowed.

“Tram? Why do we need to get the tram, the rink is opposite to the bus stop.”

“Dur,” Ally rolled her eyes, “we're going to Ice Sheffield, no one goes to Skates anymore.”

“How should I know? Where's this Ice place then?”

“Near the Arena.”

“Guys,” Mad called down the bus.

“Come on, our stop,” Ally encouraged.

Once off the bus we crossed to the burger emporium where we bought drinks before heading to the tram stop. The first one along was on the wrong route but ours followed not more than a minute behind. By the time we'd gone into the centre and turned around to head towards Meadowhall, then travelled out of town to the Mallopolis we'd been on the rails for over fifteen minutes.

We got off with some other teens seemingly in the middle of nowhere, the rectangular bulk of Sheffield Arena loomed to one side but we headed the other direction before entering some sort of park.

“That's Ice”Hel stated pointing to a long, low building with a wavy roofline on the opposite side of the green.

It certainly looked impressive even if the heavy thump of a steam hammer in the steelworks did provide a reminder of Sheffield's industrial past.

“Come on, we can catch the twelve thirty session,” Mad suggested.

So of course I'm the only one without their own skates, why would I have any here?

“You still take a five, Drew?” Em asked.

“Yes she does.” Mad got in before I could reply.

“I'll get you some boots.”

“Cheers.” We'd already nominated Em to pay for us so we weren't all queuing.

The new facility was amazing, a far cry from Skates which by comparison is grotty. Well I guess that stands to reason, it would be stupid to build a grotty new place after all. I looked in awe at the huge rink below us, tiered spectator seating all around.

“Come on,” Hel chivvied.

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“Quite something eh?” Em observed.

“Not many,” I agreed following her lead.

We walked along a brightly lit corridor for twenty metres before turning into a locker room.

“Here you go, Drew, one pair of skates.” Em presented me with a bag.

“Thanks.”

“Last one on the ice buys the burgers,” Ally challenged .

Sugar, I always get caught in these situations.

One good thing, they weren't girl's skates this time, or at least they weren't pink. I scrambled my trainers off and pulled the skates on. Oh bum, the boots wouldn't fit under my straight leg jeans or over them and do up, bum, bum, bum. The others were long gone by the time I gave up and slumped onto the bench; sometimes I hate having cyclist legs.

“Gaby isn't it?”

“Eh?” I looked round to see where the voice came from.

“It is you, as I live and breathe, Jess, Jess Simmonds.”

She seemed to know me, well Gaby, but I couldn't place her even if her face was vaguely familiar.

“Er.”

“I gave you a lesson, must be two years ago now. At Skates?”

It came flooding back now.

“Geez you've got some memory, I'd forgotten about that.”

“Not what I taught you I hope.”

“I don't get a lot of chance to skate, the nearest rink to me is in Bonn.”

“That's Germany, yeah?”

“Yeah, we moved there last year.”

“So you skating this session, you need to get a move on if you are.”

“That was the idea but my friends didn't tell me we were coming and I can't get these,” I indicated the skates, “on wearing these keks, so I guess not,” I sighed.

“They do look a bit tight for skating.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “so you still do the coaching lark?”

“Only during the holidays, I've just thought, I think I've got some spare kit in my locker, wait here I'll go and look.”

Who'd have thought she'd remember all that time ago?

She wasn't gone too long before returning brandishing a handful of clothing.

“Get out of yer jeans, you can wear this stuff then we'll have a go at that toe loop again.”

“No really.”

“Come on, time's a-wastin' .”

I took the bundle, resigned to her plan.

“'Kay,” I agreed.

“See you on the ice in five Gab.”

When I discovered that the bundle comprised of a vaguely familiar mauve skating dress and matching tights*. Okay then, option one — do a runner or option two - wear Jess's stuff and go skating — no brainer.

“There you are,” Jess greeted when I hit the ice, not literally but almost.

“I couldn't get the zip up,” I supplied.

“Your friends are already out in the meleé, let's get out in the middle.”

Jess gracefully, me not so, we were soon out in the relative calm of the central ice, most skaters choose to do circuits leaving the middle fairly clear. My coach led me through some basic warm up exercises, after a wobbly start I was soon following her dressage moves, leg changes and so with some degree of not looking a plonker.

“So Gab, what're you doing in Sheff if you live in Germany now?”

“Just visiting, I'm on the junior squad so the rest of the summer I'll be racing and stuff over in Manchester.”

“Bikes yeah?”

“Uh huh,” I agreed concentrating on copying her toe loop. “You still competing?”

“Yeah, don't lean so much, I got fifth in the Nationals last year.”

“That's pretty good.”

“Not enough for funding though, I need to be top three this year or I might have to give up competing.”

“Bummer oof!” I landed with a solid bump on the ice.

“You're leaning too much, here watch me.”

I got that involved with doing twirly stuff that I forgot how I was dressed and that the gang were here too. As an ice marshal Jess had to skate off to untangle bodies once or twice but she seemed to enjoy doing the coaching bit as much as I enjoyed her attention.

BRRRR!

The klaxon sounded the end of the session.

“You guys doing the next session?” Jess asked as we followed the stream of skaters off the ice.

“Think so, our lift's at five.”

“Cool, I get to do a routine after that.”

“I'll check with the others.”

“'Kay, I need to go to the office, I'll find you afterwards.”

“Uh huh, tschuss.”

Jess disappeared and I looked around for the others, there they are.

“Mad, Al,” I added a wave as I awkwardly headed their way on the non-ice surface.

“We thought we'd lost you,” Hel opined.

“Jess was helping me with some moves.”

“Who's Jess and what's with the outfit ? I know you didn't bring it with you,” Em asked.

“That the girl from the other place, a crack dance skater?” Al added.

“Yeah, she works here now, are we doing the next session?”

“We've paid, you've not told us about the leotard,” Mad pressed.

“Great,“ I enthused, “this little number? I borrowed it from Jess, my jeans are too tight for skating; someone forgot to tell me what we were doing today.” I glared at my cousin, not for the first time this week.

“Drink?” Em offered.

* See Summer Girl, chapter 35

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 05.06.12

Jess' routine wasn't long, maybe five minutes, forming just one part of a fifteen minute routine involving several other skaters. It was meant to be fun but even so she managed to include some pretty technical and intricate moves including a tricky blade walk that left me in awe of her skills. Despite what she'd said earlier there is just no way I could ever do stuff like that.

I'd already put her onto my phone so the fact that we didn't get a chance to really say goodbye wasn't so bad. Why? Well, Sylv texted Em to say she was outside half an hour before she was due. Ah well.

“You girls eaten?”

“We were going to get ‘dogs before you got here,” Em mentioned.

“Anyone fancy pizza?”

My stomach rumbled loud enough to cause a round of giggles.

“I'll take that as yes then, there's a Pizza Hut ® just down the road, I passed it on the way in.”

Of course the conversation over our food was largely centred on : boys, my skating prowess, injury, boys, which ice cream to have and yep, you've got it, boys. My friends all seem to have gone man mad, even Em who is the least female (albeit most feminine) of the lot. The pizza was good — it's difficult to get cheese on bread too wrong and soon we were crammed into Sylv's Multipla for the journey back to Warsop.

“I spoke to Cheryl Rose earlier,” Aunt Carol advised after Mad and I docked at Peters' central.

“Oh?” Mad queried.

“Bern is still getting out tomorrow?” I checked .

“Yes, they're picking her up in the morning; she rang to invite you for tea tomorrow.”

How come they cart people off to prison god knows where but when you are let out you have to make your own way home?

“Tea?”

“You don't have to repeat everything I say, Madeline Peters.”

Oops, full name, Mad is on soggy ground.

“Just us?” I enquired.

“The others too; I'll be going as well.”

“It seems like forever since she got banged up,” I noted.

“Only three months” Mad seemed to need to qualify .

“A lot has happened in three months,” I observed.

“So, you girls have a good day?”

It started raining during the night, the cold light of morning revealed a Meden Valley shrouded in low cloud with a persistent drizzle wetting anything that dared venture out of doors. I had been planning on a ride this morning but I don't have to go and get me and the bike all soggy. Nah, getting wet doesn't sound like fun, I turned over and shut my eyes.

“You getting up Gaby?”

“Eh?”

“I said, are you getting up?” Mad repeated.

I'm sure she must be part parrot, always repeating herself and everyone else.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly nine, cheer practice this morning? I've brought you some ‘tards and stuff, Mum's doing scrambled egg downstairs.”

So that's what I could smell.

“Erm, okay.”

Damn, I'd forgotten about going to the Foresters ' practice again, what with skating yesterday and Bernie coming home today there's been a lot to take on board. After hitting the bathroom — did I really drink that much last night? — I assessed the pile of clothing Mad had dropped on the end of my bed. You are having a laugh Maddy Peters. There is just no way I'm wearing a thong backed leotard — let alone in public.

I could just wear my normal togs I guess but I think Miss Cowlishaw, Fran, is expecting me to take part. Geez, a further examination of the options found me wearing a pink and grey striped leotard over pale yellow tights with a matching ra ra skirt and a grey ballet cardigan thing. Okay, not high fashion but suitably chaste and comfortable for the upcoming exercise session. I grabbed some shorts and a T to change into and headed off to locate the source of the incredible aroma.

“Drew?” Aunt C enquired.

“Well it's practical for cheering,” I offered.

“You don't have to do it,” She said pointedly, offering me an out.

“She so does,” Mad interjected.

“Drew?”

“It's okay, really, it's not like I'm not used to it.”

“Just remember, it's your choice, not a word, Madeline.”

My cousin backed off from further comment.

“Great eggs aunty” I observed changing the subject.

“Thank you Drew,” she allowed looking pointedly at her daughter.

Aunt C drove us round to the sports centre as it was lagging it down by now.

“What are you doing afterwards?” Aunt C asked.

“Hanging at Helen's I think,” Mad supplied.

“Remember you need to get ready to go to the Rose's, we're leaving at four.”

“Yes Mum,” Mad sighed.

“We'll be back for three,” I interjected, “I need to find her prezzie before we go.”

“Have fun then.”

There was no flock of cheerleaders outside today, instead we found them twittering away in the room we used on Tuesday.

“Right, who are we missing?” Fran opened the batting.

“Just Terri miss,” Chrissie informed us.

“We need to get on, Drew, can you stand in for her?”

“I guess.”

“Thanks,” she winked at me.

“So, warm ups?”

And thus I started a second cheer practice, and there was me thinking I'd just be chilling with my buds this week.

“You sure?”

“I swear, you could see it when she was doing the lifts,” Al told us.

“I thought you had to be eighteen to get one,” I mentioned.

“I'm only telling you what I saw.”

“I heard that Chrissie got more than her belly button pierced last week,” Mad added.

“No, you don't mean?”

Mad nodded, “That's what I heard.”

"A tramp stamp's bad enough but that's just gross,” Al stated her opinion .

The rain had at least eased off by the time we departed the session, I had another chat with Fran, brought her up to date with Bernie and promised to write to her when I got a chance.

“So what are you guys wearing this after?” Hel enquired once we'd settled into what until last year was my, the Bond family's living room. Of course the furniture's different, the walls a different colour even but it's still weird.

“We dressing up?” Em asked.

“It's not like the school dance,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, Drew's right, it's not a party as such is it?” Al backed me up.

“Damn, I was thinking of wearing those sequinned shorts I got,” Hel sighed.

I love Helen to bits but the idea of that is just sooo wrong.

“Clean and tidy will do,” Manda suggested as she passed through with an armload of laundry.

“Boring,” Mad sighed.

I let the conversation drift around me as I sank into the armchair. The stuff that happened in this room…

"And renewed British interest. If you've just joined us the good news is that Jenny Bond has just rejoined the leaders after she was involved in a huge crash a few laps ago."

Oh yeah, the Worlds in Mexico, we were all sat here on the edge of our seats.

"It's Gold David, the judges have put it at a tyre"

"Mum won the cup, Mum won the cup, ee I ally o, Mum won the cup!" I sang as all three of us danced around the room.

Yeah that was quite a day, I grinned to myself.

“What's Gab grinning at?” I heard Em ask.

“Let her be, she's in a world of her own,” Al observed.

Maybe I am. Yeah the worlds, that was a high point but there were lows too.

“So what's this all about?” Jules asked, “come to rub Dieter in our faces?”

Mum flinched at Jules barb and I realised that she most certainly wasn't the bubbly Mum of old, not by a long way.

“I guess I deserve that,” she allowed.

Yeah, all the stuff with Mum.

“The team doctor is supposed to tell George if there's anything wrong, I agreed to that in the contract. But anyway he agreed to keep quiet for the time being.”

“Quiet about what?” suddenly everyone else seemed to know more than me.

“I've got cancer, Drew."

At least that's behind us now.

I must have been day dreaming for ages as the next thing I remember is Em poking me in the arm.

“You eating that or what?”

“What?”

“Kewl,” she leant over and liberated the slice of Battenburg from the plate I was holding, “thank you!”

“Hey.”

“You're lucky she asked Drew, you've been sat there mumbling to yourself for over an hour,” Helen told me.

“We should get off anyway if were gonna get ready on time,” Mad proposed .

“Sugar, is that the time?” Al added, seconding the motion.

We gathered our stuff and in short order departed Chez Joyce né Bond for the short walk back to the Peters.

“Ah you're back, I was just making a sandwich, anyone want one?” Aunt C enquired.

“Drew just slept through cake at Hel's,” my cousin cackled.

“I wasn't asleep.”

“You so were, Drew Bond.”

“Stop arguing, sandwich?”

“Er please.”

“Maddy?”

“Nah, I did eat my cake.” Mad mentioned.

“Five minutes if you want to get changed, Drew?”

“Thanks.”

Do I want to get changed, is the Pope Catholic? Of course I do. I clomped upstairs hard on the heels of my cousin, yeah I want to look good for Bernie. She'll be out now, on her way home I guess, I wonder what she's thinking? Hmm that reminds me, the prezzies for her and the baby. I say prezzies in the plural as the girls clubbed together for a teddy for junior and Marty has sent what looks suspiciously like a necklace for Bern too. Now then, where did I put them?

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 06.06.12

I'm not sure what I expected; some shaven headed lag with LOVE HATE tattooed across the knuckles perhaps. The reality of course is that Bern was just Bern, bigger of course, junior isn't far off making an appearance, but Bern nevertheless.

“Gabeee!”

Aunt Carol, Mad and me were the first to arrive; Mrs. R gave me a quick hug before propelling me towards the lounge where Bern was ensconced.

“Tis I,” I agreed moving in for a hug, which was awkward of course as she's like the size of half a house.

“Oh Gab, I've missed you so much.”

“Sorry I didn't get over to see you.”

“I didn't expect you to, but it's so good to see you again.”

“So, how are you?”

“You know, fair to middlin' — ooh, have to sit.”

I helped ease her onto a chair.

“That's better, this one's getting to be a right pain,” She stated rubbing her distended belly.

“I bet.” My mind went back to last year wearing that belly suit for a week* — Bern's had the real thing for, like, months.

“Everything okay?” Mrs Rose asked as she led the others in.

“Just a bit of a twinge, Mum.”

I saw Mrs. R glance at the clock, “The others should be here soon. ”

“Hey Mad, Mrs P.”

My cousin moved in for a hug, “ Hey, yourself.”

I know relations between them were a little — let's say strained before Bern came over to Dernau and while the awkward embrace showed progress it was clear the pair still had issues.

“Are the others coming?” Bern asked.

“They'll be here,” her mum confirmed.

It was always going to be an awkward reunion, no one wanted to be the one to ask the wrong question and the arrival of the others only exacerbated the situation by a factor of three.

“So what have you all been doing this week? Schools out right?” Bern enquired.

“This and that,” Ally supplied.

“I went to Wales for the weekend,” Em volunteered.

“I thought you'd stopped that stuff?”

“Well it's not that bad, Da and Cherys are taking me to Spain next week so it made sense to stay Mfanwy this week.”

“Me an' Mad went to a con on Sunday,” I supplied.

“Yeah and guess who won first prize?” Mad added.

“You?” Bern suggested.

“I had no chance, try again.”

With a choice of two, even Em could work that out.

“You never said,” Ally mentioned.

“It never came up,” I shrugged.

The conversation did eventually loosen up, it wasn't like old times; it couldn't be really could it? I mean, I live hundreds of miles away, Bern is not only expecting but she's been in prison and dropped out of school, Rhod can't decide who he or she wants to be and Helen whilst tight with Mad and Ally isn't one of our mouseketeers. No, it can't be the same but we can all be friends.

Mrs. R had put together a bit of a buffet that we all sort of picked at but by six things had stalled somewhat.

“I ought to get home Bern, Dad's taking us over to my Gran's,” Ally was the first to crack.

The rot had started and by ten past Em, Ally and Helen had all departed.

“We really ought to go too,” Aunt C suggested.

“You don't have to,” Cheryl offered.

“I'll pop round tomorrow Cheryl, you and Jack need some time with your daughter without us around.”

“Thanks Carol, I'll hold you to that.”

“Come on then kids, Bernie's had enough excitement for one day.”

“Laters Bern,” Mad allowed.

“Glad you're back Bern,” I mentioned with a hug.

“Me too,” Bern agreed.

I was back in the car before I realised I hadn't given Bern her presents.

“I'll just pop these in, I can walk back if you like.”

“We can wait,” Aunt Carol observed.

“Nah, its okay, I can do with the exercise now it's stopped raining.”

“Don't be too long, I'm doing chops for tea.”

“I won't.”

Grabbing the bag of goodies I clambered back out of the car and pausing only to wave as the Peters set off, returned to the Rose's.

I rang the bell and waited and waited. After five minutes I thought there must be something wrong so I hollered through the letterbox.

“Halloo, it's only me, Drew.”

There was no reply, what the heck is going on? I know they haven't gone out, I mean, we only just left so why aren't they answering the door? Was that a scream? Oh my god, Mrs. R must be attacking Bern . A second scream rent the air. Sugar, what to do? You read about this stuff going on, parents killing wayward children, the murderer going on a rampage and killing all the family and stuff.

Police, ring the police. Now where's my handy, bum, must've left it at home. Don't panic Drew, check the windows, right, that's a good idea, I can knock on next door for the police then. I edged towards the front windows and carefully peered inside. Bern was writhing on the floor, her mother leaning over her, oh no, she's going in for the kill, there's already blood all over the carpet .

I must save her. On impulse I rapped on the window, Mrs. R span around, oh boy, she knows I'm here now.

“Back door,” she mouthed; well I couldn't hear through the double-glazing.

When I didn't move she frantically indicated I should go round the back. What should I do, I could be her next victim?

“Round the back.”

If I can save Bern it'll be worth it. Decision made I dashed for the side gate which of course was locked, bum. I've climbed it before so with a short run up I leaped onto the gate and hauled myself over; I was dropping to the floor when another scream punctuated the air. Must hurry, I scrambled around the corner to the kitchen door which stood ajar.

I gathered myself, you can do it Drew. I pushed open the door and entered purgatory.

“Drew? Quick, come and help me with Bern.”

She wants me to help in the killing, sugar? A quick look for a weapon revealed nothing I thought I could handle, damn, so long world, tis a better thing I do. The next minute was a blur; I dashed into the lounge with a war cry and tripped over my own feet sending me sprawling over the sofa to land in a heap in front of the telly.

“Ouch,” Bern noted.

“You alright, Drew love?” her mum enquired.

“Er think so.” I allowed, quickly checking that all my appendages were working.

“Can you sit with Bern while I ring the midwife?”

“Midwife?”

“It's coming Gab, the baby,” Bern told me with a grimace.

“Drew?” Mrs R prompted.

“Oh right,” I kept my previous thoughts to myself as I moved to Bern's side replacing her mum.

“So why'd you come back?” Bern asked gripping my hand.

“Maybe thirty minutes…”

“I er forgot to give you some stuff the gang sent from Germany.”

“Idiot.”

“An hour, okay…”

“There's a bear for junior from the girls.”

“Looks like you can give it to the bairn yourself. Aaarrrrggghhhh!”

I gripped her hand as her body tensed in what I now realised was a contraction.

“Deep breaths.”

“Here Drew.” Mrs R passed me a damp flannel.

“Looks like the carpet's a gonner.” I noted realising then that the puddle I'd seen from the window was in fact where Bern's waters had broken.

“It'll clean,” she stated matter of factly.

“So what did the midwife say?” Bern asked between breaths.

“Stay put for now, she'll be around in an hour.”

“Shouldn't we get her to hospital?” I suggested.

“There's plenty of time if we need to. I'll get some sheets and ring your Dad, you okay to stay Drew?”

“Please?” Bern mouthed.

“Er sure, of course,” I agreed.

“Thanks,” Bernie allowed squeezing my hand.

“Nearly forgot,” I noted getting up to retrieve the goody bag from where it had landed under the telly.

“What're you up to?”

“Found it.”

“What?”

“Here,” I presented her with the parcel, “from Marty.”

“Shush, she might hear.”

“Well aren't you going to open it?” I prompted.

“Give me a chance, girl.”

I was right, it was a necklace, a silver chain with a Swarovski ® crystal pendant.

“Presents?” Mrs. Rose enquired.

“From the girls in Germany,” Bern offered showing her mum the necklace.

“Very nice, make sure you write to thank them.”

“I will.” Bern agreed with twinkle in her eye.

“Let's get you a bit more comfortable eh?”

We spent the next few minutes making up a sort of nest on the floor and moving Bern into it. It was a bit embarrassing helping Mrs. R divest my friend of her soiled underwear and dress and into a fresh maternity nightdress. Geez her stomach looks well ready to burst .

We went through another round of contractions before the doorbell rang announcing the arrival of the midwife.

“Hello, hello, I'm guessing the one with the bump is our mum to be?”

“Bernie,” my girl friend managed with a smile.

“I'm Julie, call me Jules if you like; let's take a look eh?”

I went to get out of the way, Anna's mum had told us what to expect back in the classes in Germany.

“No no, love, stay there with mum, I'll just check where we are.”

“Kay.”

“This is Gabs, my birthing partner, ” Bern told her.

* Book 5 Bits, chapter 24

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 07.06.12

"So," Julie started after checking Bern over, "everything seems to be in order, baby's not quite ready to make an appearance but I don't think we'll be long."

"Good," Bern huffed.

"Have you been to ante natal classes?"

"We went back home in Germany," I volunteered.

"You live in Germany, both of you?"

"Well I do, Bern was visiting."

"I didn't think I'd seen you at ours, so you know what to expect?"

"Sort of."

"Anyone for a cuppa?" Mrs R enquired.

"Ooh I'd love one please," Julie enthused.

"Um, can I have a quick word Julie?"

"Sure, you girls, okay for a minute?"

"Uh huh," I offered on our behalf.

The adults went through to the kitchen from whence the sounds of tea preparation could be heard.

"She's telling her," Bern sighed.

"Telling her what?"

"Why she's not seen me at ante natal."

"She won't treat you any differently, " I replied with maybe more certainty than I felt.

"She'll judge me."

"Don't stress about it Bern, if she does she does, I'm sure you won't be the first time she's delivered a child in similar circumstances."

"You're probably right, aarrggghhh!"

"How we doing, ladies?"

"'Kay," Bern got out between gasps.

"Remember your breathing; Gaby, I want you to keep Bernie as relaxed as you can, I'm just going to get some stuff from my car, I won't be a moment, okay?"

"Sure," I allowed.

Once Jules had departed, Bernie turned to her mum.

"You told her didn't you?"

"Well, it's best she's prepared."

"Prepared?"

"Well you got tangled up a bit when you arrived; apparently it runs in the family."

"So you didn't tell her I've been locked up?"

"Bern, give me some credence, why the heck would I?"

"I just thought."

"You know what thought did."

The front door clicked shut.

"Right, I had a quick word with the unit, the doc is on standby in case we need him, I'm sure we won't though."

I've no idea how long the labour went on, the contractions steadily gaining in number and strength, each seemingly more intense than the last. But with the watery light — it's been lagging it down for ages — starting to fade Julie started to get more business like.

“Right Bernie, baby's nearly here, next time the contractions start I want you to push with all your might, Gaby, encourage her.”

“I can't push, I'm too tired,” Bern complained.

“Yes you can, remember what Gloria said.”

“I remember but she never said how much pain there'd be.”

“No pain no gain,” I grinned.

“I'll remind you of that when it's your turn. Aaarrggghhh!” *

“Push Bernie,” Julie encouraged.

“Deep breath and push.”

Bern strained for thirty seconds, her mum and me each holding her.

“Urgh!”

“You can do better than that,” I suggested.

“You can go off people,” Bern panted.

“Phwwwttt!”

“Why you, aarrrgghhhh!”

“Push.”

“And again,” Julie instructed a moment later, “head's nearly out.”

From that point things are a bit of a blur, screaming, pushing, encouraging and finally crying. Boy does this baby know how to bawl .

Julie quickly and efficiently did her midwifery stuff, you know, checking for extra or missing bits, weighing and wrapping the bundle of joy in a blanket Cheryl supplied.

“Right then, Gaby, take baby for a minute while we sort Bernie out.”

And so Bernie's daughter was thrust into my arms, a more precious cargo they've never held.

Of course the process of childbirth doesn't end when the baby arrives, oh no; Julie had the new mother pushing and grunting for a few more minutes before the mess of blood and flesh that comprises the afterbirth finally emerged. Ew, that is like so disgusting. I know its natural like, but I don't have to like it , right?

I passed the tiny bundle, well seven pounds five ounces, to her mother. While she had quieted when I held her, she lapsed into a contented snooze in her mother's arms; I wish I had my camera.

“Say cheese Gaby,” t he new Grandma instructed, “Bern.”

She took a bunch of photos, at some point Mr Rose arrived bearing a tray of tea; I'm guessing he'd been waiting in the kitchen.

“Thanks Gab,” Bern mentioned.

“For what? You did all the work.”

“Yes thanks Gaby,” Mrs R added.

My blush switch was activated, level three.

“Geez Gab, you are just so cute when you blush,” Bern giggled, her movement waking the dozing infant.”

“You going to breast feed?” Jules asked.

“I was going to try.”

“Well I think baby is ready to give it a bash.”

I was sat on the sofa nursing my tea, watching the baby suckling Bern's teat when the portent of her earlier comment sunk in. ‘I'll remind you of that when it's your turn' — my turn ut uh, never gonna happen. I might have all the plumbing, well almost but there is just no way I'm doing anything with another boy that might result in childbirth, not even Max. Where'd that come from?

“You thought of a name Bernie?” Julie enquired as she collected equipment and tidied up the scene of bloody devastation.

Bern looked up from her new Bundle of Joyâ„¢ and looked to her mum who just nodded.

“Andrea Mary.”

“That's pretty,” Julie smiled. “Well I'm going to have to leave you folks for tonight, get a salt bath Bernie, it'll ease the discomfort some. I'll be back in the morning to see how you both are doing and just remember, you've done the easy bit it's the next eighteen years that are difficult.”

“Tell me about it,” Mr Rose put in which earnt him a look from his wife.

“You look like you need some sleep too , Gaby, you did very well tonight.”

“Er thanks Jules.”

“Well I'll leave you folks to it, see you tomorrow.”

“G'night.”

“Bye.”

Mr Rose helped Julie out with her stuff.

“You look all in Gaby,” Mrs R observed.

“Well I wasn't planning on trying my hand at midwifery,” I grinned.

“Sorry, it was Drea's fault, she was desperate to meet her Aunty Gabs,” Bern smirked.

“Your jeans have taken a bit of damage Gaby,” Granny Rose observed.

Indeed they had, I must have knelt in the stuff on the carpet and even my t-shirt had attracted some gunk.

“They'll wash.”

“I'll get you something clean to wear then Jack'll drop you home, I'll wash your stuff with this lot.” She indicated the pile of laundry little Andrea's arrival had caused.

“You don't have to.”

“It's the least I can do.”

“'Kay,” I allowed.

Sugar. Home, Aunt C will wonder where the hell I've got to.

“What's the time?”

“Half one,” Bern supplied.

“I am like so dead, I was only supposed to be like half an hour.”

“Your aunt knows where you've been lass, I rang her earlier,” Mr Rose informed me.

“Phew, I'd be grounded for ever.”

“Well tomorrow,” Bern noted.

“Come on Gaby, out of those dirty togs then we can get you home,” Mrs R instructed from the door.

You will of course remember that Bern is somewhat taller and more er statuesque than yours truly so I was quite surprised that the flowery all in one that I was presented with actually fit quite well. I vaguely remember Bern wearing it, they were all the rage a couple of years ago — at least it wasn't a dress or skirt.

“Geez, I thought I'd thrown that out yonks ago,” Bern noted.

“You did but I didn't,” her mum told her.

“Are you ready then Gaby?” Mr R enquired.

“Uh huh, thanks for the loan Mrs R.”

“No problem, I think you'd best hang on to it, this one won't be wearing it again.” She tousled her daughter's sweaty hair.

“Er okay, oh I nearly forgot.” I located the bag containing the present from me and the guys back home. I sat next to Bern. “Well little one, you're finally here, your mummy's friends got you a special welcome present, I'm sure you'll have lots in the next few days. So, Andrea, here's your first teddy, all the way from Germany.”

Clearly a newborn baby isn't really going to respond but I'm sure she gave a little gurgle of thanks.

“You know she's named after you,” Bern informed me.

“She is ?”

“Well if it had been a boy I was going to name him Andrew, Andrea is the feminine form.”

“Why?”

