I’d just won a world title but I was inconsolable. My potential crack at the real prize, the road race title has been scuppered by my scapula – hey that nearly rhymes. Rhyme or not that slip earlier today, well the resulting injury, means that my chances of becoming junior boys world champion are now down to nil. Oh I’ll still be a junior next year but I won’t be competing for the boy’s prize will I?

“Where is that idiot?” Josh’s voice queried.

“She can’t be far away.” Manda offered.

“Drew? Where are yer, man?”

I don’t really want company right now but they won’t give up until they find me will they?

“Here.”

Josh located my position and appeared with Mand in close attendance.

“There youse are, everyone’s been looking fur youse like.”

“You okay?” Mand enquired more compassionately.

“Apart from the bruises.”

“Wit yer hiding for, man?”

“Just needed some space.”

Mand sat down on the wall next to me, “Caro told us about the shoulder.”

“She tell you I’m out for Sunday?”

“Aye man, there’s always next year.”

“Is there? I’ll be Gaby for real by then.”

“And?” Mand demanded.

“This was my one shot at the boy’s title.”

“Jeez, Gab, you really do have some hang ups about being a girl don’t you? What’s so great about winning the lad’s title? You get the same gong, same jersey.”

“But it’s not the same,” I offered.

“Aye, you’ve got more chance of taking tha hens’ title like,” Josh supplied.

Mand gave him a ‘look’, “he’s right you know Gab, look at Switzerland, you were miles ahead of the rest of us girls.”

Us girls, thanks Mand.

“So, we gonna eat like?” Josh enquired.

“Josh!” Mand and I chorused.
 
 

“What’s up Steve?”

“Too much boss man, too much,” Steve sighed dropping into a seat opposite Mr Toynbee.

“Bond?”

“In one, it’s not broken but the docs have prescribed a few days rest, so Sunday is out.”

“Sugar, I’d best talk to Dave, reserve?”

“Caroline’s on it.”

“Let me know as soon as eh?”

“Will do.”

“And, Steve.”

“Boss?”

“These things happen, that’s why we have a backup plan.”

“Sure, it’s just so damn frustrating, the kid’s flying.”
 
 

“See you later,” Laura called over as she followed the rest of the team out of the hotel for the morning training session.

“Yeah later.” I allowed with a sigh.

I watched wistfully as they set off to terrorise the Danish countryside, flippin’ shoulder. So okay other bits are somewhat bruised this morning, my knee’s feeling a lot better though, apparently I bent my pedal when I crashed which meant I wasn’t pedalling properly hence the pain. At least I didn’t get too much road rash this time.

“What you up to, kiddo?”

“Not a lot, I can’t ride can I?”

“I thought it was your shoulder?” Dad noted.

“It is.”

“Well get your kit on, you’re not getting out of training that easily, you can have an hour on the turbo.”

“Da-ad,” I moaned.

“Ten minutes in the garden.”

“Yes, Dad.”
 
 

Have to say, Dad can read me like a book. Once I was riding, my mind was taken off of my self-pity and my concentration moved to my level 2 session. By the end of the session I’d worked through my frustrations and moved my thoughts into a much more positive place.

“Good session, Drew, get yourself showered and we’ll go take a look at Roskilde eh?”

“Whatever.” I agreed as I mopped the sweat from my brow.
 
 

“Bond!”

“Hi Chris.” Dave replied, wiping the sweat from Drew’s bike.
“What do you reckon?”

“I’m not keen on this.”

“Can’t say I am either but even if he just rides round it’ll fuel the others.”

“Hmm.”

“So, what do you think? How’d it go?”

“Well he’s favouring the knee some and he was clearly in some pain by the end of the session but he hit all the points, I’d say about ninety percent.”

“Ninety percent of Drew is like a hundred and ten of most of the others. You said anything?”

“No and I won’t unless we decide to go with this Tom foolery, I know what she’ll say.”

“You gonna be around here?”

“No, I’m gonna take her into Roskilde for a couple of hours, you’ve got my mobile.”

“Sure, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye Dave but thanks for even considering this.”

“Thank me if it happens, we should be back about two.”

Dave watched Toynbee scuttle back into the hotel, it’s a damn fool idea, how he’d got caught up in it he didn’t know.
 
 

“There you are.”

“You wanna try getting out of a pair of bibs one handed.”

“Hop in then, we’ll get some lunch, there’s a place down on the fjord apparently.”

“Whatever.”

Yeah, that’s Drew alright, Dave sighed.

 
 
The Mercedes covered the few kilometres of motorway across to Roskilde in not much more than ten minutes.

“Wonder what that is?”

“What kiddo?”

“On that sign, Vikingskib Museet.”

Dave had already seen, in fact had been looking for the brown tourist attraction sign.

“Could be something to do with Vikings I guess.”

“Dur, we’re in Denmark, everything’s to do with Vikings,” Drew stated.

“Guess we could go find out, its only two K.”

“If you like.”

It might be Saturday but traffic heading into the town was fairly light, their progress being hindered more by control than volume. The ‘Vikingskib Museet’ was well signposted and soon they were dropping down toward Roskilde Fjord.

“Looks like some sort of museum,” Dave suggested spotting a sign for a car park.

“This is where we were coming wasn’t it?”

“Was it?” Dad attempted the innocent stance.

“You know it was, so what is this place?”

“Okay, I admit it, I’ve wanted to come here for years, it’s the Viking Ship Museum.”

Drew rolled his eyes, “whatever.”
 
 

It was free entry for me — just as well with adult entry a hefty 100 Danish Krone, whatever that is in proper money. The man made island that we were now on featured various buildings housing displays and demonstrations of Viking life along with several real ships and a ship yard where they are building a replica longship.

Dave mooched around taking pictures, most of the information was in German as well as Danish and English so they had at least some clue as to what they looked at.

“Skibhalle?” I queried.

“That’ll be that place.” Dad suggested pointing to the huge concrete edifice a short distance away on the fjord shore.

“I suppose we have to go look?”

“We don’t have to,” he offered.

Seriously, that was never gonna happen was it.

“I’m guessing there’s toilets inside.”

“I should think so.”
 
 

Doodle-dit, doodle-dit.

“Go on, I’ll meet you inside kiddo.”

“Sure,” Drew agreed.

Doodle-dit, doodle-dit. Dave pulled out his phone and checked the caller id.

“Bond.”

“Dave, it’s Chris, can you talk?”

“I’m on my own if that’s what you mean.”

“We couldn’t get a flight for plan B.”

Sugar.

“Dave, you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“I know you aren’t keen but even getting him on the start line would be good for moral.”

“No promises, I’ll ask.”

“Thanks Dave, can’t be fairer than that.”

Maddy Bell © 02.08.2014

Where’s that kid got to? Dave mused after ascending the steps up to the museum’s entrance, I’ll hold off with asking her about tomorrow, a couple of hours won’t make any difference.

“Dad – dee!”

Yup it was definitely Gabs now.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dave allowed as his offspring joined him.

“So what was the call?”

“Just some BC stuff, you ready for a squint?”

“I guess,” came the sighed reply.

The building was constructed in the brutalist form, all sharp angles, rough concrete, a single high ceilinged space barely broken up by the contents. Dave had the museum guide and led the way around the balcony to the ‘cinema’, essentially a side room with an audiovisual presentation playing on a loop. It was all in Danish, so whilst Bond senior tried to make sense of that Drew mooched around the walls where at least the descriptions of the Thor Heyerdahl ship reconstructions were in German.

Although it wasn’t really his bag, Drew found the pictures and descriptions fascinating, you really had to be nuts to go to sea in a reed ship!

“Ready?” Dave enquired joining Drew at a model of ‘RA II’, Heyerdahl’s second reed ship.

“Only waiting for you.”

“Come on then, let’s go see the ships.”

“Kay, those guys were potty.”

“Who?”

“Heyer wotsit and his mates.”

“The Ra expeditions, yeah I suppose they were, I remember watching it on telly when I was a student.”

“Why would you do it like?” Drew asked as they made their way down to the landing looking out over the outer hall and its skeletal contents.

“Watch the programmes?”

“Dur, build those daft boats.”

“Research, they helped our understanding of population movements and proved that ancient ships could cross sizeable bodies of water.”

“Whatever.” Secretly Drew thought it was pretty cool but there was no way he’d let his Dad know that.

Dave had his camera out and started the shutter going. Whilst the size of the boat remains below were quite impressive they were a bit disappointing, there was at least as much missing as present. They descended to the floor and walked around the first three vessels – it wasn’t very exciting, the models explaining how they came to be sunk in Roskilde Fjord were at least a little livelier.

 
 

“Thought there’d at least be some sort of reconstruction.” Drew complained.

Dave was of a similar opinion, he hadn’t really known what to expect but this stark concrete shed wasn’t it.

 
 
“Frøken?” a woman addressed Bond junior.

“Sorry, ihnen?” I enquired in Germlish.

“Ah Deutsche,” the woman switched from I guess Danish to German, “I work for the Vikingskib Museet, I was wondering if you could help us with a short presentation we do for the kinder?”

“Er.”

“We’re not in a hurry, kiddo,” Dad put in.

Gee, thanks, Dad.

“It is perhaps fifteen minutes,” my assailant pressed.

Well I suppose it’s got to be more lively than the main monochrome exhibits.

“Er okay I guess.”

“Great! I’m Agnetha by the way.”

“Um Drew.”

“That’s pretty, come, Dad if you come into the hafenhalle in maybe ten minutes?”

“Sure, have fun, kiddo.”

 
 
Agnetha led the way past the last two skeletons, a small fishing boat and the impressively um long longboat, all thirty metres of it, and through a door where we joined the rest of the er cast.

“Yo everyone, this young lady is Drew from Germany who will help this show,” Agnetha advised the half dozen be-costumed men and women in the room.

Did she just say young lady?

“Hallo, Drew, I’m Freda, come through, let’s get you dressed.”

Dressed? Well I guess if it’s some sort of play that’s to be expected.

“See you soon, Drew,” Agnetha beamed.

“So um what do I have to do?” I queried as Freda shuffled a rail of costumes.

“You take the part of Aelda, ah here we are, this should fit,” she turned around proffering a dark blue dress, “daughter of Kong Asger, that’s Michael the big blonde guy.”

“Daughter?”

“Ja, the princess, you only have a couple of lines, we have a card for those, come let’s get you ready.”

Why me?

 
 

I followed in the wake of my ‘parents’ along the dock through the excitable young audience, my hair now in braids, my shorts and sandals hidden by the floor length dress.

“Where is my daughter, where is Aelda?” Kong Asger boomed after several minutes of dialog.

My turn to speak, “Here father,” I offered stepping forward.

“Ah, my beautiful barn, take care of your mother for me,” he pulled me into a hug, yow! That hurts.

“I will, father.” Great actor aren’t I?

“Come, my liege, we must depart to catch the tide.”

The ‘king’ climbed aboard the ‘longship’ and his family, that’s me and Freda, wave him off on another trip across the seas. The lights dimmed signalling the end of our little production and triggering clapping and cheering from our small audience.

 
 
“Thank you, Drew, you make a great Aelda,” Agnetha smiled.

“Um thanks.”

“So you are here on holiday?”

“Not exactly, we’re here for the cycling championships.”

“To watch ja, not my thing but it has been on the TV.”

“Er no, I’m riding, was riding – I crashed yesterday and did my shoulder.”

“Well I hope this has cheered you up a little, yes?”

“A little,” I agreed, it’s hardly the same as riding the worlds is it but it was sort of fun.

 
 
“Drew!” Dad called to me when we emerged from the ‘changing room’.

“Ah Dad, thank you for the loan of your daughter.”

“No problem,” he suggested, “you ready to find some food kiddo?”

A rumbling tum was enough reply to that question.

“You are wanting to eat?” Agnetha enquired.

“We’ve not had lunch yet,” Dad supplied.

“Come with me, the restaurant is still serving lunch, we can’t have the princess going hungry eh?”

Princess, grrr!

 
 
And so we found ourselves tucking into labskovs, which is a sort of beef hash thing, followed by jordbæris, strawberry ice cream to you. It was surprisingly filling; even my hollow legs were sufficiently filled. However time was now getting on and it was time to head back to the hotel, they walked back to the car park each lost in their own thoughts.

 
 
“Drew.” Dave started as they threaded their way back through Roskilde.

“Huh?” I popped an ear bud out to hear pops.

Dave paused, how to phrase this?

“What do you think your chances would be tomorrow?”

“Hardly matters does it, I can’t ride with this can I?”

“Humour me eh, if you had the all clear to ride?”

“As if, guess I’d be in with a shout, Mark’d probably beat me in a sprint but I reckon I’d be okay if I got in a break but it’s not gonna happen is it?”

Bond senior gave a deep sigh.

“That was Chris Toynbee earlier, at the museum, BC’s plan B has fallen through, they couldn’t get a flight for David to fill your slot.”

“What about Geth, he’s already here,” I pointed out.

“That’s plan D,” Dave noted.

“So what’s plan C?”

“Plan C is you ride, no pressure but management think your presence on the start line would give our guys a boost and disturb some of the others.”

“So you’re saying I can ride, shoulder an’ all?”

“It’d be a shame to waste all the preparation.”

“Straight up?”

“Straight up,” Dad agreed.

“What’re we waiting for, I need to get ready!”

Dave still had reservations, another fall on that shoulder wouldn’t be good, and for what? Filling the BC roster certainly, he looked over at the now hyper teen sat beside him, not just BC then, no this was dream fulfilment for Drew, a crack at the World road title. The turning for Hedehusene was upon them, the decision was made, tomorrow Bond junior will be lining up with the rest of the squad back in Roskilde, Dave hoped he’d made the right call.

Maddy Bell © 05.08.2014

Drew started awake, a roll of thunder rumbled across eastern Sjælland, the accompanying lightning momentarily lighting up the room he was sharing with his parents. A quick check of his phone revealed it to be all of one fifteen, a full nine hours before the days racing gets underway. So of course from deep sleep, now getting back to the unconscious level was impossible, the occasional grunt from across the room indicated the senior Bonds had no such issues.

His mind just wouldn’t rest and started replaying the last several hours…
 
 

Dave swung the Mercedes into the Hotel Svalen’s car park where the women’s squad, Jenny included, were just heading inside after their ride. Dave tooted the horn to get his wife’s attention.

“So where’ve you two been?” Jen enquired as the others climbed from the car.

“We popped into Roskilde,” Dave offered.

“I’m riding tomorrow!” Drew interrupted excitedly.

Jen wasn’t yet in the loop, “Don’t be silly, kiddo, you can’t with that shoulder.”

“I am, tell her, Daddy.”

“Dave?”

“Plan B fell through so Chris asked if this one could at least start in the morning.”

“And you agreed to this? A word please, Dave, you,” she pointed at me, “stay here, you might want to lose the braids pretty as they are.”

“Mu-um!”

“Don’t you Mum me, young lady!”

Drew’s ‘rents walked a little way across the car park before Jen started haranguing her partner. Mum’s gonna muck things up, it’s alright for her, she’s even done this before. Braids, damn he’d forgotten Freda’s dressing up of his hair, good job none of the others had seen him.

The argument hadn’t lasted long, Dave Bond soon returning to collect the younger member of the family.

“She’s not gonna let me ride is she?”

“Well she’s not exactly a fan of the idea.”

“It’s not fair, I’m fine, just a few bruises.”

“She hasn’t said no, she knows what this means to you, kiddo.”

“I can ride?”

“You can ride, come on let’s get inside, looks like it’s going to rain.”
 
 

“Right everyone, quiet please,” Chris requested.

We were all gathered in a corner of the dining room, that is me, Mark, Geth, Darren, Jamie and Josh with Steve and Chris.

We quickly settled and the boss prepared himself to give the team talk.

“Okay people, nearly there, the big one, you’ve all come a long way since most of us met in Manchester. This isn’t the summit just another step on the journey I hope we’ll all be continuing in the future. Drew, the team doctor wants to check you out in the morning before giving you the go ahead to ride, sorry to drop this on you Gethin, but you are now part of our plan B if Drew has to drop out.”

“I can live with that,” Geth allowed.

“Drew, you okay with this?”

I don’t really have much choice do I? “Uh huh.”

“To business then, here’s the circuit….”

 
 
“You alright then, man?” Josh queried as we relocated with the others in the lounge.

“Bit sore but I’ve been worse.”

“Aye,” he noted with a pointed look.

“I’m fine, honest!”

“Wish I was,” Jamie allowed, “ma guts are chorning like tha Clyde.”

“Just think of it as another race, that’s what Mum said,” I offered, in truth my own insides replicating Jamie’s.

“Hope you ride, Drew, I seriously don’t want to let you guys down,” Geth admitted.

“I just hope we can cut it out there,” Daz voiced what the rest of us were thinking.

“We did alright in Switzerland,” Mark pointed out.

Of course he was right, stage wins for me and Mark, Josh’s mountains classification and we only just missed the team prize. But that was over five stages not a do or die single day effort with everyone out to make an impression. We’d been underestimated in the Swiss race; I doubt we will be tomorrow – at least by those who rode last week.
 
 

The thunder had a repeat of its earlier rumbling, the delay between lightning and sound effect suggesting the storm was moving away from our location. Finally my eyes closed and the idea of sleep was replaced by the actuality.

 
 
“That hurt?” the Doc enquired as he manipulated my arm.

“Bit,” I allowed.

“And this?”

“Ooo!”

“Hmm, let’s have a look at those bruises.”

 
 
The Quack seemed reasonably happy although both my arm and leg received compression dressings before I left the makeshift surgery.

“So?” Mark queried.

“Yup!” I grinned rejoining my teammates in the breakfast room.

“Thank heavens for that,” Geth put in, “guess I’ll be watching then.”

“Nice one,” Darren agreed, “no offence G.”

“None taken, I wasn’t looking forward to riding anyhow.”

“Everyone ready?” Steve asked before the conversation could go further.

“Aye man, could do without the waitin’ like.” Josh supplied.

“Well there’s a bit more of that, we’ll be leaving in about fifteen minutes, Mr Bond has taken the girls so we’ll be using the bus which should be here shortly. Once we’re all signed on we’ll get on the turbo’s to warm up, safer than out on the roads if nothing else. Questions?”

There being none he left us to wait for our transport.