“That's why Drew Bond,” Bern supplied before the tears came.

“Give over Bern.”

“I owe you so much, you believed in me when none of the others would, you took me in, included me in your new life and now, well I wouldn't've wanted anyone else to be with me during this.”

“Shut up, you've got me crying now.”

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 08.06.12

It really isn't that far back to the Peters place from Bern's and given the attack on Helen not so long ago it probably wouldn't be the wisest thing to walk, by myself, at silly o'clock in the morning. Besides my current garb is not exactly warm and there was a distinct cold draught when Julie left a few minutes ago.

“Come on young er lady.” Mr Rose encouraged me out to his car.

I'd already made my farewells to the rest of his newly enlarged household so I willingly trotted along behind him. The central locking of his mini Jag beeped to let us aboard, I was quite happy to get inside out of the ‘fresh' air even if the car wasn't itself much warmer. I buckled up and after turning round we headed towards Church Warsop.

“Thanks for being with Bern tonight.”

“It was pure luck.” I noted.

“Luck or not lass, its appreciated by all three, make that four of us.”

I'm gonna have to get the blush switch fixed; I'm just glad the inside of the Jag was dark. Literally moments later we were pulling up at my temporary abode.

“Thanks for the lift Mr Rose.”

“You're welcome er Gaby, your welcome.”

“Well thanks anyway, tell Bern I'll be ‘round tomorrow.”

“It already is tomorrow, I'll tell her, not too early mind now get on with you.”

Mr R turned his car around then waited until the front door opened to admit me before departing.

“I wasn't sure what time you'd be back, if at all,” Aunt C advised, “I take it the baby's arrived.”

“Er yeah, sorry I didn't ring, I left my handy here.”

“Handy? Oh your mobile. You're alright Cheryl rang.”

I stifled a yawn.

“So details?”

“Girl, Andrea Mary, seven pounds five ounces, mother and baby doing well.” I supplied.

“So what did you think of childbirth?”

“Easy — providing its someone else doing the screaming.”

Aunt C chuckled, “come on you, up to bed, I'm sure tomorrow is going to be a busy one."

I didn't need a second invitation, no sooner did my head hit the pillow than I was asleep.

Next morning, even though I was late, well seven thirty, in getting up, as it was dry I thought I'd best get in a quick ride. It was never going to be more than an hour so I headed out through the Vale towards Fanny's Grove, the flat ride allowing me to warm up before hitting the Worksop road. Up, down, up a bit more then a fastish thrash down to the bypass.

I snuck a left just before the roundabout that took me over the ‘new' road and into Worksop town centre. I had to negotiate the rush hour traffic but it's not exactly super busy so I was soon heading back out on the Mansfield road. Over the bypass, I tagged a bus to get over the roundabout, and then along through Gateford to reach the stupidabout where the Sheffield road goes off, it is of course the ten turn too.

Using the ski ramp descent to up my speed I gave the ride back towards Cuckney all I'd got, only easing up when I reached the bottom crossroads. Hmm, twenty to nine, best not take the long way. I dropped down a couple of gears and used the climb along past the ten start as a cool down before dropping back into Church Warsop. It was only ten minutes from Cuckney that I ran my steed up the Peters drive.

“You still up for making your German thing for tea?” Aunt C asked when I hit the kitchen after my shower. “I've got everything you said you'd need.”

Bum, I thought she'd forgotten about that.

“Er sure.”

“I was thinking of inviting the Rose's, what do you think?”

“That'd be cool, Bern likes schnitzel.”

“Okay I'll ring Cheryl in a mo.”

“Where's Mad? I thought she'd want to know all about last night.”

“Maddy? Babies? I don't think they have ever been closely related.” She chortled, “she said she had to see Helen.”

“Oh.”

So okay I wanted to brag a bit, my flate was un'd and I wasn't quite sure what to do with this latest bit of news.

“How come you're wearing that?” ‘That' being the playsuit I borrowed last night.

“I haven't got anything else really that's clean and not bike kit.”

“What happened to your jeans?”

“They ended up with ectoplasm all down them, Bern's mum was gonna wash them.”

“Ectoplasm?”

“You know like um baby birth gunk?”

Carol didn't want to know how that came about. Like a good many mothers she'd received her bundle of joy after it had been somewhat sanitised and the midwife had taken care of the messy stuff.

“Get yourself some tea, I'm sure that daughter of mine wont be long, and I'll ring Cheryl.”

The tea was a bit stewed but it was wet, it seems a bit odd not to be offered coffee at every turn like back home but I do like a cuppa.

Mad turned up fifteen minutes later with Helen in tow.

“Yo Gabs.”

“Morning Hel, Mad.”

“I rang the others, we're gonna meet in town and go and see the new arrival.” Mad told me.

“So what was it like?” Hel enthused.

How can you answer that?

“Lets just say I don't want a repeat any time soon.”

“To think, you helped to bring a new little person into the world, that's so cool.”

“I held Bern's hand Hel.”

“Well I'm never having kids.” Mad stated.

“Never say never,” Helen sighed, “I'd like one of each I think, what about you Gab?”

“I'm with Maddy on this one.”

“But what about if you find Mr Right wouldn't you want kids then?”

“Hello? Drew here, I am so not looking for Mr Right or Mr anything for that matter.”

“What about Max?”

“What about him?”

“Geez girl, you've got like a proper hunk and you're not doing anything about it.” Hel opined.

“He's a friend.”

“A friend that takes you to society weddings.” Mad teased.

“Ma-ad!”

“You lot going out?” Aunt C encouraged.

“Can I borrow some jeans Mad?”

“If you like, that pattern suits you you know.”

We eventually left to meet Ally and Em just after ten, the sun was having a valiant attempt to push its way through the clouds and rather than jeans I ended up in a pair of cargo shorts. The others were waiting outside of the newsagents, Em once again looking girlier than the girls amongst us.

“We should get a present for the baby.” Em enthused.

“The girls in Germany sent a bear.” I volunteered.

“We can see what they have in the baby shop.” Ally suggested.

Warsop might not be the biggest town on the planet but it does manage to support ‘Baby Plus', a one-stop baby shop next to the kebab shop just past the zebra crossing on Mansfield road. The five of us trooped along to the maternity store and after a quick perusal of the window headed inside.

“Morning girls.” A woman at the back of the counter greeted.

“Er hi.”

“Morning.”

“Looking for anything in particular?”

Perhaps I should mention that whilst back in Dernau Bernie, an unmarried teen mother stood out as a rare sight, here in Robin Hood land, teen mums are almost the norm. No work, no prospects, having a baby is often seen as a way of getting ahead with housing and handouts freely supplied with no expectations in return. So a bunch of teens in the baby shop would hardly be a rarity.

“A present.” Mad offered.

“Our friends just had a baby.” Ally almost needlessly added, I mean why else would we have picked a baby shop?

“Boy or girl?” the woman enquired.

“A girl.” I supplied.

“So what are you looking for; toys, clothes, I do gift vouchers too.” She offered.

“Some sort of toy?” Helen suggested.

“You have to be careful with newborns, how about a teddy?”

“Already done.” Ally stated.

“Hmm, cuts the options a bit, a mobile?”

“Mobile what?” Em asked.

“E-em! One of those twirly things.” Maddy explained.

“Sounds a good idea.” I opined.

We left fifteen minutes later having put to for a musical mobile and a twenty-pound voucher. The walk along to Bern's place didn't take long and this time when I knocked on the door it was answered in short order.

“Hi Gaby, girls, come on in.” Mrs R instructed.

“We er just thought we'd come to see Bern and the baby?” Helen told her.

“Well I didn't think you had come to see me, they're in the lounge, anyone want a drink?”

“Yes please.” Em replied for us.

I pushed open the door, “hi Bern…”

“Shush! She's only just dropped off.” Bernie whispered.

“We just came to see how you and Andrea were getting on.”

“I guessed.”

“Ooo isn't she cute?” Em stated.

“She's so tiny.” Helen noted.

I sat next to Bern out of the way and was surprised to find the tiny bundle thrust into my arms.

“There you go Drea, aunty Gabs is here now, mummy needs a rest and a pee.”

“I er.”

“She likes you Gab.” Mad grinned.

I couldn't take my eyes off of the little mite, what is it about babies that makes otherwise sane individuals go completely daft? Bern slipped out, I presume to attend to her own needs leaving me in charge of the baby. Oh my god, what do I do?

For her part Andrea just snuggled into me, chewing her lips, occasionally giving me a little chuckle.

“Phew, that's better, the little tarts been sucking my tit for like an hour.” Bern advised us.

We didn't actually stay that long beyond presenting our gifts and drinking our tea. Bern is so far removed from the rest of us by experience it's difficult to find common topics of conversation. I'm not sure where that leaves our friendship, will she want more ‘adult' company than us with our petty squabbles and playing. I feel that I at least have a special relationship but where it leaves the others I've no idea.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 11.06.12

Mad and the others had gone to Ally's for the afternoon which invitation I turned down to give me a chance to get the cooking done. It's a bit of a bummer, Em gets collected for her hols in the morning so I've already had to say my goodbyes to one of the gang. The rest of us are going to the pics in Mansfield tomorrow, a last outing before I depart for Manchester on Sunday.

Aunt Carol had indeed located everything for our German style evening meal but whilst I've seen Frau Thesing making the schnitzel I've never actually made them myself.

“anything I can do?” Aunt C enquired.

“I think I'm alright.” I don't want an audience if I make a hash of things!

“I'm next door if you want me.”

“thanks.”

On my second attempt at coating one of my battered bits of meat with breadcrumbs I nearly went to find Aunt C who I'm sure would spot what I was doing wrong straight away. However spotting my handy on the side gave me an idea.

“Gaby! What are you doing calling?”

“I thought you'd at least be missing me by now.”

“we are, how's the hand?”

“how do you know about that?”

“your Dad told me when he came to fetch brotchen on Sunday.”

“oh, its okay, bit sore still, can you talk?”

“I'm only in Aldi, so whats up?”

“I got talked into making schnitzel for dinner and I've got stuck.”

“stuck?”

“please Con how do I get the breadcrumbs to stick?”

she laughed down the phone at me.

(apparently I just needed an extra egg.)

“Connie, I'll be your friend forever.”

“is that a threat or a promise?”

“huh!”

“go on then, what've you done?”

Five minutes and one expensive airtime call later I'd successfully fixed the problem.

“thanks Con.”

“no problem, hang on I've just seen Max…Max?… Gabs is on the phone.”

“bye Con.”

“hang on Gab, Max is just coming.”

I cut the connection, I really can't do Maximillian von flippin' Strechau right now.

“how're you getting on?”

“I just need to deep fry them and they're ready to go.”

“I'm looking forward to trying them.” Aunt C noted with some enthusiasm.

‘don't expect too much.' I muttered to myself.

By the time the Rose entourage arrived the Rotkohl was hot, the croquettes were warming and the dumplings were draining.

“hmm, something smells good.” Bern mentioned from the door.

“as long as it tastes okay,” I observed, “where's Andrea?”

“Granny and your aunt are cooing over her, you need a hand?”

“could you start taking the plates and stuff through.”

“sure.”

Mad arrived a moment later, dressed better than I'd seen her all week.

“Mum says you should go get changed.”

“I've not finished cooking.”

“looks pretty cooked to me.” She noted.

“the schnitzel needs flashing.”

“flashing?”

“I can do that,” Bern volunteered from behind me, “go change tante Gaby.”

“you can borrow something from my wardrobe.” My cousin suggested. Yeah right.

“whatever, about thirty seconds Bern, I'll be straight back down.”

I have to admit that I did smell like cabbage, hmm I reckon I've got like ten minutes. Up stairs, into the shower, hair wash, hmm put it in a braid, five minutes. My personal clothing options came nowhere near smart of course, sugar, I'm gonna have to raid Mad's stuff. That looks familiar, hey its my Gothy dress, you remember, the orange one, I suppose it was a while ago.

“ta da!”

“wish I had your figure.” Bern lamented.

“I wish it wasn't all me. Everything done?”

“yep, now you're here we can eat.”

Blame me.

The dining room was pretty full, four adults, three teens and Drea sucking her thumb in the carrycot.

“so Gab, what is all this stuff?” Uncle John enquired.

“lets see, Shnitzel,” I started pointing to each item in turn, “Já¤ger sauce, that's got mushrooms in it, Zwiebel sauce.”

“onions.” Bern supplied.

“yup, then theres potato croquettes, red cabbage and Kná¶del.”

“dumplings, yum.” Bern mentioned.

“dig in, its best hot.”

The table became a hive of activity, no one wanted to miss out, me least of all, after all, I cooked it! Those not familiar with the delights of German cuisine were cautious in their helpings, me and Bern dug in with gusto.

Oh yeah, the boy done good. Well maybe the mushroom sauce was a little thin but I think I did a fair job on the rest of it. It seemed to get a thumbs up from everyone else too, after the initial reticence they managed to clear every dish of anything eatable.

“phew, I'll come to Restaurant Gaby to eat any time.” Mr Rose sighed.

“I told you it wasn't all sausages.” Bern mentioned to her dad.

“certainly not just a pretty face.” Uncle John grinned.

“you don't say that to me.” Mad pouted.

“the only thing you can cook is a boiled egg, you burnt the water doing that.” Uncle J pointed out.

“did not, it boiled over.”

“give over you two, so what do you do about pud in Germany?” Aunt C asked.

“not much usually, bit of fruit or maybe yoghurt.”

“ice cream?” she suggested.

“ooh yeah.” I agreed.

“everyone up for that?”

there being no naysayers she headed off to the kitchen.

I started collecting the dirty plates.

“give your cousin a hand Mad.” Her Dad prodded.

With Bern joining in the table was cleared before Aunt C brought a tray of loaded ice cream dishes through. So okay, I could've eaten more eis but when I finally sat back I was pretty content and with how the meal had gone. Yeah I know, I ended up in a dress again but that ends when I get to BC on Sunday.

The Rose's stayed for coffee but left fairly early, Drea was getting a little tetchy and Bern was clearly pretty tired too. It was however agreed that her Mum would babysit so she could join the rest of us at the pictures tomorrow. I am so not going to have children, you can't do anything without them coming into the equation — its not like I'm ever going to do anything to end up with children is it?

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 12.06.12

“So what do you think its gonna be like?” Hel asked.

“Dunno really.” Bern had started the current line of discussion, my summer with BC.

“It's a long time to be away from home.” Helen observed.

“We were in America as long.” Mad put in.

“Yeah but Gab's is gonna be on her own this time.” Bern mentioned.

“I am here.” I pointed out.

“Well I wouldn't want to be away for that long.” Hel opined, “Oh shit, I didn't mean to like, oh sorry Bern, me and my big gob.”

“I guess people are going to talk about me, ‘specially now with Drea.” Bern sighed, trying at the same time to appear nonchalant.

“Yeah but I should think before I open my mouth.”

“Well I'd love to get away from home for the summer.” Mad advised.

“Especially if James was involved.” I put in.

“Well it wouldn't hurt to add some entertainment.” My cousin added with a grin.

“So do you have some sort of chaperone Gab?” Ally enquired from behind me.

“Think so, I let Dad read everything all I know is that I have to be at the ‘drome for mid day tomorrow.”

“I'd be scared.” Ally told us, “well maybe not scared exactly…stop moving your head Gab!”

“Ouch! What are you doing Al?”

“Nearly finished,” She'd been tugging my hair about for best part of twenty minutes and we were almost at the bus station now. “There we go.”

I knew that she'd been braiding my locks but there are like loads of different outcomes.

“Very chic.” Bern suggested.

I felt at my head, no weird bunches, no pretzels, two braids though.

“I bet I look a right plonker.”

“It goes with your outfit.” Hel told me.

“I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.” At least Mad had adjusted the straps so they weren't rubbing my pointy bits, at least not so much.

“You girls getting' orf or what?” the driver yelled up the stairs.

“Oops!” Mad giggled.

Mansfield hasn't changed much, same grotty bus station, same urban decay — well possibly worse, the year or so since I was last here hasn't done the place any favours at all.

“Nothings improved I see.”

“Oh I don't know, they've put up some new hanging baskets.” Ally advised us as we headed down towards the multiplex.

“You have to admit that it's a bit of a dump.” Bern put in.

It's never been great but even I can remember it being more prosperous than it is now. At one time it was a centre of leather and footwear production further bolstered by its position in the Nottinghamshire coalfield. Now most of the mining has gone, leather and footwear manufacturing has moved to China leaving Mansfield bereft of any large-scale industry.

“So what're we gonna watch?” I asked when we arrived at the cinema.

“Potter.” Hel suggested.

“First showing isn't until half eleven.” I observed.

“What else is on then?” Mad asked.

To be honest between the six screens the choice was pretty naff, two screens would be running the newest HP release, another already had the ‘cinema club' watching some kiddy film. Only two of the other screens had anything running before this evening, a Disney in one and the F&F newbie in the other starting in ten minutes.

“Tokyo Drift in ten minutes or The Lion King in twenty.”

“I thought that vampire thing was on.” Hel groaned.

“Not until later, er two thirty.” I read from the programme.

“I need to get back for Drea.” Bern pointed out.

“I am so not spending good money on a cartoon.” Mad stated.

Yes!

“Tokyo Drift then?” I offered.

"That bit in the car park was ace!" I enthused as we departed the cinema.

“Don't look now but Paul and that idiot Clive are by the food stand.” Ally hissed.

“Pretend we haven't seen them.” Mad urged.

Not an issue for me.

“Hi girls.” Paul called over.

Sugar.

“Whatever.” Al replied.

“What've you seen?”

“Tokyo Drift losers.” Bern supplied.

“Its you who's the loser.”

This is all we need, a slanging match.

Clive decided to weigh in, “we haven't been kicked out of school.”

“She wasn't, she left.” I told them, its bending things a bit I know.

“Gabeee!”

Oh boy, now Clive knows I'm here.

“She came to live with me.”

“Anyway, what do you care Paul Burgin?”

“Was just saying.”

“Well ‘just say' somewhere else.” Hel suggested.

“You fancy going out Gab?” Clive enquired.

“If I did it wouldn't be with you.” I stated.

“Aw go on, I've missed you.”

“She's taken slime ball, her boyfriend's a Baron.” Mad told those listening.

“Shut up Mad!”

“I could be your bit of rough.” Jones offered.

“And I could be your nemesis.”

“She laid him out last time he tried something.” Ally told Helen.

“Come on, let's leave these scumbags to watch their kiddy film.” Mad suggested.

We made good our escape not slowing until we reached Maccy D's.

“You alright Bern?”

“Yeah, thanks for saying that Gab.”

“'s what friends are for, when did Paul become such a berk, Clive's been one for years but I thought Paul was okay.”

“I've never seen him like that at school.” Al offered.

“I reckon he secretly fancies Bern.” Helen opined.

“As if!”

“She might have something there.” Mad suggested.

“So why was he picking a fight?” I queried.

“For an excuse to talk to her.” My cousin surmised.

“Weird way of doing things.” Bern noted.

“He's a boy!” Hel stated.

"In case you've missed something so am I." I huffed.

"Not from where I'm standing." Mad stated.

"The boobs are a dead giveaway." Al added.

"They're not wrong." Bern agreed.

"Not you too."

"Gab I've seen you with the girls in Germany and how you treat Max and his cronies, we might have thought you were a boy but you really are such a girl." Bern pronounced.

"We eating or what?" Hel enquired.

"We've missed the twenty to bus." Al pointed out.

I doubt if I'll get the opportunity again for a few weeks.

"Count me in."

I splurged on a Big Mac tm meal - the only thing other than a plain burger I recognised, like where is the Chicken Royaletm and the salads? Not only that but it was decidedly puny compared to what I get in Bonn. I suppose it'll stop me getting fat!

"You ready Gab?"

"I guess." I allowed before slurping the last of my lemonade.

Everyone collected their gear together and it sort of felt like old times as we walked back to the bus station, me, Mad, Ally and Bern with Helen replacing Em. So much has happened since we were last together like this; will life always be so eventful?

"What're you thinking Gab?" Bern queried.

"This and that."

"We've changed a lot, all of us."

"Yeah, I suppose we have."

"Nothing stays the same Gabs, you're gonna be some kick ass cyclist, I've got Drea to look after, Mad's is chasing that James lad, Ally and Rhod seem to have some sort of understanding and whilst I don't really know Helen that well, she's clearly not the same girl that arrived from Holland."

"Come on you two, the bus is in!" Ally shouted back at us.

“Race ya!” I challenged as I set off.

“Why you!”

I might have mentioned before that Bern never was much of an athlete; a couple of months incarcerated at HM's pleasure and a recent pregnancy had done little to improve that situation. Whilst I'm no runner I easily out ran her, skidding to a halt behind the others as they queued for the bus. Bern slowed to a walk long before reaching us.

“Either you're fit or I'm out of condition.”

“Both?” I suggested.

“You're probably right.”

The ride back to Warsop seemed to pass at twice the speed of the outward journey, hurrying us towards the end of our excursion far too soon.

“So what are we doing now?” Mad asked as we arrived in town.

“Feeding the baby.” Bern sighed.

“I'll come with you, I want to see her before I leave anyhow.” I stated.

“We need to practice some cheers.” Ally put in.

“I promised Gran I'd do her windows if it stayed dry.” Helen mentioned.

“We'll get off here then.” I stated ringing the bell.

“Okay, see ya Gab, bye Bern.” Ally told us.

“Bye.”

“Laters.”

“What was all that about?”

“Seemed a bit over the top.” Bern observed as we headed towards the Rose's place.

“Their loss.”

“Maybe its Drea?”

“Come on Bern, I've seen them cooing over other babies, no there's more to it.”

“Like me, they don't want to associate with a jailbird.”

“I'm sure its not that.” I encouraged.

Its what came from my lips but deep down I'm not so sure. Maybe it's the baby, it does change the whole dynamic, without Drea's presence we would still be out trawling the shops. Instead we cut the trip short so Bern could get back to feed the new arrival. I think maybe they could be uncomfortable around both of us as we are neither in their ‘loop' anymore — you'd think all of our past experiences would count for something though.

to be continued....

“Just you two?” Mrs R enquired.

“Yes mum, the others had stuff to do.” Bern stated with a sigh.

“Good film?”

“Not exactly my choice.” Bern noted.

“Well I enjoyed it.”

“So what did you see?”

“Tokyo Drift.” I supplied.

“Which is about?”

“Car racing in Japan.” Bern moaned. “Where's Drea?”

“Asleep next door, been as good as gold for her granny.”

“Thanks for looking after her mum.”

“Just don't make too much of a habit of it eh.”

“I won't, anyone want a cuppa?”

“I'll get it,” Mrs R suggested, “go on through.”

It's less than two days since Drea made her appearance but already the Rose's usually pristine living room clearly was part of a house with a baby. It wasn't any single thing but even a quick glance revealed a rattle on the sideboard, a basket of laundry of mostly baby clothes and a smell, not nasty but a mixture of baby powder, sick and milk! Yup, even without the visual clues the smell would be a give away. Clearly sensing our arrival Drea started to fidget.

“She knows her mummy's here.” I observed peeking into the basket.

“Probably wind.” Bern offered.

“She recognises your voice, she turned when you spoke.”

“Its just the noise.”

“Here we go,” Mrs R mentioned, “she'll be wanting her feed in a few minutes.”

Now just because I've come to see the baby, was there at the birth and so on doesn't mean I want to get involved in the day to day running of said infant. So whilst I spent the next hour sat with three generations of the Rose family I didn't take much part in the conversation and only held the babe once. She did fall asleep snuggled into my chest so the once was like nearly half an hour!

“I guess I should get off, leave you in peace.”

“You don't have to.” Bern told me.

“I need to pack for tomorrow Bern, otherwise I'd stay.”

“I guess.” She sighed.

“I'll ring okay.”

“You'd better Drew Bond.”

Although our farewells were tinged with sadness, at least this time there was no court appearance hanging over things. I left Bern and her daughter — that sounds so weird; anyway I left them in the lounge, Mrs R coming to the door with me.

“Thanks again Drew, it really has meant a lot to Bern you being here, and to her dad and me.”

“It was lucky timing.” I suggested not for the first time.

“Luck or not it's made a big difference, when we picked her up on Thursday she was quite depressed, I was quite worried.”

“I thought she was ok.”

“A mother knows, anyway this is for you.” She handed me an envelope.

“For me?”

“It's not much but we wanted you to have something to say thank you for giving us our daughter back.”

You remember that blush button? Well I think its got stuck again.

“You didn't have to.”

“No we didn't, we wanted to, now go and do us proud this summer.”

She pulled me into a hug before releasing me with a kiss on the head.

“You're a good kid Drew Bond.”

It was still quite early really but I really do need to pack for tomorrow but that doesn't mean I have to rush back to the Peters. I still hadn't opened the envelope Bern's mum gave me so when I reached the park I found a bench and sat to take a look. I pulled out the card inside and opened it to find a couple of twenty-pound notes, geez they didn't have to. I read the message;

Drew,

Please accept this in the way it's meant, as a thank you for all of you've done for this family this year. It's not much but I'm sure you'll spend it wisely on something for yourself, thanks again,

Take care

Cheryl and Jack

Bugger, excuse my French.

I hadn't even realised I was crying until an elderly dog walker stopped.

“You alright missy?”

“Um, yeah, bit emotional that's all.”

“Well I'm sure their not worth it, making a young lass cry.”

As they walked off I had to smile to myself, why does everyone assume a crying girl — or boy must've had bad news. Mine wasn't bad news, I'm not even sure you could call it good but it got my emotional juices flowing. I pulled myself together, wiped my eyes and resumed my journey.

I realised that I hadn't said goodbye to Ally or Hel earlier, bum. Maybe I can catch Hel if she's home and maybe Al's still with Mad, yeah. I hurried over the Meden bridge and into the estate.

The former Bond Acres, technically it still is as the Joyce's are renting from my parents, had no sign of life, Mrs J's car was missing so I guess they are at Helen's Gran's still. I headed on up the street taking note of the changes since we left, a new extension at number 14, the Thompson's have changed their caravan and someone's finally moved into number two on the corner.

I crossed the main road and turned up towards Mad's place, I'll be gone tomorrow, I've had some good and bad times in this house. It was here that the gang always used to do our plotting, remember that Easter dance and those first costumes. It was here too that we watched Mum win the Giro and got the news she was moving out, yep, good times and bad.

There was no reply when I knocked on the door, strange. I don't have a key, why would I, but there's one hidden in the back yard if they haven't moved it. I pushed the gate open and headed around the house, hmm someone's having a barbecue.

“SURPRISE!”

It certainly was, there before me were a sizeable chunk of the people I know in Warsop. The Joyce's, Sylv, Al, the Peters of course, even Fran Cowlishaw.

“What's all this for?”

“We couldn't let you go off into the wide blue yonder without a decent send off.” Aunt C advised.

“How did you know I was coming?”

“Because I rang to tell them.” Mrs R's voice advised from behind me.

I span round to find all four members of the Rose family.

“Why you…”

The weather managed to stay dry for the duration of the impromptu party; barbecues usually act as rain magnets! It was great to be able to say the goodbyes that I thought I'd be missing making. Turns out that Bern didn't know about it but obviously Cheryl did which is why she didn't push me to stay earlier. Drea of course, grabbed a lot of attention — at least it wasn't all about me.

Eventually though it got down to just me and my hosts, the light was going, the temperature dropping and it was time to call it a night.

“Sugar!”

“Wassup Gab?” Mad asked.

“My stuff, I was supposed to be packing tonight.”

“Done.”

“What do you mean, ‘done'?”

“What I said, me and Al did it earlier.” She informed me.

“I did your washing while you were out Drew.” Aunt Carol added.

“My bike?”

“In the box, in the car.” Uncle John supplied.

“Thanks everyone.”

“Don't worry Drew, I made sure that they didn't slip anything extra in your case.” Aunt C soothed.

Well that's something.

I awoke Sunday morning with a whole forest of butterflies in my stomach. Today's the day; I leave my friends and family behind and start a new experience with a bunch of people I barely know. It's been a two-part journey, first leaving home and now its time to depart my halfway house here in Warsop.

“Breakfast Drew?” Aunt C suggested.

“Just some toast, I feel a bit queasy.”

“Probably nerves.”

“Yeah.” I agreed.

“So you all ready, looking forward to it?”

“Kinda, I've never been away on my own like this before.”

“You'll be fine Drew.”

I hope so.

Was it just last week that I made the journey from Manchester to Warsop? So much has happened in such a short time, the arrival of Drea of course but thinking back Mad has managed to get me in at least a skirt every day, there was that stonking ten of course on Tuesday, the Con on Sunday, skating and meeting Jess again on Wednesday and the do last night. Yeah, quite busy.

I had to be at the Velodrome for twelve, we departed Warsop close on ten heading first for Sheffield before heading across the Peak District to Glossop and then almost straight through Manchester's east end to the familiar shape of the home of British Cycling. Uncle John came with me to reception while Mad and her mum waited.

“Er hi.”

“Good morning.” The girl behind the desk beamed.

“Drew Bond for the Junior Squad.” Uncle John advised her.

“Drew Bond, ah yes here we are,” she mentioned scanning a list, “welcome to Manchester Drew, have you been here before?”

“At the beginning of the year.”

“So you know your way around then, fetch your stuff in and take it along to Room three. You'll need to be in the track centre at twelve in cycling togs, your parents can stay for the session, you'll need to go up to the stands Mr Bond, there'll be refreshments available afterwards.”