 
 
An hour later the five of us riding were giving it some on the static trainers at BC central awaiting our turn to race. The girls were on the line waiting to start, the senior women started a few minutes ago and the biggy, the senior men started half an hour ago. It’s a packed schedule but I guess it’s all been worked out.

The idea wasn’t to wear ourselves out but to get properly warmed up so it was low resistance, high revs stuff. The drone of the rollers drowned out any attempts at conversation so we each sat in our own little bubble. Similar preparations were going on around us, riders from around the globe all gathered to battle it out for the honour of wearing the rainbow hoops for the next year.

“TIME!” Steve shouted.

Finally. One by one we slowed our effort and dismounted, Mike & Darren the mechanics taking charge of our steeds as we made our final pre race preparations. The weather is at least currently dry, dark clouds are still scuttering across the heavens but at least the thunder and lightning has passed.

“Right,” Chris started, “we’ll go through to the start in a minute, good luck, enjoy the race and remember it’s a single rider gets the title but it’s a group effort that claims it.”

“Okay chaps, time,” Steve prompted.

 
 
It was organised chaos in the start area, officials checked us into the rider only zone where we were then shuffled into some order I couldn’t make sense of. No presentation here, everyone is equal at the start, at least that speeds things up. I looked about to see if I could see anyone I recognised, the national jerseys of a dozen nations I could identify mingled with as many I couldn’t, USA, Belgium, the blue of Italy, black New Zealand, Polish – yeah, the real McCoy.

“This is it eh, Drew?” Mark observed.

“Guess so,” I agreed.

“Hope tha weather holds like, them cloods are looking well dodgy,” Josh opined.

“It’s only a bit of wet,” Darren suggested.

“Aye, it’s no like we’re not used ta it,” Jamie added.

Well I for one would prefer it to stay dry.

We were several rows from the front but even I could see the guy with the klaxon preparing to set us on our way.

“Time guys, good luck,” I offered.

“All for one,” Mark stated.

“And one for all,” the rest of us agreed with a round of hand slaps.

PAAAAAAAARRRRRRPPPPPPP!

We’re off.
 
 

It took a few moments before we had space to click in and a good half kilometre of neutralized riding before the huge bunch was sorted into some sort of order. It might be neutral but there’s no reason not to try and get a better position for when the green flag is dropped. Somewhere behind there was a touch of wheels and the cursing and clatter of riders departing their steeds, hopefully I can stay clear of trouble, I’ve already got enough bandages on me!

The flag had barely dropped before some chancer took a flyer off the front, he’s either very confident or stupid, we’ve got nearly 120km to go, something like three hours racing ahead of us. Several riders took off in pursuit but the bulk of the peloton left them to it, no one with serious hopes wants to put effort in this soon. For over ten kilometres rider after rider went up the road, the result was the same each time, a minute or two of effort, a counter attack, return to the pack and repeat.

Of course such a move can work so monitoring the moves was essential, all five of us staying top thirty, our BC jerseys mingling with the primarily European nations near the front. We do two sixty kilometre laps to the north of Roskilde, the girls only do one, hope Mand and co are okay, they must be heading in towards the finish already. For the second time this trip I’ve missed riding the course but I reckon today will end in a gallop between the survivors so I’ve missed nothing.

The comp indicated just over thirty k gone, forty-five minutes riding time before the first serious move was made. The distinctive Spanish jerseys started massing towards the front of the peloton, I recognized Martinez there, a further check identified the Swiss Pellini lad and even my Belgian ‘mate’ up here. From pootling along at around thirty-five the Iberians were soon dragging us along at over forty k’s.

More riders took a turn at the front and the once almost two hundred strong field started to shed riders at first in ones or twos then a small gap became bigger and another thirty riders saw their victory dreams riding away from them. Josh took a turn at the front but soon swung off, no point in wasting energy with so many willing legs.

“I’m sure I felt some wet just now,” Daz mentioned.

“Hope not.”

“How’s the shoulder?”

“‘S fine, hip’s a bit sore though.”

 
 
The course turned southwards bringing into view what I hadn’t seen behind us on the outward leg, a sky not just grey but black pretty much from horizon to horizon. Sugar. We were now riding into a rising headwind, the pace dropped a little and once again the Spanish jerseys were massing at the front.

We didn’t have long to wait for their move, a classic jump off the front with a corresponding blocking move. Martinez took Desgrange and Pellini with him, or rather they jumped on his wheel, escaping the Spanish blocking move. Clearly the New World riders didn’t read the European book of tactics, two US riders and an Australian simply rode past the Spaniards.

“Mark! Josh.”

Cav nodded his understanding as Josh zipped through to get on the Australian’s wheel.

Maddy Bell © 09.08.2014

 
 
There might be others behind worthy of being in the action but the nine of us already had twenty seconds and assistance in pursuit will be lacking from six teams. Although the look I got from Martinez suggested he was less than pleased at my presence, he was committed to the move and joined in the fast rotation that we’d need to make good our escape. The view ahead was not a thing of joy, several flashes of lightning preceded long rolls of thunder – we’re riding right into the storm, we need a minute so we can get the car up.

The girls will be finished by now lucky sods; no it’s us who will be drowned amongst the flat Danish fields. The neutral service came up – thirty seconds in the can.

“Not looking good,” Cav mentioned with a nod at the darkening sky ahead.

“If we can get a minute we can call the car for race capes,” I suggested.

“Likely?”

“I’ll talk to the Yanks and Desgrange; lift the pace a bit to the feed.”

“Your call boss.”
 
 

I did a double take when I looked across at the taller of the Mericans, no it couldn’t be.

“Aidan?” sugar this could be awkward, think Drew – fast!

Of course it was Aidan from the Grottoes Express, you remember, the American exchange thing, the Atlanta ride with Lance?

“Gaby, I thought it was you earlier but like this is the boys race so how could it be?”

“I’ll explain later,” when I’ve come up with an explanation, “look we’re gonna hit some crap soon.”

“No kidding, looks like a real doozie up there.”

“If we get a minute we can get the cars up, capes and stuff, you guys okay to up the tempo for a bit?” I pressed.

“Give it a shot.”

“Cool.”
 
 

The others were all on board, it wasn’t a ploy to reduce numbers, it was to give us a chance of survival. Josh being perhaps the strongest in the group took a big turn at the front, driving the speed up by a couple of K. we were all committed, the distance to the end of the lap decreasing pedal stroke by pedal stroke.

We were in the outskirts of Roskilde when the first heavy spots of damp started falling, the last time check was fifty seconds, damn. Whilst the spectators were fairly sparse around the circuit, here in the town we got some enthusiastic support. I decided to chance my arm and dropped back to the following commissar’s car.

“Any chance of the cars?” I enquired through the window.

The officials consulted radios and each other as I rode tempo alongside the red Skoda.

“Rider ninety one.”

That’s me. I moved closer to the car.

“We’ll bring them up; you’ll have access after the feed.”

“Cheers!” I gave them a cheery wave and moved back up to my breakaway companions.

“We’ll have access to the cars after the feed,” I advised first in English, repeating in German for the other nations, Martinez seems to understand a bit of my adopted language, his nod confirmed that.

 
 
We came into the town by the fjord taking us past the museum before tackling the biggest climb on the circuit, not huge in the wider context but it could prove decisive next time with the finish line barely a kilometre over the top. The rain wasn’t sure what it was doing, those big splashy drops but barely enough to colour the road. It was tempo up the climb, Mark losing a length or two by the top but by the traverse of the finish area we were back together.

The feed was almost immediately after the line, Geth stood with our musettes amongst the line of helpers.

“I’ll get them,” Josh told us as he veered towards the bags.

It made sense; only one person with the bags would make delivery to three riders difficult.

“Go guys!” Geth shouted as we passed, the others, except the Aussie all taking bags.

Once we all had our bags I signalled with a bottle for service, the three of us would get our kit first.

 
 
“What’s up Drew?” Steve enquired when I dropped back to the BC car a minute or two later.

“Race capes?” I enquired, hoping that all the effort to get to this point would be rewarded, “it’s gonna lob it down.”

“Phew, glad that’s it; I gave Darren and Jamie theirs before we got the call forward, Mike?”

I felt a moment of guilt that once more Jamie and Daz had been consigned to peloton marshalling.

“Coming up,” our mobile mechanic confirmed.

“Everyone get their feed?” Steve enquired.

“Yup, think everyone’s up for making this stick.”

“How bout you? Shoulder okay?”

“Bit sore,” I admitted.

“Here you go lad,” Mike mentioned passing me the rain jackets.

“Send Josh back for bottles,” Steve instructed.

Of course all this happened in about thirty seconds, “kay, laters!”
 
 

I returned to the race and distributed rain wear, the dangerous bit is putting them on of course but we each managed it without problem and not a moment too soon, the heavens opened just as I sealed the Velcro. The next time check was a minute and forty, we still had fifty kilometres to go and the rain was descending in sheets. I was pretty certain that Martinez and the Swiss would try to dump me and Cav and soon.

By now we were all well drenched; race capes provide insulation more than protection. Memories of the three countries race a few months back flooded my head, I’m sure Michael was having similar thoughts. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse it did.

It had been raining hard, in the space of a pedal stroke it was coming down in stair rods! If trying to see through rain and spray wasn’t bad enough now you could hardly see your handlebars, the headlamps of the race entourage not helping as they threw weird shadows into the generally horrendous mix. I concentrated on following the wheel in front, Josh’s as it happens, not that it made things any easier.

“Sod this!” a voice in front mentioned, I was vaguely aware of a rider pulling out of our bunch but who and why, well it’s every man for himself.

As suddenly as it came, the rain eased off back to just heavy, a chance to take stock. Three, six, seven, eight, who’s missing – Australia, a quick look around didn’t find him, maybe he punctured or something.
 
 

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Cav opined.

“Who did? You okay?”

“Apart from wet and blind? You?”

“As good as,” I supplied, my shoulder is starting to ache but I don’t have to broadcast that. “Oz has gone,”

“Yeah, you reckon we can stay away?”

“Dunno, if the bunch caught that cloudburst it would’ve slowed more than we did.”

“Fingers crossed.”
 
 

The road currently resembled a river more than a land vehicle route, the remaining eight of us maintaining a good work ethic but playing dodge the lake. The downpour seemed to have dampened Martinez’ attack plans, which was good for Team GB, the longer we stick together the better our prospects are. First one arm was raised, Pellini, then another, Aidan’s team mate, looks to be punctures.

The usual thing in this situation would be to ease off, give the puncture victims a chance to get back in the action however our Spanish ‘friend’ decided to take advantage and made a break for freedom.

Sugar! “Josh?”

“The git!”

Our big Tynesider took off in pursuit, Aidan started after him with the rest of us following on. The American’s effort was short lived, he slipped back to our trio and slotted into the back as first Michael then myself put in long turns to keep us in contention. Josh meanwhile was on the Spaniard but instead of doing the anchor bit he rode straight through.

I grinned to myself as Martinez was now put on his back foot. Clearly with two riders in the chasing group the others could be forgiven for leaving the work to me and Mark. However with Josh up the road it turned things about, why should we chase? The return of the Swiss swayed the odds a bit, if the other American got back to us things would change again.

The rain was still siling down, my computer gave up miles back and we’d not had a time check for ages. Then I saw it, Martinez’ arm going up, yes, revenge! I wasn’t the only one; Pellini had too and clearly wanted payback. The five of us were soon strung out as the Swiss turned up the speed, the gap up to Josh now rapidly decreasing.

Pellini powered past Josh, who managed to tag in behind Michael, the Swiss finally pulling over after realising he was still dragging the train.

“Sheesh Gab’s, you guys always ride like this?” Aidan queried as we bunched back up.

“Not always,” I allowed, “sometimes it’s more intense.”

 
 
Martinez had sealed his own fate, when we got the time check he was at forty five, a chase group a further one thirty back and the main bunch a full five minutes behind us. Six riders, three Brits, the odds look to be in our favour but we still have a bit over thirty kilometres to go. The rain thankfully was easing off; it had done its damage now we were down to luck and poker.

Kilometre followed kilometre, dreams of the perfect result now turning into potential reality. We needed each other to get to the finish but Mario was looking increasingly twitchy, I felt sure he’d make an effort to shake at least Cav out of contention.

“Swiss is gonna go,” I stage whispered across to Mark who nodded in understanding.

“Pre?” Josh suggested.

It would most likely lose our lead out in the finale but we would at least be there. On the other hand the others would have to chase which’ll hopefully take out some of their sting. We’d discussed this scenario last night never expecting to be up here like this, Cav and myself won’t contribute to the chase of course, only if Josh is caught will we come into play.

“Your call.” I replied with a wink.

Our locomotive didn’t so much as pause for a drink before putting in a massive effort. Aidan was first to react but both Mario and Michael weren’t quite quick enough to get a wheel, Cav and myself doing enough to stay in contact at the rear of the string but no more. The American failed to connect and dropped back, three should be able to chase down one rider even with an anchor in place.

The roads were still wet but thankfully the rain had ceased, a glimmer of sunshine hinted towards better weather following through.

“We’ll take a break from the senior event for a few minutes to watch the juniors come in, Paul?”

“Yes Hugh, we join the junior race with a little over ten kilometres to go and an unprecedented position for Team GB, three riders in the six man break with a two minute lead over the chasers who include the fancied Spanish rider Martinez, the American Bauer and Frenchman Bouton.”

The image on the screen changed from the leader caption to a shot of five filthy but determined youngsters warily marking each other before panning around to pick up a lone rider perhaps fifty metres ahead.
 
 

Maddy Bell © 12.08.2014

 
 
“Isn’t this a turn up for the books Paul, if the Brits don’t get a medal here it certainly won’t be for lack of trying, just to recap for you, we are looking at Britain’s Josh Waugh just being caught by the group containing his team mates Mark Cavendish from the Isle of Man and German based and Apollinaris team mate Drew Bond, Bond of course our time trial World Champion after that amazing race on Friday.”

“In there too, we have the Swiss Pellini, Desgrange of Belgium and promising American Aidan Johnson,” Paul Sherwen added.

“I’m sure the team director will have given the lads instructions but cycle racing rarely goes to plans.”

The camera watched as Pellini finally reached Josh’s rear wheel who in turn pulled out of the race line, now an almost spent force.

Hugh Porter continued Eurosport’s often eccentric commentary, “Looks like the Tynesider has had his fill, Bond and Cavendish are both notable sprinters, I’m sure the others will try to blunt their efforts.”

“That’s right, Hugh, young Bond is still bandaged up after that spill on Friday, word is he was a doubtful start right up to this morning.”

“It was clearly the right call by the coaches.”

As usual the TV station cut to the ads.
 
 

I sat up and quickly removed my cape, it was getting a bit uncomfortable now the heat was returning to the day.

“Gis that he-ah,” Josh instructed, “I’ll not be contesting like.”

“You kept us in contention.” I pointed out.

“Just one of youse get the gong, eh? Gis yer jacket, Cav, man.”

The five to go banner was now in sight and although we were maintaining a loose rotation no one wanted to put in too big a turn.

“Anything left, J?”

“What you got in mind?”

“Blunt the Swiss before the climb?”

“I’ll try like.”
 
 

“You rejoin us as the junior title race passes the three to go banner.”

“The Waugh lad is going again, the others can’t believe it, Pellini looks round but no one else is willing to help, he’ll have to go himself.”

“Has Waugh got the fuel to make it to the finish?”

The answer to that question was no, his effort ran out of steam pretty much at the bottom of the climb but the Swiss rider had had his sting pulled.

“Once over the brow it’s a twisty ride to the finish straight,” Porter told his audience.

“The Swiss still looks like he has gas left.”

“Sure does, Paul, not so sure about the others, difficult to see anything through the grime on those faces.”

The camera followed the remaining five riders as Aiden led Pellini, Drew and Cavendish with Desgrange bringing up the rear.

“No one wants to take the initiative, it’s been a battlefield out there today, caution is the watchword.”

“Two hundred, Hugh.”

“And Cavendish makes his move, can the others answer?”

Cav accelerated past Drew as though he was stood still and had several lengths on the others before they reacted. No one stood a chance of catching the Manx rocket but it didn’t stop them trying. Aidan blew first, Desgrange never really got into the mix leaving Drew and Pellini shoulder to shoulder.

“It’s Cavendish for the title, can Bond make it a one two?”

“Ooh that was close!” Sherwen exclaimed, “Gonna be a photo to decide that one.”
 
 
I stopped pedalling and hit the brakes, I was in front of the Swiss now but was I at the line? When he clapped me on the back, ow, it was of the well done rather than bad luck type, he at least thought I’d got it. Dad grabbed me as I came to a halt.

“Well done, kiddo.”

“Urgh, urgh.”

Someone draped a trackie top around me, it was over.
 
 

“Let’s have another look at that, Paul.”

The view on the screen picked up the action at about 250 metres.

“The American isn’t sure what to do here, Pellini is watchful, and here goes Cavendish, wide across the road, Bond reacts just a second too late.”

“It’s a valiant attempt, Paul, but young Cavendish just accelerates away.”

“Pellini gets Bond’s wheel, the Belgian and American are clearly spent, so who got it on the line Hugh?”

“For my money I think the Swiss got it by a whisker.”

“I think you’re right, Hugh, Bond’s last kick was just a moment too late to claim the silver.”
 
 

“We did it, Drew!” Mark was almost bouncing as we waited in the holding area for the judges to confirm the result.

“You did it, mate,” I allowed before taking a slug of the cola that Steve had pressed into my hand.

“It was a team effort, if it hadn’t been for you and Josh I wouldn’t’ve been in with a shot.”

I shrugged, it had been my call to put the three of us in the break, British success was more likely if we were numerically strong. I guess I could’ve left Mark safely in the bunch and just chased the break down, would things have gone down the same without Cav in the break? We’ll never know, I made the decision I made, the result is what we, as a team, were playing for.

“Wish they’d hurry up with the photo,” I grumbled, we’d been waiting ten minutes already.

“Messieurs, the result,” a chap in a UCI blazer got our attention, “third place, Pellini, Switzerland…”

I didn’t hear the rest, Cav leaped on me and started jigging about more like one of my girl friends at the town dance.

“Congratulations, English,“ a clearly disappointed Mario put in offering a hand.

“Yeah thanks, it was a good race,” I noted taking his hand.
 
 

“I think it’s fair to say, Paul, that coming here to Roskilde you wouldn’t have put money on any British medals but we come away with not one but three World Champions and a medal haul of four gold, one silver and a bronze.”
 