“Actually its Peters, Drew's uncle.”

“Sorry, I just assumed, if you are staying I'll have id for you, oops, nearly forgot yours Drew.”

She handed me a pass on a lanyard, access all areas complete with my picture.

“Thanks.”

“No problem young lady.”

Grrr!

“Come on, let's get your stuff.” Uncle J prompted.

“All sorted?” Aunt Carol enquired.

“Uh huh.” I offered.

“You guys want to stay for the afternoon?”

“Can we Mum, please?”

“I'm sure the Trafford Centre will keep.”

“Brill!”

We unloaded my stuff, the big bike box, my case and my rucky, all of my possessions for the next six weeks, and headed back to the giant Pringle ®.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 18.06.12

“Good afternoon everyone, my name is Chris Toynbee, I'm the director of the junior development squad for BC. For the next few weeks I am God, whatever I say, you do, if I say jump you should only enquire how high. You are all here because you have talent, some of you have already tasted success at the highest level, others need a little helping hand.

From today you will be training together, eating together, sleeping in the same accommodation, competing as a team. Let me make this clear, in my eyes you are all equal, the slate is wiped clean, there is no room in this organisation for prima donnas. You need to earn my respect, do that and we will go far together, give me cause to doubt your commitment and there's a lot more talent waiting to replace you.

Next week our Olympians will be heading to Athens, our squad have every chance of bringing home a medal or two. You are the future, in Beijing in four years time, some of you may well be taking part, for others your chance may be in 2012. Whilst we are currently quite strong on the track you have all been selected for the road, we wil l have a World Champion, we will have riders capable of taking the top of the podium at the highest level. Those riders could be you.

I shan't be doing all of this alone, on a day to day basis you will be looked after by my assistants Steve Brown and Caroline Alexander, you will also be taking advantage of other members of our back room staff from masseurs to mechanics. Caroline and Steve will be talking to each of you later and giving you your timetables. It is your responsibility to be in the right place at the right time.”

God paused and looked over the ten nervous teens stood before him.

“Okay then, this afternoon we are going to have a social event with a difference, out there on the boards you will have a chance to get to know each other. For today you'll be in two teams, A and B, all those to the left of and including Mr Bond are in A, the rest are B. All those in B follow Steve over to your pit, A will stay here with Caroline. Good luck.”

Wow this is intense. Having been out of the UK scene effectively for two seasons I didn't know any of my fellow squad members, or at least I didn't recognise anyone. The squad comprises ten of us, I think I mentioned that, four girls and six lads, the two teams somehow managed to get half of each.

“Okay team, a couple of you know me but for the others I'm Caroline Alexander. In case you think I'm just some random coaching assistant, think again, I've been where you are hoping to go, I've got the gongs and scars to prove it, I know what it takes. Now that's out of the way, how many of you have ridden the track?”

I raised a tentative hand.

“Just Mr Bond?”

“It's a four hour drive to my nearest track.” A gangling youth with a Scots accent mentioned.

“In that case we'd better get you all cognisant before the hostilities commence, bikes first.”

It would bore you to tears if I took you through the first hour of track skills, both Steve and Caro joining us on the boards and as the ‘experienced' track rider I got to do some of the demonstrations for our group too. The confidence levels improved such that I think everyone stood a reasonable chance of staying on two wheels for the rest of the afternoon.

‘My' team, that is team A comprised myself of course, the Scot was Jamie, Manda and Claire were our girls from ‘Landan' and Doncaster respectively, Darren comes from Norwich and Gethyn is from Cornwall.

“Okay team, winning isn't everything but I'll be giving you hell if the B's win!” Caroline told us. “I want 110% from everyone, lets go and give them hell!”

I'm sure the others were getting a similar pep talk over on the back straight.

Whilst we were all in our own club and team strips, we had red armbands, the ‘enemy' blue but in such a small group we could already recognise our own riders. The first event was a devil so we all hit the boards and started lapping, I was more than a bit wary so whilst Darren and Jamie were mixing it down on the blue line I held point much higher up at the back.

The bell was rung signalling a sprint next lap. In case you don't know a Devil is an event where the last rider or riders across the line on designated laps get eliminated until there are like four left who then sprint for the last lap. I'd already spotted the likely outs, and moved up easily to avoid being a tale end Charlie. There were a couple on the B squad with some track skills too one of which was clearly a bit of a show off.

Two more elimination laps, six riders left, by some fluke they had lost their two girls but we only had me and Claire, the odds were stacked.

“Stick with me, we can even things up a bit.” I suggested as we caught our breath.

“I'll try.” She gasped.

Ding, ding.

The B boys started winding things up, Claire and me hanging on to their shirt tails higher up the boards.

“Now!”

I launched myself off the banking over the top of the others, easing back once I'd passed all bar one of the others. Claire took fifth place forcing out the Ginger on team B not that she would likely do much in the final sprint. The pace fell back as everyone took the chance to get their breath.

They didn't seem that concerned by my and Claire's presence in fact Mr Showoff seemed more interested in showing off to his new mates. We circled for another two laps before the bell sounded, the pace went up but not enough to be problematic. Into the last corner and I dropped off the bend, my momentum carrying me past the competition close enough to the line that show off was already about to punch the air in victory.

My teamie had followed me through, not quite taking second but third gave us good points. In turn I did my own victory celebration to the accompaniment of cheering and clapping from the small but vocal group of watchers.

“Nice one Drewbie!” Mad's voice floated down.

“Sister?” Claire asked as we wound down over the next lap.

“Cousin.” I supplied.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 19.06.12

The Peters weren't the first to leave, nor were they the last which allowed several of us to be distracted by the renewed activity on the boards. Several riders were whizzing around the boards, laughing and joking as they went, clearly comfortable with each other and the track, the only one I recognised was Chris Hoy. It was with very mixed feelings that I watched my cousin and her parents depart but any chance of regret was interrupted by my being addressed from behind.

"Some show, lassie."

"Eh?" I really must work on that; I spun around to face my addressor.

"I'm cut to tha quick, you've forgotten me already."

"Er hi, Chris, you kinda surprised me."

"You didna tell me the whole truth last week."

"I did."

"Yer never told me you were up for my job."

"I'm not, I mean I can't, I mean," I babbled.

"On what I saw an hour ago there'll be some watching their backs."

"But I'm still at school..."

"And your point?"

"Give over teasing, Chris," Caro suggested joining us.

"Who's teasing?"

"I thought you were flying out today?"

"The roadies today, us trackies go Wednesday."

"So you might be up for some one on one Tuesday?" Caroline suggested.

"Have a word with Peter, I'm game."

"Well Drew here needs to get changed."

"Ye not staying to catch our session?"

"I'll speak to the boss."

"Some of tha guys'd appreciate some support."

We got the okay to watch for a bit; never know we might pick something up!

"Tom's a bit of alright."

"Huh?" I recognised Mand's voice.

"Tom Clancy," she clarified.

"I wasn't looking."

"Ooh no," another voice added, "give me Bradley any day."

"You'd go for anything in shorts, Claire."

"Only if they're going to the 'lympics." she grinned.

The shrill blast of a whistle changed the circling riders attitude from jovial mates to intense competitors, the pace increasing as if a switch was thrown. I watched enthralled as they fell into a tight line out, just millimetres separating their tyres as they whipped around the track at a good forty kph.

"How do they do that? I'd be scared of hitting someone's wheel," Claire observed.

"Practice I guess," I suggested.

"At least we don't ride that close on the road," Mand noted.

"It's a useful skill even on the road."

"The way you rode earlier you must do loads on the 'drome." Claire suggested as the train of riders swept past.

"I've done a couple of meets, not that I did very well, was last year though."

"Last year or not, Drew, you were better than everyone else out there," Mand stated.

"Come on, Wiggy!" Claire screamed almost bursting my eardrum.

'Looks like they're starting to bond already.' Caroline thought to herself, 'poor old Drew seems to be a girl magnet, from what Dave was saying most of his school friends are girls although he has some solid friendships with a couple of lads; I wonder what's going to happen this summer?'

We watched Chris and the other seniors for best part of an hour before Caro joined us.

"Picked up any tips?"

Claire coloured up depriving me of my usual response.

"Some," I put in.

"Well we need to get you lot settled in so you'll have to leave these guys to their session."

"Aaw!" Mand groaned.

"And you were calling me ," Claire giggled.

"Okay, now that we've got everyone," God, I mean Chris started, "as you all know you'll be staying at the sports hostel over in Droylsden while we're in Manchester. You've got dinner at eight o'clock so we need to hustle a bit so if you can go fetch your cases, not your bikes, just your clothing and take them down to Steve in the basement we'll get you on your way."

You wouldn't think it would be too much of a task but with a bunch of teenage boys posturing and showing off in front of the eminently more mature but fewer girls - well it was bound to take longer than necessary. Steve was doing his best to pack everything and everybody into one of those big VW minibuses.

"That everything?"

"Think so Steve," Caro replied.

"Everyone on board?"

"There's nowhere for Drew to sit," Mand complained.

"Bugger, it's supposed to be a fifteen seater," moaned Steve.

"It's alright, he can ride with me," Caroline suggested.

"Okay, Caro, see you there."

"Come on, Drew, my car's out the back."

"Er sure."

Caroline's car turned out to be a Skoda estate plastered with BC and various sponsor logos complete with a fancy roof rack system.

She beeped the central locking as we approached, "Hop in, Drew, I know a shortcut to the hostel."

"So," Caroline started, "how is my favourite god child?"

"Okay I guess." I managed stifling a yawn.

"Long day, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I've been talking to your dad."

"Oh." parental involvement is never good news.

"He's brought me up to date on your medical stuff."

"You're not going to make me ride with the girls?"

"I don't see how we can avoid it as you'll all be riding together."

"You know what I meant."

Instead of answering directly Caroline changed tack slightly, "Would that be so bad, riding with the girls that is?"

"It's not the girl's, it's being included as one of them."

"Okay, well we'll cross that bridge when we need to." Caroline brought the car to a stop outside of a large Victorian villa. "Here we are."

It certainly wasn't what I expected although I'm not sure what that was, maybe something like those cheap French hotels. Before we got out of the car the minibus pulled up behind us.

I won't bore you with a blow by blow account of who was rooming with who, there weren't enough double rooms for everyone to share so I found myself bunking in a tiny room by myself - I'm sure it was a set up as Jamie was in with Steve. Dinner was waiting for us by the time we'd installed ourselves in our rooms and returned downstairs.

"Okay team," Steve attracted our attention, "before we eat, just a couple of things."

There was a communal groan and at least one stomach rumble in return which of course gained a snigger or two - it wasn't me.

"Now I'm sure you all eat properly when you are at home…”

I won't give you the full pre dinner talk but the gist was that we'd be eating healthy food whilst we are in their care — no schnitzel then. Dinner was actually not bad, bangers, boiled taters and veg, I could've done with some pud but there was only fruit. No one moaned too much when we were despatched to bed.

“Keep it steady!” Steve bawled from the car behind.

I rolled my eyes to myself, steady, that's a joke. We've been ploughing the north Cheshire lanes for a little over an hour supposedly in rotation but much as I'm getting to like some of these guys most of them haven't a clue how to ride in a group. The idea is that you move up to the front do a couple of hundred metres then move aside for the next rider all the time keeping a constant pace, my new teamies pretty much all want to accelerate when they get to the front–dumkopfs!

My turn came and I did what I've been taught, move up watch the comp for 200m then slide off for the next rider.

“Nicely done, Drew.” Caro observed from beside me, she had drawn the short straw to act as on-bike marshal for the session.

They kept us riding, not fast but steady for almost four hours taking a loop south towards Gran's — I saw Jodrell Bank at one point, before heading back towards Manchester. We had a brief nature / refreshment stop at a service station but by the expressions on some faces it was longer than they were used to although everyone managed to hang on to the group even if the rotation was still a bit rough.

“Phew, I'm glad that's over,” Mand noted before taking a swig from her bidon.

“Didn't think it was too bad.”

“I still don't get why we were supposed to keep the same speed,” Claire opined joining us.

“You can't race at top speed all the time, sometimes you just need to eat the miles.”

“Indeed, young Bond, now you three had best get a move on, you've a lecture in thirty minutes,” áœbermeister Toynbee pointed out.

“Yes, sir.”

“They never said anything about school work,” Claire complained when we reconvened in the hostel's dining room.

I wasn't that keen myself.

“Why's it all in foreign?” I grumped.

“What?” Mand enquired.

“This handout,” I waved the offending bit of paper at her.

“No it's not, looks to be in pretty standard English to me,” Claire observed.

“English?” I looked again, bum! Talk about feeling a right breast! I'm so used to reading German that I kind of expect it now.

“What language did you think it would be in?” Manda asked with a smirk.

“I er must be tired.”

“Stop teasing the lassie,” Jamie interjected, “she lives in Germany, I'm guessing there's noo so much written in English oot there.”

“Er what he said,” I agreed.

“Always sounds like they're trying to strangle someone,” Gethyn put in.

“You can talk German, Drew?” Manda pushed.

“Ja bitte Ich habe kleine Deutsche.”

“Said it sounds like strangulation,” Gethyn grinned.

“What'd she say then?” Darren queried.

“Don't ask me,” Gethyn pulled a face.

“I just said, yes, I have a little German.”

“Ladies?” Steve interrupted.

“Er sorry,” I hit blush as I apologised for our disturbance.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 20.06.12

Of course the 'lecture' wasn't exactly schoolwork, more a discussion with instructional videos. Today's subject was team riding in the peleton as you might have guessed; it's been an essential part of Team Apollinaris tactics and success this year so I wasn't paying too much attention.

"Okay ladies and gentlemen," Caroline started, "we've had a go on the road, we've talked about it, I think we are all happy with the mechanics of it?" she paused, getting no response she went on, "to finish we've got another video with some European racing taken this summer, this is the sort of action and tactical riding we are wanting to emulate in Team GB, Steve?"

Our other slave driver started the projection system; "Sorry about the quality, it's not exactly available in the shops!" he chuckled.

Someone had at least added a soundtrack that kicked off with 'Bicycle Race', I settled into my chair ready to do one of my favourite things - watch bike racing. Instead of the expected pro's on the screen the start of a junior race in what looked like Belgium by some of the jerseys that came up, well it's not the Tour but I'm sure they're showing this for a reason. There was a combination of static and mobile shots, I'm sure I've ridden against some of those guys.

It concentrated on the peleton and after a few minutes moved to another race, repeating this two or three times.

"Been there." I whispered to Manda beside me as a shot of Stuttgart came up.

“Nice.”

There was a quick pan across the start, I recognised a few jerseys, it was probably last year's race. Then the action turned to the race itself, the usual chaos that marks the start of hostilities before things settle down. Something had obviously poked the hornet's nest, as the next sequence involved the car with the camera zooming past a very depleted and freshly split bunch — I'm sure that's where we attacked this year.

The car passed all the riders including the last more business like group, the camera barely pausing as it zipped past. Another small group of riders hove into view and the car slowed behind them, must be the leaders.

“Nice bum!” Mand opined, “wouldn't mind following that.”

That looks like; no it can't be, hang on, one, two, three, four — shit!

“Isn't that your team?” Jamie suggested from behind me.

Talk about embarrassing. The camera stayed on us as we settled into a workman like rotation, Josh — for it was his bum that Mand was drooling over, taking slightly shorter pulls than the rest of us on the climb. Do I really look like that?

“You not ride this?” Gethyn enquired.

It was painful to watch as at that moment the on screen me turned and pulled a face at the camera as switched onto Roni's wheel.

“I think that answers that,” Claire observed.

“I thought that was a girl,” Darren stated.

If I could turn a shade closer to post box red I would have. The footage jumped a little focussing, as much on our legs as anything, I had to admit that we looked well pro! There were a few frames of Josh going like a blue arsed what not down the descent, the rest of us tucked in neatly behind before that moron, Hans flashed through, slipping effortlessly into the newcomers slipstream. I can't really remember much about this bit, my memories seem focused on the finished, I subconsciously rubbed my ankle.

It was like watching Channel 4's edited highlights of the Tour, as first Gret then Tali attacked, the rest of us content to let Hans and co do all the chasing. Geez, do we really ride that fast? The last kilo was an eyeballs out effort as each of the girls took a pull on the front, our formation making sure that the opposition really had to work to stay in contention. Then it was just Josh at the front.

The following camera stopped to be replaced by a head on view, where am I? The hulking figure of Josh was giving it everything, Hans apparently on his shoulder. My lead out was almost perfect, Josh swung off to reveal me hurtling towards the line Hans almost laying on me. I was reliving every second now, heading inexorably towards the painful conclusion.

“Come on, Drew!” Mand shouted as I battled my adversary.

I thrust the bike forward, seeing it now I actually had half a wheel, then, yeah I win. I hit the floor with a painful thud.

“Steve?” Caro called out.

I'm not entirely sure what happened but when I opened my eyes it was to a sea of concerned faces staring down at me.

“Give him a bit of space guys.” Caro instructed, “You okay, Drew?”

Am I? I think so. ”Think so.”

“What happened?”

“I think she got a bit carried away reliving the finish,” Claire giggled.

I struggled to my feet; make it a Ferrari rather than the post box.

“You sure you're okay?” Steve rechecked.

“Uh huh, I only slipped off the chair.”

“Well it was nearly the end of the vid anyhow, sit yourselves back down and we'll discuss what we've seen.”

After the afternoon session we headed to the ‘drome for a gym session which I have to admit did get a bit competitive, sometimes being small is useful.

“I'm glad you're on our side,” Jamie mentioned as we started on our evening meal.

“Certainly shut Paul up,” Darren added.

“Who's Paul?”

“Paul Redding? Junior champ?” Jamie prompted.

“She's not been in the country, dumbo,” Claire pointed out, “short black hair.”

“Oh right, so I guess he's pretty good?”

“Lucky more like,” Gethyn noted.

“He's okay but like Geth says, lucky,” Jamie confirmed.

“There's always an element of luck.”

“Yeah but for both me and Marcus to puncture in the last mile…” Gethin sighed.

“Lucky,” several voices chimed together.

It wasn't like it was intentional, or maybe it was, but the two groups from Sunday were each becoming separate from the other, we all sort of gravitated to people we know, even if it is only a recently forged bond. It wasn't that anyone was snubbing anyone else but like a dozen is too many to all get cosy whereas six can even all get around one table. That's how the circuit session got so competitive.

After dinner, a ‘healthy' salad, baked tater with tuna and fruit salad to follow, our time was our own.

“Anyone fancy Colin McRae?” Jamie enquired.

“I prefer younger men,” Claire deadpanned.

“Eh?”

“You said — oh forget it, come on Drew, leave the boys to their games,” Mand instructed.

I am a boy!

“Yeah, I wanna know how you do your hair like that,” Claire added.

And so my first full day at the BC boot camp ended with me giving a demonstration of German hair braiding not just to Claire and Manda but Sally and Laura joined us too.

A pattern was set; each day we'd have a cycling session in the morning, a discussion after lunch, gym then dinner. Nearly forgot, there was a break from that on Tuesday for some of us.

“Can Paul, Gethin, Drew and Laura meet me in reception in ten minutes please with your riding kit.” Steve ordered as we cleared the remains of our dinner from the tables.

“Wonder what this is about?” Geth mused.

“No idea, best shake a leg though.”

Up in my cupboard I grabbed a set of riding togs, which joined my helmet, mitts and shoes in my new BC kit bag. I nearly made it out the door without the post ride essentials of wash kit and towel which delay meant I was the last one to front of the building.

“Okay ladies and gentlemen, you four are in for a bit of a treat, by personal invitation you are joining the track squad for their last session before heading to Greece, I'm not sure what Dave and his charges have in store for you but I'm sure you'll all learn from the experience. So hop in the car, Caroline's going to bring you some supporters a bit later.”

That conversation with Chris, wow, I never thought it was actually going to happen. We piled into the car and we set off for our appointment with what most pundits consider our best track squad in for like ever.

“Why us, Steve?” Laura asked the question that we had all no doubt asked ourselves.

Steve took a moment before replying, “This goes no further for now, right?”

“Sure,” Gethin agreed for all of us.

“Girls?”

Grrr.

“'Kay.” Laura supplied.

“We have specific targets for you four, the trackies have certain skills that might well prove useful to you. If tonight goes well you'll be doing regular sessions honing those skills.”

“What sort of targets?” Paul asked excitedly.

“You'll find out soon enough, remember, not a word outside of you four.”

Given what's already been said to me I'm guessing they are grooming the lads as my backup and Laura to lead the girls.

“Ah the pocket rocket,” Chris beamed when we joined our Olympians track centre a while later.

“Er, hi.”

“This,” he pulled me into a light hug, “is the next generation, eh lassie?”

“Geez, there's no doubting which stable that ones out of,” Brad exclaimed.

“Now I think on there is a strong look of Jen about ye.”

“She is my Mum,” I pointed out.

“So, Stevie boy, we know who this ‘un is, yer gonna introduce t'others?”

“Tall one's Paul Redding, Gethin Jones and Laura Burke's the young lady trying to hide behind young Bond, I'll leave them to you Dave, try not to break them.”

“Thanks Steve I'll try to give ‘em back in one piece. Right ladies and gentlemen on the boards twenty warm up.”

And so it began.

Shreeeee!

The whistle meant that I could ease up a little and fall back into the pack. Riding with these guys who are at the top of the game has brought home just how much difference there is between being a top junior rider and becoming world class. Currently I was making the numbers up so the points and omnium guys get a feel for the number of bodies on the boards even so it was taking quite an effort to stay with the fast moving bunch.

At some point Caro must've arrived with the rest of our squad as some cheering and board slapping added to the general din of the track.

“Shenaze, take Laura and Drew, Vicky home straight with Paul and Graham.”

Well we knew who he meant.

“You know how this works right?” Shenaze queried.

“Think so, we each do a lap flat out then pull off?” Laura supplied.

“Pretty much, I usually take lap one, I reckon Laura should take two so you get the ride to the big finish Drew.”

“'Kay.”

We rolled to where the starting gate was set, not for Lor or me we each had a holder, can you believe I actually got Chris and Laura had Bradley.

“Ready?” Dave asked.

Shenaze nodded.

“Drew, Laura?”

“Yup.” Laura replied, I nodded and concentrated on my breathing.

“Three, two, one.” BANG!

Number one took off with a surprising turn of speed that caught Laura on the hop. She gave chase making contact after half a lap, I was slotted comfortably in behind. This was no playing about this was full race pace and Laura started to lose the wheel just before Shenaze swung up the track.

The idea was that Laura paced me but I found myself having to throttle back a bit. I've no idea exactly how we were doing against the lads, but I'm sure we'd lost ground on Laura's lap. She crossed the line and I powered through, my concentration all on staying on the blue line and turning the pedals.

BANG!

It was over. I eased off the power and sat up, keen to get a few big lungfuls of oxygen to replace what I'd expended. What are they all clapping for?

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 21.06.12

"What did I tell ye, Vic?" Chris grinned at the dark haired woman slumped over her bars.

"All right, you win," she gasped.

"Pity we canna take th' lassie wi' us."

"Thanks for the support."

"Och ye ken I didna mean it that way, ye haf tae admit she has thae legs."

"No doubting that, big boy."

"You won, Drew!" Laura was nearly bouncing.

"Good," I panted.

"You beat Vicky Pendleton and all you can say is good?"

"What do you want me to say? She's probably saving herself."

"Look after that one, Steve," Dave Brailsford suggested.

"We will," Steve agreed.

"You realise that both of them were inside the record for that last lap?"

"Shit."

"Indeed."

"You don't think we should swap the kid to the track squad?"

"No let's stick with plan A we can assess how its going when I get back from Athens, if young Bond takes after the mother we might just have found our catalyst."

"I dinna think ye can learn much from me." Chris suggested as we circled the track a while later.

"That's not true, what about the tactics an' stuff?"

"Ye learn that frae experience not books, ye have a canny mind in that head of yers, ah've seen you riding and ye've some to learn but not from me."

"So like why are we doing this then?"

"Ma boss wants tae see whit ye can do one on one, if yer up fa' it?"

Up for it? You kidding, me against the Chris Hoy, not many!

Shreeeee! The whistle set us off, Drew and Goliath I felt like a doll next to CH. Chris led off and even I know enough that that gives me the upper hand. We rolled around the boards at not much more than a snail's pace, Chris watching me over his shoulder.

“Come on, Drew!”

I feinted towards the inside, my foe was moving before I'd completed the thought, sugar he's good. No point in going for a long one, he's far more powerful than me, no my best bet is to hold off for as long as possible.

DING DING DING!

One lap left, I moved up the banking, Chris matching me, lessening any potential gravitational advantage I might gain. If Chris took off I'd likely struggle to get on terms and I could sense that he was getting twitchy, okay, as soon as he turns away. I was perhaps a little too quick, he must have caught my movement out of the corner of his eye, I had that fraction of a second though and I was committed.

I surged forward trying to take as much advantage as possible from my slightly raised starting point. Chris was no slouch either of course, which actually allowed me to drop into his inside, which was all I needed. Team GB's top sprinter now had everything to do, not beyond him by any means but it gave me the slimmest of chances.

Out on the road this would be the point where I'd flick up a gear but on the boards all you can do is pedal faster and ultimately it's balancing the gearing to your optimum pedalling rate that'll win the race. I stayed seated as long as I could, Chris breathing down my neck only standing as we came out of the bend. I was vaguely aware of some shouting but I was already heading into the red fog, all my concentration going on punching the bike forward.

Chris was coming around me, was level with me even — not so fast buster! One last effort before my legs drop off, I felt rather than saw us go into the bend, sitting back down I started breathing again. I let my momentum carry my legs around, by the time I could focus on stuff again and my brain could take in my surroundings I was almost off the back straight.

There was a lot of hollering, whistling and clapping filling the late evening air of the velodrome as I caught up to Mr Hoy.

“Giz yer hand.”

I offered him my right which he raised up, effect of which was a further increase in the cacophony. We rolled to a halt on the infield where we were each helped from our steeds, my legs buckled as I went to stand up.

“Whoa there.”

I was caught by a strong pair of clearly female arms.

“You okay?”

“Er sure, just you know…” I was surprised to see my helper was Vicky P.

“Two to nil, eh, Chris?” she called over her shoulder.

“Call it quits?” he replied with a grin.

“You realise Bond that no one's been that close to the mighty Hoy for months.” Vicky observed.

“How much?” I was still a bit out of breath so long sentences were out.

“Dave? What d'ya reckon?” Chris enquired of his manager.

“Half a wheel? Here you go kid, get that down you.” He thrust a bidon into my hand.

“Wait till I tell Dad I was only half a wheel behind Chris Hoy, and Mum,” I enthused after a swig.

“Behind? No, girl, you won, Chris was half a wheel down not you,” Dave Brailsford supplied.

“What happened?” I asked the blurry shape above me.

“You fainted.” The familiar tones of Caroline's voice informed me.

“Urgh,” I allowed.

“How're we doing?” Steve's voice enquired.

“The doc wants to see the patient before we leave, we are at least awake again.”

“I'll take the others back then, speak to you later.”

“Sure,” Caro agreed, “so you okay to sit up?”

“Think so, guess I'll be off the squad now.”

“Off the squad? Whatever for?”

“I did faint.”

“Drew love, you are so not off the squad, on tonight's showing any doubts of your place have been banished to at least Mars. You not only beat Vicky with a world record speed lap but then you took Chris Hoy in his specialist event.”

“Did I hear my name being banded aboot?”

“Chris, it did come up.”

“Hoo's the patient?”

“Better.” I got out, sitting up.

“Ye gave us a wee fright there, lassie.” He mentioned coming over to join us.

“Sorry.”

“It shoulda been me fainting away, that was some canny riding oot there.”

“Thanks, you weren't so bad yourself,” I grinned back.

“I try, look I hae ta be away, early flight in the morning, you look after yer se'n ye hear.”

“I will, good luck in Greece.”

“Luck is only part of the arsenal eh?” he ruffled my hair, “I get first call on a rematch when I get back, eh?”

“You're on.” I agreed, like that's ever gonna happen.

The doc signed me off a few minutes later allowing me to rescue my kit and for Caro to chauffeur me back to the hostel.

“That was quite a show this evening.”

“I didn't mean to show off.”

“I doubt if anyone thought you were, I think you supplied a needed rump kick to the team, they're not used to being pushed so hard.”

“If you say so but I made a bit of a fool of myself.”

“By fainting? Poppycock, one of the girls throws up after every race by comparison fainting is at least clean and odour free.”

“I guess.”

“Seriously, Drew, you are taking your medication?”

“Of course, I don't want a repeat of Hamburg.”

“Hamburg?”

“Yeah that's where my erm, condition, came to a head.”

“Ah, of course, you're Dad did tell me what happened just not where.”

“In the shower of all places,” I supplied.

“Nearly forgot, you're excused tomorrow morning's ride.”

“‘Kay.” I noted without enthusiasm.

“Hey it's not a punishment, we just want to make sure you're okay after tonight.”

Manchester is never the most appealing of places and a damp midsummer night did little to change my view as we made our way back to our HQ. Geez, why did it have to be the wettest place in the country, Cornwall would at least be warmer!

Inside the hostel all was quiet, our curfew was well past, the lights were off in the dining room and lounge only the glow from the snack machine illuminating the spaces which I'd previously only seen filled with my team mates.

“Good night, Drew, see you in the morning.”

“Nite, Caro, thanks for staying with me.”

“No problem, kiddo, no problem.”

Once up in my room whilst the temptation was to crash immediately instead I did the shower thing first, it was nearly eleven thirty before I fell into bed. I'm not addicted to my Handy but I have got into the habit of checking for texts last thing — the girls often have a late night text conversation. Hmm, two messages.

‘How r u? M ing can u ring? Bye Con'

I quickly typed a reply, ‘im ok crp wet. ? want 4? G'

The other message was from Roni.

‘Hi G, we made the cover of Radrennen this monat cool huh? C u soon Roni.'

She hasn't really got the text thing down yet; often I only get half a message they are so long. I guess that is pretty good, Radrennen is a bit like the Comic only monthly so it's more difficult to get on the cover.

‘Neet. Btw beat Hoy 2nite! Tell u mr ltr. Ttfn G.'

I hit send and put the phone down. What an evening.

I must have dropped off straight away as the bedside lamp was still on when I woke to the sounds of teens being teens in the surrounding rooms. Sugar, I missed my alarm. It takes practice to go from nightdress to cycling kit in two minutes — I practice the manoeuvre far too often.

“Steve said you weren't riding this morning,” Manda mentioned when I sat down with my breakfast.

“No reason not to.”

“You did collapse last night,” Claire pointed out.

“Fainted, I fainted that's all; it was like a shock to beat Chris like that.”

“Well whatever it was caused it you made quite a stir,” Geth observed.

“Just dinna show us up tae much,” Jamie chuckled.

“It was a fluke, he must've been holding back.”

“If that's holding back I pity anyone else when he does let fly,” Darren put in.

“And what about Vicky?” Laura called over.

“What about her?”

“There is no way she was holding back, Steve said you both beat the world record time for that last lap.”

“I er um.” My usual articulate self was back.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 21.06.12

“Alone?” Mand repeated as we finished up Thursday's lunch.

“I couldn't do that.” Claire observed.

“What about the rest of your team?” Gethin asked.

“Ron lives closest, bout an hour away up the motorway.”

“Isn't there a local club or something you could ride with?” Jamie quizzed.

I stuffed a last fork full of carrot and mash into my mouth before replying.

“There's a few sportive riders I sometimes see out but like the set up is completely different to here.”

“You must ride with others some time.” Claire stated.

“Well I do get to ride with the team when they're home.” I boasted.

“Team?” Geth queried.

“Aponaris dumbo, Drew's mum rides for them.” Mand supplied.

“Apollinaris,” I corrected, “they sponsor my team too.”

Our discussion was halted by big boss man Chris Toynbee rapping on a table to get our attention.

“Can I have your attention ladies and gentlemen?”

We quietened down; this was going to be important.

“I'm sure you are all keen to get out into the race programme to show everyone how good you all are. We are keen to see too but that doesn't mean we are going to throw you all into the first fish and chipper that comes along, this whole programme is designed with a much longer view in mind, World and Olympic titles, maybe National tours.

Much like the professional squads many of you will, we hope, find yourselves riding for in the years to come, not every rider will ride every event. We will be making selections based on your strengths and weaknesses, the terrain and so on. You will all get a chance to prove your worth.

Our first big event will be the Junior Ras du Cymru in three weeks time, no one of you,” he looked directly at me, “has a shoe in, everyone will have earned their place. That doesn't necessarily mean a win in the selection events gets you a slot, it's a team race, yes we want to win the overall but that will need a good team to accomplish. Questions?”

“Does that mean us girls have a chance?” Laura enquired.

“Good question, thank you for bringing that up Laura,” Chris replied, “yes, the Ras team will consist of the six riders Caroline, Steve and myself consider deserve the slots regardless of gender. There will potentially be other mixed squads and possibly a couple of female only teams. So I repeat, everyone has a chance to be on the team.

In a few minutes Steve will post the roster for this weekend, please read the instructions that are with the lists, failure to do so may mean you losing your place. Good luck ladies and gentlemen.”

With Herr Toynbee's departure the dining room became a hive of debate and rumour. Whilst vaguely aware that Mum didn't ride everything that the team rode, our junior squad isn't big enough to get into those realms so the idea of needing selection to ride the big events is as new to me as everyone else.

“I bet Drew gets picked.” Claire stated.

“Maybe.” I shrugged.

“Youse have more experience than the rest of us in the big races.” Jamie put in.

“Nothing like the Ras, I've never done a stage race.” I supplied.

“I did a two-day at Easter.” Gethin told us.

Steve stuck the squad selections on the easel they use for our lectures and beat a hasty retreat. We of course descended on it like a hoard of locusts, keen to find out our fates for the coming weekend.

There were two lists, two races, one Saturday, one Sunday at Birmingham and in Dorset respectively, being one of the smaller bodies meant I had to endure everyone else's excitement before I got a look at the sheets to find out where I'd be this weekend. I scanned down Birmingham, nope, Dorset, nope, hang on I must have missed my name, I looked again, five names on each list but no Bond on either.

“Everything okay Drew?” Caro enquired having found me sat on the car park wall.

“I guess.” I sniffed.

“You'll get a ride next week.”

“Why not this week, I haven't done anything wrong have I?”

“Of course not kiddo, if anything you've done too much right.”

“So why didn't I get picked?”

“Its not just you, Amanda isn't racing either.”

“Oh.”

“Look Drew, Steve, me, Chris, we know what you have in your palmares, your experience, your capabilities. These other kids don't have that, raw talent in buckets but a domestic calendar of airfield races and hour-long crits is not going to win us big races on the nasty world stage. We need to see how everyone performs on what is for them the next level, your presence, whilst possibly giving you another win would distract from that process.”

“So you're saying I'm too good to race with the others?”

“Not at all, I'm saying that your experience riding in one of the toughest junior series gives you more experience, you know the moves to make, the moves we need to teach the rest of the squad, that's what this first week has been about, getting everyone used to working together and for each other. Do you understand what I'm saying kiddo?”

I might not like it but I could sort of understand the logic.

“I s'pose, what about Mand?”

“Well it'd look a bit off to everyone else if you were the only one not racing.”

“So she's the sacrificial goat?”

“Well I wouldn't say that, lets just say that we think her talents might be more use next week.”

“Hmmpf.” I think my thoughts were closer to the mark. “So what do us two do while everyone else is off racing?”

“What would you normally do if you aren't racing?” she enquired.

“Just stuff I guess, hang out with the guys, go shopping, maybe get in a good ride.”

“Same sort of stuff most people do eh?”

“Except for the training.” I suggested.

“Maybe, maybe not. Anyway that's what we suggest you do this weekend.”

“As if! I don't know anyone around here for starters.”

“What if I said that I'm taking a drive down to Northwich tomorrow night?”

“Where Gran Peters lives? Why?”

“Your Dad said that you could be a bit literal.”

“Eh?”

“I've got nothing to do there other than make a delivery.”

“Delivery?”

“Yes delivery, your Gran is expecting you for the weekend.”

“Really?”

“Yes really.”

“Yes!” I pumped my fist in the air, “what about Mand?”

“She's invited too if its okay with you?”

“As long as she doesn't snore, Jules snores like a bulldozer, you can hear her all over Gran's house when we go.”

“I'll warn her, I'll take that as a yes.”

We slipped away before Friday night's dinner, our bikes on the roof, we both sort of felt a bit left out although to be fair to the others we hadn't had our non selection pushed in our faces.

“Thanks for letting me come Drew.” Mand mentioned as we headed into deepest Cheshire.

“What else were you going to do?”

“No idea.” She admitted.

“You'll like Gran, she's a mean cook.”

“I'm liking already.”

“You sure you won't stay for dinner Caroline?” Gran asked again, “you know you're welcome.”

“Thanks Josie but I need to get back so I'll take a rain check, I'll pick this pair up Sunday afternoon.”

“Give me a bell when you know what time luv, you can have tea then at least.”

“I will, you two okay?”

“Sure Caro.” I enthused.

“What Drew said.” Mand confirmed.

“Remember what I said, I've checked your computers so I'll know if you've slacked off.”

“Slave driver!”

“Drew!” Mand admonished.

“Its alright Amanda, me and Drew go back a long way, see you Sunday.”

“Bye Caro.”

“Byee!”

“So like how come you know Caroline so well?” Mand asked as we hauled our bags upstairs a few minutes later.

“Well she used to race with Mum.”

“And?”

“Don't go spreading this right.”

“If you say so.”

“Promise?”

“Okay I promise. So spill.”

“Well she's my godmother.”

“Is that all?”

“No one else is supposed to know.” I mentioned.

“My lips are sealed. So, we sharing or what?”

“Er.”

“No this is Juliette's room, Drew's sister, you get this Drew's room is in the attic.” I hadn't heard her coming up behind us but was glad that Gran rescued me.

“Neat!” Mand squealed.

“You can unpack later, dinner's almost ready so chop chop.” Gran suggested.

Gran had done shepherds pie, I'm not sure what her secret ingredient is but it gives the meat a bit of a tangy taste, mmmm.

“Thanks Mrs Peters, I've been despairing of ever seeing real food at that hostel.” Mand announced.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it, its nice to see a young lady with a good appetite.”

“My mum says I must have hollow legs.”

“Like Drew.”

“Gra-an!”

“Dre-ew!” she replied.

“I'm going to get a shower if that's okay.” Mand stated.

“That's fine luv, there's towels on your dresser.”

“Thanks.”

Gran waited until we could hear the shower start up before saying much else.

“Does Amanda know Drew?”

“Know?”

“Don't muck me about young lady, you know very well what I mean.”

“Sorry Gran.”

“Young lady?”

We were both startled by Amanda's voice at the kitchen door.

to be continued....

 © Maddy Bell 21.06.12

"I guess that answers that one," Gran observed.

"What's going on?" Mand demanded, "Why did you call her young man?"

"It's a long story," I sighed .

"Come and sit down, luv." Gran suggested.

And so Mand became the first of my team mates to find out about my condition.

"We all thought you were on the girl's squad," Mand noted some time later.

"Nope, it's a fall-back position if the UCI get arsy but BC wants me in the men's squad and so do I."

"It does explain a lo " she mused.

"Like?"

"The single room at the hostel," she ticked a finger, "no makeup..."

"Er well I didn't think it'd go down too well so I left it at my aunt's," I supplied.

"No makeup,” she repeated, “and those awful baggy shorts you wear," she concluded.

"They are not awful," I pouted.

"You see anyone else wearing them?"

"She can be quite a snappy dresser when she wants," Gran stated.

"Gra-aan."

"Well it's true."

"Hang on," Mand started, "you were there weren't you?"

"Where?"

"That awards thing that your mum won."

"Was I?"

"Yes she was, Amanda."

"Woo one hot chicca!"

"We still okay?" I nervously enquired.

"Apart from the fact that the best male rider on the squad is prettier than all the girls, yeah, I can't talk for the others but it kind of rocks."

"What about if I end up on the girl's squad? Not that there's anything wrong with that of course."

"You'll have to fight for a place, we don't give any free rides." she couldn't hold the stern tone. "Seriously, your mum got me started with racing, Dad's an armchair racer so we had to watch the worlds, when your mum won? I thought if she can do it why not me and here I am."

"Yeah, she's the reason I keep racing, I have thought of giving up a time or two." I admitted.

"Now we've got that sorted out," Gran put in, "you still want that shower Amanda?"

"Bugger, I forgot about that, er sure Mrs Peters."

"Right, you go shower and I'll make some cocoa."

“What're we going to do today then?” Mand asked over the remains of breakfast – one of Gran's full English specials.

“Caroline suggested you go for a ride this morning,” Gran reminded us .

“Well I guess that's this morning sorted then,” I sighed.

“Uh huh,” Mand agreed.

“I'm going into town after lunch,” Gran offered.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Last one on their bike buys the coffee,” Mand proposed.

It was a close run thing; I had to unlock the garage so all my quick change advantage had gone and I lost out by a short whisker.

“So, where are we going?”

Where indeed?

“See you later Gran.”

“Take care girls.”

“We will.”

I led the way out of the gate, turning left away from Nantwich.

We were out for a couple of hours, don't ask me where, I wasn't paying that much attention other than generally taking a big sort of south westerly loop which did eventually bring us back to Nantwich. We talked about this and that, sprinted for name boards and generally did the sort of ride I rarely get to do in company these days.

We'd just been talking about school when Mand introduced the elephant.

“So when do I get to meet Gaby?”

“Meet Gaby?”

“Look we've been talking around it all morning, well since you told me last night.”

“I suppose.”

“So when do I meet her?”

“It's only me in different togs.”

“Not difficult to do then.”

“I've only brought boy stuff to Manchester, I was hoping for Gaby to not make any appearances.”

“I think she already has,” Mand pointed out.

“Yeah I guess,” I sighed in agreement.

“So when then?” she pushed.

I suppose she was just curious, I probably would be in the same situation.

“Sometime.” I prevaricated.

Unlike some people I know she didn't press further, she barely spoke for the rest of the ride which might have been worse.

“Back all ready?”

“We've done like nearly seventy k's,” I supplied.

“How far's that in English?” Gran looked at us both .

“Forty two miles by my comp, Mrs Peters.” Amanda clarified.

“Get yourselves showered and changed, we'll just have a quick sandwich before we go out.”

“I was hoping Gaby could come,” Mand mused.

“Fine by me,” Gran agreed.

“I've not got any Gaby clothes.” I advised, that should get me off the hook.

“There's some of your sister's stuff she left when she came to visit last time,” Gran suggested.

Bum, sugar, flippin' Jules! How do girls always manage this manipulation business?

“No excuse then, I've got some slap you can use,” Mand enthused.

Gran didn't push but I could see by her eyes she'd be happy to see her granddaughter.

“This goes no further,” I warned.

“Cross my heart.”

The fact she made the pass over her right breast didn't fill me with confidence at the promise.

I think I've mentioned that my sister has toned down the excesses of her black haired Goth phase, she still sports the tongue stud much to Dad's annoyance (I'm sure if he stopped going on about it she'd take it out!) but at least the stuff she'd left with Gran wasn't too bad. Not only that, it wasn't excessively girly either.

“I thought you'd changed your mind,” Gran mentioned when I finally returned to the kitchen.

“No, I couldn't get the braces comfortable.” I tugged at the straps of the denim bib again.

“Come here, its twisted at the back,” Gran said sorting the strap .

“Yowza!” Mand stated when she joined us a minute later, “if I didn't know, I'd never guess. You look so cute.”

That four letter C word again .

“Well it's as much as you're getting.” It being a denim skirt with attached bib over a plain pink T. There was a much dressier erm dress as well but that would be like too much for a trip into Nantwich.

“At least I stand a chance, small but a chance.”

“Chance of what?”

“Scoring some totty.”

“You can have it all, I'm not interested, I am a boy after all.”

“Your point being?”

“Come on you two, less chat, your sandwiches'll go dry.” Gran interjected before my sexuality could be discussed.

It being a pleasant afternoon the three of us went out for the bus rather than getting Gran's car out for what is a pretty short trip. Not that there's a castle now but we got off in Castle Street behind Smiths* and walked around into Pillory street. If you've never been Nantwich is a small-ish town, the town centre a mixture of old and new surrounded by several largish housing estates separated from the town by a ring road and a string of super stores.

That doesn't mean it's not a nice place, there's a few black and white buildings**, a bit of a pedestrianized zone and seems to have somehow retained a reasonable number of local businesses. I guess Crewe not being far away has saved it from some of the excesses of big business. It sort of reminds me of Koblenz although the river is much smaller.

Gran had a list of stuff to get.

“You girls want to explore on your own for a bit?”

“Sure,” Mand got in before I could demur.

“Let's see then,” she checked her watch, “three o'clock at the bookshop at the top of the High Street?”

“That's the other end of the pedestrian bit yeah?” I confirmed.

“That's it; we can get a coffee before we head home.”

“See you later then.”

Gran had hardly gone two steps before Mand grabbed my arm.

“Come on Gabs,” oh how that comes so easily from her lips, “I saw a cool looking shop just down here.”

Her idea of cool and mine weren't within a mile of each other. The shop in question was neither a bike shop or model shop, oh no, turns out Mand is into surf chic! The shop in question, going by the name of ‘Surfette' (we are literally hundreds of K's from anything like surf) was therefore stuffed with a mixture of surf/sport brands with a tendency towards shorts, skorts and bikinis. Aargh!

“Ooh I like that.”

The ensuing display of goods, I use the term loosely, consisted of Mand pulling out some strip of Lycra ® and holding up against me to see what it looked like.

“You actually wear this stuff?”

“Sometimes.”

“And you were moaning about my shorts.”

“I was trying to make a point.”

“Whatever.”

So anyway, Mand did buy a skirt, if you could call the narrow strip of material a skirt, then we headed out to see what else we could find. I didn't really have anything I wanted so I let my companion take the lead which is how we ended up in Claire's™, two new scrunchies and a card of earrings; Bargin Shoes, a pair of those ‘new' Roman sandals and Julia's for a bra of the non compression sports type. So okay that last one is more comfortable than the tight sports bras I generally wear, but still.

“I can't believe they are all yours.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “me an' the girls go back aways.”

“What time are we meeting your gran?”

“Three.”

“We'd best hustle then it's five to.”

The bookshop looked more like a German street restaurant than a purveyor of fine literature with a bunch of tables outside although despite the British weather there weren't any umbrellas for shelter or shade. I spotted Gran, nose in a book and headed in.

* The stationers cum music cum book store.

** Half-timbered style usually painted black and white

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 05.09.12

"Buy anything nice girls?" Gran enquired as we joined her at the table.

"This and that," I offered.

"There's some interesting shops," Mand chimed in.

"So you've enjoyed yourselves then?"

"I guess," I allowed with a shrug.

"Gaby Bond, sometimes," Gran admonished.

"Won't be a minute," Mand chirped.

"What'll it be ladies?" a spotty youth in an apron enquired. (I refuse to call a coffee waiter by any kind of pretentious Italian name.)

"Cappuccino for me, Gaby?"

"Er latte for me, same for Mand."

"One Cappuccino and two Lattes coming right up."

“So are you two okay?”

“I suppose so.”

“Ta da!” Mand announced rejoining us.

“Eh?”

“The new OK magazine.” She brandished the offending magazine at me.

For those of you outside the loop of celebrity OK is one of several UK versions of Bild and Stern that the girls back in Dernau are addicted to.

“You never read that rubbish.”

“It can be quite interesting.”

“The lives and homes of the fameless.”

“There's other stuff.”

“We've ordered you a latte.” Gran broke in.

“Ooh yummy, how did you know?”

“You've had one out of that machine at the hostel every night this week.” I observed.

“Got me. Ooh look, William has been to some wedding thing in Munich.”

“That was months ago,” I sighed .

“How'd you know that?”

“It was, erm, in the Stern. ”

“What's that then?”

“Like the German version of that rag.”

“Thought you weren't interested in this stuff?”

“I'm not but my mate Con gets it all the time.”

We were interrupted by the arrival of our beverages. I took a sip and nearly spat it out.

“Geez, that is pretty disgusting.”

“Tastes okay to me.”

“They've not used fresh beans or enough.”

“You some kind of expert Gab?”

“I do most of the coffee at work.”

“Work?”

“I do a few shifts at the bakery, I'm a dab hand with the Gaggia™.”

“Wow, she can ride a bike and make coffee.”

“It pays to have a trade away from two wheels.” I offered.

“Everything okay ladies?” spotty enquired.

“No it's not, this latte is like bilge water, we'll have fresh and don't spare the beans this time.” Mand told the beleaguered youth.

“A, er, um, yes um, right away.” He picked up our cups and took off back inside.

“That was a bit harsh.”

“Well it's only what you said.”

“I know but still.”

Gran chuckled, “For what they charge Gab it ought to be drinkable, I don't suppose most patrons have your expertise in matter's coffee.”

“Still.”

The replacement coffees arrived much quicker than the first, our waiter type actually waited until I'd taken a sip and given it the okay before scurrying back inside.

“Hmm, that is better, more erm…”

“Body?” I supplied.

“Yeah.” She agreed smacking her lips.

"You want to look in the bike shop before we head home?” Gran asked as we departed the bookshop.

“Cappings?” I queried.

“I think it's called something else now.”

“I wonder if they've got any shammy cream*?”

“Your mum used to spend hours in that place.” Gran supplied.

It wasn't a long walk; the former ‘Capping Cycles' still resided in a double front store just at the point where town centre becomes residential.

“I think it's just a name change,” I pronounced.

Like many businesses, someone clearly thought that ‘Capping Cycles' sounded a bit fuddy duddy so the frontage now stated ‘Pro Bikes'. I think it was Dad who pointed out that professional riders never bought their bikes and machines with pro in the name were in the same league as ‘executive' coaches, they never were! The windows were however full of fancy looking bike kit, road and that curious UK disease, ‘mountain' bikes.

“We going in then?” Mand enquired.

“Sure, you coming Gran?”

“Well I'm not waiting out here.”

We don't really have shops like this back home, it's all stuff like my Schauff with all the bags, baskets and so on associated with them. If you want racing stuff there are a few specialist shops, but nothing like this.

“Mrs Peters; long time no see.” A chap about Gran's age announced when we'd cleared the doorway.

“Phil, we weren't sure it was still yours.”

“We scrape by, so who have we got here then?”

“My granddaughter and her friend, they're staying the weekend.”

“Jenny's youngster?”

“Her youngest.”

“How time flies, it doesn't seem that long ago that she was riding with the Wheelers.”

“And spending all her mum and dad's money in here,” Gran added.

“She was keen on getting all the new stuff wasn't she, I think she bought the first pair of Look™ pedals we ever had.” Phil recalled.

“Well I think Amanda here is after something.”

“Er do you have any shammy cream?” Mand asked.

“Sure luv, let's see, the tube is three quid but it's only five fifty for a big tub.”

We looked at each other and replied in unison, “Tub.”

“So you girls ride?”

“They're both on the National team,” Gran boasted, “and Gaby is the National champion back home in Germany.”

“Like mother like daughter.” Phil allowed, I think he was more surprised than anything else.

“Gra-aan.”

“I'd heard Jenny had moved over there.”

“Left her old mum in sleepy Nant',” Gran hammed.

“Have you got any energy bars, I coulda done with some this morning.”

“Sure er?”

“Gaby.” Well I could hardly tell him Drew dressed and looking like this could I?

“Gaby, what flavour do you want?”

Well when Mand joined in we ended up discussing the relative tastes of the stuff on offer, personally I can't stand the chocolate flavour but Mand prefers it to banana, my fave.

After we settled up Phil continued our discussion, “So I guess you girls are out riding tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, our coach will go ballistic if we don't get a few miles in,” Mand told him.

“The Wheelers have got their club twenty five in the morning if you're interested?”

“We haven't entered and we'd need parental consent anyhow,” I mentioned.

“It's only a club event; we usually have a few private rides**.”

“We'd still need the forms,” Mand noted.

“Uncle John signed for me last week,” I told them.

“Mrs P? I've got some forms here somewhere,” Phil offered.

“You want to ride girls?”

Girls ? Oh bum; I was only supposed to be Gaby for this afternoon maybe we should take a rain check.

“Yes please Mrs Peters,” Mand enthused.

Sugar!

“So where is this Buckley crossroads Gran?” I asked as the bus made its way back towards Gran's place in Burland.

“Bulkeley, it's just out through Faddiley, only a couple of miles from the house.”

“Phew, when he said about Whitchurch I thought it was miles away.”

“I saw signs for there this morning.” Mand put in.

“I guess we can ride out then, but seven thirty ?” I moaned.

“Oh give over Gab.”

“And that's another thing, I'm supposed to be Drew, remember?”

“No one here knows you so what's the problem?” Mand enquired.

“Whatever.” I sighed in defeat.

“I'll come out in the car, give you a cheer,” Gran suggested.

“That'd be cool, Mrs Peters.” Mand beamed.

With a time trial in the morning, when we got back to base guess who got the job of team mechanic ? Yup yours truly.

“So do you think we should wear our BC stuff or our club strip?” Mand asked as she hovered over my ministrations.

“Not sure BC'd be too happy if we ride like it's official.”

“You have a point I guess.”

“Don't you ever clean this chain?”

“I oil it.”

“I can tell, you should clean it regularly, it'll last longer, Dad does it after every race.”

“I don't think mine knows which end you sit on.”

I didn't mean to preach, I know that not everyone has their own dedicated mechanic, but like chains, its basic maintenance. Luckily Gran had got some GT *** and I've always got a bottle of lube in my seat pack so I managed to do something of a rescue job.

“Wow, I'd forgotten what colour it was.”

“Girls.” I muttered under my breath.

“Dinner girls,” Gran called from the kitchen door.

* Chamois cream – a greasy substance which some riders put on the pad of their shorts. Its supposed to prevent saddle sores and reduce friction. The name refers to the fact that in days of yore the lining was actually made of chamois leather and the ‘cream' helped prevent it drying out too much and going hard.

** Sometimes known as semi open events, a non-member can get a ride in another clubs event for a small fee but won't be included in any awards.

*** Weaker version of WD40!

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 07.09.12

“Urgh, I hate six o'clock,” Mand complained.

“It's ten past,” I declared .

“I hate ten past six.”

This Bulkeley place isn't far away but we don't want to be leaving at the last minute and rushing to get there.

“I'll see you later, have a good ride.” Josie waved as the two girls set off half an hour later.

Two girls, yes there really wasn't much doubt, no make that any doubt, that the child they had all thought was a boy for so long was really female. Since she'd last seen Drew in the flesh so to speak, he, no she'd, bloomed into quite a beauty almost a spit of her mother. This morning's race brought back memories of watching Jenny do the same so many years ago – there was no Amanda back then, it was Richie Black.

She shook her head. Yeah Jenny was just as enthusiastic even if she didn't show the precocious talent of her offspring, she'd be out on that bike morning, noon and night. Back then the idea that she would one day earn her living racing was a pipe dream, there being no ladies professional riders. When she was offered that first contract, just a bike and expenses, the sheer joy on her face. And now Drew, Gaby is trumping her mother's achievements, poor kid, so much to contend with.

“That must be it.”

“Looks like.” Mand agreed.

The scene was one repeated across the country, cyclists with a full spectrum of abilities coming together to spend an hour or two thrashing up and down the roads and lanes in pursuit of a PB or at least a seasons best. The cut and thrust of bunch racing, the spectacle of the track, trialling has neither even so some riders dedicated all their efforts on a bike in pursuit of speed.

“Excuse me, could you tell us where to sign in?” I asked an old chap on a pricey low profile machine as we crossed.

“Blue Mondeo* on the corner luv.”

“Cheers.”

“You do much testing in Germany?” Mand asked.

“Hardly any, I rode the club ten at my Aunt's last week but that was the first one this year I think, you?”

“Mid week tens mostly, a few twenty fives to fill when there's no road to ride.”

We pulled up by the Mondeo and waited whilst a chap in Wheelers strip finished up.

“Phil, from the bike shop, said we could get a ride?”

“Pound non members.” The chap in the car stated without looking up.

“Er sure, there's two of us,” I clarified.

He passed a clipboard out with the signing on sheet, which we duly filled out and returned with our consent forms.

“Amanda Vreen, best twenty five?”

“It's de Vreen, one one twenty.”

He scanned the sheet on a second clip board, “de Vreen, Catford CC number seventeen.” He grabbed a number off of the other seat and passed it out to Mand.

“Cheers.”

“So, Drew Bond, twenty five time?”

“Fifty seven fifty four** but it was like two years ago, I did a twenty two twenty four ten last week?”

He finally looked up.

“Team Apollinaris, that Dutch or something?”

“Er German.”

“Thought it was something like that by your accent, that's quite a sharp time.” He consulted his start sheet again, “Twenty one I think.”

“Er thanks.” I allowed receiving the patch of fluorescent material.

“First rider off in er, ten minutes, good luck girls.”

“Thanks,” Mand allowed.

“Fifty seven?”

“It was on the O2***,” I supplied.

“Still, that's pretty swift.”

“I guess, doubt I'll go under evens this morning, I feel crap. Do I really have an accent?”

“A bit, it's quite cute really, better than my sarf Lunnun,” Amanda chuckled.

I rolled my eyes, “Come on, let's get ready.”

“Three…two…one…go.”

Mand set off with a big effort and my thoughts turned to my own approaching start time. There's nothing resting on it, no prizes so I don't need to kill myself but it doesn't mean I shouldn't try for a good time – more fun than just ploughing the lanes at least.

“Twenty one.”

I rolled alongside that same Mondeo where the pusher waited to set me off.

“Thirty.”

I got into place before checking everything was in order.

“Ten, good ride.”

Deep breaths.

“Five..four..three…two…one…go.”

Out of the saddle, push, heave, push and I was away.

I quickly settled into a good cadence, with no aero bars fitted I assumed a crouch holding onto the drops like I've seen people using in old pictures. The first kilo dipped slightly before the road started a surprisingly steep climb through Bulkeley village then easing slightly before the final sting in the tail. I don't mind admitting having to get out of the saddle once or twice on the way up.

At one point I could see three riders ahead of me but clearly the effect of the climb was slowing everyone. Over the brow and click, click, click, up the gears and wheeee! A short steep drop was our reward, of course we'll have to climb it later, the riders ahead apparently having shot ahead, only one now in view as the road continued to drop away.

The road suddenly fell away to reveal the first turn ahead, the sign said Broxton Island, the remaining rider in view seemed to come back towards me at a stupendous rate as I approached the roundabout and the yellow jacketed marshal.