 
What you don’t know of course is that Amanda got the Bronze in the girl’s race, the Vos girl taking the win ahead some Italian, Bronzy or something like that. Our third Arc en Ciel winner was Mum, yeah the women’s race ended in a messy sprint, a crash in the last fifty took out the front runners and Mum slipped through for the win!

“No, Hugh, and three of those medals go to one family who I have with me now, so Jenny, another title?”

“Yes, Paul, bit unexpected, lots of luck involved.”

“Luck or not you still had to be there at the finish, you’ve had a good season, some notable wins added to your palmares.”

“The whole team have done well, Tina has more podiums than me.”

“But you have the important one, this win puts you at the top of this year’s UCI rankings.”

“Really? That’s certainly a bargaining chip to play when I talk to George about next year’s contract,” Mum joked.

“But enough about mum, the star of Team GB has to be this youngster, “ Paul turned to me, “Gold in Friday’s time trial and silver today behind Mark Cavendish, you had quite a good ride in the Helvetica Tour last week, too.”

“Er yeah, I took the win,” I admitted colouring up a bit.

“And you’ve won this year’s German junior league, tell us how that came about.”

“Well, we live in Germany, the league is across events around the country, you get points in each event.”

“A little bird tells me that you’ve won or podiumed every race this year.”

Is that true? I dunno, I guess I have most times.

“Not every race but a fair few I guess.”

“We heard a rumour that your ride today was in doubt right up to this morning?”

“Yeah that’s true, I cracked my scapula when I crashed on Friday, hence the bandages, I had to pass a fitness test to race today.”

“Well we’re glad you passed, it looked like you were the one calling the shots out there.”

“Not really, I was team leader but Mark won twice in Switzerland and Josh got second and the mountains, so we work well as a team.”

“And that weather?”

“Yeah, pretty horrid, I couldn’t see my handlebars at times!”

“Well that’s all we’ve got time for I’m afraid, thank you, Drew, Jenny. From me Paul Sherwen and Hugh Porter, goodbye from Roskilde, we’ll see you on Wednesday for the weekly highlights show here on Eurosport UK.”
 
 

The atmosphere back at team GB HQ was incredible, it wasn’t just Eurosport who wanted interviews of course, and not just with me and Mum. Whilst not a single one of the senior men completed the course, British Cycling was now news worthy having grabbed more gongs than any other nation.
 
 

“You guys driving home tomorrow?” Mand asked as we picked at the buffet.

“Yeah worst luck, I’ve got school on Tuesday.”

“Me too, I’m changing schools soon though.”

“You moving?”

“Uh huh,” she confirmed with a smug look.

“Make sure you send me your new address, anywhere nice?” She’d complained before about living in Sarf Lunden.

“I’ve only been there once, some place called Dunnowe”

“Sounds like where I live, where is it, Kent?” I queried.

She rolled her eyes, “It sounds like it because it is, dumbo.”

“Huh? You’re moving to Dernau?”

“Sometimes, Gab you give blondes a bad name, I’ve been awarded the Apollinaris scholarship, Mr Brailsford told me earlier,” she beamed.

“You’re coming to Germany* to live?”

“That is the plan.” She agreed.

“To Dernau? To live?”

“Uh huh.”

“Where’re you gonna stay?”

“I heard there’s a spare room going with a local family, I think the daughter rides.”

A girl who races in Dernau? Can’t think who that can be, I don’t know everyone in town but you’d think I would’ve come across someone else who races, it’s not a big place.

“What’s her name?

“Geez, Gab, talk about dim.”

“It’s been a hard day,” I defended.

“I’ll be staying with you guys, silly!”

Maddy Bell © 15.08.2014

 
 
“With us?” I exclaimed.

“You don’t have to shout Gab,” Mand admonished.

“When?”

“Probably around half term I guess.”

“Cool!”
 
 

The others were of course flying home Monday morning but the Bond contingent have got a long day on the road ahead of us. Whilst I would happily have spent the evening at the impromptu party Dad ‘suggested’ an early night so I bade my farewells as we’ll be leaving at silly o’clock in the morning. My head had barely hit the pillow before I was asleep, clearly the days exertions had taken more out of me than I thought.
 
 

“Come on kiddo, up and at ‘em. Cars packed, we just need you.” Dad advised gently shaking me into life.

“What time is it?”

“Five fifteen.”

“Too early.”

“Come on, we’re picking Ron up in half an hour.”

“Breakfast?”

“We’ll get it on the ferry, come on shake a leg.”

Why couldn’t we have flown? Dad left me to it, no time to shower so it was a quick wash, massy and a wipe of lippy, it looked cool outside, dry at least so I pulled my trackie top on over my t-shirt. I lobbed everything in my bag, checked the room for left over Bond, good job as my handy was still in the bathroom, then went in search of the ‘rents.

“Got everything?” Dad enquired when I reached the car.

“I did check, where’s Mum?”

“Just having a word with Caro.”

Just then they both emerged from the hotel foyer, I must’ve dashed straight past them.

“Well have a safe journey guys,” Caro offered.

“You too Caro, I’ll call you Wednesday,” Dad replied.

“And you take care Drew, it’s been quite a summer eh?”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

We had a round of hugs then it really was time to depart.
 
 

The German team have been staying in Roskilde itself so at least the diversion to pick up Roni was in the right direction. She was no more awake than me, we’d hardly got on the road south before she was asleep, Mum wasn’t far behind in the slumber stakes. I just about kept my peepers open until we joined the motorway at Køge barely thirty kilometres into our journey.
 
 

I’m not sure what woke me, a change in engine tone, a jolt as the car pulled to a stop maybe, whatever it was, I at least felt a bit more rested.

“Where are we?” I queried of the chauffeur.

“Ferry terminal kiddo, I need to go get us checked in, you coming?”

“Er sure,” I allowed, Mum and Ron were still out of it.

It was full daylight now; unlike the previous few days it was looking like we were in for a warm and bright ride south. I joined Dad and we walked across to the check in, according to the information screen the eight o’clock sailing was on time so another thirty minutes or so until breakfast.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“‘Bout what?” Dad queried.

“Manda coming to stay.”

“We only confirmed things on Saturday night and you were all a bit preoccupied yesterday if I recall.”

“I guess, so she gonna be going to Silverberg?”

“We haven’t sorted that out yet but most likely she’ll go to the English school in Bonn.”

“With Goth Girl? Why not my school?”

“She’s halfway through her GCSE’s, not only that, the only German she knows is what she’s picked up from you.”

“And?”

“And that means she’ll do better in Bonn, like I said it’s not all sorted out yet.”

 
 
We got checked in and returned to the Mercedes where the others were now awake and Mum was trying to tune the radio to something in German that was understandable.

“Where you two been?”

“Getting us checked in,” Dad supplied.

“We made good time,” Mum opined.

“Not too much traffic even through Nykøbing, we’ll have to fuel up in Rostock, we’re nearly on fumes.”

“Okay,” Mum agreed.

“Looks like we’re loading,” Ron noted.

Well not actually us yet, a couple of strange truck things were darting in and out of the ferry loading articulated trailers but no sooner had they come off for the third time were we called forward. My stomach was now rumbling, first stop upstairs will be the restaurant for breakfast – I need coffee!

“Come on, I’m starved.” I keenly shared.

“We’ll catch up kiddo, you both got money?”

Was it only five days ago that we were last here? We made a beeline for the restaurant, what I really fancied was a full English but we are not talking a Dover ferry here. No, instead there was a choice of a set plate of cheese and meat or you pay out for the full buffet.

“I’m not paying that for frühstuck,” Ron stated.

Indeed it was five euros for the plate but a hefty twelve for the buffet. My stomach rumbled again.

“It is inclusive, I’ll get it if you’re tight.”

“Its not that,”

“Madchen?” the woman at the counter enquired.

“Two buffets please.”

“Euro or Krone?”

“Euro.”

“Twenty four please.”

“Gab,” Ron complained.

“My treat,” I offered passing the woman the dosh.

“Danke, coffee and juice at the end.”

“Thanks, come on Ron.”

 
 
It was a bit of a weird set up, there was a bit of the restaurant roped off adjacent to the buffet to keep the riff raff out and a crewmember was in attendance to enforce things. I waved our tickets and he let us in where we claimed a table before collecting anything. The spread was equal to any hotel I’ve stayed in and we both set to plundering the supplies.

“Aah! That’s better,” I allowed after a long draft of coffee.

“Hmm,” Ron agreed.

“You know I told you about BC setting up a kind of apprentice thing?”

“Something about riders joining Apollinaris for the big races next year.”

“That too but they are placing riders with teams to get some better experience.”

“Just what we need, more competition.”

I wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not with that.

“Well anyway, Manda’s got the first placement, she’s joining Apollinaris and staying at ours.”

“Racing with us?”

“Well duh, this scrambled egg is good.”

“She did well in Schweiz, it was lucky yesterday.”

I think Ron was a bit miffed at yesterdays result; she’d certainly been one of the favourites for a medal going into the race. That however had played against her in the final, she got boxed by the Dutch and Italian girls, Mand who had been shadowing her all day slipped the leash and although miles behind Vos and Bronzini was the best of the rest by a tyre. Lucky yes but we all rely on the goddess to get us to the finish.

“You were in the frame,” I pointed out.

“But no medals for seventh.” She stated flatly.

Not much I could say to that, I got two gongs this weekend, I am a World Champeen, I might not’ve got the one I really wanted but that was luck too. The bad luck that Cav was a teammate, bad luck that he was there at the finale. But that’s how luck goes, there’s no guarantee that without Mark there I’d have won, my shoulder could’ve been worse, the break could have been brought back – well the vagaries of luck are pretty much infinite.
 
 

“There you are,” Mum stated.

“What took you guys?”

“Bit of stuff to sort out,” Dad supplied.

“That looks good.” Mum opined reaching over and purloining a bit of the scrambled egg.

“It’s the buffet, Gab insisted on paying out, twelve euros!”

“Each?” Dad queried.

“Yeah, but it includes coffee and juice,” I promoted.

“Come on Dave, it’ll set us up for the drive.”

“Twelve euro!” he muttered as Mum headed for the servery.

 
 
The crossing takes just over an hour and a half, we were only twenty minutes from port when we emerged from breakfast, sated and sloshing with coffee! Remember the rule; always use any available facilities, so after a quick visit we went up on deck to watch arrival back into Germany. Rostock isn’t on the coast proper but at the head of a fjord so we had to pass through the narrow mouth and progress inland to the ferry terminal.

Of course, unlike crossing the Channel, Germany and Denmark are both in Schengen* so once off the boat we were straight out of the docks and in minutes pulling into a Tankstelle on the edge of Rostock.

“We won’t be stopping for a while so if you want water or anything best get it now.” Dad instructed.

“Ron?”

“Get me a bottle if you’re going,” she instructed.

Since when did I become the domestique?

 
 
I grabbed a six-pack of water in the shop and one of those kilo bags of gummi bears – its gonna be a long drive okay, 700km, maybe a bit more. Back outside Mum was just adjusting the driver’s seat.

“Dad not driving?”

“I’m taking us down to Bremen so your dad can get some shut eye – he did drive down to the ferry with us all asleep.”

Hope she drives better than she normally does, she can be a bit of a lead foot!

* Open border arrangement signed up to by most European countries but not isolationist Britain.

Maddy Bell © 17.08.2014

 
 
I won’t bore you with the drive home, suffice to say that three toilet stops, a longer halt for some lunch and a short stop at the Grönbergs to drop Roni off meant that it was approaching seven when we turned into Dernau from the valley road. Mum and Dad had shared the driving, Ron and I spent a significant part of the day with eyes closed and sometimes it wasn’t due to Mum’s driving! Just kidding but let’s just say that the needle didn’t stray much below 150kph for a lot of road.

“Hmm, I could murder a cuppa.”

“Hopefully your sister’ll have the kettle on, I told her we’d be here about seven,” Mum supplied.

Oh how naive we are. We turned into the village as usual only to find a diversion in place, annoying but not the end of the world. I did sense the odour of Rattus rattus when we turned the next corner to find the street bedecked in bunting and a sizeable crowd complete with, if I’m not mistaken, a TV crew.

"Shitza!"

"My thoughts exactly, kiddo," Mum noted.

"Dad?"

"They said a little welcome," he offered whilst confirming his complicity.

"I'm tired, Dave," Mum complained in turn.

"Humour them for a bit, eh, I managed to defer the civic reception."

By now of course our arrival had been well and truly noted.

"Let's get it over with then," Mum sighed, "dig out the gongs, Gab."

Dig them out? Mine have been in my pocket all day; I’ve been sneaking quick looks whenever Roni dropped off.

 
 
I didn't give you the kilometre by kilometre of the drive down so you'll have to put up with more detail about the reception committee. We didn't get much chance to dither; Bernd our local member of the Polizei came to escort us up to the makeshift stage where we joined several eminent burghers and a mad MC.

"Und here they are, Dernau's very own Weltmeisterin, Jenny und Gaby Bondt!"

There was quite a lot of cheering; it looked like half the village had turned out. You have to ham it up a bit of course so we gave our public a smile and wave - I reckon I could be an actor. I spotted the Angel's down near the front and my sister off to one side now joined by Dad.

Of course no occasion worth its salt can be speech free and this gathering was well laden with saline material. So after our bit of arm waving we had to endure speeches from the mayor, his deputy and the chairman of the Lion's who had apparently sorted out this shindig.

"So, Jenny, how does it feel to be Weltmeisterin again?"

"Strange. When I took the title two years ago I thought it would be my only shot, when I got selected this time it was expected that I’d be helping the younger girls, the rest as they say, is history."

"And talking of younger girls, let us bring your daughter in."

I shuffled up between our MC and Mum.

"It was strange to see our own Weinkönigin riding the boys events in Denmark?"

Sugar.

"Er," I stalled but was saved by Mum.

"The rules only state that boys or men cannot ride the ladies events, British Cycling thought that Gaby was good enough to compete with the boys, I think you'll agree with their decision."

"The English, always thinking beyond the box, eh? So, Gaby, not one but two medals, beating Mom, eh?"

"This time," I allowed, "I need my own trophy case now!"

"Any carpenters out there?"

Boy he's sharp; he got that one in without me even seeing it. Of course it got the round of chuckles it was intended to generate.

"So what next, ladies?"

"Back to the grindstone, we go with Apollinaris to Japan in a few weeks so it's back to training for me and school for Gaby."

"Mu-um," I groaned, I sure didn't need reminding of that.

All I wanted to do was sleep but I guess the cost of fame is just that, fame. After the locals were done with us it was the turn of Gertie Schmidt and the TV crew. At least we only had to recycle the previous exchange.

 
 

"See you in the morning then, Gabs," Con mentioned.

"I guess so," I confirmed.

"Best wear something nice, rumour is that old Boxberg is doing a special assembly - bring the bling, eh!"

I groaned - she's been taking lessons from Woody, I’m sure of it.

"Yeah, whatever," I agreed.

 
 
"Sorry, Mum," Jules offered when we did eventually get to Chez Bond.

"Not your fault but I can overlook a lot with a decent cuppa?"

 
 
And so we were back home, the focus of the last eight weeks of my life been and gone. Will my life return to some sort of normality? I wish, school and of course I need to see the Doc again to sort out my er issues. No, normal for me is a world of excitement for most people.
 
 

I took Con's advice, even if it meant getting up super early. There is no way I’m looking a scruff in front of the whole Gymnasium, so I turned up at Thesing’s with my hair neatly braided, subtle makeup and a 'nice' dress. Okay for someone claiming to be male it's a bit er negative but it's not like wearing jeans and a t shirt will have people believing that, not around here at least.

"You got a date, Gaby?" Frau Thesing enquired.

"As if, Con said there's a special assembly at school so I thought I'd go smart."

"Well you are certainly that, congratulations by the way, we all watched on the telly, first you and then your mutter."

"Erm."

"Whoa, Gab-eee!" Pia announced.

"Yeah, yeah, a bit over the top for school."

"I know someone who'll like it," Con chipped in.

 
 
The tone of the day was set, my old Schauff weighs a ton and whilst I might be quite fit getting it moving, especially in a dress and sandals isn't an easy business. The conversation of our little group as we rolled down the Ahrtal quickly moved from my doings to catching up with the gossip and what I’d missed at school. Not too much of the latter thankfully and the girls had got notes for me anyhow.

Arrival at the Ahrtal Gymnasium came far too soon and with it a return to reality. I might have made my mark in the cycling world at the weekend, heck I was even on telly last night but here at school - well boys still kicked balls around and girls were doing the goss, here I’m anonymous. Well if you don't count the catcalls and general harassment fifteen-year-old girls get.

"Hey. Gab, nice dress!"

"I said someone would notice, " Con stage whispered.

Whatever, "Morning, Max."

"So like congratulations for the weekend, even Gran was watching."

All I need.

"Er thanks," I mumbled.

The warning bell of impending doom prevented any further discussion as we all headed for registration. Dunno why but I was getting a lot of weird looks this morning, well not weird as such but a lot of smiles and even little waves from kids I didn't know from Adam or should that be Eve?

 
 
“Welcome back, Gaby,” Fr Dürst noted as I slid into homeroom, “congratulations.”

“Um thanks, Miss.”

“It looks like you’ve been forewarned about the assembly?”

“Con sort of mentioned there might be something happening.”

Hey, how’d she know? What did she mean by that?

The second bell sounded and everyone found their seats, Fr Dürst immediately starting the register.

 
 
I felt a bit of a prawn as we all headed for the main hall a few minutes later, okay I wasn’t the only one in a dress but they were at least girls. Most of my peers were in some form of denim not a girly girly summer frock. We filed into the hall where Claudia Pfeffer, the school secretary tugged me to one side.

“Ah, Gaby, the Boss wants you up at the stage, have you brought your medals?”

I patted my bag, “I was warned,” I informed her with a grin.

“Good girl, let’s go the long way around.”

 
 
“… And so let’s have a big welcome for our very own Weltmeister, Gaby Bond.”

Was that intentional, calling me world champ in the male mode? Don’t suppose anyone else noticed.

Claudia gave me a gentle shove, “Go on. girl.”

So okay it’s hardly the first time I’ve done this sort of thing but it never seems to alter the degree of nervousness walking out in front of your peers causes. Old Boxberg had already done the warm up, if I hadn’t known it was me she was talking about I wouldn’t’ve recognised me. My gongs chinked together as I walked across to the head as the school politely clapped my entrance.

The following interview glossed over some of the less important facts, that I was riding for GB and that I won the boy’s title. No, Frau Boxberg was keen to promote me as local girl done good, an example to everyone – I could feel my face redden with embarrassment. The whole thing was rounded out by one of the lower year girls presenting me with a bouquet, what the heck do I do with that all day?

 
 
“Thanks, Gaby, I can always count on you to be a good egg,” Frau B mentioned as she herded me from the stage a few minutes later.

“Erm.”

“Sometimes we need to reinforce the Heimat, eh? We don’t have a lot to shout about in our little valley, no big league football team or famous choir. You and your mother are our heroes.”

“But we aren’t even German,” I observed.

“That, my dear mädchen, is immaterial, it’s not where you come from but where you are now, you are part of the valley family, a prominent part. You might not realise it but your family’s presence here has had a surprising impact on the Ahrtal.

A lot of people who aren’t really cycling or even sports fans watched the racing on Sunday, they were cheering you and your mother on regardless of the jerseys you wore, Apollinaris are ‘their’ team and you ride for their team and live amongst them.”

“Um.”

“You are part of the community, something to be proud of, someone to boast about to their friends. You know what it’s like Gaby, the Kirmes*, the Weinkönigin voting – everyone gets involved. No it has nothing to do with nationality, it’s community and you Gaby Bond are part of that, a part that your friends and neighbours care about more than you know.”

Ulp!

“Go on, you don’t want to be late for Herr Ansbacher’s class.”

“Er what do I do with these?” I enquired brandishing the colourful array of flora I was gripping.

“Give ‘em here,” Claudia instructed, “you can pick them up from the office later.”

“Thanks,” I gratefully handed her the blooms, heaven knows what I’m supposed to do with half a florist’s shop.

* Carnival cum fair

Maddy Bell © 13.09.2014

 
 
“Where’re the blumen?” Steff enquired at morning break.

“School office,” I offered around a chunk of Streusel.

“Margot was asking if you’ll be at the Stern this week?” Pia queried.

Sugar, she’ll be on at me about the cheerleading.

“I guess so.” I half sighed, another evening booked up. “You guys remember I told you about Manda last week?”

“The English racer girl?” Brid suggested.

“The same, well you never guess what?”

“How are we supposed to guess something when we don’t know what you are talking about.” Nena mumped.

“She has a point, Gab,” Con agreed.

The wind taken from my sails somewhat I nearly forgot what I was going to say.

“So what is this revelation then?” Steffi prompted.

What indeed, oh right, Mand, “Well, she’s got the apprenticeship* with Apollinaris.”

The others looked blankly back.

“She’s coming to Germany, to stay.”

I can’t say the others looked that enthused by the news.

“For how long?” Pia asked.

“Easter at least.”

“When does she come?” Con queried in turn.”

“After mid term, they have to get her schooling sorted out.”

“She’s not coming to Silverberg?” Steff noted.

“Dunno yet, might be the college in Bonn Goth Girl goes to.”

“The English place?” Brid confirmed.

“Uh huh,” I agreed.

“So we going to Koblenz Saturday?” Nena changed the subject.
 
 

“Where’d they come from?” Dad enquired when I stumbled indoors behind the flowers after school.

“I got given them at school.”

“Max?”

“As if!” who were they from? The school I guess. “There was a special assembly thing about the weekend, I got them after that.”

“Best get them in water then.”

“Er yeah, where’s Mum?”

“Down at the Pinger’s, she’ll be back for dinner which you are supposed to be doing?”

Sugar! Bang goes emailing the other BC guys, I meant to do it last night and forgot. I found a big vase thing under the sink and ‘artistically’ placed the flowers into it, it was the nouveau look I was going for, honest. I checked the dinner list, Tuesday, beef roulade with spuds and veg – pretty straightforward, the meat just wants going in the oven, we buy it already prepared from the butcher, it’s the taters that take the time. Oh well, might as well crack on.
 
 

“Don’t forget Roni’s coming down Saturday.” Dad noted as we waited for dinner to cook.

“Saturday? What for?”

“You’re racing at Hockenheim on Sunday, I did tell you when we dropped her off on Monday, we’re staying in Speyer Saturday night, it’s a bit far to motor down Sunday morning.”

Bummer, looks like Koblenz is out.

 
 
“… So we’re driving down Saturday,” I informed the others as we sipped coffee in Thesing’s Wednesday morning.

“The price of fame,” Steff lamented.

“Tell me about it,” I sighed.

“So when does your racing end, Gab?” Pia queried.

When indeed? In fact Dad was at pains to go over my programme for the rest of the season last night so whilst the regular season ends with our trip to Japan there’s a youth track series BC want me to ride and George is apparently keen for us to at least make a show at some regional cyclo cross events. So it might not be full on race season but I’ll be doing something or other most of the cooler months.

“It eases off in October.”

“Poor ol’ Gab,” Con lamented with a grin.

“No dress today, Gaby?” Con’s mum noted.

“There’s nothing happening today is there?” I haven’t missed something have I?

“Not that I know of.”

“Phew!”

I was back to a more normal, for me at least, outfit for school, t-shirt, capri’s and plimmys.

“Pity, you looked so nice yesterday.”

What’s that meant to mean?

“Mama!” Con censured.

“I was only saying, she looked lovely yesterday.”

“Um thanks,” I guess it’s better than cute.

So Wednesday, and Thursday following it fell into a similar pattern to last year, some of the subjects moved around the timetable but essentially it was same old. Koblenz was rescheduled; instead we were meeting Anna for coffee down in Remagen Saturday morning. Friday started much the same but instead of an evening of training and homework, I did kind of promise Pia I’d go up to Altenahr for Garde.

“Six thirty then, Gab?”

“Er sure,” I agreed.

“Tschussie!” Pia offered with a wave as we went our separate ways.

“Tschuss!”

“Bye.”

“Laters!”

Everyone bade their farewells, those living up valley kicking off up the cycle track leaving me and Con to cross over into Dernau.

“You back for Tatort on Sunday?”

“Dunno, thought it finished before I went away.”

“It did, it’s the new season, dummy,” she supplied.

In case you’ve forgotten Tatort is our favourite cop show, it’s German so there’s none of the terrible over dubbing that imported shows get although compared to some Brit stuff the plots can be a bit pedestrian and predictable.

“Come round for dinner if you’re back.”

Now that’s an offer I want to take up!

“What time?”

“Tat starts at twenty, dinner at half to.”

“Have to call you Sunday when I know the time.”

By now we were at the bakery where we pulled to a halt.

“You coming here or the station in the morning?” Con quizzed.

“Here I think,” I looked at my watch, four thirty, shitza! “I need to dash.”

“Always on the go,” Con supplied as we hugged.

“That’s me, dynamo Bond,” I allowed as we separated, “see you tomorrow.”

“Tschuss!”

 
 
“Where’s the fire kiddo?” Dad asked as I rushed into Bond Acres a couple of minutes later.

“I’ve got Garde tonight.”

Dad doesn’t exactly approve of Garde, well my involvement; it’s caused some friction a time or two since I started with it.

“You need a lift?” he offered.

“I’m supposed to meet Pia.”

“We can pick her up.”

“In that case, yes please,” that’s saved a good half an hour, “I’d best call her, let her know.”

 
 
Dave watched as his youngest child skipped out to the phone to make the call, doing the Dad’s taxi bit goes with the territory of course but the local news was full of a recent assault on a schoolgirl over in Mayen. You can’t wrap them in cotton wool and you don’t want them living in fear but the evenings are closing in and it’s not the nicest road for a young girl to be riding along on her own.
 
 

Dinner was schnitzel with croquettes and some veggies – simple, quick and not too heavy, not only that but it was as much as Jenny Bond could be bothered to cook!

“Not sure I should let you out in that outfit,” Jen observed.

“It’s just dance stuff,” Drew pointed out.

Just dance stuff indeed, that was true enough, it wasn’t really what it was, leotard and tights is pretty standard for girls exercising, no it was how it showed her son, no daughter’s body off.

“Are you putting anything else on? It can get a bit chilly this time of year,” she suggested.

“Okay,” Drew sighed, “I’ll take my hoody.”

Well it was better than nothing Jen lamented.

 
 
“Thanks, Herr Bond, Dad says he’ll pick us up and drop Gabs off after.”

“Tell him thanks, Pia.”

“Sure.”

 
 
The drive up to the dance club was only about ten minutes, there seemed to be quite a few cars about which is a bit unusual, I guess everyone got a lift tonight.

“Gaby, congratulations on your racing.”

“Thanks, Hannah.”

The clubhouse was abuzz with the girls of the Ahr Alles Stern Garde; the head coach pulled the little blonde to one side.

“Thanks for coming, Gaby,”

“I said I would,” I mentioned.

“You did but I know your racing comes first. Do you remember what we talked about before the summer, the cheering?”

Unfortunately.

“Yeah of course.”

“Can we talk after Garde? The committee are keen to get it up and cheering so to speak.”

Maddy Bell © 15.09.2014

 
 
“So what do you think?” Hannah asked.

What to think? It had been hinted at when they spoke earlier in the year and to be truthful Garde was really his thing, the whole regimentation and individual anonymity of it all. No, given the choice if he was going to do any dance type thing cheering would be it, those couple of sessions with the Foresters back in Warsop were just so much fun.

“And I’d be head coach?”

“Uh huh, you’d have support of course, we aren’t going to drop everything in your lap.”

“I probably won’t be able to go to many competitions or other stuff.”

“We’ll work around that of course but you have some experience, you even cheered in America.”

“Not a lot,” I pointed out.

“You are the nearest we have to an expert, Gab.”

Look, I’m fifteen okay and Hannah knows how to manipulate us.

“I get to design the uniform?”

“The committee get last say.”

“We’ll need to hold tryouts as soon as.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“I’ll give it a go.”

 
 
“I said the ten past nine train,” Pia repeated as we pulled up in front of Schloss Bond.

“Er sorry, yeah ten past, we’ll be there.”

“I’ll text Con.” She supplied.

“Thanks for the lift Mr S.”

“No problem, Gaby.”

“Ten past,” I confirmed with his daughter before clambering out of the bus.

 
 
“That you, kiddo?” Dad enquired.

Well duh?

“Guess what?”

“It’s snowing.”

“Snow? Where? It wasn’t just now.”

Sometimes.

“You said to guess, so what is it?” Dad prompted.

“Oh right, Hannah wants me to coach the cheerleaders.”

“I didn’t know they had any.”

“Any of what?” Mum queried joining us in the lounge.

“Cheerleaders,” I filled, “they don’t that is not yet, we’re gonna start a team and I’m in charge.”

“What do you mean, you’re in charge?”

“I’m gonna be head coach like Fran.”

“Fran Cowlishaw?” Mum suggested.

“Yeah, she coaches the Foresters.”

“I remember, since when do you call her Fran? She is a teacher.”

“Not mine though, she told me to when I was Warsop the other week.”

Mum replied with a “hmm.”

“And just what does this ‘job’ entail?” Dad asked.

“It’s not a job.”

“I’d call it a job,” Mum put in.

“Whatever, well I get to pick the team and do the chorrie stuff and the training.”

“Sounds like a job to me,” Dad pointed out, “and you do all this on your own?”

“Well Han’ll be helping a bit.”

“And just when does all this happen, you’ve still got training and homework you know.” Mum pointed out.

“The hall’s free on Monday’s,” I offered.

“I’ll give Hannah a call tomorrow,” Dad stated.

“Da-ad,” I complained.

“She’s played you before kiddo, we’re not saying you can’t do it but I think we need to lay some limits down.”

“Mum?” I appealed.

“I’m with your Dad on this, Drew.”

“I’m going to bed!” I told them before stomping out.

“Drew? Luv?” Mum’s voice followed me but I ignored her and instead clambered quickly to my eyrie.

 
 
“Well that went well,” Jen mentioned to her hubby.

“She’ll get over it Jen, I don’t want Hannah taking advantage of her.”

“I know luv, I wasn’t disputing anything, I guess it’s the teenage thing.”

“I guess we’ve been quite lucky really, Jules wasn’t too bad and if Gab just throws a few tantrums we’ve done well.”

“Yeah, I think I was worse than either of ours,” Jenny admitted.

Why do they have to spoil everything? I peeled my dance stuff off and after a quick sniff decided a shower could wait till the morning. Every time I want to do something they have to stick an oar in, I’ll show ‘em! It wasn’t that late but I put my pj’s on and climbed into bed, yeah, I’ll show ‘em.

 
 
“Gab, come on, we’ll miss the train.”

“It’s these shoes.”

“Dunno why you’re wearing them,” Con noted.

“Because,” well to be honest it’s all I could think of to wind the rents up this morning – you’re not going out in those – I so am – change them now – ut uh!

I tottered across the road, the shoes are actually Jules’ but I have worn them before albeit only indoors. Maybe eighteen centimetre heels are a bit much for actually going anywhere in. We arrived on the platform seconds before the down train and the other girls; Anna is meeting us there for some reason.

“What’re you wearing those for, Gab?” Brid asked.

“Because she can,” Con supplied before I could answer myself.

I managed to get onto a seat before the swaying train toppled me already wishing I’d had the sense to grab my trainers on the way out.

 
 
The atmosphere in the car was to say the least icy as we cruised down the autobahn several hours later. It had nothing to do with Ron but I’d been a right bitch toward her since we picked her up at Remagen Hbf. So now Dad was humming to himself up front and Ron and me were sat as far as possible apart in the back seat.

Neither Mum nor Dad actually said anything about the shoes when I got back home, my feet were killing and I was spoiling for a fight but nothing. They had plenty to say on other matters, Gaby do this, Gaby do that. To be honest they were quite reasonable requests and I couldn’t really find it in me to argue the toss. Of the matter in hand though nothing.

Somewhere down the road I must have dropped off as the next thing I recall was a change in engine tone waking me up. I peered out of the window at the streets of a typical mid size German town, wide boulevards lined by an assortment of apartment blocks of varying age. Dad was following the sat nav, which guided us right into the centre, delivering us to the door of our night’s accommodation, the City Plaza Hotel.

 
 
“Come on you two, quicker we’re checked in the quicker we eat,” Dad chivvied.

“Whatever.”

“Drew Bond, if you don’t start acting a bit more civil we’ll be driving straight back to Dernau tonight.”

Did I want to push things that far? Ron was looking pretty narked and Dad looked serious. I took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” I allowed.
 
 

“The girl on reception said that most of the restaurants are the other side of the main street.” Dad told us as we followed the signs towards the Altstadt.

“Figures,” Ron observed.

“I’m starving,” I stated.

“Not the only one,” Ron agreed as we reached the central spine of the old town.

To our left was a tower thingy, to our right across that end of the street stood some sort of big church but the thing grabbing my attention was the collection of tables outside of several hostelries a short way up the street.

“Let’s see what’s on offer,” Dad suggested.

 
 
A couple of the places turned out to be ice cream parlours so they were quickly dismissed allowing us to narrow our options. Final choice was as much due to table availability, Zur Alten Munz* had a vacant set of seats which we claimed with not a little relief. The place was certainly busy, we waited impatiently for the Speisekarte enviously eyeing up other diners’ plates.

“Well the Pfalzer Leibgericht looks interesting.” Dad proposed.

The menu was fairly standard, schnitzel, pizza, steak, a couple of fish options and several ‘regional’ dishes. You can’t always be sure what you’ll actually get, the Leibgericht looked like some sort of mixed grill. Why not?

“I’m game,” I agreed.

“Think I’ll have the Wiener,” Ron decided.
 
 

I sipped at my Radler when it arrived.

“Right then, tomorrow,” Dad started, ”game plan.”

It’s actually on the Hockenheim Ring, the motor racing circuit, we do twenty laps of the four and a half kilometre circuit, ninety k’s and Dad reckons it’s flatter than Roskilde last week.

“So, Wiener?”

Our food arrived, Ron’s schnitzel and me and Dad’s Leibgericht that looked well interesting. Sausage, some sort of frikadel, a pork steak with a bit of salad and a decent load of Rösti. Conversation stopped as we all hungrily descended on the food, all equally hungry.

 
 
After a coffee we started back to the hotel, the long way. The church thing turns out to be the Dom and it’s bigger than it first looked, we walked up to it and after Dad consulted a town plan took a stroll through the Dom Gärten.

“What the heck is that?” Ron exclaimed.

“What?”

“Over there,” she pointed.

“Whoa!”

Across the parking area in front of us a Jumbo jet hovered in the air.

“That’ll be the technical museum, I didn’t realise it was so close to the centre,” Dad noted, “fancy taking a squint?

We both shrugged, why not, it’s not everyday you see a Jumbo hovering over a city, well I guess you do if you live in Speyer!

* The Old Mint

Maddy Bell © 15.09.2014

 
 
It was a pleasant evening although being September the evening was rapidly closing in, by the time we’d walked the few hundred metres to the museum the light was definitely going. Of course, at close to eight in the evening the ‘Technik Museum Speyer’ wasn’t open but with plenty of exhibits outside there was a bit of stuff to look at through the fence.

“Didn’t we go past here when we went to Stuttgart?” Roni observed.

“That was Sinsheim,” Dad told us as we scanned the assorted aircraft and shipping, “I think the two are connected.”

The Jumbo wasn’t actually on top of the buildings as it appeared but rather held up on huge steel legs, the smaller aircraft held up in similar fashion with steps up to them, I’m guessing you can go into some of them. The shipping was exhibited less dramatically, a huge submarine, some sort of coastguard boat and another vessel that might have been a fishing boat.

“‘S a bit like the place in Luzern,” I opined.

“I guess so.” Dad agreed.

The site was certainly quite big; it would be no half hour visit to see everything.

“Come on then, let’s get back,” Dad suggested.

There wasn’t any point in lingering and to be honest I was starting to feel a bit cold, my vest top and denim skirt not exactly designed for warmth – not that Roni’s t-shirt and shorts were any better. Tomorrow I get to be Drew; tonight I get to be comfortable! We walked the short distance back to the city centre, Dad leading the way.
 
 

“Soz about earlier, Ron.”

“‘S okay, moon time?”

“Moon ti, no, no.”

“So?”

“You know I go to Garde?”

“That weird dance thing?”

“Yeah, well anyway, Hannah, she’s in charge like, she wants me to set up a cheerleading section of the club.”