“Straight round.”

I nodded my head in understanding before powering round onto the A41 to start the long leg down towards Whitchurch. My carrot turned out to be number nineteen who started two minutes ahead of me, according to my comp I was holding a 42kph average despite the big climb, and clearly he wasn't. The forty-one whilst not a dual carriageway is reasonably wide and well surfaced and glancing ahead I could see the road rippling away ahead of me.

On the first up slope I zipped past my quarry, must keep something for the way back. It's easy to let your mind wander when you are out on your own, I found myself running through the lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody as I spun the pedals around, concentrate Drew. The sign for another roundabout took me by surprise, am I at the turn already?

‘Don't be daft,' I chided myself, ‘ t's nowhere near far enough yet.'

In fact I was barely halfway out. Straight over the island, not literally of course and as the road dipped another rider hove into view on the rise ahead. The tell tale signs of a reasonably new bypass took me past the turn to Robberhill before climbing to No Mans Heath – who makes up these names? Down again before another steady climb up to Bell o' th' Hill.

I'd been steadily gaining on the figure in front, at this rate I'll have them by the turn, talking of which shouldn't I be seeing riders going the other way? The road dropped away again and I topped fifty k as I hit Grindley Brook. It was only as the road crossed the canal that I saw my first returning rider that on second look I realised was Manda, where'd everyone else gone?

The road climbed straight up to the turn roundabout, my current bait barely cleared the roundabout before I reached it. Up to now there had been little traffic but would you credit it, a flippin' horsebox chose that moment to cross the island. There was a gap behind so I didn't need to brake but I lost enough momentum to require an out of saddle effort to get going again.

“Dig in lass,” the marshal encouraged as I returned to the A41, I didn't need a second opinion on that as I slammed it into the twelve. I glanced at the clock, twenty-seven minutes, geez that's fast .

So intent was I on my quest for speed I almost missed the frantically waving marshal in Grindley Brook. Of course, that's why I hadn't seen many returning riders; Phil wotsisname said something about coming back through some place called Malpas. I gave the yellow clad official a small hand wave in acknowledgement as I turned into the B road.

I spotted my prey on the short climb ahead of me and renewed my efforts to catch them. I wasn't expecting the double bends at the top, which scarily had me nearly ending up on the wrong side of the road. Concentrate Bond, concentrate. I regained my composure and chased along a fairly straight but undulating road, the surface less than perfect not helping me maintain my pace.

The road suddenly disappeared down a steep incline, I didn't dare get too enthusiastic not knowing the road – just as well, a sharp right-hander had me on the brakes. Bum! The road climbed steeply away from the bridge that followed, are they serious about this course? The bonus was that as I hit the summit I claimed the scalp of number eighteen.

After a small dip the road started a fairly steady climb up into what I assumed was this Malpas place. The figure labouring away up ahead by deduction must be Mand unless she's passed someone in the last couple of miles of course. Up and up the road climbed, through the ‘town' and still upwards only finally levelling off as I cleared the place.

Off in front I could just make out the great lump of what is home to Maiden Castle, not the Maiden Castle of course, that's in Dorset, no Dad took us up to this particular example of a hillfort once when we were staying at Gran's. I realised my mind was wandering again, concentrate! The road dipped down towards Hampton Heath where I managed to nip out onto the A41 in front of another donkey transport.

The small climb away from the island barely slowed my progress then it was onto the generally downhill leg back up to Broxton Island, the final turn. It wasn't Mand but number thirteen, a lad about my age by the looks, savaging his gears as he tried to crank up some speed.

“Dig in.” I encouraged as I swept past.

I didn't expect nor did I get a response, my mind turned to my computer, seven k's to go, forty five minutes on the clock, wow I'm gonna be well under the hour! Ahead I caught glimpses of two riders, Mand has to be one of them surely? Broxton Island is quite small so I had to ease off quite a bit to make the turn, slipping through between the cars.

Oh sugar!

I'd forgotten ‘The Hill'. Yeah I know, I came down but you never imagine it'll be so steep going back do you? I was puffing a bit by the time I crested the first bit, surprised to be almost on another rider. In the distance the final climb up Fullers Moor taunted me, already the clock was ticking through fifty-one minutes. I'm not gonna let it get away, come on Drew.

Number nine was in a much worse state than me as I passed him on the almost flat approach to the wall of a climb and Mand, yes it definitely was she, was now only maybe ten seconds ahead of me. Talk about red rag to a bull, I punched up another gear but she held her advantage onto the climb. I stayed in the saddle as long as possible but when it kicked at Coomb Dale I had to get up and honk my way up, my hill climbing prowess proving invaluable.

Mand succumbed moments later.

“Shit!” she gasped.

“Bleh!” I allowed.

“Allez Bond! Dig in kiddo!”

I glanced at the cheering figure, it was Gran. Have to put on a good show, I dug a little deeper in response and soon rolled over the summit. Two kilometres to go, fifty five ten, I'll be under but by how much? Its downhill all the way to the finish, within metres I had it in the twelve and pushing the speed up.

The speed climbed quickly, forty-five, fifty, fifty-five, sixty, I pedalled through the couple of little dips, sixty-five. There's the finish, come on Drew push! The gradient levelled after Bulkeley and my speed dropped off some.

“Twenney one!” I gasped out, slapping the stop button on the computer as I freewheeled up the slope towards the event ‘HQ'.

Stopping by the collection of cars I collapsed over my bars, dragging in great lungfulls of air.

“Bloody hell girl, you got a motor on there?” Mand exclaimed as she pulled alongside about a minute later.

“A two stroke Bond,” I allowed checking my computer properly.

“So?”

“Sixty nine point seven K's.”

“Sheesh.”

“Fifty seven thirtyish,“ I grinned, “you?”

“Three something.”

“That's pretty good.”

“Says Wonder Woman!”

* Family saloon from Ford

** See chapter 82 of the saga

*** Time trial courses in the UK are given identifying codes; O courses are in the North Midlands near Warsop.

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 10.09.12

I was vaguely aware of a car parking nearby as Mand and I had our short exchange.

“Come on you two, Caroline will have my guts for garters if you get colds.”

“Gran? Guess what?”

“Invented the steam engine I think.”

“I had nearly seventy coming down to the finish.”

“Miles an hour?”

“Kilometres,” I supplied, “it'd have to be some hill to do seventy miles an hour.”

Mand shook her head, “Think I'd wimp well before that.”

I slipped my tracky top on before dismounting; apparently Gran had recovered our stuff from the grumpy timekeeper's car where we'd left it. It wasn't hot but the day had the makings of something quite warm, my bra felt revolting now with sweat slowly trickling down my back.

"Yeuk." I allowed plucking at the offending garment through my skinsuit.

"Yeah, not nice," Mand agreed.

"Let's get you two home and showered," Gran suggested. "Your bikes'll go in the back."

"Kewl."

"Thanks Mrs Peters, I don't think I could ride anywhere for a bit," Mand agreed.

Gran's only got a Polo so getting two bikes in required a wheel drop and some juggling but we managed it eventually.

"We ready then?"

"Numbers," Mand gasped.

"Oops, we haven't got our times either."

"Go on then, I'll wait here," Gran told us.

It wasn't hard to work out where the results were, a collection of riders and supporters of various shapes, sizes, genders and ages were gathered around the timekeeper's Mondeo.

"What are they looking at?" Mand hissed into my ear as we approached.

"Probably me," I allowed out of the corner of my mouth.

"Well done girls," bike shop Phil offered as we arrived, breaking that train of thought.

"Er thanks."

"Lots of PB's this morning," he observed relieving me of the numbers.

"You?" I questioned.

"Me? No, I'm too old for all this, I was marshalling down at the turn."

"It's not the flattest course is it?" Mand observed.

"I'd prefer to call it sporting," he chuckled.

“Hey Phil, we reckon that's a course record, Wardy won't be pleased.” One of the other riders called over.

“Yeah, doesn't like playing second fiddle,” Phil replied.

“Who's Wardy?” Mand enquired.

“Dick Ward local fast man, between you and me a bit of a poseur. ” Phil whispered the last, “He was off in front of you Gaby, number twenty.”

“He was well up on me at the turn,” I observed.

“I made it twenty seconds,” Phil told us.

“He must've done a fifty six something.”

“Fifty nine,” Phil confirmed, “hey Mick, the girls'd like to see the board.”

“Sure here you go.” Mick passed over a clipboard, “Nice riding girls.”

“Er thanks.”

“So what'd I do?” Mand enquired, “number seventeen.”

Phil ran his finger down the list, “De Vreen, Catford, one eleven.”

“Neat, a new PB!”

My inbuilt calculator was close to meltdown, I caught Mand for four minutes so that's fifty-seven eleven, kewl.

“Looks like you were a bit out Gab,” Mand noted.

“Only a few.”

“More than a few.”

“Twenty seconds isn't much.”

“Nearer a minute.”

“Can't be.”

“You said you'd done fifty seven thirty yeah?”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Phil had a silly look on his face.

“Well I reckon you are forty seven seconds out.”

“No way, if I'd only done fifty eight I wouldn't've caught you.”

“Who said anything about fifty eight? Try fifty six dumbo.”

“Get on with ya.”

“Fifty six forty seven says here,” Phil confirmed.

“Let's see that.”

I checked down number twenty, Ward 56.59, twenty-one, Bond 56.47, flippin' ‘eck!

“Wow!”

My reaction got a few chuckles from the gallery. There were only two others under the hour and a short 0 put Mand's time as sixth on the morning too, not bad for a bit of fun eh?

“Thanks for letting us ride,” Mand offered a few minutes later after Phil scribbled our times on a bit of paper for us.

“Yeah thanks.”

“Remember us to your Mum Gaby.”

“Will do, we'd best get off, Gran's waiting, bye.”

“Bye girls.”

“Think you made a bit of an impression Gab” Manda told me as we walked back to the car.

“I wasn't trying to.”

“Which endears you to them even more girl.”

“Everything okay girls?” Gran asked when we climbed into the Polo a moment or two later.

“Gaby won and I got a PB,” Mand supplied.

“Must've been my cheering.” Gran chortled, “Fancy going out to celebrate?”

“Sure, we need to change though.”

“Plenty of time, it's only just turned half nine.” Gran stuck the car in gear and we lurched off towards Burland.

“So where are we going?” I enquired a little over an hour later.

“You'll see,” Gran smiled.

“I still don't see why I had to wear a dress,” I complained.

“Give over complaining Gab, why you'd want to dress like a slob instead I can't see.” Mand noted.

“I like my combats,” I huffed.

“We are going out to eat Drew,” Gran pointed out.

“Yes Gran.”

Gran took us through the lanes to Bunbury (its a real place!) then past Beeston Castle and on for a few more miles before turning into the car park of a smart looking pub in a place called Aldford.

“Here we go ladies,” Gran announced.

“Are we alright in a pub? We're both underage,” Mand pointed out.

“It's okay if we're eating , right Gran?”

“Yes but as it's such a nice day I thought we'd eat in the garden?”

Indeed the earlier chill was now but a distant memory, there was still a bit of a breeze but it was turning quite warm.

Dinner was very civilized, a traditional roast beef dinner with all the trimmings, Gran followed with coffee but Mand and me had to try the sticky toffee pudding with ice cream.

“Urgh, I can't move.”

“I don't know where you girls put that pudding.”

“Hollow legs?” a slightly green looking Manda suggested.

“You won't want a look at Chester then?”

“We haven't got time have we?”

“I reckon we could do a couple of hours,” Gran calculated looking at her watch .

“Mand?” I enquired.

“Never been.”

“That's settled, then.”

It wasn't a long drive into Chester, less than ten miles, Gran parked up at Boughton Heath Ferry, as it was easier than going into the centre. We used the ferry to cross over into Queens Park before following the river round to the centre.

“You fancy walking up the wall?” Gran suggested.

“Wall?” Mand asked.

“City wall,” I supplied, “you can walk around most of the town centre on it.”

“Yeah okay, sounds different.”

We crossed the Dee and climbed up onto the wall and headed up towards the city centre.

“You never been anywhere with a wall before?”

“Don't think so, never like this at any rate.”

“My Dad's like really into castles and stuff so we get dragged all over for this stuff, York, Lincoln, here.”

“Mine's more interested in footie than anything else, we like go to a race then straight home in case he misses any action, it's all he ever talks about.”

“So how'd you get into racing then?”

“Uncle David, my mum's brother, he used to race when I was little, used to fascinate me all his polished bikes and colourful shirts and all that. What's that?”

“Roman amphitheatre Amanda.” Gran supplied.

“Like Julius Caesar type Romans?”

“The same,” I agreed.

“Kewl! Just wait until I tell Lise, she's right into history stuff, shoulda brought a camera.”

“Ta da!” I announced producing my camera with a flourish, “Never leave home without one!”

“Neat, can you take some for me?”

“No problemo.”

By the time we'd walked round to the Cathedral and back down through the throngs of Sunday shoppers past the arcades to the river it was heading towards three.

“Anyone fancy an ice cream?” I offered.

“Ooh, yes please.”

“We'll have to eat them on the hoof,“ Gran mentioned, ”We need to be heading back to the car.”

“I'll take that as a yes then Gran,” I giggled.

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 13.09.12

"Get that luv." Gran prompted, the house phone had started ringing as she opened the door.

I grabbed the phone and on reflex answered, "Bond Residenz, Gaby sprechen."

"Hello? Sorry I think I've got the wrong number, I'm after Peters?"

"Oh hi Caro."

"Drew? That you?"

"Last time I looked."

"Who is it kiddo?" Gran enquired from the kitchen.

"Caroline, you want to speak to her?"

"You can take a message."

"Drew?"

"Sorry, just talking to Gran."

"Can you tell her I'll be there about half five."

"What time Drew?" geez it's like getting the conversation in stereo!

"Five thirty Gran."

"Tell her tea'll be waiting."

"She said..."

"I heard thanks Drew, good weekend?"

"‘S been okay."

"Tell me later, I'm wanted inside, bye."

"Laters."

I returned the phone to its cradle.

"You really sound like a girl." Mand stated.

"Cheers."

"Come on you two, you'd best be ready before Caroline gets here," Gran observed.

I was down to bra and knickers before it registered – I've been done again haven't I? Gaby was so not supposed to make any appearances this trip and here I am, one week in spending most of the weekend as my alter ego. Now here I am with another new member of the ‘ I know Drew's a girl really' club next door besides a bunch of other people now thinking I'm my mother's daughter.

Well it stops here, from now on this summer it's Drew Bond, male, no more Gaby after all, if the Doc's get their way there'll be plenty of Gaby time in my future worst luck. I stripped off the bra and pants and looked in the mirror, yeah Drew, for a boy you make a pretty good girl right down to my tan lines – what was I thinking that day at the lido?

A shower and a set of my boy togs later I looked at least a bit less girly, my sports bra compressing my girls enough that they weren't that obvious under my baggy top.

“Come on Drew, tea's on the table.” Gran called up the stairs.

“Coming.”

I grabbed my bag, no point in making too many journeys, and headed downstairs.

“Hi Caroline.”

“Hello yourself, you not a bit warm in that lot?”

“It's warmer back home.”

“Sit yourself down Drew.” Gran directed coming through from the kitchen, Mand close behind with a tray of comestibles.

Although it was past time, Gran had put together what could be described as ‘high tea', sandwiches, sweet cakes and of course tea to wash it down with. Maybe a bit twee and poesh for some but enough to fill a hole before dinner later in the evening except of course we are missing dinner. Still we did have a good lunch so it's not like we're gonna starve is it.

“They go out on the bikes Josie?” Caro asked sitting back with her cuppa.

“Both days.” Gran supplied.

“We did a couple of hours steady yesterday.” I filled.

“And a fast ride this morning.” Mand added.

Caroline raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah it was pretty intense.” I agreed. We'd agreed not to tell Caro about the twenty-five, it's not like we'd been told not to but why tempt fate?

“Your Gran says you went to Chester today.”

“Just for a look round like.”

“All that Roman stuff and those weird shopping arcades, I've never been anywhere like it.” Mand told our manager.

“Well I'm glad you had a good weekend, I'm afraid you won't have much more downtime this summer.”

“That's why we're here.” I pointed out.

It was knocking on seven before we eventually left Gran's.

“Bye Mrs Peters, thanks for having me.”

“My pleasure Manda, come here Drew, let's have a hug eh?”

Well I'm not averse to the odd hug now and then and Gran's are some of the best.

“Thanks Gran, it's been a great weekend.”

“I've enjoyed having some company too, I'll see you before you go back to Germany, yeah?”

“Uh huh,” I sniffed, “I miss you Gran.”

“I miss you all too, now go out there and do me proud eh?”

“I'll do my best.”

With a final squeeze Gran let go of me and I climbed into Caro's Skoda.

“Bye Gran . ”

“Thanks for this Josie.”

“My pleasure Caroline and Drew don't forget to ring eh?”

“No Gran.”

“I'll remind him Mrs Peters.” Mand added.

We were barely out of Nantwich with best part of an hour's drive back to Droylsden when Caro addressed us in a serious tone.

“So who's going to tell me about today, this morning in particular?”

“We already did.” I suggested.

“No Drew, you told me something of a fairy story. Now how about the truth, Miss De Vreen?”

“We didn't think it would matter, everyone else was racing this weekend.” Mand blabbed, completely destroying any chance of a favourable account.

“What if we were resting you?”

“Erm,” I offered.

“We've blown it haven't we?” Mand had the beginnings of a blub in her voice.

“How'd you know?” I'm sure Gran hadn't dropped us in it.

“I had an interesting call from Brian Jones, apparently a couple of youngsters turned up for his club's twenty five this morning, both hailing from parts foreign and both posted impressive times, one beating their quite handy club champion in setting a new course record. Sound familiar?”

“Coincidence?” I suggested.

“Okay it was us.” Mand splurted out.

“Mand!”

“The bit that threw me slightly was the description of two girls? Care to explain anyone?”

And so the whole sordid business was revealed as we made our way up to Manchester.

“So are we in trouble?” Mand asked.

“Chris won't be best pleased if he finds out.” Caro told us, “so I suggest we keep it amongst ourselves eh?”

“Mum's the word.” I stated.

“What he said.” My co conspirator agreed.

“Well done both of you by the way,” Caro mentioned.

“Can I ask a question Caro?”

“Try me.”

“Erm,” I started, “how comes this Jones bloke rang you? Who is he?”

“That's two. Who is he? Well he was the timekeeper this morning.”

“The grumpy bloke who never got out of the car, bit creepy if you ask me.” Mand put in.

“That ‘grumpy bloke' used to be on the national squad, he lost both legs in a motorbike accident about ten years ago.”

“Shit.” Mand stated.

“We didn't mean anything, we didn't know Caroline.” I offered. I had wondered what the big box on the roof of his car was for, I'd never thought about a wheelchair or something.

“No reason you should and actually I agree, he can look a bit creepy sometimes but he loves bike racing and does a lot of stuff for the local clubs.”

“So he's like a talent scout?” Mand suggested.

“Let's just say he can spot potential and points us in the right direction from time to time.”

We'd been so involved with our own weekend that the rest of the teams' performances were still unknown to us when we arrived back in Droylsden.

“Well if it isn't the lucky sods who had the weekend off.” Claire greeted us with a grin.

“So how'd the races go?” Mand queried.

The two teams had had a pretty mixed set of results; the Saturday crew had done best, a podium and aggressive rider prize. Sunday however had been an unmitigated disaster, they'd completely missed the break, failed to put together any kind of chase and had then had to endure a lecture from Mr Toynbee when they got back to Manchester. It was so tempting to boast about the twenty-five but Caro had forbidden us to mention it.

The rain had started sometime in the night, I woke to the incessant sound of H2O hammering on the window and the strains of Terry Wogan* on someone's radio. I checked my alarm, ten to eight, sugar; I've slept through again! At least being in boy mode it only took ten minutes to wash, dress and head towards the smell of bacon.

“You not riding today?” Jamie enquired.

“Bum.”

I'd just assumed we'd not be going out in this weather so I was dressed in my usual off bike cargo shorts and sweatshirt.

“You're alright Drew, you can change after breakfast, the ride has been put back a bit.” Steve advised.

I was starving, not literally but you know what I mean, I managed a good plate of grilled bacon and scrambled egg besides some toast and yoghurt.

“You'll get fat,” Claire suggested.

“Shoulda seen how much she ate at the weekend,” Mand offered.

“Hark who's talking,” I riposted.

“Come on you lot, Chris wants to talk to you all before this morning's ride,” Steve told us.

“Looks like another bawling out,” Darren sighed.

“Ye'll be glad ye wisna riding yesterday,” Jamie agreed.

“It can't have been that bad,” I offered.

“You kidding Drew, it was a disaster almost from start to finish,” Gethyn sighed.

“Some days are like that.”

“But we're supposed to be better.” Jamie mentioned as we cleared our table.

Not a good start for Monday morning.

* Sir Terry Wogan, long time presenter of the Radio 2 breakfast show as well as such gems as Blankety Blank and Eurovision Song contest coverage.

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 14.09.12

“All right folks, settle down, I don't want to keep you too long.” Chris started. “I'm not going to shout at anyone, those that rode poorly at the weekend have already been spoken to. Mistakes were made and I hope we can all learn by them. We don't expect you to win every event you take part in, it would be nice but unrealistic, what we do expect is for you to all give your best and in that perhaps some of you let not just us but yourselves down.

So instead of recriminations let's look forward then, Caroline and Steve will be talking to you all individually and putting together individual training programmes to work on your weaknesses. That's it, I'm not going to say any more for now, I'll pass you over to Steve.”

Despite not having been party to Sunday's messy performance I had been dreading the ‘talk' and found myself more than a little surprised by the mild tone of the dressing down.

“Thank you, Chris,” Steve began,“right you lot I want four teams of three out the front ready to go in ten minutes. What are you waiting for? Go!”

Sugar, I need to get changed.

“Er sorry.” I offered when I did finally get to the assembly area.

“Your team gets a thirty second penalty Mr Bond.” Steve told us.

The loud groans from Jamie and Claire identified my teammates.

“Right, now that everyone is here I'll explain what we shall be doing this morning.”

It was simple enough, after riding out into the countryside to the east of Manchester we would take part in what you might call a road pursuit. In short each team would set off five minutes behind each other with the purpose of catching those in front, we'd be on a shortish circuit, number of laps as yet undecided. We set off through the still damp streets not exactly in the best of humour.

“Sorry for the penalty guys,” I offered as the three of us waited for our departure.

“Och, dinna fret Drew,” Jamie replied.

“Yeah, it's not like there was any way you coulda got down in time,” Claire noted.

“Cheers, so how we gonna do this?”

“We were kinda hoping you'd tell us,” suggested Claire.

Just what I need.

“One minute guys,” Caroline informed us.

“I reckon if we get a rotation going quickly we've got a chance of overhauling Geth and co, being last off at least means we don't have to worry about chasers, we can concentrate on what's ahead fully.”

“Aye, there is that,” Jamie agreed.

“We'll do better with short turns, say two hundred each rather than tire the stronger riders.”

“What you saying, Drew Bond?” Claire huffed.

“I'm saying we'll do better if everyone is taking a turn?”

“I agree wi' Drew , Claire, we canna be daein' wi' passengers.”

“Okay, I'll try.”

Clearly Claire wasn't expecting to contribute too much, bum.

“Time to go,“ Caro advised, “good luck.”

That'll be the least of what we need.

We soon settled into a good even pace, the fast rotation keeping the speed quite high. The earlier dampness had left a lot of wet sitting on the road, which didn't make things too pleasant, the feeling of wet shorts and feet isn't one I enjoy. Three riders however don't get a lot of rest and it was soon evident that Claire really wasn't pulling her weight, sugar.

“This isn't working,” I told them after about fifteen minutes.

“I'm not getting enough rest Drew,” Claire moaned.

“Me and Jamie'll do double, see how it goes?” I offered.

“Sure,” Jamie agreed.

“Let's do it then,” I enthused.

This time I have to admit, things went better and we actually held a higher pace than we had before. We'd used the circuit last week so we knew the turns which helped a bit, our reward came mid way around the second lap.

“Ahead.” Jamie observed as he slipped back after a slightly longer than agreed turn.

There they were, Gethyn's team, Geth, Darren and Laura still some way ahead but certainly not five minutes between us, possibly two I guessed.

“I reckon we can close the gap before we get back to Caroline.”

“I'm pretty much on the rivet now,” Claire whined.

“Catch them and we all get more rest,” Jamie pointed out.

“Well, what're we waiting for?”

We buried ourselves for several minutes, closing the remaining gap pretty quickly.

“Straight through, let them work to get on to us,” I suggested.

“Seems a bit mean,” Claire gasped.

“It can put off any counterattack,” I told my companions.

“It's not a race,” Claire protested.

“It's worse, it's training,” Jamie supplied.

As it happened I was on the front when we made contact.

“Rechts.”

My call warned them we were there; we motored past only easing when Claire took over.

“Shit, where'd you guys come from?” Darren asked rhetorically.

“Team work and hard graft,” offered Jamie.

“We gonna try to take Paul's lot?”

“Should be a piece of piss with six of us,” Geth offered.

By the time we started another lap we were doing a good rotation, shorter turns again but with six of us taking a turn the rest time was much enhanced which I think everyone appreciated. We'd been chasing around the lanes for over an hour already, whilst not as intense an effort as yesterday morning's twenty-five, fatigue was starting to make its presence felt.

“One more lap,” Caro called out as we passed the bus for the fourth time.

“Thank gawd for that,” Laura voiced the majority's thoughts.

“Anyone up for a crack at Paul?” I enquired, the pace having already dropped after Caro's advice.

“No point,” Gethyn suggested, “we only have to finish the lap.”

“Count me in,” Jamie supplied.

“Me too,” Darren added.

“Whatever,” Claire sighed which I took to be agreement.

“Let's do it,” I yelled.

The rotation was rehashed, even Geth knuckling down to things. We had no idea what the time gap was so it was a bit of a blind chase, even so everyone gave it their all. The thirty-minute lap time was over half gone before the potential for success was spotted.

“Come on, there's still just the three of them,” I encouraged.

“I'm knackered,” Laura gasped out.

If we lose anyone it's gonna make it harder to bridge the gap but soon after the inevitable happened, not Laura but Claire followed by Gethyn slipping out the back. The pace dropped slightly, Laura was clearly struggling and even Jamie was now breathing pretty hard – not that I wasn't.

“We're not gonna make it,” Darren stated.

“That's it.” Laura sat up.

Sugar.

“See you after,” I called out making my move.

I know it's not a race, there's nothing but pride at stake and if I don't give it a shot, well I wouldn't be Drew Bond would I? I easily gained fifty metres before going into time trial mode, my computer showing forty k's. I'd been indulging in my solo pursuit effort for a couple of minutes before I became aware of some company.

“Sheesh, Drew ye coulda warned me!” Jamie gasped out.

“You gonna help or complain?”

“Gis a sec an' I'll dae a turn or tae.”

I might have done it on my own but with Jamie's help we made contact in pretty short order but only just before completing the lap. So of course I had to show off a bit with a sprint to finish the lap some lengths ahead of my variously tired teammates. The rest followed along in dribs and drabs, Claire and Gethyn last to arrive some ten minutes after everyone else.

The ride back to Droylsden was lacking in conversation, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Personally I spent the time assessing my colleagues riding, Jamie's a bit like Josh, a terrier that won't let go, the others however fared less well, Claire hasn't got great endurance and Gethyn, what's with all that giving up stuff?

“Right then, I hope you all enjoyed this morning's little effort,” Steve mentioned when we reassembled after showering and lunch.

Several groans were the extent of the reply.

“Some of you clearly missed the point of the exercise but at least a couple of you did give 100% effort. We, that is Caroline and myself, will be making recommendations with regards to the role each of you may have within the team based on these sessions.”

He paused, taking a swig from a bottle of water.

“Right then, this afternoon we'll do a bit of role play.”

This time everyone to a man er woman let out a groan.

“Hi Dad.”

“Drew?”

“Duh, who else would be using my handy?”

“How's it going kiddo, your Gran told me about Sunday.”

“Bum, that's what I was ringing about.”

“She only told me you won.”

“In that case…”

I'm glad I got extra credit on my phone, Dad and me were talking for ages, he wanted to know every detail about what we've been doing in Manchester. It seems like forever since we talked, yeah I know it's only just over a week but it seems like ages. I must admit I felt better after the call, less homesick – I hadn't realised I was feeling homesick.

I turned the light off and snuggled into the bed clothes before turning my thoughts to the morning. Tomorrow we've got more of the same stuff, we're back to the routine of last week but it looks like this week I'll get some reward – officially, for my efforts, I get to pull on a Team GB jersey at the weekend.

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 18.09.12

Tuesday was back to the daily formula of ride, lunch, lecture, gym that we've so easily got used to. It was after dinner that our (tor) mentors threw the proverbial spanner into what we expected.

"People!" Caro bellowed above the din.

It took a minute or so before the melee receded to a respectable level.

"Okay now that I have your attention, we have a bit of a treat in store for everyone."

"Chips?" one hopeful voice called out.

"No not chips Darren, it's nothing to do with food, no tomorrow we'll be leaving Manchester for a week."

That got everyone's attention all right.

"After lunch tomorrow we'll be leaving for Lilleshall so we need everyone's bags down in the lounge straight after breakfast."

Several hands went up no doubt to ask the question I needed answering.

"Yes Laura?"