“And?”

“Mum and Dad want to stick their noses in…”

 
 
Dave was far enough ahead to give the girls’ conversation some privacy but still hear most of what was being said. Perhaps they were being a bit heavy handed over this, clearly Drew was mostly upset that they didn’t trust him, her, Dave corrected himself. The older girl wasn’t really having much input to the conversation, perhaps experience showing in her responses.

 
 
“Breakfast at eight, we need to be away by nine.” Dave told his charges.

“We’ll be there,” Ron confirmed.

“I’ve got my alarm, Dad,” Drew told them.

“Dressed and ready, eh?” Dave pressed.

“Yes, Daddy,” Bond junior sighed.

Dave watched them go into their room, how strange is that, after all the pretence and subterfuge of the last eighteen months. It had always been he and Drew sharing a room on these trips and now he’d be sleeping alone instead of Roni. Life can certainly throw you some curve balls and Drew, Gaby was a real googly!
 
 

“Come on, girls, we need to get going,” Dave prompted from the door.

“It’s not nine yet,” Drew stated.

“Which just goes to prove you can get up in the morning,” Bond senior observed.

“Come on, Gab’s, we’ll have more time to warm up,” Ron suggested dragging her teammate outside to the car.
 
 

They were soon heading towards Hockenheim, it was only about fifteen kilometres even the way they direct you to the circuit. Once at the circuit they followed a couple of other cars clearly here for the cycling, by nine thirty the Mercedes was parked.

“Go and get signed on, I’ll have the bikes ready when you get back.”

“’Kay,” Drew agreed.
 
 

“Bit quieter than last week, eh?” Ron observed.

“Not many.”

“It’s gonna be weird riding an ordinary event again.”

“I guess,” Drew agreed, “last one I did was in England, Cav beat me there as well.”

That was sort of comforting; Mark wouldn’t be here so my chances of a win are pretty good.

 
 
We were already in our race kit so once we’d got our numbers, one and two, we returned to Dad and the bikes.

“We can warm up on the circuit until ten,” Ron told Dad.

“Better not waste any time then, get off and I’ll bring everything over.”
 
 

I’ve been out training a couple of times this week but to be honest I wasn’t really trying, just going through the motions. Today, this morning, I need to get back into the groove, it’s not part of any series so there’s nothing at stake other than pride and a reasonable prize fund. We rode out onto the circuit, the wide tarmac quite a contrast to our usual racing conditions.

“Might get a couple of laps before they clear us.”

“Come on then,” Ron suggested.

Compared to my local motor racing circuit Hockenheim is boring. It’s almost flat, the infield pretty much featureless, even Cosford is more exciting! We were soon riding tempo, a few other competitors doing likewise in ones or twos, by the time we’d completed a full lap we were part of a peloton of about a dozen holding a steady pace as we chatted.

It’s a big country, lots of riders, some never venturing far from home, others travelling far and wide to race. It does mean you meet lots of different riders, today was no surprise, a few jerseys that I recognised from past excursions in this general direction mixed with others less familiar. It was a friendly exchange of banter, the rarefied atmosphere of the Worlds replaced by a less serious enthusiasm – these guys’ ambition lay much closer to home. Compared to the intense atmosphere I’ve been living in for most of the summer this was refreshing indeed.

We completed a second lap, picking up a few more bods on the way, before the officials brought us in.

 
 
“Everything okay?” Dad enquired when we drew up to the pit wall.

“I guess,” I allowed as I divested myself of my trackie top.

“Roni?”

“Fine, Herr Bond, pity the others aren’t here.”

“Well we don’t have so much budget we can spend it on events with no real return, Dieter’s lined them up some rides in the north so they aren’t missing out.”

“Best get to the line,” I suggested.

“Don’t want to miss the start,” Ron snickered.

“Glück, kids.”

“Tschussie!” I offered as I pushed off towards the start area.

 
 
Being a chipper there was none of the intro stuff we get at the series races instead we lined up across the circuit, the starting straight easily able to accommodate the sixty or so teens who were competing this morning. Some guy stood out in front of us and gave a little speech about the timing of prime laps and lapped riders before hurrying to the side. There isn’t any neutralised sector, when the gun goes off that’s it, it was tempting to take a flyer but fifteen laps of this exposed circuit might be a bit much.

Crack!

The starter’s gun signalled the start of hostilities and we were off. The sound of cleats clicking into pedals quickly faded as the long line of riders began to quickly coalesce into something resembling a peloton. Having put ourselves in the centre of the line Ron and I were well placed to get in the front half of the group that without our input was already gathering momentum.

Over the course of the first lap the more capable riders slipped forward, only a couple of which looked likely to trouble Ron for the girls’ prize. No one seemed particularly keen to stir things up, a couple of chancers gaining but a few yards before being reeled in and the status quo reset. The pace remained quite sedate, no real organisation, the front of the bunch just a wall of jerseys apparently without ambition.

Ron and I kept close and out of trouble, happy to let others do the graft, no point in wasting energy. Two laps completed and the slow pace ensured that pretty much the whole race was still together, a tadpole of riders squirming around the circuit.

“We staying here all day?” Ron enquired in English, our ‘secret tactic’ language.

“You want to stir things up a bit?”

“Don’t you? It’s like the kettle watching.”

Well I couldn’t argue with that, being in a bunch doing something is one thing, the apathy this morning was nothing if not frustrating.

“What you thinking?”

“Girly attack?”

I rolled my eyes, we’ve done it before, remember the Three Countries? It involves a bit of subterfuge but hey, all’s fair in getting a race advantage, I switched to German, “think my period’s starting.”

“You wanna drop out?” Ron played along.

“Think I’ll be okay, just don’t expect much eh? If this pace picks up I’m toast.”

By some of the either knowing or grossed out expressions around us, the gist of our conversation had been understood by enough of the opposition to give us a little lea way. I know it’s not exactly being honest but they largely think I’m a girl anyhow so it’s only stretching things a little.
 
 

The circuit doesn’t offer many opportunities in the five-kilometre lap to get away, a slower corner at the far end and a small rise before hitting the home straight. Being designed for motor sport ensures the circuit is well surfaced and wide, both useful if things get stirred up. We didn’t have to wait long, the pace being lifted, not enough to trouble Apollinaris but enough to stretch the elastic a bit for the less capable riders.

I made it as obvious as possible that I was dropping back, just as the instigators hoped, Roni meanwhile hanging in but looking a bit ‘distressed’ – I swear she could get a job on the stage! It didn’t take long to get towards the back of the forty strong main peloton, my computer was showing a steady thirty-two kph, not slow but hardly quick either. We finished another lap before Ron ‘blew’ and accelerated backwards towards my tail end position.

That didn’t go unnonoticed up ahead, the speed almost immediately starting to drop. Mistake, big mistake, chaps. I slipped out of the shelter and off to the right hand side of the circuit, Ron settling into my former position, we don’t want to give away too much do we? I held station opposite the bunch but behind the leaders through the outward leg then as on the previous laps the bunch slowed for the tighter exit of the chicane.

I of course kept the gas on, pedalling through the corner that took me swiftly alongside the leaders. Roni meanwhile used underbraking to quickly make up twenty places, her attack out of the corner clearly surprising everyone. Well almost everyone, I was out of mind on the other side of the tarmac already doing ten kph more than the bunch.

Ron angled across the roadway; we joined forces before we’d gone another hundred metres. You might recall we are quite good at time trialling, I’m World Champeen, so our now combined effort quickly gained us some road space. Behind us confusion reigned, the unexpected move causing a degree of panic which instead of a measured response resulted in twenty separate ways of dealing with the girlies!

We’d wanted to stir things up and we’d certainly accomplished that, by the time we returned to the start area the chasing riders were spread over a considerable distance, the elastic snapping for a double handful of unfortunates. The chase still wasn’t what you might call organised, with a dozen riders all wanting to take the lead no one of them could afford to take shelter. Our forty five kph couldn’t go on for ever, at the end of the day there are more of the chasers and it’s still over eleven laps.

Maddy Bell © 03.10.2014

 
 
‘What are that pair up to?’ Dave mused as his riders slipped across the line to the bell announcing the lap five prime.
 
 

Out on the circuit the two cream and blue shod riders kept a steady forty kph going, a punishing pace that even the Wunderkind couldn’t sustain for another fifty five kilometres. But that was never the idea, no that was to stir up the pack and hopefully get a response from the more able riders to make a race of it. As a tactic it was potentially lethal to their chances but you don’t get to be nearly World Champion by sitting in the bunch doing nothing.

“How long?” Ron wheezed.

“Chicane,” Drew offered.

“Kay,” his companion agreed.

 
 
Almost half a minute behind them the remains of the peloton were finally getting into some sort of order, the more experienced riders taking a more measured approach to chasing down the ‘girls’. The result of course was a string of riders chasing their tails but with little real prospect of getting back into the action.

Drew and Roni eased off some after the chicane, which marked a lap since they took flight. Eased off but certainly not sat up, their speed was still over thirty-five as they began the return towards the lap end. It might be September but the morning was starting to warm up, Drew taking the opportunity of a turn at the back to tug his arm warmers down.

They were still well clear of their pursuers through the last turn of the lap, Drew was surprised when Ron accelerated off, oh hang on the prime.

‘You sneaky bitch!’ he muttered under his breath before giving chase.

Drew might pride himself on his sprinting skills but Ron is hardly a slouch either, with the late start to his effort he was never gonna catch her before the line, instead sitting up some distance early. A glance behind didn’t reveal any chasers, what are they doing back there?

 
 
“Ha, gotcha!” Ron grinned as Drew rejoined her.

“I wasn’t trying and anyway you got a head start.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“It’s not an excuse,” Drew humphed.

“Is so, anyway we still racing or what?”

“Guess so, I thought some of them might get up to us.”

“Well I can’t see anyone,” Ron noted looking back down the circuit.

“Two up?”

“Sure,” Ron agreed.

 
 
The chasers certainly hadn’t given up but closing the gap wasn’t happening quickly, the two escapees remaining stubbornly out of reach. It was a further two laps before their quarry came into view again, some big turns and eight riders contributing to the pace finally making an impression. From the sixty odd starters, less than a dozen were now in contention, the rest spread across an increasingly large part of the circuit.

 
 
“They’re coming up,” Ron observed as we entered the chicane.

“Not very quickly.”

In fact we were still clear at the end of lap six although the gap was under fifty metres. No point in wasting energy, we both sat up and within metres the huffing and puffing remains of the peloton didn’t so much zip past but crawled through. It was easy enough for the two of us, apparently spent (as if!) to slip in at the back job done.

The groups pace had dropped when they caught us ‘girls’ but several of the lads clearly wanted to lose our presence and the tempo returned to a higher level. We, the intended victims weren’t the ones to suffer, instead by the end of the lap and approaching half distance another of the lads lost contact leaving a good sized group, ten in all to share the pace. I suppose you tend to know the riders you er ride with, for these guys the Baden League, for us the National series, it’s not often our paths would cross which is proving to be to our advantage today.

“Nice try, girls,” a lanky youth sporting the strip of Sporting Pforzheim half sneered as the pace once again settled down.

Whatever moron!

“It was just too hard on our own,” Ron hammed; by the look in her eyes she was ready to slug the condescending twit.

“Do you guys always race this fast?” I enquired.

“Faster sometimes, guess you aren’t used to this speed eh?”

If he keeps this up they’ll need mining equipment to get out of the hole he’s digging.

“It’s definitely different to what we’re used to,” I agreed, like 10kph slower!

There wasn’t any organisation, no cooperation within the group, no wonder it took so long to catch us, the pace was being forced by schoolboy half wheeling. A couple of our companions looked a bit more with it and will probably pull their weight when we make the real move. Time enough for that in a few laps.

 
 
We ‘managed’ to hang on to the back of the group, it was halfway through lap nine when ‘Pforzheim’ came alongside again.

“You girls still here?”

“It’s been difficult,” Ron supplied.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “I don’t think I can stay here much longer.”

“That’s a shame, you’ll miss my sprint at the finish.”

That is indeed the idea Spotty.

“Is it like you see on the telly?” my co conspirator asked.

“Sure, I reckon I could give that Englander who won the Worlds a run for his money,” he bragged.

“We didn’t see that did we Ron?”

“Well you wanted to go shopping,” Ron ad libbed.

“See you at the finish, girls.”

“Pity we won’t see that sprint,” I offered as he moved forward again.

Ron was miming being sick which caused a giggle to escape my lips.
 
 

“What a berk,” Ron stated.

I couldn’t disagree with that and the way he keeps saying ‘girls’ is a bit creepy too.

“Next time?” I suggested.

“Ready when you are.”

 
 
The bell at the end of the lap alerted everyone to the upcoming second prime, you might’ve got the drop on me last time Ron but this one’s mine. I couldn’t believe it when half of our companions started finessing with four kilometres to go before the sprint, talk about amateurs! Super Sprinter clearly liked to go from the front as he was marking everyone else and had dropped the speed enough that the chasers were, I’m sure, closing the gap to us.

A couple of others were clearly not happy with this, it’s not like it was even the finish! First one and then a second made efforts that Creepy couldn’t contain, stretching the group into a long string – well to be factual, two strings on opposite sides of the tarmac. The two of us bade our time letting Gobby do the chasing before making our move.

I signalled my intention to Ron before snicking up a sprocket, lifting our pace to cross the circuit to what I considered to be the more serious riders. The pair of us went straight through to the front where I let Ron take over wind breaking duties. Five against four, the numbers were in our favour, now to get them working.

It didn’t take more than two rotations between me and Ron before the others caught on, for the first time in this race these guys were working together. The gap between our and Gobalot’s groups started to stretch but now I had Ron watching me like a hawk! We weren’t the only ones up for the sprint though; the guy from VS Stuttgart who’d started the move was most definitely up for it.

As we hit two hundred Ron was the first to break, Stuttgart made to follow with the other two following. Ron isn’t the strongest sprinter so it was no surprise that the others were soon at her shoulder. I turned on the Bond turbo, accelerating quickly up to and past the others, crossing the line a good ten lengths clear.

Take that Roni Grönberg!

 
 
The cat was clearly out of the bag now, we weren’t the poor girlies hanging onto the back, we actually know what we’re doing.

“Sugar!” Stuttgart spat as he came up to me through turn one.

“Sorry, mate, Ron surprised me last time.”

“Siggy,” he offered.

“Drew and that’s Ron.”

“Hang on, I thought I recognised the shirts, oh shite.”

“Wassup, Sig?” one of the others enquired.

“You any idea who these two are, Arn? Recognise the jerseys?”

“Apollinaris, oh bugger, don’t suppose you girls just make up the numbers?”

“Nope,” I grinned, no point in correcting him on the gender issue, at least for now.

“Come on you lot, Helmut’s catching us,” the third of our fellow breakaways noted.

“You guys up for it?” I enquired.

“Sure,” Arn grinned, “Helmut can be a right arse.”
 
 

We quickly started a new rotation, Ron, Siggy, Arn, me and the other lad, Jurgen I discovered later, following through. The others had got to within twenty metres after the sprint but now as we started to turn up the gas the gap started to stretch once more. After the last couple of months I was pretty comfortable as we held forty kph and with under five laps, twenty-five kilometres to go, my confidence was high.

With no real climb on the circuit we were able to maintain our effort pretty much unbroken for the next couple of laps. Arn was the one to crack, missing first one then a second turn at the sharp end.

“That’s me, guys.”

“Nice riding, fella,” Ron offered giving his shoulder a friendly pat.

“See you at the finish, Arn.” Jurgen told him.

He slipped off the back leaving just four of us to contest the last three laps, Ron perhaps the weakest. We could have been on our own if we hadn’t sat up but we are a lot fresher having had some assistance for the latter part of the event. The big question now was how to play the finale, wait for a sprint or take a long one, I’m pretty confident in my abilities in either scenario.

 
 
I was however pre-empted by Siggy, with just under two laps to go he made his move, waiting until I was at the back of the short rotation. Bum. Jurgen wasn’t sure what to do and Ron was already on the rivet, looks like any response is mine to make.

I took a slug from my bidon then sprinted away from the others towards the escapee. The VS Stuttgart rider was really going for it, head down, churning the gears, reminding me of Josh. Time trial mode was required, I assumed a tuck and the gap started to close, perhaps a little slower than I’d like.

One became two just before the bell signifying the last lap. The small crowd were quite animated; this was perhaps the most action they’d seen all season. Siggy eased off when he realised I was on his wheel, I was huffing a bit now, okay not as much as my companion but feeling the effort nevertheless.

We acknowledged each other but neither of us was willing to work with the other at this stage. A quick look behind revealed Ron and Jurgen some three hundred metres behind, Ron wouldn’t chase my move unless she could lose her shadow but they were fairly evenly matched. Through the chicane and we are into the final run in, the question of how to play it was now becoming more pressing.

What the heck, let’s go for it. Siggy was being quite attentive but he had to look where he was going at some point, I was ready when he did. Out of the saddle, let’s get some clear tarmac, a curse behind signalled the pursuit starting. Something like a kilometre to the line, come on Drew, it’s yours for the taking!

Maddy Bell © 10.10.2014

 
 
Through the last turn and there it was, the banner announcing ‘Finis’. I was in full time trial mode now, big gear turning smoothly, the comp flickering around fifty kph. Its funny how time stretches in situations like this, two hundred and the briefest of glances under my arm, no sign of my pursuer but I kept the pressure on.

The small crowd of supporters seemed happy to cheer anyone, one hundred, fifty, another quick glance and with a grin I sat up and punched the air as I crossed the line. Yes! My first actual race win in over two months, so okay it’s nothing major and I’ve had several podiums but crossing the line first just can’t be beaten. Dad caught me and I took a deep swig from the bidon he gave me.

“Well done kiddo!”

“Urgh.”

Siggy was in but more cheering announced the third place sprint. Dad and I joined our voices to the melee as Ron and Jurgen went at it shoulder to shoulder. We couldn’t really tell who was winning from our head on position but Ron’s air punch gave us the information.
 
 

“In third place, for Team Apollinaris, Veronike Grönberg!”

The small crowd clapped politely as Ron collected her prize from the organiser.

“Second place, VS Stuttgart, Siegfried Heinemann!”

Being more local and having teammates present got Siggy a bigger cheer as he took his turn front and centre.

“The winner and first girl of the Nord Baden Liga Jüngere Hockenheimring Klassik, Andrea Bond for Team Apollinaris!”