"What do we need to bring?"

"Riding kit, gym stuff, race kit and something for off the bike too," Caro supplied.

“What about our other stuff?” I queried.

“We'll be back next Wednesday so you don't need to pack everything up, do not leave any valuables, if there's stuff you don't want to take that falls into that category bring to Steve or myself and we'll get stored someplace secure for you. That it?”

I'm sure we all had a bunch of questions but no one ventured anything further.

“In that case we'll leave you to it.”

As you may guess the chief topic in the lounge was tomorrow's departure from Thameside.

“So like where is this Leeshore place then?” Mand enquired of those gathered.

“Don't ask me,” I shrugged.

“I think it's Southampton way,” Darren offered.

“Nah, more Burminam by the sound of it,” Geth put in.

“Guess we'll find out tomorrow,” Claire predicted .

“Yeah,” I agreed sagely, “what do you reckon we'll be doing there that we can't her e in Manny?”

“Sounds a bit hush hush to me,” Jamie noted.

“That'll be it, bicycle ninja training,” Laura suggested.

“Ah so glass hopper,” Gethyn started.

“Riding in a half shell sensei,” Sally added.

“Eh?” Claire pull ed a weird expression.

“Ninja Turtles.” Paul threw in from across the room.

“Awesome buddy!” Darren stated.

Clearly Claire wasn't a fan of martial art TV and film as she still had a look of incomprehension on her face. “Whatever.”

“It'll be some diabolical training regime just to torture us into submission,” Geth volunteered with a smirk.

“Yeah it's just a change of gulag,” I agreed.

“Well I'm going up to pack, you coming Claire?” Mand announced .

“Okay.”

I got up and stretched, “ Think I'll do the same, don't want to forget anything.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan,” Jamie stated.

“Back here after?” Laura suggested.

“Hot choccy?” Claire promoted.

“Hob Nobs?” Darren put forward.

“I've got some Eccles cakes*,” I offered.

“Deal,” Mand confirmed.

I guess I'll need to get used to living out of a suitcase if I'm to pursue my chosen career path. I don't have to like it, Mum I know hates it but what alternative is there? It's not like you can travel from home every day, even the stuff I've been doing this year has meant regular overnights away, Hamburg, Stuttgart, that thing over near Gret's place, there was that flippin' cold do the other side of Kassel and Celle of course, how could I forget my ‘coming out' to the team? No I guess I need to get my act together on this aspect of racing.

In truth I haven't exactly unpacked from the weekend, our riding kit gets washed daily of course and I've got plenty of underwear – even without the stuff Mand twisted my arm to buy in Nant' on Saturday. I checked my race bag, shoes, mitts, best helmet, spare bra, towel, wash kit, embrocation – yep everything there. Some stuff like overshoes, arm warmers and so on are pretty much fixtures of course although I don't think I'll be wearing my Apollinaris strip.

My other stuff would need a bit more work to which end I tipped everything out onto my bed. Now contrary to popular belief I'm not really a messy person, my manga is all neatly arrayed on the bookshelves, most of my clothes are hanging neatly in the wardrobe and most of the time I can find clean underwear in my drawers. The piles on the floor? Well of course there's stuff on the floor, I haven't got time to put everything away have I?

To get to my point, I thought I knew what I've got with me but apparently my ‘wardrobe' has grown since I left Dernau just over a fortnight ago. I know I didn't bring any skirts or other girly stuff but somehow I now seem to have a summer frock and a denim mini, well they most certainly are staying here, and that new bra wherever it is. I bet Mad slipped them in when I wasn't looking, what's this? Tights as well oh and Bern's flowery all in one, daft moo, as if I'm gonna go all Gaby here.

Mad, I've hardly given her or the others in Warsop, let alone the girls at home in Germany a thought since I came to Manchester. I wonder how Bern is getting on with little Andrea? I wish I could've seen more of them both before I left, I'll have to ring, maybe in the morning. I wonder if they have postcards at this Leeshore place, I could get some to send to the girls, be cheaper than ringing.

My musing was disturbed by a rapping on my door.

“Drew? You done yet?” Mand enquired.

“Pretty much, what's up?”

“You promised food?” she hinted through the wood.

The Eccles cakes, sugar why did I have to offer them out?

“They're just on the side.”

“You decent?”

“Why shouldn't I be?”

“Just checking.”

The door opened and she stuck her head around the edge.

“Thought you were done?”

“I've just got to chuck this lot back in my case.”

“Ooh, nice dress,” she enthused grabbing the summer frock.

“Shush!”

“Oops! Sorry Drew, I thought you didn't bring any girl stuff, that's what you said at your Gran's.”

“My cousin seems to have slipped some into my case,” I sighed.

“Likely story,” she snorted.

“Well it's true whatever you think, cakes are behind you.” I huffed grabbing the dress from her grip.

“Oh don't be like that Dee; I didn't mean anything, come on, let me help you pack.”

I know that she meant well, but like it's erm, well if I wasn't on the Pill it'd be Mrs Moon time for me . That is just so wrong saying that.

“Okay,” I sighed in agreement.

“I wish I had a camera,” Sal observed.

“It'd be great blackmail material,” Mand agreed.

“I've got one on my Handy,” I volunteered.

“What's a handy?” Laura asked.

“Wireless telecommunication device?”

“She means her phone,” Darren translated.

Hey! What's with the ‘she' stuff?

The victim was Gethyn who having lost the crisp eating competition was currently sporting a very fetching makeup job (not!) courtesy of Laura along with Claire's skirt after being stripped of his jeans; she had shorts on underneath it for some reason. Quite how things had gotten this far I'm not sure, there had certainly been a very enthusiastic crowd encouraging Geth's humiliation. The photos taken and our victim released.

“Can I take this off now?”

“We said till curfew,” Laura noted.

“It's flippin' draughty,” Geth complained.

“Och yer nesh Sassenach!” Jamie chortled.

“It's alright for you Jock, you're used to wearing skirts.”

“Kilts and ah dinna wear the tartan much.”

“Oo-oo!” Claire offered.

“Please girls? Pretty please?” Geth pleaded.

“What do you reckon girls?” Mand asked.

“We've got the evidence,” I crowed.

“So come on then, let's see,” Sally prompted.

“Yeah yeah, I need to go through the menu.”

Geth, now back in jeans and the other lads were killing something on the games console; the girls and I were on a second cup of cocoa.

“Wish my phone had a camera,” Claire moaned.

“It cost an arm and leg,” I supplied.

“Hah so we knew you weren't human, you had extra bits!” Mand gleefully exclaimed.

“What?”

“You said the phone…”

“Cost an arm and a leg.” I finished rolling my eyes. “Ah, here we go.”

David Bailey I'm not, the images on the tiny screen of my phone weren't exactly high definition either but the novelty factor outweighed the deficiencies in quality. My precious handy, it's one of those new Razors from Motorola™, I got it after I broke the old one after the TdF trip, did the rounds as everyone wanted to see Geth in drag.

“Who's this?” Laura asked, flashing the screen towards me.

Of course there's always this potential, curiosity encouraging a bit of snooping.

“Let's see,” I took the handset from her to look, “just my friends in Warsop.”

“Ooh, me, me, me,” Mand demanded, I told her about the gang at the weekend but I never thought to show her the pics.

“So whose baby is it?” Sal asked looking over Manda's shoulder.

“Bernie, the red head?”

“She's tiny. What's her name?”

“Andrea, she was named for me,” I boasted.

“You aren't the er you know?” Claire suggested.

“Ut uh,” I started to gain my trademark flush, “no I helped deliver her.”

“Really?” Laura queried.

“Yup,” I clarified, “she took half the night to pop out, there was like blood and stuff all over the carpet.”

“Ew, gross!” Sal groaned in disgust .

“So like, she was named after me ‘cos of that.”

“It's kind of cool, I doubt if anyone'll ever be named after me,” Mand sighed.

“I didn't expect it but yeah it is pretty cool,” I agreed.

* Not strictly a cake, rather flaky pastry infused with raisins and topped with sugar to glaze, Chorley cakes are very similar. Messy to eat but a good source of energy for starving cyclists!

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 27.09.12

The following morning's ride was pretty straightforward, no specific aims, no special requirements. Despite that it was a much more disciplined affair than when we started last week, we formed up into a rotation without prompting, no one trying to burst the pack or shying from their turn. That's not to say it wasn't a hard ride, we headed across to Glossop before turning south over some fairly tough climbs to Chapel en le Frith before heading back towards Manchester.

By the time we re-crossed the motorway it was getting quite warm despite or maybe because of some light cloud that only allowed the briefest glimpses of blue above. Whilst Caro had been doing the manager bit on our ride, Steve had been busy back at base. Behind the minibus a sizeable trailer awaited our steeds, our luggage was already loaded, there'd be a seat for everyone on the bus this time.

"Come on you lot, we haven't got all day," Steve cajoled.

"How far is it?" Darren asked as he swung up into the bus.

"Couple of hours, we'll be there for tea time."

Well it's not down at Southampton then.

Tardiness and seats on buses are directly related, you get a crap seat if you are late, I'd made a point of getting my bod out to the bus first.

"Where's Drew?" Mand enquired scanning the car park from the side door.

"Back here."

Bamm! She whacked her head on the ceiling with an impressive amount of force.

"Eww," escaped my lips before anyone else reacted.

“You alright?” Caro pretty much demanded as Mand rubbed her sore noggin.

“Miles away from any vital organs.” Mand joked although she looked a little pale.

“Hmm, what do you think Steve?” Caro asked our other oppressor.

“We should really get her checked out.”

“I'm alright, really,” Mand insisted.

”I guess it can wait until we get to Lilleshall, if you feel sick at all Amanda tell someone straight away.”

“I will,” she agreed, “where's that Bond?” and with that she launched herself towards the back of the bus.

By the time we left Droylsden I was surrounded by the girls leaving the lads to occupy the front section. It's not far from our base out to the M60 and soon we were trundling along Manchester's outer ring road towards Stockport. The sun was now firmly in the sky, the bus quickly warming up despite the air blowers best efforts.

Not that I've been this way that much but I kept a look out for the only landmarks I know hereabouts, Stockport viaduct and the pyramid just after. Of course being sat in the back of a minibus is different to sitting in the front of a car so I missed the former and only just spotted the latter.

“You okay, Drew?” Claire enquired.

“Yeah, just a bit warm.”

“You should take off that jumper.”

“Maybe,” I allowed.

Okay I'll admit it; I'm wearing the baggy jumper so no one notices my boobs. ‘What about when you're riding?' I hear you ask. Well my sports bras do a pretty good job of squishing stuff down, I suppose if you were giving me a close inspection you might wonder why I was wearing some kind of vest but lots of riders do, even in summer. I have got a little paranoid after the weekend though, hence the jumper.

“Anyone want a chewy?” Laura offered.

“Please.”

She lobbed the pack over to me, hmm fresh mint, not my favourite but beggars and all that. I removed a stick and sent the rest back to their owner. How does that work? We're doing like fifty miles an hour but even something like a pack of chewing gum acts as though we are stood still, weird.

“Cheers, Lor.”

“No probs.”

I unwrapped the gum and stuffing it in my mouth returned my attention to the passing scenery. Onto the M56, past the airport turn but instead of following the signs for the m6 we took the Altrincham. After a bit of a loop de loop we crossed the motorway heading towards Knutsford however after a couple of miles we ignored the turn into the town shortly reaching the busy m6.

Not familiar as such but we came along here when Caroline took us to Gran's at the weekend. We joined the south bound traffic and the boredom of motorway travel soon had most of the bus comatose, sally and Laura were deep in conversation over a copy of Cosmo or some such, a card school had the attention of a few of the lads. Boy it's warm; I pulled my jumper off and used it as a makeshift pillow to stop my head bouncing on the window.

“Drew.”

“Um?”

“Wakeup yer daft moo.” Mand's voice whispered with some urgency.

“Wassup? Was sleeping.”

“And showing off your assets,” she hissed.

“What?” I sprang up.

“Shush you'll wake the others.”

My brain still wasn't fully engaged, “others?”

“Rest of the team? Here stick this on,” she instructed thrusting a pile of fleece into my hands.

“Eh?”

“Well unless you want to come out to everyone else you need to cover those babies up.” she gently prodded my chest.

Things came into focus then, I'd stripped off my jumper but I'd only got a bra on underneath - no not some lacy thing, one of my race bras. And I was in view of a good few of my teammates who are not privy to my impending girldom, not good. The fleece turned out to be a gilet type thing, loose enough to disguise my girls but not so heavy to have me overheating.

“Cheers, Mand, I owe you one.”

“I'll collect later.”

“Everything okay back there?” Caro called down the bus.

“Yep.” I called back.

“Not far now, maybe half an hour.”

Almost on cue the engine tone changed as we dropped off the motorway heading, according to the road signs, into Stafford. I can't remember ever having been before so my attention moved back to what was outside of the bus rather than the now stirring occupants. After the steady hum of the motorway the change of engine tone and movements of the bus soon had everyone back to some form of consciousness.

“Where are we?” Claire enquired stretching as much as was possible within the restrictions of the bus.

“Stafford.”

“Oh.”

She was clearly none the wiser not that it helped me either. The traffic was fairly heavy as we headed into the town before following signs for Rugeley and Cannock. I've heard of Cannock, there's some big forest near there where they hold some big premier series race so is this Lea Shore place near Cannock then?

That theory was thrown out of the window when at the third big roundabout we ignored that turn taking instead a road signed for Newport. I've been there, its in Wales, are we somewhere near Wales then? My knowledge of the geography of this area is next to zilch, Welsh Wales is somewhere over here, it's not that far from Gran's but that's about it.

We were now heading out of Stafford only finally leaving the place behind when we passed under what I guess was the m6. As we moved out into the countryside the road, not exactly straight to start with, added some up and down into the mix despite which Steve managed to keep our transport rolling along at a reasonable pace. The bends through some place called Gnosall did finally break our momentum not helped by one of Mr Ferguson's infernal field engines pulling out in front of us!

At the next island I was confused even further, this Newport is apparently not in Wales and further more we joined the A41 towards Wolverhampton, isn't that near Birmingham? A mile further on we left that road to follow a sign for Telford but also for ‘Lilleshall National Sports Centre'*. Is that where we're going? Coulda sworn Caro said Lea Shore.

“I bet that's it.” Paul opined from up the bus.

There was a general murmur of agreement although a seed of doubt was sown when we turned off at the next roundabout.

“Nearly there people.” Caro informed us, “We aren't the only group staying here so please respect that, remember you are representing BC and we'd like be able to come back.”

It's the standard school trip lecture of course; only difference being this isn't school and this isn't the local museum. For some reason that thought conjured up images of that trip to the humanities museum in Bonn a few weeks ago, remember that?

“What're you grinning at, 007?” Claire asked.

“I wasn't.”

“You so were, spill or I'll set M on you.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Mand, the spy is all yours,” Claire announced.

“Geez, Claire you need to take more water with it.” Laura suggested.

“So? What was it, Drew?” Mand pushed.

“Er nothing, might tell you later.”

The bus crunched to a halt in front of a modern block that could have easily have been a mid range hotel.

“Okay everyone, you can get out but please stay by the bus while Caro and I sort out your accreditation,” Steve instructed.

Our leaders headed inside and we all clambered down.

“Some place.” Geth allowed.

“Not many.” Sal agreed.

From where we were stood you couldn't see a great deal, the bulk of a big building could just about be seen through the trees but all about it was clear that the place was looked after by the neatly tended grass and paths. A few bods were walking about; a small group ran past us before heading into the building before us. With the sun pleasantly warming us from above I could have stayed there all afternoon.

“Right people, grab your bags from Steve in the trailer then come inside,” Caro instructed.

We were given our accreditation and installed in our rooms, somehow we all landed singles which at least avoided any issues for me. That out of the way we met in a side room, the sign on the door, 'British Cycling junior development squad' leaving no doubt as to whom we were.

Caro and Steve were talking to a chap in the corporate uniform of the place when we filed in.

“Shut the door please Jamie,” Steve asked.

That done it was down to business.

“Hello everyone and welcome to Lilleshall. I'm Derek Underwood and I'll be looking after you for your stay, we're a bit quiet at the moment what with the games in Athens but that means you've had an accommodation upgrade. Caroline and Steve will tell you what you're programme will be so I'll cut to the important stuff.

You've all got your accreditation, don't lose it, it's your access all areas pass, without it you'll not get fed or get into the facilities. When you are on campus you are free to go pretty much anywhere, we do ask that you respect any closed coaching sessions. We've got a wide variety of athletes staying this week, trampolinists, archers and even ice skaters.” he chuckled a little at that.

“Meals are pretty informal, we use a self service cafeteria, you can eat pretty much any time from seven in the morning until nine in the evening. Your accreditation will be scanned, we don't take money directly and you're on an inclusive deal. There's a TV lounge and games room to keep you occupied in the evenings, we do have a curfew for under eighteens of eleven p.m.

If you have any problems or issues with anything on site you can usually find me in the office by reception or just ask one of the uniformed staff. That's it from me, enjoy your stay.”

“Okay ladies and gentlemen, the evening is yours, front of reception in gym kit at nine am prompt please. Oh yes, I understand chips are available in the cafeteria Darren, just be sensible.” Steve dismissed us.

*One of Team GB's centres of excellence.

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 27.09.12

So what first? Explore or food, my decision was pretty much made for me by Mand.

“Come on , Drew, we can have some fun with this.”

“I don't want fun, I want food.”

“We'll get food but I reckon we can have some fun too.”

By now we were headed towards our accommodation.

“Where are we going and what sort of fun?”

I could smell a rat but I wasn't sure quite how big of one yet.

“My room, you'll see.”

It wasn't far to her room and she quickly dragged me inside.

“So what's so hush hush?” I enquired peering around the room.

“Well they've been using this place as a training camp for the Olympics right?”

“'Kay.” I hadn't given it any thought but I guess given the name it makes sense.

“Guess which teams?”

“No idea, running?”

“Ut uh, try again.”

I tried to think of Olympic type sports.

“Er weightlifting, wrestling?”

“You're hopeless, try gymnastics.”

“Okay and this important because?”

“Because this room was used by one of the gymnasts.”

“Hardly unique if it was their training camp,” I observed.

“True but this was used by one of the girls.”

“I won't ask how you know but your point is?”

“I know because she left a bunch of stuff in the wardrobe.”

“Shouldn't the cleaners have found it? We ought to tell that Derek bloke.”

“I'm guessing they don't clean inside the wardrobes.” She pulled the door open to reveal the contents.

“Geez, how do you forget that lot?”

“I know, she must be a right ditz but I reckon we can have some fun.”

“Some poor sod forgets her kit and we have fun, how pray?”

“We borrow some of this stuff and voila we can play some pranks on the others.”

“When you say we, how exactly do I fit in?”

The rat was getting a bit whiffy, I might be blonde but I'm not stupid.

“We dress up like we're gymnasts, no one'll recognise us, we could pretend to chat up Paul then take him down a peg.”

“You have got to be kidding, there is just no way I'm appearing as a girl here.”

Taking Paul down a bit did appeal of course but I'm here as Drew.

“And what makes you think no one would recognise us?“

“Well no one apart from me has seen you girlied up, do your hair different, a bit of slap and I doubt your own mother'd recognise you.”

“I can assure you she would, I've er been doing the girl bit at home you know.”

“So it should be a cinch.”

“Your hair is too short for one of those cutesy gymnasts.”

“Not if I use this.” She waggled what appeared to be a wig at me.

“A wig?”

“No just a hairpiece, it's a pretty good match too.”

“Apart from me not doing it there's another flaw to your plan, the gymnasts have gone.” I pointed out.

“Not all of them, I saw some when we were checking in.”

“It's a mad plan, I'm gonna find the canteen.” I stated turning for the door.

“Spoilsport,” she accused pouting.

“Look, I like a joke as much as anyone but this is just,” I turned back towards her, “wro-nng.” My voice trailed off as my eyes tried to come to terms with the bare chest bobbing in front of me. “Geez , Mand, put some clothes on.”

“Only if you will.”

“I'm already dressed.” I pointed out.

“You know what I mean, I could take more off.”

“Mand!”

“I'll say you were trying it on.”

“You wouldn't?”

“Want to find out?”

“That's blackmail.”

“Sit still a minute,” Mand instructed, tugging my hair.

“I look ridiculous,” I huffed.

“You look cute with a capital C,” my blackmailer stated.

I look more like a six year old, I've been conned into some stuff over the years but this is just ridiculous. I mean, what self-respecting girl even owns stuff like this, let alone wears it in public?

“There, no one's likely to question your gender let alone recognise you.”

“I hope you're right.” I grumbled.

“I just need a wee and we'll go okay.”

I bet the others have all eaten and are relaxing by now. Whilst Mand attended to matters in the littlest room I took a look in the mirror. I look flippin' stupid, she's put my hair up in bunches tied with pink ribbon, there's a bunch of hair clips and stuff and I'm wearing so much makeup I need a crane to keep my eyes open! The worst bit though is the outfit, a bright yellow crop top with a stupid pink shrug cardigan on top, down below I've got the shortest, tightest shorts you've ever seen in bright pink although I did manage to get a pair of dance tights on underneath. At least the shoes are pretty normal, Mand's pink and white check plimmys.

Mind you Mand has gone all out on herself too, a glittery purple leotard with a clashing acid green ra ra skirt. With the hairpiece I had to admit she did look quite different, the heavy makeup helped but I reckon she still looked like herself.

“Come on Drew, time's a wastin'.”

“Do we have to?” I whined.

“You're not getting out of it that easy Drew Bond.”

“Okay but like don't call me Drew out there.”

“Good point, how about Lucy?”

“You've got to be kidding, how about er Samantha?”

“Okay Sammi, I'll be Lily.”

“Lily?”

“Why not? It's the sort of prissy name gymnast's have.”

“If you say so.” My stomach gave a rumble, it was now after six and I need food regularly.

I felt a right narna walking through the complex to the cafeteria, we passed a couple of other people on the way but they just smiled at us. There were actually quite a few people in the canteen when we got there including to my dismay some of our lot.

“Hmm, that pie smells good,” Mand noted.

“Well you can forget that, no gymnast'd be seen eating meat pie, think salad.” I suggested. I have to admit to fancying the pie myself.

“Bleh, I guess you're right Dr…mantha, maybe we can get a pud.”

“I hope so Lily.”

The salad was self-service so at least I was able to get a decent portion; there was onion soup too so despite not being pie I had a reasonable meal to tackle.

“Interesting look girls.” The girl scanning id's observed.

“Er thanks,” I squeaked.

“Enjoy your meal,”

“Samantha,” I quickly supplied, hoping she hadn't read the cards.

“Samantha.”

She had, I knew it, we're busted already.

“Thanks.”

I'm gonna have to work at this conversation lark.

We grabbed a couple of beakers of Sprite® and found a table by the big picture windows that looked out over the archery butts*.

“So far so good,” Mand or should I say Lily, stated between mouthfuls of soup.

“'S'alright for you, you don't have two pineapples on your head, I look such a stupid airhead.”

“You look fine.”

“We stand out like a sore thumb.”

“Stop complaining, your salad's going cold.”

I was halfway through my pile of grated carrot and lettuce when I nearly had a heart attack.

“Gaby? It is you, what are you doing here?”

“Eh?” I managed dropping the contents of my fork into my lap, “oh sugar!” I nearly tipped the table up in my haste to brush the food from my crotch!

“Sammi!” Mand admonished.

When I finally recovered I looked up at the newcomer who was stood with a big grin on her face.

“Sammi?”

“It's a long story Jess.” I sighed for it was none other than Jess Simmonds my skater friend from Sheffield.

“You two know each other?” Lily pointlessly queried.

“We first met about two years ago right Gab?” Jess replied pulling a chair out to join us at our table.

“About that, how come you're here? You never said the other week.”

“UK Skating boot camp, I got a last minute invite, what about you, I thought you were going to Manchester and what's with the outfits?”

“We've been in Manchester but we're down here for a week, as for this getup, it's Lily here's idea.”

“That's an unusual name.”

“Er yeah, Dr..am who is this?”

“Oh sorry, Jess Simmonds meet Manda de Vreen.”

“Shush, you'll blow our cover!” Mand whispered.

“Stupid idea anyhow, so there a rink here Jess?”

“Rink?” Mand queried.

“Ice rink, Jess does figure skating,” I filled in.

“No not ice, we use roller blades in one of the halls but mostly we're doing more gymnastic type stuff for flexibility and stuff, so what's with this Sammi stuff , Gab?”

“Well Lily here thought we could pretend to be gymnasts and pretend to chat up this lad on our squad who thinks he's gods gift.”

“Won't he recognise you? I did after all.”

“That's what I said.”

“Bum,” Mand sighed.

“Hey, I know, why don't I do it? As long as I don't have to dress like a wardrobe accident,” grinned Jess.

* We did some stuff about Agincourt back when I was at Warsop College; we had to find out all about archery, the butts are where you practice.

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 03.10.12

Jess fetched herself a drink while Mand and I tackled the salad.

"So does Jess know you are Drew?"

"Er not exactly."

"She thinks you're a girl like 100%." Mand accused.

"I guess."

Which of course now meant a further complication for our time here at Lilleshall.

"So," Jess started when she rejoined us, "what's this Paul look like?"

If I hadn't spent the last eighteen months pretending to be a girl I would never have believed just how vengeful they can be. So okay there was all that stuff with Jules back when we lived in Warsop but really, they are far worse than lads.

"Gab?"

"Um?"

"I was just saying to Lily that we should do it tomorrow?"

"Er okay." I hadn't been paying much attention as I mused about Goth Girl's vengeance.

"So I'll come to your room Lil and the three of us will come down together."

"We'll sow the seeds tomorrow, he's so full of himself he won't be able to resist." Mand pretty much cackled.

"You guys looked round yet?" Jess enquired.

"Thanks to this one's hare- brained idea we've not had a chance yet," I sighed.

"Come on then, I'll give you the tuppeny tour," Jess enthused.

"Kewl," Mand muttered .

"Er sure." I agreed before catching sight of my ridiculous reflection - well I guess no one's likely to recognise me.

"Come on then, time's a wastin'."

"We need to clear up first." I observed. Well back home its expected.

"Gaby Bond you are such a girl!" Mand exclaimed.

Jess, having been here for a few days already, knew her way around the campus pretty well and so we saw a lot more over the following couple of hours than we would have stumbling around on our own. Lilleshall House started its life as a hunting lodge so it's not like some huge country house although it's still pretty big; these days it's used for conferences and even weddings. Bit pretentious if you ask me still the gardens are pretty nice for the photos, well not like the Englisher Gärten in Munich that we used for Marguerite's pics – I sound like a right snob!

I mentioned the archery butts by the cafeteria before, there's also an indoor range, I think it gets used for other stuff too as there was a pile of crash mats by the door. The main equipment gym is open to the public; it was quite busy with an assortment of wannabe sports persons when we passed through. A decent sized pool, not competition size but reasonable, saunas and a weight room could all have been in any municipal sports centre.

The main hall was split into smaller areas tonight using those big net curtains, a couple of badminton courts, a noisy game of five-a-side and a senior citizens keep fit class were in session. Shower and changing facilities of course then actually under the accommodation block several smaller halls set up with assorted gym equipment and lastly what Jess described as the dance studio.

“I can't see why we've come here.” Mand mentioned when we returned to the cafeteria for drinks.

“Maybe it's a new discipline, cyclo archery?” Jess suggested.

“Or like cycle gymnastics,” I put in.

“Guys?”

We weren't the only ones in the food emporium even at this late hour, it was well after nine by now, Caro and Steve were deep in conversation over in one corner, what I'm guessing were skate coaches occupied another couple of tables and surprise surprise, Paul Redding and Sally Barnes were sat across the room from us.

“That's him Jess,” I pointed out to her.

“With the girl?”

“Sally Barnes, he's probably spinning some yarn of cycling prowess,” Mand supplied.

“You still want to do this?” I asked.

“I need some entertainment and like I said, I hate gob-a-lots.”

I hope this doesn't get out of hand.

Caroline watched as the three girls sat across the cafeteria chatted and giggled. The only other group staying at the moment were ice skaters and in a sporting context they looked like they fit that bill, slim build but well muscled – the little one with the daft hair style was even showing off some well toned abs. ‘Looks a bit like Drew from some angles,' she mused.

“So I reckon if we put Bond in as designated sprinter?” Steve suggested.

“Er yeah, do you think that girl over by the window looks like him?”

“The blonde? Could be related I suppose, the one on the other side looks a bit like Vicky. Why?”

“Just a daft thought.”

“You're thinking about plan B aren't you?”

“I can't help it Steve, cycling is what the kid does – extremely well, it's not like we're exactly blessed with a big pot of potential Merckx or Millars. He can go all the way, how many fifteen year olds are good enough to beat Olympic champions?”

“It wasn't exactly proper competition,” Steve pointed out.

“I didn't see Vic or Chris holding anything back.”

“I'll give you that,” Steve conceded.

“He's a precocious talent Steve, this doesn't go further right?”

“Sure.” Steve agreed realising Caro had her reasons.

“Last weekend, down at his Gran's well the pair of them rode a twenty five.”

“They were supposed to be resting,” Steve noted.

“Partly my fault, I should have set a proper programme but that's as maybe, the kid did the fastest time, made the local speed king look a bit of a prawn.”

“Oh dear, go on what'd he do?”

“56.47, course record to boot.”

“Not the E72 * then.”

“It was described to me as ‘sporting', it's used for a hilly event in the pre season silliness.”

“Sugar, how'd de Vreen fair?”

“1.00.11 I think she said, just over the hour at least.”

“Not bad, I knew she had potential.”

“That's just it though Steve, Mandy, Sal, Claire, Laura – they all have great potential, I'm sure they can each deliver the goods. But Drew, let's face it, he's been making mincemeat of the lot of them, gods gift over there is a year older but Bond is in another class.”

“The German system is better than ours.”

“Yeah and Drew is the de facto champion of Germany, you've seen the tapes, maybe he lacks some maturity but talent wise…”

“So what happens if we have to go to plan B? We might end up with no one to take forward to the ultimate goal, that what you're saying?”

“Worse really, the kid'll be on his, her own, the other girls are just not in the same league, yes I know they'll improve but so will Drew.”

“I'd not thought of that, you mentioned this to the boss?”

“Not in as many words.”

“We need a plan C,” Steve stated.

“Short of doing a Zola ** with his German team mates I don't know what.”

“You reckon we could do that?”

“I think the German's might have something to say about it,” Caro chuckled.

“Guess we'd best get our thinking caps on then.”

The diminutive figure that sparked their conversation walked past towards the exit with her friends still deep in conversation.

“I tell you, it was at least this big.” She threw her arms wide.

“Give over Gab, you'll be telling us you danced with Prince William next.” The tallest of the three stated.

Caroline shook her head, girls!

“See you tomorrow Gab, Lil.”

“Night Jess.”

“Tomorrow,” Mand added.

We headed towards our own quarters.

“Nite Mand.”

“Where're you going?”

“Bed? Big bouncy thing you sleep in?”

“I know what a bed is dumbo but aren't you forgetting somethingSammi ?”

“Sammi?”

“Talk about give blondes a bad name,” Mand sighed.

Of course it clicked what she was on about then, “Just testing.”

“Yeah and I'm Vicky Beckham, come on let's get out of this stuff."

To be completely truthful I'd pretty much forgotten how I was dressed over the last couple of hours, now as I started to divest myself of the silly outfit I started to colour up.

“You wouldn't really have dobbed me in would you?”

“What do you take me for Drew?”

“Just checking.”

“Let me get that stuff off your eyes, I bet you haven't got any remover.”

“Duh, why would I? What time is it?”

“Ten past eleven.”

“Sugar, the curfew.”

My room wasn't far away and it was only just turned eleven wasn't it? I crept as quietly as I could, letting out a huge sigh of relief when I closed the door behind me.

Steve checked the corridor; he could've sworn he heard a door go. There was a thin line of light peeking from under a couple of doors but it looked like everyone was where they should be. The last door was Drew Bond's, he listened for a moment, no TV or radio, the kid must be reading or something.

His conversation with Caroline kept coming back to him, “We might end up with no one to take forward to the ultimate goal, that what you're saying?” “Worse really, the kid'll be on his, her own, the other girls are just not in the same league.” They really did need a plan C but quite what he wasn't sure, trying to keep the kid in the male ranks might well be taken out of their hands, after all in theory the rules only forbade males competing as female not the other way around.

A few metres away Caroline was mulling over the same issue, could Drew take up the mantle and fulfill all the promise. Over the years there'd been numerous great hopes for British cycling, whilst some had seen a degree of success, Sherwen, Millar, Yates, Boardman none had been able to move up from good to great, Millar coming closest but still not reaching the ultimate level. Of course Drew wasn't quite the only youngster being groomed by BC but he truly was streets ahead of his British peers.

The kid'll make it whatever, she was sure of that, but despite all the talk of sexual equality as far as most sports are concerned the big prizes, the greatest accolades go to the men. She'd fought to even the playing field within BC, with some success it has to be said, on the track both sexes got the same backing, the same support but the road is different.

Jen was a great role model for the girls but the rarified atmosphere of the women's pro ranks was like local park football to Premier division. Drew's Mum might be good but in the men's ranks she'd rank as peloton fodder. Held to that level by gender would most likely stifle the kid's talent, yes he or rather she might well take the honours at the Feminin like his mother, possibly take a world title or two but there would always be that ‘what if' question.

Drew put down his German history textbook, it might be summer vacation but he still had homework to do for Herr Ansbacher. Why couldn't German's stop bickering about Bavaria this, Prussia that? It was his home now so he ought to know some of this stuff; still it could wait until tomorrow.

The book was barely on the bedside table before he zonked out, light still blazing.

* Famous fast course in Essex.

** South African runner Zola Budd famously changed nationality to British to gain Olympic elegibility

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 04.10.12

“So where did you two get to last night?” Claire enquired as we queued for breakfast.

“All over,” Mand supplied.

“Never saw you in here,” she pushed.

“Didn't see you either,” Mand noted.

“That pie was alright, eh?” I added.

“Not bad, not much kidney in it though.”

“It was steak and kidney?” I clarified.

“Course.”

“Well there was none in mine at all,” I observed. Course there wasn't, I had salad!

“So what do you think we're doing this morning?” Mand diverted.

“Some sort of gym work?” Claire suggested.

“Probably,” I agreed, “oh yeah you never guess what.”

“What?”

“We got talking to this girl right.”

“One of the gymnastic lot?” Claire interrupted.

“They're ice skaters actually,” Mand informed her.

“Yeah well anyway, she was asking about Reddy.”

“She knew his name?”

“Course not, nah she saw him in here, I reckon she fancies him.”

“Oh my God! I hope you warned her off.”

“We tried,” Manda stated.

“Wasn't interested in what we said,” I added glibly.

“Poor moo.”

Unlike last night, breakfast in the cafeteria was pretty busy so we'd been queuing whilst spreading the gossip. Finally though we got to hit the brekkie buffet, you could have a fry-up but it was cooked to order so most people loaded their trays with a much more continental meal. My eyes lit up, this is more like it!

Most of our party gravitated towards one corner of the room.

“Flippin' ' eck Drew, you got enough on there?” Darren enquired.

Well okay it looked a lot but really it was just a bit of this and that, fruit salad with yoghurt, a couple of rolls, scrambled egg and a glass of juice. Bum, no coffee.

“Here ya go boss man, coffee,” Claire plonked a pot of hot aromatic liquid next to my plate.

“Ooh, cheers C,” I enthused.

“So,” she started, sitting down, “which one is it?”

“Which skater gurl has the hots for Reddy?”

“Began with a J I think,” Mand suggested.

“They're all sat by the window,” Claire observed.

I knew that already.

“That one on the end,” I supplied.

“Hmm, not bad looking, maybe she's a bit slow?”

“He was trying to chat Sal up last night,” Mand mentioned.

“So that's where she went.”

“He must have something,” I offered.

“Okay people.” Steve stated at a volume that only just exceeded the teen gabble going on in front of him, it took several moments before we quieted enough for him to go on.

“Thank you. Today you get a day off…” before anyone had a chance to comment he continued, “from the bikes. We've spoken about adding variety to our training and today we'll be exploring some options off the bike that can add to our overall finesse. We neither expect nor suggest that you include everything into your programmes but we'd like you to consider adding at least one of today's elements to the mix. Yes Jamie?”

“Is this on top of the riding or instead Steve?”

“That will depend on individual circumstances but currently the thinking is a ratio of five to one, so five hours bike work to one hour off bike. We can talk about how to incorporate it as we go round, we'll start with a bit of a jog, loosen up and prepare our bodies for further activity.”

“I hate running,” I whispered to Claire who stood next to me.

“Me too," she agreed.

“Right, gentle jog, I don't want to see any Steve Cram's.” Steve instructed before turning to start running himself.

The pace was indeed more than walk but less than run, just enough to prevent most conversation. Some thoughtful individual had laid a gravel path around the grounds; we followed its twisting progress through the trees around grassed playing areas before looping back towards the Hall and the main complex. I think, no I am pretty fit but not for running, no way do I want to take it up, remember the Dernau Weinberg Tauglichkeitweg* episode?

At a guess the lap was about a mile and despite some grumbling we started a second circuit. How people can do this for enjoyment I'll never know, my calves and feet were already starting to complain and we've not been going twenty minutes yet. Although we had started in one group and there was still a fairly compact group at the end of the lap we now started to string out.

As you might expect we were being led by several of the lads although Laura was hanging in there too with some tenacity. Steve pulled the oldest coaching trick in the book, the peel off to encourage the slower runners that covers up them getting their breath back. I'd quickly assumed a comfortable enough pace and I resigned myself to trotting around a bit longer.

By the end of the second lap the gap between the front and me was easily a couple of minutes, I think there was only Claire and Sally behind me.

“Ding ding, come on last lap!” Caro encouraged when we reached the end of lap two.

“Sod!” I mentioned to myself.

Okay so I'm no great shakes at running, I knew that already. It's not like I was out of puff but my legs just don't enjoy the impacts, not just my legs, my booblets were in a continuous jiggle despite the tight sports bra. When I eventually finished the third circuit my shins ached and I was greeted by the peanut gallery.

“Something that Bond's not good at!” a smug Redding pronounced.

I managed a halfhearted wave of dismissal before collapsing onto the grass to catch my breath.

“Dinna take any notice o' him Drew,” Jamie instructed.

“I wasn't,” gasp, “going to.”

“You alright Drew?” Steve asked.

“Just about,” I wheezed.

Steve explained what we might gain by including running into our training programme – and the potential pit falls. The run itself had only taken about thirty-five minutes but it was some after ten before we headed for our second activity of the day. Caro led us through the complex and down to one of the smaller rooms that was furnished as a dance studio.

“Hi, I'm Paula and I'll be taking your dance session today,” a middle-aged woman stated, “sit yourselves down with a bit of space around you.”

“Dance?” Geth queried plonking himself onto the floor.

“Yes dance Mr.Jones.” Caroline agreed in a firm tone. “Paula has kindly agreed to put you lot through your paces so do as she asks please.”

“We don't have to wear those short skirt things do we?” Paul put in with a hint of fear in his voice.

“Only if you really want to Mr. Redding.” Caroline grinned, “Paula?”

“Thank you Caroline, just to put everyone's minds at rest, we are not going to be doing ballet or ballroom dancing but we will be getting a thorough workout. Okay, let's see what we have, anyone done any dance before?”

We're teenagers okay, never admit to anything that could be used to get us to do stuff.

“Girls? No ballet classes? Bit of a bop at the school dance?”

“I did ballet for a few years,” Claire admitted.

“No budding John Travolta's boys?”

“We used to do like Highland dancing in junior school, not that ah canna get ma head aroon the steps,” Jamie offered.

“I've done a bit, at weddings and stuff,” I allowed.

“I'm guessing,” Paula began, “that at some time you've all shaken a feather or two but who wants to admit it? It's not exactly something people admit to these days; most people's perception is of either highbrow ballet or shuffling about to Snoop Dog. Dancing can be so much more, disco, line dancing, folk like our Scots friend here, formal at weddings and functions, even cheerleading is a form of dance.

These days we use dance not just for entertainment but also for fitness and what our European neighbours call wellbeing. Why dance? Well it helps with co-ordination, general condition but also with muscle tone, flexibility and discipline. We've seen some prominent sports people using dance in their training regimes recently, you as cyclists are however a first for me.

So, today's session is designed to introduce you to dance as a training aid. We'll start with some stretching, can you pair up, find someone of a similar height if you can, girl or boy I'm not bothered.”

And so we started our first BC dance studio. I know I was a little light on the facts but I do have some pride you know. Being on the small end of the scale I ended up with Manda. Of course when I was in the Foresters and more lately in the Ahr Garde we do plenty of stretching exercises so I'm pretty flexible.

Paula took us through our paces for about twenty minutes; I was soon relaxing and almost flouting my suppleness.

“Urgh,” Mand complained, “talk about slave master.”

“You'll soon loosen up.”

“What if I don't want to?”

“Can't make you,” I shrugged.

“For someone who only dances at weddings you seem to know an awful lot about this stuff.”

“You kind of pick it up I guess.”

“Hmm,” she allowed.

Clearly the stretching was only a prelude to the dance class proper and I must admit to wondering what Paula had in store for us. In the event it wasn't so much dancing as learning, memorizing steps, not exactly line dancing but not far off. As you might expect, the lads made a big show of making out they weren't enjoying it.

An hour later we were hot, sweaty and tired.

“Okay, lunchtime,” Caroline announced.

“‘Bout time,” Mand groaned.

“Proper food,” I emphasised as we headed for the door.

“Okay girls?” Paula queried.

“Er yeah,” Mand allowed.

“And you young lady, clearly do more than dance at weddings,” she suggested.

Geez, I'm glad everyone else has already left.

“Er kind of,” I admitted.

“Not ballet I think, hmm, jazz?” she looked intently at me,“No, something more ordered, cheering?”

“A bit.”

“Methinks more than just a bit,” she pushed.

“The school squad.”

“Ha! I knew it. And I bet you still do some.”

“Not cheering, I sort of fill in with the Garde.”

“Garde?”

“It's a German thing, bit like a cross between cheering and line dancing.”

“I thought you had an accent.”

“We've got another session next week, you up for giving me a hand?”

Do I have a choice?

“Er sure.”

* Fitness route see book 7 chapter 35

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 08.10.12

“Wondered where you'd got to.” Claire mentioned as I caught the rest up.

“Talking to Paula, ” I allowed.

That wasn't apparently enough to chase the subject fortunately.

“We find out who's riding this weekend after lunch,” Manda reminded us .

“How'd you know that?”

“Steve and Caroline were looking at the lists while we were prancing about.”

“It was this time last week,” Claire observed.

I guess it was.

The lunch menu avoided what I'd describe as ‘main meal' stuff; so quiche, salad, pasta and baked potatoes made the bulk of the offerings, I settled on the Tagliatelle carbonara with a mixed side salad.

“Wish I'd gone for that,” Mand looked enviously at my plate .

“What's up with that?” I poked my fork towards her spud.

“Bit bland.”

Well I guess it did look rather er plain, a splodge of tuna decorating a crispy skinned tuber.

“You could whack some mayo on it,” I passed her a sachet I'd picked up for my salad.

“Cheers.”

A bunch of girls noisily descended on the cafeteria, skaters but no Jess.

“Looks like word has got to Paul,” I mentioned quietly.

Indeed our National Champion was being less than subtle in his observation of the skater gurlz.

“Hook, line and sinker,” Mand agreed with a grin.

Telling Claire this morning was as good as handing him a note in person, she's a full on gossip, I bet he'd heard before we finished running!

My lunch was okay, I've had better but it was passable, wouldn't have minded a slice of cake but that did look terrible.

“People, ten minutes in the conference room,” Sgt Brown instructed.

As we'd all pretty much finished eating we were all assembled well before the deadline.

“Ye shud get a ride this week Drew,” Jamie offered.

“Hope so,” I agreed, Caro said I would be and Mand too.

“Wonder where it'll be?” Darren mused.

“Somewhere obscure no doubt,” Geth suggested.

“Back of beyondsbury,” Mand dropped in.

Our musings were interrupted by the arrival of our leaders.

“Everyone here?” Caro enquired.

With just twelve of us a head count takes seconds.

“Right, I'm sure you've all worked out that it's team pick day,” there was a general rumble of agreement so Caro continued, “unlike last weekend when Drew and Amanda missed riding this week everyone will be competing. On Saturday some of you will be travelling to Northampton to ride the two stage Nene Valley Cup, a short time trial in the morning with a road race in the afternoon.

The ‘B' event for the rest of you is the Cosford Cup on Sunday, who's riding what you'll find out in a few minutes. Before that though we, Chris, Steve and myself, thought you might appreciate some insight into our decisions.” She paused to gauge our reaction.

I'm pretty sure most of us had some idea of how the week ha d gone but hearing the boss's point of view will be interesting.

“Okay then, a few general points. We know that last weekend was something of a baptism of fire for some of you, whilst the results have been taken into account it's what you have done this week, the commitment you've each shown which has been the biggest influence in our decisions.

There is a chance that some of you may be going home next week based on this weekend's performances and how you have performed over the last couple of weeks. That doesn't mean that anyone is a failure, it won't bar you from future inclusion in the programme, we hope it will allow anyone so affected to re-assess their commitment to racing at the highest level.”

Once again she paused to allow the portent of those sentences to sink in. I didn't think I was in danger but even I could see that one or two, possibly more weren't 100% committed to the team.

“We'll have a guest rider in the team on Sunday, that rider is as keen to get on the squad as you lot, I hope, are to remain so. He may join us regardless if he lives up to the hype so I hope anyone riding at Cosford will welcome him to the team.”

Steve meanwhile had been transferring names from paper to the big wipe board on the back wall.

“Everyone okay?” Caro queried.

We all waited mutely for her to continue.

“Right then, I think Steve's just about done, once you've seen your selections you've got twenty minutes before our next session which is in the main sports hall.”

“Okay everyone, all yours,” Steve stated as he capped his marker pen.

Of course it was a mad bundle of bodies each searching the lists for their ride.

“Saturday,” Mand stated happily.

“Cosford,” Claire sighed.

I scored Saturday too, along with Jamie, Geth and Laura, five of us, which left seven for Sunday, plus the ‘guest' Caro mentioned split into two teams of four. A two stage eh? I bet I got the gig because of last Sunday and a four-lap uber crit to follow, yeah I've had some success on the short circuits, Aachen and Trier are particularly memorable.

“Badminton?” Redding almost sneered .

“Yes, badminton Mr Redding,” Steve Brown confirmed.

“What's that got to do with riding?” Reddy pressed.

I must admit I was asking myself the same question.

“Who said it has? You can sit it out if you want,” Steve observed in tone that left little doubt as to the black mark that course of action would attract.

“Just curious,” Our self-proclaimed spokesperson said with a little more circumspection .

I'm actually quite good at badminton*, Jules was much better of course, at least until she gave it up for boys! Anyhow my point is I was quite looking forward to bashing the shuttlecock around the court a bit. We had two courts and the bosses had drawn up a sort of league where everyone played each other, best of three.

The supplied racquets weren't exactly top of the line but they were at least well strung, after a few minutes knockabout I had the feel of my example. Badminton isn't like tennis where strength is as important as technique; in fact to some extent lighter faster players have the advantage on court.

Thwack!

Toink!

Poink!

Sal was my first victim, Darren my second, John from over Norfolk way just got the better of me in my third match but I took out Jamie, Gethyn, Darren, Claire and Mand in straight games before losing to Laura. Steve took me to the third game that left me with Reddy.

“Get him Drew!” Mand encouraged.

Reddy sneered at me, “Come on, Bond, let's see how good you are against an expert.”

Ex-something, gob a lot.

His game was nothing to do with skill and all to do with fairly aimless slamming, my more delicate approach drew him into the net which stifled his technique but allowed me to deal the killer blow almost at will.

Toink!

Plink!

Thwack!

Yes! Game one to me. My opponent looked at me daggers as we changed ends, got you now show off.

He was more tenacious than I thought, smashing the second set straight without me scoring a single point, bum. No way is he gonna win the decider, no sirree, not if I'm playing.

Plink!

Twank!

Poink!

Tink!

Thwack!

Yay! First point to the Drewmeister.

It was tooth and nail, his power drives kept me on my toes, my more delicate touch pulled him into the net. It was tight but when I won the forth point it was pretty much all over. He seemed to sense his impending defeat and I was able to take the last point with only two thwacks of the ‘cock.

I hadn't really been keeping score but my 9-2 tally was well clear of Laura's 7-4 and Reddy's 6-5. Bond wins again!

The badminton had eaten into our last session by quite a chunk so Steve decreed a slight change of plan.

“Okay you lot, six aside, two girls each, fifteen minutes each way.”

Football! Yeugh! As you might guess I'm not exactly a fan of the game, maybe rugby but most footballers struggle to sign their name on the stupidly big contracts.

Much to my surprise I enjoyed the game even if my side lost 3-1.

“Bike kit in the morning,” Caro instructed, “nine o'clock out front."

Today has been – different. Intense at times, exhausting at others and great fun for a good lump of the day.

“What time's Jess coming?” I asked Mand as we headed towards the accommodation block.

“A bit after six she said.”

“'Kay, I'll get showered and come up to yours."

I'm sure Jess has a plan for operation Reddy; I don't think I want to know all the details. My legs felt more than a little rubbery when I climbed into the shower, the hot water only slowly easing the knotted muscles. I threw on a clean T and hauled my cargo shorts up into place before trotting along to Mand's room.

“No way!”

“Why not?” Mand posed.

“Because,” I insisted.

“Oh come on Drew, no one recognised you last night.”

“Pure luck, where's Jess anyhow?”

Right on cue there was a rap at the door.

“Who is it?” Mand enquired.

“Jess.”

My host opened the door to admit our protagonist in chief.

“Whoa!” I exclaimed.

“What she said,” Manda added.

“You like?” Jess queried, “Think Redding will go for them?”

The ‘them' in question were a rather impressive pair of boobs that Jess had sprouted since breakfast; they must be like a D cup.

“They are erm quite … big.”

“Glad they're not on me,” Mand noted.

“They do get in the way some, you going like that Gab?”

“No she's not, I've got her stuff in the bathroom.”

How can I refuse now? Anyhow I want to see how Reddy reacts to Jessie's Big chest.

“Come on Gab, we need to shake a leg to catch him in the canteen.”

* See Book 2, chapter 16

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 09.10.12

Well it wasn't as outrageously bad as the night before, Jess was to be the centre of attraction this evening after all. Still I could've done without looking like a reject from Fame although I was thankful that it did a thorough job of offering a smoke screen as to my identity. Manda was also suitably toned down leaving Jess to dominate our threesome. We set off to eat - I am so not missing the pie tonight!

Caroline took a deep breath and hit the dial button, whichever way you looked at it this was gonna be a difficult conversation. The number picked up and started to ring.

Brring Brring, Brring Brring, "Tag, Bond."

"Er Dave? Caroline."

"Oh hi Caro, what's he done now?"

"Nothing that I'm aware of in fact I'd say that he's gelled better this week."

"So what 's up? ”

“I, well we, that is Chris wanted me to ask."

"Come on Caro, spit it out."

"You remember what we talked about last week?"

"How number one son was pissing on the rest of the team? Your words not mine."

"Yeah well I could have used better language."

Dave chuckled, "Go on."

"Well, don't take this the wrong way but I need to clone him."

"Clone him?"

"Well we could do with a dozen Drew's if we are gonna progress on the world stage, it's a bit selfish I know but funding is up for review after the worlds and without a result and some progress things could go down the pan."

"Even with the Olympic gongs?"

"Oh I think the track side is safe but our hopes on the road are a tad more ambitious."

"Bit of an understatement," Dave observed, "so what is it you need from me?"

"Well Chris wants you on the staff."

"Not gonna happen Caro, at least not now."

"I told him that, no that wasn't the real question. What you've accomplished with your girls the last two seasons, well to put it bluntly, we want some of that."

"But I just said..." Dave was confused now.

"We want to apprentice a rider or perhaps two with you, there said it."

"Apprentice?"

“Uh huh, we've obviously only been kicking ideas around so far so the actual mechanics would need to be thrashed out.”

“You realise the decision isn't mine to make?”

“Of course Dave, I didn't mean to put you on the spot, boss man wanted me to sound you out in principle .”

“I'm still listening.”

“Well, we were thinking of our rider riding as a stageur*, we'd cover their living expenses and so on, you supply the coaching.”

“You've got a rider in mind?”

“A couple that we have high hopes for, Laura Burke and Amanda de Vreen.”

“That the girl Josie was telling me about?”

“Amanda, yep that's her. So what do you think?”

“Between us I think it's a great idea, but why just the girls?”

“Truth?”

“Truth.”

“We don't think that any of the lads currently on the squad are ready or capable of stepping up, we'll get a better idea after seeing young Josh ride this weekend.”

“He has come on in leaps and bounds,” Dave observed.

“I've seen his palmares Dave, if he performs the same way here he could get bumped onto the squad.”

“I won't have any riders left, what with you lot and the German Federation!”

“So um, what do you think, the apprentice thing?”

“I'll need run it past George Müller, I'm seeing him tomorrow, if he agrees in principle I'll need a proposal in writing, when are we looking at? If I'm gonna work any magic we should start foundation work in the autumn.”

“We thought that, too.”

“I'm not promising anything Caro, I've an idea or two myself as well, leave it with me, I'll see what I can do.”

“Thanks Dave, I couldn't ask for more, well I could ask I suppose.”

“The answer is still no.”

“It was worth a try.”

“So what has my star rider been up to?”

The conversation moved onto Drew, his mother and some general chit chat before Dave ended the call.

‘That went better than I thought it might,' Caro mused as she closed her phone, ‘much better.'

“I cannot believe we got away with that.” I stated once the three of us were clear of the cafeteria.

“The look on his face!” Mand threw in.

Oh yeah, you missed the dinner fun and games, I'd best fill you in…

“These seats taken?” Jess enquired with a thrust of her bosom.

Paul's eyes were out on stalks.

“I er no,” he stammered out.

“Kewl, ladies.” Jess motioned for Mand and me to sit to either side of her.

I slid my tray of culinary delights onto the table, oh yeah it's chicken and broccoli pie with ‘seasonal' veggies, peas and carrots to you and me.

Once seated Jess started the introductions, “I'm Jess and these two are Lily and Sammi.”

“Er Paul, Paul Redding.” He managed to get out, his eyes still fixed on Jess' chest.

“So Paul Redding, what are you doing here?”

And so the flirting started, a couple of times I nearly choked on my food, Jess was using every trick in the book and the poor sop fell deeper and deeper into the trap.

“See you later handsome.”

“By the pond?” Reddy confirmed.

“Uh huh, come on girls.” Jess instructed, which is where we came in.

“I can't believe he went for it,” Jess giggled.

“I think he went for your hooters,” Mand observed.

“You sure this is okay?” I enquired.

“It's not like I'm really gonna put out for him,” Jess replied .

“I know that but…”

“He's got it coming Gaby,” Manda emphasised.

“Come on let's get ready, you need to fetch your camera Gab,” Jess mentioned.

“Okay,” I agreed with a bit of a sigh. “See you in a few.”

Steve pulled his door shut, why Chris had to come down tonight? A movement down the corridor caught his attention, that someone at the Bond kid's room? He slid into the alcove by the door, the figure unaware of being watched. The small figure carefully closed the door then scurried towards Steve's hiding place, the dim corridor lighting revealing one of the girls he'd seen chatting with Paul Redding earlier.

Why he felt the need to hide he wasn't sure but he pressed himself further into the shadows as the girl scurried past clearly intent in getting elsewhere without discovery. ‘Well maybe the kid has more balls than I thought, we didn't exactly say they couldn't have the opposite sex in their rooms, but I never thought Bond would be the one to push the limits.'

“I hope no one saw me.”

“It's your room.” Jess observed.

“I er yeah.” I could hardly tell Jess at this point that not only do I normally answer to Drew but I'm not a girl either could I – not that she'd believe me.

Mand was already dressed down in a pair of cycling tights and a dark jumper.

“Here Gab, stick these on.”

‘These' were her denim pedal pushers and a black skinny rib top; at least it was better than what ‘Sammi' gets to wear. Jess meanwhile was down to bra and knickers and searching for stuff inside the bag she'd brought to Mand's room earlier.

“Here we go, what do you think?” she held up a sparkly black little number that would show more than it concealed.

“Geez Jess, I hope you've got a licence for that.” Manda almost choked.

“Fully paid up,” she almost giggled.

Thirty minutes later and my feet were falling asleep.

“Do you reckon he's coming?”

“Course he is,” Mand whispered back, “in fact, talk of the devil.”

I looked past where Jess was sat on the wall swinging her feet, sure enough the figure approaching was our victim. Mand and I were hidden behind some shrubbery only a few feet from Jess, which is why my feet were losing feeling.

“You ready Jess?” Mand hissed.

She nodded her head; we're not here are we?

“Heya.” Reddy casually mentioned.

“Heya, yourself,” Jess returned sliding from her perch.

You don't really want me to repeat the next twenty minutes of inane conversation between the pair so we'll cut to the chase.

“Let's see then,” Jess prompted.

That was my cue to get the camera ready to go.

“You mean out here?” Paul queried.

“Where else? We can't have boys in our rooms and I bet you can't have girls in yours.”

“Er right,” he agreed.

I can't remember Caro or Steve mentioning the subject but I guess it was kinda implied.

“So let's take a shufti big boy.”

“Alright.”

What happened next was over in less than a minute, a clearly excited Paul junior was released, Jess screamed, my camera flash went off which luckily temporarily blinded Paul.

“What the…” Reddy stated.

“Gotcha,” Jess gleefully announced before legging it around the pond, Mand and I going the opposite direction.

“I need the memory card back Jess.”

“You'll get it, I told you they do a one hour service in Boots .”

It seemed an awful lot of trouble to take Redding down a peg or two, Jess and Manda seemed to take excessive glee in the picture of his kit. In the best tradition of these things Paul was Reddy'ly identifiable, his ‘victim' had her back towards the camera. Damn, I wish mine was that big; I wouldn't be looking girlhood in the face if it was.

The small figure slipped along the corridor finally stopping at the last door. There was a brief delay then the door swung open and the clearly female individual; her breasts were silhouetted by the light through the door, slipped inside.

‘I'll have to have words,' Steve decided.

* Member of a usually professional team who receives kit and basic expenses but is not salaried, usually older riders ending their career or youngsters just starting out.

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 15.10.12

I was debating whether to go back for arm warmers when Steve joined us after breakfast next morning.