I went up for my prize, hang on did he say what I think he did? Confirmation of that came with a rather awkward cheek kissing before I was presented with my trophy, a modern styled bit of silverware standing best part of half a metre high. The crowd cheered loudly as I raised the silverware, yeah I’ve missed doing this like you don’t know what – the Worlds time trial was good but massed start victories are always sweeter.
 
 

“This is yours Ron.” I told her as we walked back to the car.

“The trophy?”

“Dur, the girls prize,” I informed her waving the envelope marked ‘Mädchen’.

“How do you work that? I was at least half a minute behind you.”

“But I’m not…”

“…A girl, heard it before, s’not true, you are more girlie than me any day Gabrielle Bond.”

“A.”

“Come on you two, I don’t want to be too late getting home and you’ve both got school tomorrow,” Dad chivvied.

 
 
“We eating?” I enquired as we made our way out to the autobahn.

Dad checked the clock before replying, “Lets get a few miles in eh? There’re some biscuits in the back somewhere.”

Looks like that’s decided then.
 
 

“Give over Gab,” Ron hissed.

“What?”

“Playing with that, you’re giving the other drivers a show.”

“Sugar!” I quickly took my hand out of my top where it had been rubbing a sore spot under the edge of my bra.

“You girls okay back there?”

“Yes Dad.”

“Fine Mr B.” Ron confirmed.

“We’ll stop in a few minutes okay?”

“‘Bout time, I’m starving.”

We’ve been driving for over an hour, Dad’s few miles is more like a hundred and forty kilometres, as we’re taking Ron home we are now somewhere near Wiesbaden on the A3. Neither of us are feeling particularly talkative, a couple of hours racing makes you quite tired so we’ve been dozing most of the way north. It really was only a couple of minutes later that we turned off the motorway and dropped into Idstein.
 
 

“We’ll fuel up then find some food.” Dad told us.

The fuel was easy; a big filling station almost next to the Bahnhof, food however was a bit more of an effort. We dropped into the town proper and after a circuit of the centre parked by the Hexenturm. It’s not a big town and once we’d walking into the shopping area we quickly located an eatery doing a steady trade so we took a table.

“Ladies, sir.” The attentive waiter was at the table almost as soon as we were. “Getränke?”

“Cola lite for me,” Dad stated, “girls?”

“Sprite™ please.”

“Me too,” I added – the Radler was tempting but lemonade comes in a bigger serving and I’m well thirsty.

“Dad tell her,” I’d taken up my argument about the girl’s prize on the walk from the car.

“If she doesn’t want to take it kiddo I can’t force her.”

“But I wasn’t racing for the girls prize.”

“Neither was I,” Ron interjected.

“But…”

Any further discussion on the matter was ended by the arrival of our drinks and a need to decide on the matter of lunch.

 
 
“Phew.”

“Tell me about it,” I agreed.

“You both insisted on the soup first,” Dad observed.

“How did we know there’d be so much spaghetti?”

In truth we could have managed with one serving of spag bol between us but like who does that?
 
 

Dad paid the bill and we headed back to the car.

“You’re doing it again Gab.”

“Wha? Oh bum.” I removed my hand from my t-shirt again, “it itches,” I complained.

“Its probably just some heat rash,” Ron surmised, “I’ve got some stuff at home, works like magic.”

“If I can last that long.”

“Well take your BH off, get some air to the girls.”

“Ron!”

“What?”

“Shake a leg you two, we’ve still got a way to go,” Dad told us from further up the street.

“Coming.”
 
 

Once at the car Ron distracted Dad while I slipped out of my bra, I’ve been wearing one so long that it felt well weird to suddenly be without, the extra jiggling as the car bounced over the speed humps was most disconcerting! It did give some relief from the itching, which was a good thing.

We were quickly back on the autobahn passing Limburg and Montabaur in turn as we crossed the Westerwald en route to Köln. Road works around Düssel cost us a few minutes but soon enough we were turning off the motorway for Mettmann a few kilometres away. Our arrival at the Grönberg’s house coincided with a bit of a cloud burst, Angela dashing out with an umbrella to help with Ron’s stuff.

“You staying to eat?” Angela asked once we had everything inside.

“Best not Angela, this one has school tomorrow and we did eat on the way up.”

“Coffee at least?” she pressed.

“Dad?”

“Alright, coffee but we can’t hang about too long.”

 
 
“Ooo, that looks sore,” Ron noted when I pulled my top up to show her the rash, “I’ll get the cortisone cream.”

“It doesn’t feel too good from this side either.”

Ron shuffled stuff around in a draw and with a flourish produced the wonder ointment. By the time I had some applied and my t-shirt replaced the itching was already much less.

“So where do I get some of that stuff?”

“Its on prescription,“ she supplied, “just ask your doctor next time you go.”

Hmm, do I even have a doctor? There’s the one at the hospital dealing with my er, problem but its not like I get properly ill is it? Have to ask Dad I guess.

“Yeah, good idea.”

“You girls coming down?” Angela called up.

“Yes Mum,” Ron returned, “come on, I saw one of mums tortes in the kitchen.”
 
 

You didn’t think we were just drinking coffee did you? Angela’s cakes are legendary and the triple choc torte on offer today was stupendous. You can’t rush the experience but all too soon Dad was fidgeting to get off.

“See ya later Gab.”

“I’ll call in the week.”

“Bye Herr Bond.”

“Tschuss.”

“Tschussie,” I added with a wave as Dad backed the car off the drive.

With a toot we were on our way, another hour’s drive will take us home.
 
 

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Do we have a doctor, you know like an ordinary one?”

“Something wrong?”

“No, nothing really, just something Ron said.”

“We’re registered at the clinic, I think your sister and mother go, women’s stuff – oh, I see.” It wasn’t the first time I’ve seen Dad blush but it’s usually after him and Mum have been, well you know, birds and bees. “I’ll have a word with your mother.”
 
 

The rest of the ride home took place in a sort of embarrassed silence, Dad mostly lost in his own thoughts, me going through how I broach the subject of my itchy boobs to a complete stranger. Embarrassing with a capital E!
 
 

“There’s a message on the machine Gab,” Jules advised me when I stumbled indoors under my trophy and kit bag.

“Who from?”

“Some girl.”

That’s a help – not!

Wonder why they didn’t ring my handy?

Maddy Bell © 13.10.2014

 
 
Well the phone can wait; I found a spot amongst the family silverware collection to display the new trophy before heading to the washing machine. I know what you’re thinking but if I don’t do it no one else will as I’ve found to my cost more than once. Now then, who’s leaving me messages on the house phone?
 
 

‘Oh answer machine, erm this is a message for Drew Bond? I, that is we wondered if you’d come to our do, it’s alright if you can’t but it would be well cool if you did. Er that’s it, oh I’m Mary Davis, if you could like call me on………’

What’s that all about? I listened to it a second time and scribbled the number down.

“Come on kiddo, we’re eating at the Pinger’s,” Dad called from the lounge.

“Alright like this?”

“It’ll do.”

“At least put some lippy on, sis,” Jules suggested, “and a bra might be a good idea?”

Sugar, forgot about that.

“Tell Dad I’ll be about five minutes.”
 
 

It might’ve been closer to ten when I got to the car.

“Thought you weren’t changing,” Dad mentioned.

Well I had to half strip to put a bra on; it was nearly as quick to get into the dress as a fresh T, which meant some eyeliner and earrings as well as the lippy. Then of course I couldn’t find one of my wedges; I need to sort out my eyrie!

“Can’t I change my mind?”

“Women!” Dad lamented.

That set Jules off sniggering.

Dinner at the Pinger’s is invariably interesting because of either the eclectic menu or the guest list. This evening was no different; Heiny was serving up mixed meat medallions with veggies and boiled taters – not exactly Cordon Bleu but a good solid German dish. The guest list, apart from four Bonds (Mum was already there), included Erika from the women’s squad, the masseuse Petra, George and a girl I didn’t know.

“So, Dave, how did we get today?” George queried.

“Two podiums, one and three.” Dad supplied.

“Sehr gut, back to winning ways.” Our team boss grinned, “So junge mädchen, we need to get you riding some Einzelzeit*, show off that rainbow jersey yes.”

“I guess,” I allowed.

“Come, you should meet my new signing.”

New signing? Mum’s not said anything.

“Anita, here please.”

The new girl broke off her conversation with Kat and Erika, “Herr Müller?”

“Anita, this tiny thing is our newest Weltmeisterin, Jenny’s Jüngere Drew, Drew this is Anita Pilz, she’ll be riding cross this winter for us.”

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

We got out across each other.

“Sorry Drew.”

“Welcome to the team,” I offered.

“You two talk eh?” George instructed before collaring Dad.

 
 
“So um, you just do cross?”

“My best results are on the dirt but I ride the road too.”

“But you are only riding cross for Apollinaris?”

“For now ja, if I get the results I hope to stay for the road season.”

“Cool.”

“You ever tried dirt racing?”

“I did a few when we lived in England.” I admitted.

“It’s good fun, yeah? You should try again.”

Hmm, the Orange is still in the garage collecting dust.

“I’ve still got my crosser at home.”

“Cool,” Anita enthused, “maybe you can ride with me and Erika, perhaps some of the Euro League events.”

No idea what she’s on about now, Euro League?

“Er maybe.”
 
 

“…And so I went off down the right, tucked down and went for it.” I enthused to my captive audience, Mum at least was listening – I think.

“You seemed to be getting on with Anita well kiddo?”

“She seems okay, I think she was hinting for me to ride with her and Erika, she thinks I’m a girl.”

“I’m not surprised dressed like that kiddo, it doesn’t sound a bad idea,” Mum proposed.

Yeah I suppose wearing a dress and stuff does give the impression of girldom, “I guess.”

“You not keen? You’ve still got Caro’s Orange in the garage.”

“I thought you enjoyed them?” Dad opined from up front.

“They’re okay I guess.”

We were back at Schloss Bond already so that discussion halted without any sort of decision being made.

 
 
I was back in my pit before I remembered the phone message from, what was it again, oh yeah, Mary something. Hmm, ten thirty, bit late to ring tonight – hang on they’re an hour behind us, nine thirty isn’t so bad. I made myself comfortable on my bed and tapped the number into my handy.

“Davis household,” a man stated a little abruptly.

“Er can I speak to Mary please.”

He didn’t reply to me instead my eardrum was assailed by ‘Mare, some foreign sounding girl on the bone for ya.’

The rest of the conversation was too muffled to make much sense of.

“Hello?”

“Mary? You left a message?”

“Drew Bond?”

“That’s me,” I agreed.

“I knew you’d call,” she enthused, “Treesa didn’t believe me.”

“So um this do?”

“It’s the BLCA dinner? Would you like to come?”

“You do realise I live in Germany?”

“Yeah, of course, Caroline said, we’ll pay for your flight?”

Hmm, free food, I’ve not been to a club dinner in yonks, it’s not likely I can go though, still it would be nice.

“When is it? I’ll have to ask the rents.”

“Eighteenth of December, it’s a Saturday?”

I scribbled the date down, “’Kay, I’ll let you know in the next few days.”

“Brill! Thanks Drew, everyone’ll be stoked if you can come.”
 
 

“Mum?”

“Morning kiddo, what’s up?”

“Well um I’ve been invited to a club dinner, in December, can I go? They’ll pay for the flights?”

“Ah, the BLCA do.”

“You know about it?”

“Caro called Saturday night to forewarn us.”

“Oh,” I sagged.

“You want to go then?”

“Well it’d be nice, it’s not like I get a lot of invites.”

“I’ll talk to your Dad, no promises mind.”

“Yes!”

“Don’t you need to be getting dressed? School?”

School, the highlight of which, like most kids being when we leave for the day.

 
 
It’s still quite cool at seven o’clock, in a few weeks it’ll be dark too, I was glad I’d put on hose this morning, my hands however were quite cold by the time I got to Thesing’s.

“Heya, Gab.”

“Morning, Con.”

“Grab the coffees eh?”

“Sure.”

Back down to earth, the girls treat me the same whether I’m Weltmeister or not, we’re just a bunch of friends doing stuff that friends do.
 
 

There was nothing special about the day, same old lessons the only change to usual was my failure to come out top in Herr Viessner’s English test, Monika Stuer scored fifty-seven to my fifty four. Back in Warsop it was never my best subject, it’s only really my ‘home’ advantage that keeps me at the top at Silverberg. To cap things off it started to rain just as we finished for the day.

“Do you think it’ll blow over?” Pia posed.

“Not soon looking at those clouds,” Nena mentioned with a shrug.

“Zug?” Steff suggested.

“Might as well wait here for a bit then, I wish they’d put a shelter at the platform.” Con noted.

“Girls!”

We turned towards the voice as Mart sprinted across the yard to the bike sheds.

“Wassup?”

“Thought I’d missed you.”

“You would’ve, but we’re catching the Express.” Brid told him.

“So what’s up? You heard from Bern?” I enquired.

“How’d you know?”

“I got a letter Saturday, she sent some pics of Drea.”

“You never said, Gab,” Con accused.

“I forgot, I’ll bring them tomorrow, so what did you want us for?”

“Mum’s agreed,” he started, “we can have a Hallowe’en party again.”

“In your barn?” Steff confirmed.

“Where else,” he grinned.

As long as I don’t get conned into another stupid outfit it should be fun, looks like my social diary is starting to fill up.

* A contraction of Einzelzeitfahren, time trial in English

Maddy Bell © 22.10.2014

 
 
“So what do you think, Frau Bond?” Margot enquired.

The meeting hadn’t gone exactly as I would’ve liked, being the opposite side of the fence to Mum was weird enough, I could see why Dad had opted out. Margot was actually more conciliatory than I’d expected, she’s usually difficult to move on anything regarding the Garde or the Tanzklub Ahrtal in general.

“So there’ll be an adult here all the time?” Mum pressed.

“Of course, usually myself but if not, one of the committee will stand in.”

Mum was softening to the idea of me being cheer coach but I sensed there was still another hurdle.

“I’m still not keen on Gaby being responsible for selecting the girls taking part, I don’t want anyone feeling slighted by my daughter.”

“We’ve never had any issues of that kind,” Margot noted.

“I don’t want Gaby to be the first,” Mum insisted.

“Muum!” I moaned.

“No, Gab, I’ve seen it before when I was teaching, peer selection sounds very progressive, however teenagers, especially girls can harbour resentments and sometimes get violent to ‘get even’.”

Yeah right, she makes it sound like the Mafia. I won’t bore you with the ensuing discussion; the result was that I’d act as adviser on team selection, Margot, much like with the Garde would actually do the picking. I did win the uniform selection job so it wasn’t all Mum’s way.

 
 
“Next Monday okay.” Margot asked as we waited for Mum to use the facilities.

“Yeah, I’ll put the word out at school.”

“Don’t get us too many cheerers!”

“I reckon one workout will get rid of the chaff.” I grinned.

“Come on trouble,” Mum suggested.

“See you Friday, Margot,” I offered.

“Sure, goodnight, Frau Bond.”

“Nite,” Mum managed.

“Tschuss, Gab.”

“Tschussie,” I grinned back.

 
 
“Oh while I remember, Gab, George has confirmed the itinerary for Japan,” Mum advised as we started back down the gorge from the clubhouse in Altenahr.

“Yeah?”

“Well sound a bit more interested then.”

“I am, honest so what’s the score?”

“Me and the girls have got four crits during the week then we finish with the Hokkaido Cup or some such on the Sunday before we fly home.”

“Am I racing?”

“They don’t really have a separate junior set up, George has put you down for the crit series but you don’t have to ride them all, flippin’ jersey, I have to at least start all of them.”

“Poor you,” I mocked, “so we get to do any sightseeing?”

“You don’t think we’re going all that way and not see anything do you?”

“Kewl!” wonder if I can get to that Harajuku place in Tokyo or that street where all the comic book shops and stuff are? That’d be so cool.

“You’ll have to miss a couple of days school again.”

Like that’s a hardship.

“Guess I’ll live,” I smirked.

“Oh and you might have some company, if your Dad can squeeze BC for some funding your friend Amanda will be coming.”

“Is Jules coming?

“We’ve not asked her yet, why?”

“Just curious, wouldn’t want her to miss out.”

Mum gave me a weird look, well I was hoping not but if she does go, looks like I’ll have Mand to hang with rather than Goth girl.

 
 
“So you’re really going then?” Steff confirmed.

“Uh huh.”

“Right jet setter our Gabs,” Con added.

“I am gonna be racing.”

“And shopping no doubt,” Brid mentioned.

“Might do,” I coyly allowed.

“Anna will be so jealous,” Nena noted.

“Not just Anna, I’m jealous,” Steff sighed.

“You gonna be here for Mart’s party?” Con queried.

“Hmm, dunno, have to check.”
 
 

“What’s that about?” Con asked as I pinned the sheet to the notice board.

“I told you Saturday, the Tanzklub is starting a cheering section with yours truly as coach.

“I thought your ‘rents were against it?”

“Margot talked Mum round last night.” I smirked.

“They did the posters quickly.”

“Amazing what you can do with computers these days,” I grinned.

“You did it?”

“Of course,” I polished my nails, “I did when we got home last night.” I straightened it up then stepped back, “not bad if I do say so myself.”

 
 

“Sounds a bit energetic to me,” Con mused.

“Bern used to do it and she’s hardly sporty,” I mentioned.

“Think I’ll leave it to you active sorts, Pia know about this?”

“Do I know about what,” said individual enquired joining us.

“Gabs is doing cheering,” Con supplied.

“Ta da!” I announced with a flourish indicating the poster.

“Ooh neat, count me in.”

“Ah, Gaby, just the girl I’m looking for.”

“Frau Boxberg?”

“Can I borrow you in my office for a few minutes please.”

“Yes, Miss,” I sighed, what now?
 
 

“Come, sit down, Gaby.”

“Thanks, Miss,” I allowed taking the offered seat in front of her desk.

“I’ve had your mother on the phone this afternoon.”

Ot oh.

“She’s a bit concerned that you’re spreading yourself a bit thin, racing, the Garde, school and now this cheering?”

“I only go to Garde for fitness.” I pointed out.

“Well that’s as maybe, I’m just putting you on notice that I’ll be watching your grades, this is a very important year for you academically, you sit for the Abitur* at Easter and whilst you have been getting good grades over the last year you can’t afford to let things slip.”

“No, Miss.”

“Gaby, I’m not trying to cramp your ‘style’ or stop you doing things but I know you have aspirations to go on to university and neither myself or your parents want to see you miss that opportunity. All I’m saying is don’t let your hobbies take over eh?”

“Yes I mean no, Miss.” As if!

“Your mother also mentioned this trip to Japan you’ve been invited on, you’ll be missing more school, we aren’t even through the first semester and you’ll have missed nearly two weeks. Your Mother’s in agreement, I’ll be asking your tutors set you some extra work to do whilst you are off.”

Gee, thanks Mum!

“Okay,” I allowed with a little sigh.
“It’s not that bad Gaby, you’ll still have plenty of time to do other stuff.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Right then, no doubt your friends are waiting for you so pop along just remember what I’ve said.”

“Thanks, Miss, yes, Miss.”
 
 

“So what was all that about?” Steff enquired as I dumped my bag in the Schauff’s basket.

“Mum’s landed me with extra homework for when I go to Japan.”

“That sucks.” Brid stated.

“Not many,” I agreed.

“Don’t think my mum’s ever rung the school,” Con offered.

“Wish mine wouldn’t,” I lamented.
 
 

With my season extended, perhaps indefinitely if I end up racing the cyclocross stuff, I need to continue training so once I got home it was change and hit the road for a couple of hours. Unlike yesterday it’s quite pleasant this afternoon so I decided on a longish ride at a steady pace and * headed down the valley towards the Rhein. There’s one thing about riding a bike, it doesn’t let you dwell on stuff, I set off still chuntering about Mum ringing Frau Boxberg but by the time I’d negotiated Bad Neunahr I was musing on how I’m gonna fund my purchases in Japan.

I rode along to Brohl where I turned up the valley away from Old Man Rhein to start the climb up to Engeln. My first race in Germany** was around this area, who would’ve guessed back then that things would turn out like they have? I rode at a steady tempo as the road climbed, crossing the Brohltal Bahn several times.

The last pull up to Engeln had me puffing but there’s no serious climbing for the rest of my route. I dropped to the main road and picked up the road across to the ‘Ring, a longer, rolling ascent but instead of going to the top at Nurburg I turned off for Zingst. It’s a nice fast descent, wide hairpins interspersed with wide straights pretty much all the way down to Adenau.
It’s always busy through Adenau but I wasn’t delayed too much and once on the road towards Ahrbrück I started turning up the juice. The distance to Dernau was steadily dropping and I found myself racing the Ahrtal Express down into Altenahr. Once through the town and out through the tunnel I started fantasising that I was racing to a Tour de France stage win, down past the Tanzklub, head down, going for it.

My dreaming ran out by Rech and I eased off and sat up to cool off a bit before getting home. Best part of three hours after setting off I rolled to a stop outside of the garage, my anger tempered somewhat.

* Basically a school diploma needed to progress in further education.
** Book 5 chapter 8, Das Erste Radrennen.

Maddy Bell © 24.10.2014

 
 
I pulled the photos out of the folder and leant back against the headboard. The girls had oohed and aahed at the handful of shots of Bernie and Drea that I’d in Mondays post when I’d passed them around earlier. She’s a bright little thing, you can certainly see Bern in her eyes even if the thatch of reddish hair didn’t give a clue to her parent.

I opened the note that had accompanied the pictures and reread it for the umpteenth time.

Dear Tante Gaby,
Granny took some pictures of me and mummy so we sent you some. I’m being very good for mummy, I sleep through most nights and I’ve put on enough weight to stop going to the clinic every day!

Bye bye
Drea

I still get goosebumps when I think of that night back in July when the little mite was born – that was as close to childbirth as I ever want to get! I replaced everything in the envelope and slid into the drawer of my bedside cabinet, maybe I should get an album to put them in?
 
 

“Come on, Gab, we’ll be late,” Steff urged and I must admit our tardiness was pretty much down to me.

First I slept through my alarm, then I got in a panic when I couldn’t find my history homework. That of course meant that I was late getting to Thesings, my visit to the lav just as we were due to leave delayed our departure by five minutes. None of our bikes are exactly thoroughbreds and so our perambulation to Silverberg Gymnasium has failed to make up any of the lost time.

All in all not the best start to the day.

“I’m coming.”

The irony of it, me, a world champion on two wheels being chivvied for hanging around by my less athletic friends. We actually had a few minutes to spare once we got to school, but not the twenty minutes we usually have to lock up, disrobe and ready ourselves to be educated.

 
 
“Gab!”

I slowed a tad before looking to see who it was, “Oh it’s you.”

Max ignored my lack of enthusiasm in seeing him, “Great news isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Mart’s party, it was brill last year.”

“Okay I guess,” I allowed, “so why you telling me?”

“Well I um was wondering.”

“Even you can do a zombie costume,” I interjected.

“No, I mean yes, no, I was wondering if you want to go with me?”

Hey that’d be handy, save getting Dad to run me all the way out to Mart’s.

I shrugged, “Sure.”

“Brill!” he beamed, “see you later.”

He turned and with a ’yes!’ headed off towards the sports hall. What was that about?
 
 

“Was that von Strechau?” Con enquired as she caught up to me.

“Yeah, weird.”

“What’s he want this time?”

“He offered me a lift to Mart’s party.”

“A lift,” Connie snorted, “what exactly did he say, Gab?”

“What’s so funny?”

“Something like ‘do you want to go with me?’ why?”

“Geez, Gab you really can be blonde!”

“I’ve mucked up haven’t I?”

“Dur, he wasn’t offering you a lift, he wants you to ‘go’ with him, like his date?”

“Sugar! That’d explain his reaction.”

“You really do need to concentrate, girl.”

No kidding.

“I am so not going out with him!”

“Not what it looks like to the rest of the world.”

“I went to one wedding with his family.”

“The school tanz, Mart’s last party,” Con started ticking stuff off on her fingers.

“We’re friends, kind of okay.”

“Whatever you say, girl.”
 
 

I was a bit more organised Thursday morning being the first to arrive at the bakery.

“Morning, Gaby, you’re bright and early today.” Frau Thesing noted.

“Early night,” I noted pouring myself a cup of caffeine laced beverage.

“I’m glad I caught you before the others get here, how are you fixed for doing the Sunday shift again, maybe a few Saturdays?”

I could do with the money, it’s not that I don’t get an allowance but Christmas isn’t that far away and my model cars aren’t cheap. On the other hand everyone’s already on my back about doing too much. Well it’s my time and it’s not like it’s hard work – me an’ Con usually do our homework between customers.

“I couldn’t start Sundays until after the autumn break, I’m racing the next couple of weeks then I go to Japan.”

“Connie said you were off again soon, more bicycle racing?”

“Yep, some sort of promotional series.”

“Well I guess we can survive an extra few weeks.”

“I could do some Saturdays,” I offered.

“I’ll talk to Tomas, looks like the others are here, can you take the frühstuck over?”

 
 
“Is everyone coming in the bus to the party?” Pia enquired as we bowled along the cycle track.

“Gaby won’t be,” Con announced.

“You not going, Gabs?” Steff queried.

“She’s going with Maxxie,” my ‘friend’ crowed.

“Damn, she’s hardly here and she gets a date, I’ve been making eyes at Stefan all summer and it’s like I don’t exist,” Brid moaned.

“Don’t we know it,” Nena noted.

“It’s not a date,” I huffed.

“Pull the other one, Gab, everyone knows you two are a couple.” Pia put in.

Everyone except me, apparently.

“I’m just getting a lift that’s all.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Brid giggled.

Friends, who’d have ‘em?

 
 
“I spoke with Chris this afternoon,” Dad supplied as I dished up dinner, Toad in the Hole with mash and onion gravy. Mum’s gone to Berlin on some promo junket for Apollinaris so I’ve pulled her cooking slots.

“Chris?” I queried.

“Your boss at BC?”

“Oh that Chris.”

“He’s agreed funding with Dave for Amanda to join us for the Japan trip, she’ll be coming over in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?”

“It’s a bit of a rush, you’ve got the Kassel GP on the Sunday.”

“The others riding? It seems like forever since I’ve seen Gret and Tali.”

“The girls will be, Josh is staying in Newcastle until the New Year.”

“Oh,” damn, no powerhouse.

I slid pater’s plate in front of him.

“Hmm, smells good, so anyway we need to get the spare room ready so if you’ve got stuff in there can you move it please.”

Spare room, Bernie’s room, if Manda’s using it where will Gran stay at Chrimbo when she comes?

“Yes, Dad.”
 
 

“Mart?”

“Wassup, Gab?”

“You know your party?”

“It’s gonna be brill, Dad’s doing the barbeque and we’ll have the disco again.”

“Great, I was erm wondering, could I bring an extra body?”

“Max is already invited.”

Grrr!

“Not Max, I’ve got a friend coming to stay from England.”

“Bern?” he queried hopefully.

“’fraid not.”

“An old boyfriend?”

“No, she’s coming to join the fahrrad team, it’d be a bit off to leave her at home.”

“We can always make room for more ladies,” he grinned.

“Bernie,” I offered, “and Manda doesn’t know any German so don’t try setting her up.”

“Sounds like a right bundle of fun.”

“She can be, so?”

“Course she can come, you know it’s costumes?”

“When isn’t it with you?”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

“It can be fun sometimes, anyway, thanks for letting Mand come.”

“Whatever.”

“Laters!”
 
 

“In two weeks?” Brid confirmed.

“Uh huh, she’ll be going to the English school in Bonn with Jules.”

“This the girl that came the other week?” Con checked.

“The same,” I agreed.

“Why isn’t she coming to Silverberg?” Steff queried.

“She doesn’t speak German and she’s got exams about when we do the Abitur next year, they do the same ones at Bonn.”

 
 
Maddy Bell © 26.10.2014

 
 
“Drew?”

“In the er airwaves,” I agreed.

“It’s pretty cool eh?” Mand enthused despite me waking her at silly o’clock, “can’t believe it’s just two weeks.”

“Yeah,” I allowed.

“So what’re you ringing for?”

“Can’t I just ring for a chat?”

“You, chat? Come on, girl, wassup?”

“Okay, you got me. I’ve got you an invite to a party, just wanted to make sure you’d have something to wear.”

“Party?”

“Mart’s Hallowe’en party up at his farm, everyone’s going, it’s fancy dress but you don’t have to do that, barbeque, dancing, usual stuff.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“So anyway, just make sure you pack some glad rags yeah?”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

“Bum,” I allowed looking at the clock, “have to go, I need to get off to the bakery, talk later, Tschuss!”

“Yeah, choos.”
 
 

“I spoke to Tomas, Gab, any chance you could do tomorrow morning for us?” Con’s mum queried.

We, that is the girls and me haven’t really got anything planned so it’s a bit of a dead day.

“What time?”

“Six to twelve?” she suggested.

Fifty euros, cool.

“Okay.”

“You’d best take your uniform, I’ll fetch it down.”

 
 
“You working here again?” Nena asked after Frau Thesing returned with a bag containing my uniform.

“A few shifts, Weihnachts is coming after all.”

“I should look for a job,” Steff mentioned, “I could certainly do with some extra geld.”

“Might be something at the Stube,” Pia suggested.

“Bound to be washing up,” Steff lamented.

“Waitressing, we always need staff this time of year.”

“You going to Garde, Gab?” Pia asked changing the subject.

“Yeah, I need to sort some stuff out for Monday with Margot.”

“Ooh, big boss lady!” Nena giggled.

“Less of the er big,” I retorted.

My being the smallest of us that got a couple of chuckles.

“Come on or we’ll miss the Express.” Con suggested.

Yeah, we’re taking the train down today, it’s a bit erm, damp, make that chucking it down.

And so we embarked on the next day of our education, five girls and me, the Ahr Angels.

 
 
Getting up for work Saturday morning was a stark reminder of why I hate mornings! Dark, not exactly warm and creeping about so as not to wake everyone else. I crept down to the kitchen, found my school shoes, used the downstairs bathroom to put a bit of slap on and I was ready to leave. Despite not liking getting up there is something strangely pleasant about riding in the pre dawn still, just the rattles and clangs of the Schauff and the hum of the dynamo breaking the silence.

Herr Thesing was of course already in the shop when I got there, the ovens go on at four. We don’t actually open until six thirty but pulling the early shift means getting the Gaggia ready, sorting out the display, putting the sign out and so on. Just enough time to get a coffee myself before the first customers arrive for their brötchen and pastries.

I wasn’t on my own of course, one of the regular staff, Fabienne was in with me – you’d be surprised how many people come through the door before eight o’clock. Mrs T joined us about nine, which meant I got my break soon after, being a family business that means heading up to the family flat for my own frühstuck.
 
 

“You coming up to Anna’s this afternoon?” Con asked as I helped myself to a generous blob of chocolate spread for my roll.

“Maybe for a bit,” I agreed around a mouthful of bread product, “I’ve got to sort out Bernie’s room for Manda.”

“You working till mittag?”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“I’ll come home with you and we can go up from there.”

It sounded like a reasonable plan, I need to change out of my uniform, it might work in the bakery but its hardly suitable for visiting friends.
 
 

It was twenty past twelve when we arrived at Bond Acres.

“We’re going up to Anna’s for a bit,” I announced to anyone listening.

“Don’t forget the spare room,” Dad’s disembodied voice mentioned.

“Yeah, I know.”

I tripped upstairs to my eyrie, losing the skirt and blouse quickly before an equally swift wash. Jeans, well to be accurate some of those new denim look leggings, with a rib top took nearly as long to put on as everything else put together.

“Sheesh, they don’t hide much,” Con noted when I got back to the kitchen.

“Shush, Dads not seen them, come on, time’s a wastin’”

 
 
By the time we were half way up to Anna’s I was regretting wearing the ‘jeggings’, I know they are supposed to be tight but riding a bike in them is nigh on impossible. Con could hardly control herself as I resorted to pushing my steed alongside her.

“Didn’t know you were into body painting Gab.” Anna observed when we reached the Pilsen residence.

“Eh?”

“You’re er jeans?”

I looked down at my legs, skintight doesn’t come into it, “you got something I can borrow, I can hardly bend my legs.”

“Never thought you’d be a fashion victim, Gabs.” Con noted as Anna disappeared into her room.

“I thought they looked cool, they’re much tighter than I thought though.”

“Might have something to do with all your muscles, most girls don’t have such er development.”

“I guess so,” I admitted. I’m rather proud of my pins; I’d never really thought that they were really any different to my friends.

“Here you go, Gab, this should fit,” Anna mentioned when she returned.

Anna is of course somewhat bigger than me, like Con she’s somewhat taller and er bigger everywhere else too. The wrap skirt she handed me was short for me; I doubt it covered much on its owner! I literally had to peel my offending leg wear off; I’m glad I left my tights on or I might’ve needed help!

 
 
“So what’re you wearing to Marty’s, Gab? Anna asked once we were sat with coffee and cake.

“Dunno, hadn’t given it much thought yet.”

“I’m going as a zombie,” Con offered.

“No change there then,” Anna giggled.

“Hey! I resemble that.”

“I could make you something, Gab,” our hostess suggested.

Not gonna happen! Nope, not again, been caught with that before. There’s no doubting that she’s a whizz with needle and thread but I always end up exposing rather more Gaby than I’m happy about, oh no not happening.

“Er no thanks, Anna, you’ll be busy doing your own and I’m sure you’ve got loads of college stuff to do as well.”

“You gonna have time, Gab, you only get back from Japan a couple of days before.”

Big mouth Con!

“It’d be no trouble, Gab,” Anna insisted.

“I don’t want to put you out, I’m sure I can do something myself.”

“Ach, it’s no issue, I have some ideas already.”

“I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“Noted.”

Hmm, there was a gleam in her eye; she’s up to something.

 
 
We spent a couple of hours catching up, Anna was settling into the regime of college life and even in the few weeks she’d been there it was clear that she was making new friends and had other stuff to occupy her. How long before she’s finding excuses not to hang with me and the guys? Still for now she’s still part of the gang.

“You sure you can’t stay for tea?”

“Best not, I need to sort out the spare room, I think Dad wants to paint or something.”

“Well see you both soon then.”

We exchanged hugs and goodbyes and the pair of us set off back down the hill to Dernau.

“You want a hand with the cleaning?” Con offered.

“Do I? That’d be brill, thanks, Con.”
 
 

It’s not far and with gravity on your side we were back at Schloss Bond in about fifteen minutes. We parked our steeds in the garage.

“That you, kiddo?” Dad called out.

“Yeah, Con’s come to give me a hand,” I called back as we climbed up into the house.

“Hi, Connie,” Dad allowed coming out from the lounge, “I hope she’s not promised you too much.”

“Nothing actually, Herr Bond.”

“Pizza?” he offered.

“Where do I sign?” Con hammed.

“Come on, Con, later, Daddikins,” I sighed dragging Con up the stairs before the two of them got into full swing. They spent nearly half an hour once exchanging quips.

 
 
“Spoilsport,” Con mentioned.

“Come on, you’re here to clean.”

“I’m cut to the quick, lead on slave driver.”

And so we set too on clearing the detritus from the spare bedroom.

Maddy Bell © 26.10.2014

 
 
“Mornin’, spud.”

“Morning.”

“What are you up to at this hour?”

“Dur, training?”

“Don’t speak to your mother like that,” Dad told me, “now apologise.”

“Um, sorry, Mum.”

I sloshed some coffee into my mug, the angel one Mum bought for me and the girls last Christmas.

“You’re not wearing that stuff, you need to change when you’ve had that,” Mum instructed.

“What for, it’s what I always wear for training.”

“You are not wearing good kit for cross training.”

“Cross training? I’ve got three hours to do right, Dad? Da-ad?”

“I er might have forgotten to tell you last night.” He admitted.

“Dave!” “Dad!” we chorused.

“Sorry, I was trying to sort out the trip to Leeds.”

“I can’t do cross training, the Orange’s not been used for like forever.”

“Yes you can, I serviced it Thursday after George suggested today’s session, tyres are pumped, chain oiled.”

“Anita and Erika should be here about nine so you’ve got plenty of time to get ready.” Mum added.

 
 
It was only just turned eight thirty however when first Erika, in what looks very much like Mum’s old A Klasse, then Anita in an aging Renault Megane pulled up in front of Schloss Bond.

“Morning!” Mum called down from the garage, we were just refitting a cleat to one of my mtb shoes after finding it was loose.