“I hope you lot are ready for a good leg stretch.”

There were a few mumbled replies vaguely supporting the notion.

“Okay then, we'll be exploring some of the lanes and climbs of this lovely area with a loop around Telford. Amanda, Drew, Jamie, Geth and Laura, you'll set off first with Caroline the rest of you will be with me. Second group, you've got ten minutes.”

Caro was already at the trailer with a stack of bottles and energy bars, our steeds racked alongside.

“Okay you lot, two bottles and bars each, I don't want anyone bonking on me.”

It took a couple of minutes to stow our tucker then we were off, Caro astride a Mofa that had made the journey south with us in the trailer. It's always a little weird getting on your bike somewhere new, I know I take a couple of miles to settle in, it's not like the bike's changed or anything.

We turned towards Newport under a sky dotted with cotton wool clouds, the promise of later heat already making its presence felt. A drop through the town allowed us to get settled then once we picked up the Shrewsbury road Caro had us up the pace and start a rotation. The road bucks up and down some with some flatter stretches thrown in to give you a false sense of ease.

At a steady 30kph (my comp is still set in kilometres) we soon ate the distance to the Telford road and beyond leaving the B road after High Ercall. The road, well lane , was not much more than a single carriageway between high hedges before turning onto a more travelled road heading more sunward even as the giver of heat poured its rays down onto us. With Caroline shouting encouragement from her asthmatic mount we passed under the A5 having passed the 25km point after about forty minutes.

The wooded flanks of the Wrekin dominated the skyline as we started a more robust climb towards it. (Just so you don't think I know the area, I checked out our route when we got back.) Caro teased her mount up alongside us as we started a dead straight stretch with a persistent gradient.

“Right at the end, prime point at the summit.”

Cue the Drewmeister. I cackled to myself, oh yeah, you guys don't stand a chance.

A quick glance around the others, yeah no one looked particularly enthralled at the prospect of attacking the climb. There's no point in going before the junction, I could lose any advantage if I can't get straight out, so let's make it straight after. The tarmac levelled as it approached the turn, a glance across the field revealed the start of the climb proper maybe 200m beyond, that'll do nicely.

Just as well I stayed my launch, a flippin' huge tractor brought us almost to a standstill as it launched itself and its trailer of straw bales out of the corner field. Once around the corner our little group started preparing for the climb ahead, a swig of a bidon here, mouthful of energy bar there, me, I took a measured draft, not much more than a lip wet. A quick check behind, then as the others did a synchronised change down I let rip.

“Feck!” Jamie gasped as I went past.

I've done this self same thing innumerable times before with varying levels of success, you have to commit fully or it's a waste of effort. The first bit of steepness was maybe fifty metres but at something steeper than 10% which I attacked with gusto easing not one iota on the short drop before the longer but less severe climb up through the trees. Caroline's mount was clearly audible as it struggled with the climb behind me.

I got into a steady cadence, fifteen kph and concentrated my effort. The road levelled a little as it emerged from the trees revealing the last haul to the top; a quick look behind as the road turned into the climb failed to spot any pursuers. A further downshift and up out of the saddle and into the wall of the climb stretching skywards.

The steepest bit was just before it almost flattened to the summit, I allowed myself an easier ride to the top – no point in killing myself! I eased to a halt to await my teammates, taking the opportunity to stuff an energy bar and a significant swig from my bidon down my gullet. I rode back towards the steep edge as the whine of the Mofa announced Caroline's arrival on the steepest section.

Looking down it was like Armageddon, Laura and Jamie were matching pedal strokes halfway up the wall, Manda was back with Caro and Gethyn had blown big style and was just emerging from the trees.

“Up, up, up!” I encouraged.

“Guh!” Laura allowed as they drew level.

The two of them eased back just as I had, continuing toward the summit.

“Come on, Manda, nearly there.” Caro told a red faced de Vreen over the growl of her moped's power plant.

“Allez, allez,” I offered in turn.

“Wait for Gethyn Drew,” Caro called as they passed.

“Sure.”

Geth seemed to have got his second wind and was now steadily making his way up the final assault.

“Come on Geth, nearly there.”

The dead eyed look in his eyes told me he was beyond caring.

He finally drew level and shook his head as he spotted the actual summit still some way ahead. I waited for an upcoming car to pass then set off to join him for the ride to the top. My riding alongside did, I think, help keep him going to where the others were waiting.

“You okay Gethyn?” Caroline asked as we pulled up.

“Just about,” he gasped, “blew.”

“How'd ye do that, Drew?” Jamie asked.

“Practice?” I suggested.

“She won the ESCA hill climb a couple of years ago,” Laura dropped into the conversation.

“Guilty as charged,” I admitted.

“Come on you lot, there's a good stretch of downhill coming up,” Caro prophesised.

“Lay on Macduff,” Manda grinned.

“Don't get too carried away, especially you Drew, the lanes are a bit tight in places.”

Bum.

We set off downhill, quickly negotiating Little Wenlock and joining the aforesaid single-track lane towards some place called Coalbrookdale. Despite Caro's admonishment I still pushed things right into the village, the others just about keeping apace, that is until the sting in the tale, a sharp little incline up to a busier road. We followed the valley down to the Severn and Ironbridge.

Ah, that Ironbridge, Dad brought us here once when we lived in Warsop, there's a bunch of museums, industrial revolution and all that and of course the actual Iron Bridge. We're not sightseeing today but you can't miss the bridge, if for no other reason all the grockles gawping at it! We pushed through towards Coalport.

“Climb coming,” Caroline shouted up to us.

I guess that means we're leaving the Severn gorge, indeed at the far end of the village I could see the road rising steeply away from the river.

“Keep it steady.”

I let Jamie set the pace onto the climb only passing him when the road pitched up again as we turned sharply away from the river below. Out into farmland the road continued its ascent at a more reasonable gradient. As I had exercised some restraint the others, Geth included, weren't far adrift and by the time we dropped to the Telford road we were all back together.

We were into more level countryside now and we got back into a fast rotation despite the narrow lanes. Beyond Ryton it got a bit twistier then after crossing another 'A' road we got our first indication that we were near an airfield as a military jet came in low to our left. We threaded our way through a big housing estate before joining the A41 towards the M54.

“Next left,” Caroline's voice instructed.

The sign said RAF Cosford, isn't that where the others are racing on Sunday? It didn't look much like an airfield, it was all big buildings, even a school but then we dipped under a railway line and the airfield was revealed.

“Follow the museum signs,” Caro directed .

Strange, but who are we to argue?

The sign announced our arrival at the RAF Museum as we entered the airfield, sounds interesting.

“We stopping?” I asked our chaperone as we passed some ageing military jet.

“Toilets and a snack bar,” Caroline told us.

“Great, I need a wee,” declared Manda .

“Me too,” Laura agreed.

We rode up to the clearly new museum entrance building, styled sort of like some old biplane. There was a row of cycle stands by the entrance, which we parked our steeds in while Caro used the motorcycle bay of the car park for her Mofa.

“Okay, the others'll be here shortly,” Caro started, “so make use of the facilities, I'm going to grab a coffee, we'll be leaving in about thirty minutes.”

The five of us clacked into the airy reception area and after spotting the toilet sign headed that direction.

“Come on , Drew, you can look at that after.” Mand told me as she grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the display cabinet and into the ladies.

“Mand!”

“What?” she allowed closing her cubicle door behind her.

What's the point, I'm in here now and I must admit to needing to empty my bladder quite quickly, I took the remaining cubicle, Laura having preceded us into the ablutions. I did the necessary and joined the others at the sinks.

“We getting coffee?” Laura enquired.

“A dose of caffeine would be good.” Mand agreed, “Drew?”

“Er yeah, sure.”

I'd expected Laura to say something about my presence in the ladies but she didn't so much as give me a funny look. Do they all think I'm a girl already? I followed the others out, Laura leading the way to the sustenance zone where we purchased coffee and muffins before joining Caro at a window table.

“Hi girls,” Caroline greeted us .

“Bit upmarket for a bike stop?” Mand suggested.

“It's rarely busy and it's about the right distance from Lilleshall.”

“Any chance of a look round?” I enquired.

“Not today, can't see why you couldn't come down on Sunday though.”

“Great.”

“The others are here,” Laura observed.

It was closer to forty-five minutes after our arrival that we all set off in one group for our temporary HQ. We took a series of lanes, which gradually ascended over the A5 and up to Sheriffhales before descending back to Chetwynd Aston and the Lilleshall Sports Centre.

“Drew?”

“Hello.”

“Can you give me a hand with the bikes?” Steve asked.

“Sure,” I agreed following him over to the trailer.

Once inside Steve drew a deep breath, “How're you enjoying it here?”

“It's okay I guess, not the sort of thing I was expecting.”

“Room okay?”

“I guess.”

“Look Drew, there's no easy way to say this, and I know we didn't specifically mention it, but we are your temporary guardians.”

“Mention what?”

“A girl has been seen going in and out of your room.”

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 16.10.12

Steve's statement threw me for a complete loop. Has someone been into my room without me knowing? No that can't be it.

“A girl?”

“Yes looked like one of the Skating girls? Cute little thing with pigtails?”

Shite, he must've seen me when I fetched the camera last night.

“Pig tails? Oh that was er Sammi, I gave her my key thing so she could fetch my camera.”

I hope he didn't spot my hesitation.

“So you weren't in your room?”

“No, a bunch of us were hanging out downstairs.”

“You know the skaters?” Steve pursued.

“Not all of them obviously, I've known Jess for a few years, Lily and Sammi a bit less.” No kidding. It's a good job I haven't been seen going into Manda's room.

“So you haven't invited any of them to your room?”

“Like I said, we were downstairs, you can ask Manda.” There, my alibi is set now, I think I've got away with it; just you wait Amanda de Vreen!

“You ever used tri bars?” the change of tack took me by surprise.

“Tri bars, er sure, I've got some on my testing bike.”

“Good I've arranged for Darren to bring some tt bikes down to Northampton in the morning for you, put you on a level playing field with the rest of the field.”

“Cool.”

It was a good bit after one that I joined Laura, Mand, Geth and Jamie at a table for lunch, we just sort of gravitated to the same table.

“What'd Steve want earlier?” Laura asked around a forkful of pasta.

He was trying to find out if I was up to stuff with a girl. “ Just checking some stuff for tomorrow, we'll have time trial bikes for the morning stage.”

“How's that?” Jamie enquired.

“From BC stock I guess.”

Of course we've all brought our own race bikes to this ‘camp', I've got my team issue Pinarello. I've never really told you much about my bike have I? Whilst the junior squad bikes look like the senior teams, ours are those fancy new fluid form aluminium frames with Campag Veloce gears and stuff whilst Mum and the girls get carbon frames with Record stuff – very swish! I'm not so keen on the colour though, that sort of creamy colour Apollinaris use with silver, red and blue detailing – not pretty but distinctive.

“They gonna have tri bars on?” Laura enquired, “I'm not very good on them.”

“We should have time for a practice,” Geth opined.

“I hope so,” I agreed, “I've not been on my testing bike for ages, in fact Sunday was my first proper trial this season.”

“Sunday?” Jamie queried.

“Drew!” Mand spluttered, “no one's s'posed to know!”

“Know what?” Laura put in.

“Oops.”

“Now this I've got to hear,” Geth grinned.

Sugar! “We promised Caroline we wouldn't tell anyone.” I responded.

“Bit late now,” Manda sighed, “while you lot were swanning around with the team we had to make our own entertainment…”

I let de Vreen tell the tale; I don't want to sound big headed do I?

“Bit more impressive than our performances.” Gethyn observed when Manda had finished the tale.

“D ae y e reckon they were serious aboot sending slackers hame next week?” Jamie offered.

“I reckon so, it's not like we'll all get a Worlds ride anyhow,” I pointed out.

“Well we knew that,” Laura sighed .

“I think there are some not present at this table who thought getting on the team was a one way ticket,” Manda pragmatised.

“Yeah,” Geth agreed, “I'll admit I've found it pretty tough at times, like that flippin' climb this morning.”

“You can learn to climb,” I replied.

“Says tha mountain goot!” Jamie hooted.

“Baaaa!” Laura added.

After lunch we returned to the pattern that we've got used to up in Manchester, the difference today being that instead of being restricted to the gym we could do pretty much what we wanted. The lecture was quite topical given tomorrow's race – how to ride a prologue time trial, most big stage races start with one so knowing how to get the best out of the generally short effort can be crucial.

“So what are you gonna do?” Mand asked as we filed out of our cavern of learning.

“Not sure.”

“I don't usually do anything, rest up like.”

“Dad always has me doing something unless I go to Garde.”

“What's guard? Shooting stuff?”

Me and my big mouth.

“No it's sort of like a cross between aerobics and er line dancing?”

“You have to be kidding me.”

“Think I'll go swimming.”

“Oh no you don't , Drew Bond, I want to see this guard thing.”

Well I managed to deflect that request, not having the music or a dozen other Garde instead we ended up joining an aerobics class. You get hot and sweaty and providing you don't go mad you don't burn thousands of calories, for a cyclist it helps condition the muscles that don't tend to get used a lot sat on a bike.

“Here you go Gab.” Jess stated passing me my camera's memory card after joining us in the dining room.

“You got it done?”

“Course.”

“I'm still not sure about this , ” I allowed.

“Give over you wuss,” Manda chided.

“I'll post them up tonight,” Jess giggled.

“Count me out on that I was seen last night.”

“Seen?” Mand queried.

“By Steve when I went to fetch the camera?”

“He saw ‘Sammi' then,” Manda observed.

“So what's the problem Gab, it's your room?” Jess pointed out.

“Er yeah, look Jess it's complicated I think ‘Sammi' should go into retirement.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Yeah well.”

“We need to get an early night tonight Jess, we're racing tomorrow,” Mand offered.

“I need to set my alarm,” I groaned.

“You're not going to bed at seven o'clock?” a wide eyed Jess stated.

“Course not, half past,” I grinned.

“Oh you!”

In the end we commandeered a ping-pong table and the early night wasn't so much early as less late. I packed my race kit up, set my alarm and crawled into bed. Not that I could get to sleep of course, you never can when you need to can you?

I lay there staring up at the ceiling, tomorrow I finally pull on a Great Britain jersey in anger, my first race representing BC and not my club or team. Oh I've ridden in different jerseys before, my National Champions jersey of course then there's that hideous Jüngere League leaders thing. This is different though; I can see why Mum gets so hyped.

We were on the road just after six, Caro wasn't leaving anything to chance, we'll be in Northampton about eight, well early. No one was particularly talkative thankfully so I wadded up my jacket and curled into a corner. By the time we reached the M54 I was into a semi conscious doze.

My eyes might have been closed, I might not have been aware of my surroundings but my mind was still firing information around my head. Northampton – last time I was there it was in the hospital after that finish line crash at Milton Keynes. Don't think I've been there apart from that.

I woke, well , returned to full consciousness when we turned off at junction 15 M1, Northampton South. Of course Saturday, busy county town, the event isn't actually in Northampton but a bit to the south based at some place called Horton. Caro took us around some newish roads, all roundabouts and wide grassy verges and our arrival at Horton village hall took place barely ten minutes later.

This morning's time trial is only 10km then after lunch we've got four laps of about 16kms . Normally in the UK I'd be barred from this because I'm not 16 and it's on open roads but BC can pull strings and it's not like I've not done it before! Welcome to the Salcey Forest Junior 2 stage race.

“Okay you lot as Darren isn't here yet you can use your road bikes to loosen up around the time trial circuit, Jamie you're in charge, you know where you're going?”

Caro was certainly taking her managerial position seriously.

“Aye, up this lane ta e the end, left then next left back tae here.”

“Great, back here thirty minutes.” Boss lady instructed.

“Urgh it's too early,” I moaned as we left the village past where the start of our morning endeavour will be starting.

“Give over , Drew, you were asleep all the way here , ” Mand pointed out.

If you look at a map the tt circuit is an almost flat triangle but it is a bit more exciting than that, a slight climb for the first kilometres then a couple of k down slope to corner one. After that, there are a couple of dips, the first quite steep before turn two and a three-kilometre climb before the final kilo or so down hill to the finish. Nothing too punishing then and we rolled back to the bus in under twenty-five minutes somewhat more awake than when we departed.

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 18.10.12

Whilst we'd been gone Darren had arrived and with Caroline's assistance had set up the BC camp. Being in a league one team back home I'm used to seeing and having some of this stuff at my disposal, rollers / turbo, work stand for mechanic-ing and a canvas lid of some sort. The BC set up, Darren our mechanics baby stretched to a stand to park the bikes in and a dedicated van with all manner of spares from whole wheels to simple cables.

“Well timed,” Caro noted, “you've all met Darren?”

Indeed we had, he's been providing the spanner work up in Droylsden the last couple of weeks and those that rode last week benefited from his services.

“Mornin' everyone.” He greeted us.

“Hi.”

“Morning.”

“Shall we get this show on tha road? Park them irons up and we'll get these testing bikes set up for yez.”

I was already with Jamie scoping out the speed machines, a row of aerodynamic monsters, all carbon and top end kit.

“Don't worry you's two, there's enough fer everyone,” Darren chuckled.

“Okay, once you're fitted, get changed, you'll find skinsuits and road kit marked for each of you hanging in the bus. Quicker you're ready the longer you get warming up on the bikes.”

The next thirty minutes or so saw each of us fitted to our respective mounts, I've no idea exactly what brand or model they are, they kinda look like the Giant Trinity's I've seen but finished in a swirly red, white and blue scheme, the only lettering reads ‘British Cycling'. My only problem is that they are running Shimano and I use Campag, which in turn means that the gearshift system is different.

By the time I got back to BC central Caro and Darren were running a relay to the bike check, both of our steeds need checking.

“Here you go Drew, go get signed on.” Caroline passed me a raffle ticket for each mount, a standard method of handling this side of things in blighty – no bike check, no ticket, no ride.

“Wait for me,” Mand called as she took delivery of her own ticket.

She quickly caught up to me, “These skinsuits only fit where they touch!” she exclaimed .

I couldn't argue that, they don't call ‘em skinsuits for nothing!

“Yeah, they don't exactly hide anything do they?”

Signing on was in the ‘committee room', a cosy side room just inside the hall's main entrance, a queue of other teens already stretched outside.

“Geth and Jamie's look different to ours,” Mand observed.

“They are both bigger than us,” I pointed out.

She wouldn't give up, the other lads were stood a few places ahead of us, they look the same to me.

“That's it,” she announced, “ours are cut differently, see on the side seam.” She showed me on her own.

I looked at mine, the same.

“They've given you a girl's suit!”

“Keep it down will you, it fits doesn't it?”

“Maybe too well Gaby.”

“Give over,” I angrily retorted.

We shuffled forward and eventually it was our turn.

“Name?” The twenty something woman manning the tables enquired.

“Bond, Drew Bond.”

“Bond, Bond,” she mumbled to herself checking her sheet, ”BC Development?”

“Er yeah.” I agreed passing her my licence and endorsement to allow me to ride in junior events and the tickets.

“Not seen a licence like this before.”

“It's an international one.” I offered.

“I just need to check with Derek, won't be a tick.”

Taking my licence she disappeared out of the room.

“What's up?” Mand enquired.

“Not seen an international licence before I guess,” I replied with a shrug. I don't get this problem in Germany as I use a German Federation licence for domestic races, whilst we've occasionally strayed into another country the races have been under Federation rules.

Derek it turns out is the Chief Commissar today and he followed licence woman back in a couple of minutes later.

“Ah, Ms Bond, we don't see many of these around here,” he observed.

“I live in Germany,” hey, did he just say miss?

“Any relation to the venerable Jenny?”

“My Mum.”

“Well have a good ride today.”

“Er thanks.”

“Best get her to sign Paula,” Derek suggested.

We weren't in any particular order number wise, as is usual the field is numbered by club/team name alphabetically then the same for names, which is how I found myself clutching a bundle of number ones, a bike plate*, armband and double width bum number. I hope the number is prophetic.

The low profile took a bit of getting used to; those gear shifters confuse the hell out of me, brake lever sideways for down shift? Where's the up shift button? Still I was faring better than Laura who was distinctly shaky on the tri bars, I hope she doesn't come a cropper.

“One?”

That'll be me, no one to chase, as pure a time trial as you can get. Caroline wheeled me up to the ‘pusher' who in turn grabbed my seatpost and straddled the back wheel to hold me upright. I've taken you through this before right, 30 seconds, check I'm clipped in, fifteen to go deep breaths, concentrate.

“Go.”

I was out of the saddle and away, the small crowd of supporters giving a few words of encouragement as I started my first official BC ride. The computer was showing 25mph before I sat down and moved my arms onto the tri bars, wobbling a little in the process. Today can be won or lost by the next twenty minutes, no time for random thoughts, concentrate Drewbie, concentrate.

As the road changed from up to down I clicked up a couple of sprockets and the rumbling of the rear disc wheel changed in tone. Around the first slight left-hander I leant more than steered my steed then I concentrated on the straightest line through the following changes in road direction. I hit the first turn, onto the main road with under six minutes on the clock, so far so good.

Down the dip and off the tri-bars and out of the saddle up the other side, back into the tuck then into the next dip, I managed to keep on the bars out of the shallower climb. However it was back wide to cover the brakes through the final turn, eight minutes on the clock, now its hell for leather to the finish. Whilst the road clearly climbed away from me the gradient was minimal and I stayed on the tri-bars all the way.

Then, rather than up the road was going down, ker chunk, top gear engaged. Past the motor racing stadium, come on Drew you can do it. Twelve minutes gone and the finish in sight down the hill on the edge of the village. The road surface wasn't the greatest on this stretch; I used a fair bit of road to avoid some of the worst patches.

The comp jiggled just over 30mph as the slope steepened, thirteen minutes, push Drew. At the 200m banner I transferred to the wide bars and stood for a final sprint to the line. I banged the computer stopping it at 13.45, hmm not bad, not bad at all.

I rolled around to the HQ, savouring my ride on the speed machine, who knows when next I'll get to pilot one of these things?

“Good ride?” Darren asked as I eased my steed to a halt.

“Think so,” I allowed taking the towel he offered, “bit under fourteen.”

“I'd expect the seniors to go under twelve on here so that's pretty smart riding young un.”

“Thanks.”

“Best go get yourself changed, we'll feed you lot in about half an hour.”

I was already heading towards my kit in the hall when Jamie, Laura and Geth arrived together.

I should point out that as is usual in the UK the field today is restricted to sixty riders, itself an increase of twenty over most fish and chippers. My previous on road racing here in Blighty has been in time trials where open events can have as many as two hundred competitors!

By the time we were all chomping on ‘lunch', sandwiches and fruit, the first half results were on the result board. My actual 13.37 put me in third albeit less than ten seconds behind the leader, Geth at 14.02 was 5 seconds up on Jamie, Manda in turn twenty one seconds faster than Laura's 16.01. She was by no means last on the final board, which dropped me a place although my deficit to the stage one winner remained nine seconds.

Part one down, fifty-four miles to go. The overall winner will have the lowest combined time for the two stages, there's a points award too which in theory at least could throw up a different rider.

Of course our little camp had been getting some attention from the locals, I suppose it's a bit like dropping a WRC team into Sainsbury's car park, everyone wants a look. Heck I would have been doing the grockle bit in the same position, it's not like we were the only ones with fancy tt bikes but we were certainly the only ones with a mechanic, tent and two team vans!

“Come on Drew, we need to form up,” Laura called to me.

“'Kay.”

Caro's pep talk, sat in the bus to avoid prying ears, was, compared to Dad's, not very specific. There hadn't been time for us to go around the circuit so a pink OS** map had to suffice. It's rolling countryside, a four-kilometre climb on the backside of the course providing the biggest challenge. As I read it we could see a good sized bunch contest the finish or a much smaller group of the stronger riders.

CRACK!

The starter's gun set us on our way – well into the neutral zone at least. Compared to back home it's been a very low key affair, we get the mayor or some such to start these things, here it's just the Chief Commissar Derek. Out onto the main road the bunch nervously set out for a couple of hour's less than gentle exercise.

There'd been a bit of a shower over lunchtime, which meant the road was a bit damp still where the traffic and sun had yet to dry things out. I checked to see where the others were, good, Geth and Jamie are tight on me, the girls a few bike lengths adrift. It's an audacious plan, can it work? Well I guess it might. Ahead the lead car sped away, a figure roadside waved the white flag to allow battle to commence.

This isn't motor sport, there's not the same expectation of an immediate commencement of hostilities so my rocket attack with a pair of sidewinders caught the majority of the field on the hop. The three of us broke clear and quickly gained a couple of hundred metres over a slow to react bunch. We were gambling on them not organising a cohesive chase, the girls having the important job of harrying any counter attack.

We've spent two weeks training for this and with new found discipline, Geth and Jamie started a rotation and we were soon riding piano at a sprightly 35kph. (I'm on my own bike now so the comp is set up for kilometres if you recall.) There's over fifty miles to the finish, I've certainly raced much further but for my teamies this is about as far as they've ever done.

A tight turn took us off the B road and onto a single-track lane, which in places had grass growing up the middle . Fortunately not for far but even so the speed dropped as we started the long drag of a climb down the back of the circuit. Our trio had the advantage on the single track of course but for how long ? We finally emerged onto a wider road although we had a bit of car dodging through the village, Quidditch or something like that.

When the road bucked upwards over a disused railway a glance behind revealed not an organised chase but an already destroyed bunch spread over the Northamptonshire countryside. The trees that give today's race its name appeared ahead, a sign proudly declaring ‘Salcey Forest' not that's it's a forest by German standards, least not these days, I bet it's not much more than five square kilometres. We crested the climb with maybe four hundred metres gap, not a lot but it's a start.

We turned left at the next junction and for the first time allowed ourselves a short breather.

“It's fekkin' working!” Jamie got out.

“So far,” I allowed before taking a tug of my bidon's contents.

A resumption of effort soon had us scooting up towards the HQ in Horton to complete the first of our four laps. There was a bit of very restrained cheering when we passed the HQ, you get used to the general apathy when you race in the UK.

The second lap saw our lead grow; we were out of sight on even the longest straights. Of course our luck couldn't continue, we'd barely reached the single track for the third time when my front tyre decided to deflate rapidly. This being blighty the only service on the race stays behind the main bunch, wherever that now happens to be.

“Sugar!”

“Here Drew, have mine, I'm pretty smashed anyhow,” Geth offered.

By the time we'd transferred the wheel and Jamie and I set off again a big chunk of our hard earned lead was gone. So much so that from being out of sight, the chasers were, by the forest, less than fifty metres behind.

“Time for plan B,” I told Jamie.

“Caroline didn't give us plan B,” he gasped.

“True but I've had this happen before.”

Plan B, for what its worth, was to sit up and let the pursuers catch us, the gamble is whether they'll just sit up at that point or keep going.

When contact was finally made you could almost hear a collective sigh of relief, well I'll let them have a minute or two but if we are to stay clear of the next group they'll have to start grafting again…and soon. There were six of them, two riding for their local division the others for their respective clubs.

Luckily they were all of a mind to contest the finish, we'd get an easier ride even if our odds of a win are somewhat diminished.

Some wag rang a bell at the end of the lap, another half an hour or so to go. The eight of us were running a reasonable rotation and looking around I felt pretty confident that I could take this lot in a sprint. I got to almost the same spot as the last lap's deflation when BANG! My rear replicated last time's front.

“Take mine,” Jamie suggested.

“No time, go.” If he loses the group he'll struggle to get back. I could tell he was unsure so I waved him on more vigorously.

My race effectively over I used my can of ‘instafix' to get me moving again, a string of ones and twos passing me as I worked. The girls went through quite early in the stream I was just moving again when Geth came through. The pair of us got our heads down and by the finish the girls were only about fifty metres in front.

The good news was that Jamie had scraped third place, mostly because the others spent the last couple of miles watching each other. Jamie tried his luck but it was too far and he was swept up metres from the line to take third on the stage. It took some time to sort out the combined classification but it was worth it as Jamie claimed second place.

"You still want to go to the air museum Drew?" Caro asked after we left Watford Gap services.

"Sure," I could do with some down time after today.

"I'll talk to Steve when we get back then," Caro proposed .

Today has been pretty tiring what with one thing and another, not least getting up at silly o'clock. The atmosphere in the bus has gone from elation to snores since we started the return journey and I'm not far from nodding off myself.

"I think it's fair to say that you've secured your ticket to Denmark today," Caroline noted a little later.

"Chickens and all that," I observed.

"A little bird tells me you do some sort of dance classes?"

"Kind of." Now who's told her that?

"You enjoy that?"

"'S'okay I guess, keeps me limber Dad says."

"Don't want to get too bike bound, I used to run."

"I hate running."

"Your Mum sent me the pics."

"She never! That was like soo embarrassing, I was on TV too dressed in that stupid outfit."

"I could see how you weren't enjoying it," she grinned.

Back at Lilleshall Steve was waiting in the reception area when we trooped in from the bus.

“Good day?” he enquired, he looked like he'd had anything but.

“Podium,” Caro grinned back.

“Well at least something's gone right today, we've had something of an incident here. Off and sort yourselves out for dinner everyone, I want to see everyone in the training room afterwards.”

* Frame numbers/ plates whilst not essential are used in addition to body numbers in most events these days.

** Ordnance Survey – the primary mapping source for the UK, originally tasked with producing maps for the military hence the name.

to be continued....

© Maddy Bell 20.10.12