“Hi, Jen.”

“You managed to find us then, Anita?”

“Had to stop at the bakery for directions, the girl in there knew where you were as soon as I said Bond.”

“Gaby goes to school with her.” Mum supplied, “Coffee?”

“Better not, there’s not many lav’s in the countryside!” Anita grinned.

“Erika?”

“As Nita said.”

“Well let’s get started then, you got a track pump I can borrow?” Anita queried.

“Compressor in the workshop, Gab’ll show you.” Mum told her.

 
 
By the time the girls were ready nine o’clock was a thing of the past but we didn’t have a fixed schedule so it wasn’t a problem. We’ve got vineyards pretty much all around us here, providing you stick to the main roadways no one takes any notice of you if you go through them. So the plan is to follow the fitness trail up the hill then follow the Ahrtal Wein weg across to Altenahr, we’re meeting Mum and Pops at the sports ground.

“See you later.” Mum called out.

“Laters!”

I led the way into Dernau, the unfamiliar hum of the deep treaded tyres loud in my ears. It’s not far to the little parking area at the bottom of the fitness trail, we had to dismount to use the gate then waited whilst first a couple of runners then a dog walker came past.

“Morning, Gaby, off for a bike ride?”

“Yes, Frau Holdorf, how’s Fritzy?”

I got caught yesterday morning in the bakery with twenty minutes of the dog’s adventures at the vets.

“He’s better today, quite perky in fact, now where is he, Fritzy, come to mama, Fritzy!”

I’m sure I could see the wiry Dachshund hiding behind the bin, poor dog!

“Friend of yours?” Erika suggested as we started up the stony trail.

“She’s a regular at the bakery, I work there sometimes.”

“Ah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your mum said you had a job.” Erika supplied.

“Come on you two,” Anita chivvied from above us, “last one to the top cleans the bikes!”

That’s fighting talk, the pursuit was on.

On the road you can just hit the go juice but on even this fairly solid trail you need different techniques – too much weight over the front and you’ll spin out, reverse it and the front wheel will head skyward. Balancing between the two is quite difficult and it was a steep learning curve on the kilometre long climb. It was close run at the top, my sprinting skills only just getting me there first.

“Glad we don’t get much of that in the races,” Anita wheezed as we caught our breath and a sip of water.

No, from my limited experience it’s all tree roots and mud.

“We just follow this now?” Erika queried.

“Pretty much,” I agreed, “it drops through the trees into Altenahr at the end.”

I must admit that I’ve never ridden along here; I did walk along it with Dad not long after we moved but that was over a year ago so my memory was a bit fuzzy.

 
 
“Right then, smooth and fast, let’s do it!” Nita enthused.

I guess she’s the boss so I clicked in and set off. Anita flashed past within metres, Erika hard on her wheel; I ended up trailing them by twenty metres. I’m guessing we were doing about thirty K on the stony trail, exhilarating stuff. I nearly went arse over tip at the first drain across the roadway, I dabbed my brakes, the others performing a neat bunny hop.

I gradually lost ground on the girls, I can bunny hop but doing it at speed isn’t something I’ve practised. The trail weaves its way along the valley, not flat by any means, the climbs generally short and steep, the downs tending to be much shallower but fast. Having lost sight of them some distance back, I was surprised when I crested a small rise to find them stood in the roadway.

Well Erika was stood; Anita was hopping her bike sideways up a set of steps leading into the vines. Hop, hop, leap! That was at least thirty centimetres! She repeated it twice more to reach the top then impressed further by riding down the steps finishing with a front stoppie, one eighty turn to ground and stop, whoa!

“How the heck do you do that?” I quested.

“Practice?” she suggested.

“Don’t worry, Gab, I can’t do any of that fancy stuff either,” Erika informed me.

 
 
We resumed riding, not the breakneck assault of before but a gentler pace until we reached the forest. Even today, a pleasantly warm morning, the trail through the trees was damp and the rocks slick. The descent was taken at a correspondingly slower pace and when our route joined the castle path we had to dodge walkers too.

I got to play route finder again once we reached the road, down into the town then onto the valley road. We turned before the tunnel to follow the river along to the sports ground where we found our Mercedes parked.

“This looks like the place,” Erika suggested.

“Where’s Mum and Dad though?”

I could hear a steady thump, thump and voices, apparently the other side of the hut.

“Mum?”

“Round here,” came the reply.

The three of us walked our steeds around the building to where Dad was busy hammering stakes into the ground to hold up the planks Mum was holding.

“Good ride?”

“It’s a nice trail, not a soul on most of it.” Anita mentioned.

“These okay?” Dad queried stretching after his labours.

“Looks fine, Dave.”

 
 
“So, straighten the legs then pull up.” Nita directed, demonstrating the technique to her small audience sat on the changing room steps.

We’ve been jumping on and off our bikes, practising our bike skills for over an hour now, I for one am starting to feel a bit sore. Neet’s bunny hop master class reminded me of that afternoon in Grottoes last year when I ended up watching that lad, Hooch doing similar stuff on his BMX. I certainly hadn’t thought then, or even until this morning that those types of skills would help with my racing career.

Anita did a few more bits of acrobatics before stopping.

“Guess I need to do some practice,” I noted.

“Can’t hurt,” Nita agreed.

“You three wanting a lift back?” Dad enquired.

“Nah, we ought to have a bit of a leg stretch before we finish.”

“We’ll see you back at the house in a bit then, Gab’ll show you where the shower is.” Mum advised.

 
 
We left my rents dismantling our training obstacles and headed back towards the tunnel. You can quickly pick up speed as you drop to the fire station and it felt well dodgy taking the tight corners on the knobbly tyres. It turned into something of a race after that down through Mayschoß and Rech, dodging the few grockles making the most of the fine day.

Local knowledge gave me the edge for the signpost sprint, the others complained of unfair advantage but like the sign is pretty huge. We made our way to Klein Schloss Bond where I got to direct the clean up operation. I’d barely organised towels for the girls before our Mercedes pulled onto the drive.

 
 
Clean and changed, we got into a discussion about kit, kit needed for the cross season but then it strayed to other stuff. I got to introduce the girls to the family’s fleet of bikes – I think I counted them all once – there’s a lot! Anita at least is a bit of a techie, when we started discussing the merits of my preferred Italian gear set against the Japanese stuff, Mum and Erika drifted off.

“…The Campy shifters fit my hands better.”

“I’ll give you that, I still prefer the double paddle though, that stupid inside button’s awkward to use.”

“Less effort than trying to swing that lever across,” I countered.

And so the conversation went on, no one winning, no one losing just an exchange of views.

 
 
At some point we moved up into the house for coffee and the shrine to Bond family success then came under scrutiny. I don’t mean to be boastful but I’ve got quite a collection of gongs and trophies which of course I took delight in showing off. The hill climb champions gong took some explaining, we don’t have such events in Germany, it’s a very British sort of event I guess.

The discussion moved onto race experiences, get any group of racing cyclists and at some point stories are exchanged of mishaps, successes, who they’ve raced against, beaten, the one up man ship of competitors on and off the road. Some of my stories could win Top Trumps but the others have had some interesting bike adventures too.

All good team building stuff I guess, I don’t get to do this with Ron or the others much, for starters they’ve been involved in lots of my stories! I mean it’s not really that interesting listening to the story of the race you were in is it? You know what happened, what the result was.

I’d lost all track of time; my stomach hadn’t however giving a loud rumble of protest at its lack of fill.
Maddy Bell © 30.10.2014

 
 
The girls stayed for lunch, we might not have ridden far but we had good appetites – just as well as Mum plonked a traditional English roast in front of us. The girls weren’t quite sure what to make of Yorkshire pudding but they cleared their plates nonetheless.

“So when do these Euro League events start?” Dad enquired as we relaxed with coffee in the lounge.

“First one is in three weeks, I think when you go to Japan? I’ll ride that myself, they are most weeks then until the end of February.”

“We’re riding all winter then?” Erika asked.

“It’s my main focus so I will ride most weeks, there are events in Czech and Poland I usually miss due to the travelling.”

“That’s a lot of riding,” I noted.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea for Gaby to ride so many.”

“I wouldn’t expect it,” Anita agreed, “we’ll target specific events as a team, all three of us riding – it’s not the same as on the road, team riders have much less effect, a single strong rider can do well.”

“I told George I’d give it a good go so it looks like I need to practice my skills,” Erika stated.

“George told me to let you know the programme, Dave,” Anita handed Dad a sheaf of papers. “I’ve marked the ones I’d like to ride as a team, I think there are five or six.”

“These with a star?”

“Uh huh, the Nationals are in January, Worlds two weeks after across at Zandvoort.”

Dad nodded, “Doesn’t look too bad, you don’t do the round in England?”

“Not before, my budget wouldn’t allow.”

“Hmm, leave it with me.”

 
 
“When was that dinner thing you’ve been invited to kiddo?” Dad queried as we vegged later that afternoon, he doing bike team stuff, me doodling with cheering uniform designs.

“The weekend before Christmas, why?”

“The Euro League cross is that weekend at Roundhay in Leeds, where’s this dinner at?”

“Not sure, Caro will know, she told Mum about it.”

“I’ll give her a bell then.”

He’s up to something, don’t know what, but something.
 
 

“Jules?”

“What?” the dark one managed from within the Goth cave.

“You still want these?”

I was back to clearing out the spare room, it’s not far off empty but I found this pile of Goth Girl’s stuff in one of the divan drawers.

“What is it?”

“All sorts, feels like shoes and something with net,” I replied through the door.

“Duh, let’s have a look.” My sister opened the door, “Thought you finished in there last night?”

“So did I but I thought I’d best check again, Dad’s wanting to paint in there tomorrow.”

She took the bag and peered inside, “I wondered where they’d gone and that.”

Despite myself I was intrigued, Jules has some weird stuff in her wardrobe. She pulled out the shoes, well they were more like short boots, pointed toes, laced up the front with a vertiginous stiletto heel.

“Not seen those before.”

“Think I only wore them once, grab these, if this is what I think it is, it’s well cool.”

I took the footwear and waited for her to pull the garment out of the bag, “Interesting.”

“Neat yeah?”

She held the skirt up to herself, not her usual black but dark red, the shaped hem sat about knee length, the net I’d felt was a sewn in under layer. The interesting feature though was at the top, the waist was high, pretty much up to Jules boobs and whilst not actually boned it laced up like a corset.

“Whoa, mega Goth.” I allowed.

“More Steam Punk really.”

“You’re the expert on dark stuff.”

“Yeah, you sister, are definitely more Chanel!”

“I am so not.”

“Says she with the fancy frocks and suits in the cupboard.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, “it’s not like I ever wear ‘em though is it?”

“I bet you do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Okay, I bet that you wear one of your fancy frocks before Christmas, if I win you get a Goth makeover.”

“What if I don’t?”

“I’ll give you twenty euros.”

“Fifty.”

“Forty?”

“Deal! Start saving sis.”
 
 

“It’s all clear, Dad,” I announced dropping onto the sofa.

“Hmm, right, okay thanks.”

He could at least sound a bit more enthusiastic.

“So watcha doing?”

“Getting someone to the Ball or in this case the BLCA dinner.”

“I can go?”

“I think so, it’s on Saturday night in York, the Euro League cross is at Roundhay on the Sunday so we can double up.”

“Kewl, hang on, if we’re flying how’re we gonna get all the bikes and stuff there, it’ll cost a packet.”

“Who said we were flying?”

“Well Mary said they’d pay for my flight.”

“We’re going to use the ferry, I’ve spoken to George and got the go ahead, we’ll drive up to Rotterdam on the Friday, ferry to Hull and reverse on the way back, home Monday lunchtime.”

My heart sank, I’m already on a warning from Boxberg, more time off is gonna rub her up the wrong way.”

“I can’t go then,” I told him, sagging back into my seat.

“Why not?” Dad demanded.

“I can’t take anymore time off school, I already missed a week for the Worlds and I’ll be off extra when we go to Japan.”

Dave hadn’t factored in that Drew would actually want to go to school, kids always want time off don’t they.

“I’ve got the ferry and everything booked, I was just gonna ring Anita when you came in. Why didn’t you say something before?”

“You didn’t ask?”

“She’s got you there, Dad,” Jules mentioned joining us.

Dave couldn’t argue, he hadn’t asked her, it was gonna be a surprise – a surprise alright but not as he’d expected.

“But it’s all booked, I’ve even got Caro getting extra tickets for the do.”

“So what’s the problem anyhow?” Jules enquired.

“Your sister doesn’t want to take time off school to go race in Leeds, we need four days as we’re using the ferry,” Dad explained.

“Weird girl, so why not fly?”

“Too expensive with all the kit,” pater supplied.

“No, just Gab, you go by ferry and Gab flies, she could go on Saturday and back Sunday.”

Sometimes my sister can be a twit, others times brilliant, this was a brilliant moment!

“I could fly to Leeds,” I suggested.

“I dunno, it’s more expense.”

“They said they’d pay for my flight,” I pointed out again.

“Leave it with me,” he sighed.

 
 
“You need a lift tonight?” Pia asked as we scooted to school Monday morning.

“I’m going up early but a lift back’d be good, I can use the Express then.”

“Shouldn’t be a prob, how many do you think’ll turn up?”

“No idea.”

“I think a couple of the others from Garde will come.”

“I hope it’s more than that or we’ll be finished before we start.”

“I guess,” she agreed.

“Come on you two,” Con chivvied.

 
 
So of course whenever you want the day to go quickly it completely drags. Herr Ansbacher’s history class was all about reunification, that stuff can’t be history can it, it was only a few years ago. Well the whole hour was a complete drag and Herr Viessner’s class was no better, we did this all this verb stuff in junior school!

To top things off on the way home we were halfway back to Dernau when the heavens opened up quickly soaking us. Just what I needed – not. I’d arranged to meet Margot at the club house about five, by the time I’d showered, grabbed a sandwich and collected everything together it was well after four.

“I’m off,” I offered around the living room door.

“You need a lift later?” Mum asked.

“Getting one with Pia, later.”

“Later.” Mum agreed.

 
 
I half walked, half ran to the Bahnhof arriving just as the Express pulled in, phew!

“Don’t often see you at this time?” Myleen observed as I sank into a seat.

“We’re starting a new class at the Tanzklub and I’ve got too much stuff to ride up with.”

“Costumes?”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain again.”

“Bum, I knew I’d forgotten something, umbrella.” I sighed.

“Can’t help you there I’m afraid.”

Maddy Bell © 28.10.2014

 
 
So of course I’d barely left the Express before it started spitting, whilst the stuff I was carrying remained dry, I didn’t. By the time I got to the club I was thoroughly wet, not quite to the skin but enough to be uncomfortable.

“Why didn’t you ring, I would’ve fetched you,” Margot pronounced as I dripped my way inside the building.

“Never thought,” I admitted.

“You got any dry stuff?”

“Guess I can wear some of this stuff.”

“What is this lot?”

“Let’s see, poms,” I shuffled the bags, “my old uniforms from the Foresters and some notes I made.”

“You have been busy.”

 
 
I ended up donning my Foresters uniform, not exactly what I’d prepared but it was dry and covered most of me. The first potential recruits arrived about ten to six; by five past we had over a dozen girls and surprisingly two lads waiting. Besides Pia three other members of Garde had turned up, one or two faces I sort of recognised, Analise who was in my Weinkönigin entourage and surprisingly Christina, you know, her parents own Der Mühle.

I let Margot do most of the talking, I’m not exactly great at public speaking and she’s used to telling people what to do! Eventually I had to say something though.

“Um hi everyone, I’m Gaby Bond and I’ll be your coach. Margot has explained what we hope to do, it’s my task to try and make it happen. I’ve done some cheering at my last school and in America so I hope that experience will be something we can all draw on.

I guess you all have some idea what cheerleading involves, it’s not just ‘cute’ uniforms and pretty girls, even the most basic level needs good co-ordination and precision, the more athletic stuff, needs fitness and trust as well. I’ll try to give you a taste this evening so if you all find a space we’ll give it a go.”

You don’t really want a blow by blow account of the next hour, suffice to say that some of the assembled teens had two left feet, one didn’t know left from right and I’m sure the lads had only turned up to ogle girls! I think it went quite well; we ended with a simple cheer before finishing. I guess next week will really tell us how enthusiastic any of them really are.

 
 
“That was fun,” Pia supplied between sips from her water bottle.

“It can be hard work too.” I mentioned. “I’ll just get changed and I’m ready.”

“Dad’ll be about ten minutes.”

“Kay!”

 
 
I stripped the yellow and blue outfit off; it felt strangely good to wear it again, not for some daft prank but to actually do ‘proper’ cheering. My shorts and t-shirt were almost dry, for a moment I was tempted to put the leotard back on but that was actually quite damp with perspiration, yeuk!

 
 
“So how’d it go?” Mum asked when I got back home.

“Okay I think, we had a dozen girls, they all seemed enthusiastic enough.”

“That’s good.”

“Ah you’re back,” Dad noted joining us in the kitchen, “I’ve got Leeds sorted out, you’d best ring this Mary girl to let her know.”

“I’m not taking days off,” I reiterated.

“You don’t need to, I’m driving over with Anita and Erika with all the bikes and stuff, you’ll fly over with Mum Saturday afternoon, we meet up, do the dinner thing, Sunday you do the race then you and Mum fly back whilst the rest of us catch the ferry.”

“Neat!” I checked my watch, ten past eight, ten past seven, early enough, “I’ll go ring Mary now.”

“Don’t be too long on that phone.” Mum admonished.

 
 
“It was really fun last night, you guys shoulda come,” Pia was enthusing when I arrived at Thesing’s.

“Morning, Gabs,” Steff smiled spotting my arrival.

“Morning, guys.”

“I was just telling them about last night,” Pia mentioned as I took a seat.

“I don’t do sweaty,” Con stated.

“She says,” Brid grinned.

“I need coffee,” I mentioned.

And so another day started.

 
 
With the session with Anita and Erika on Sunday I’m a bit light on mileage this week so as it looked to be staying dry I got home and ready for a ride.

“You want some company?” Mum enquired.

“Er sure.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

“Kay.”

I’ve not really done much riding with Mum lately, especially on her own.

 
 
“So where’re we going?” Mum enquired as we set off towards the main road.

“I was gonna go over Effelsburg then round to Adenau, just steady like.”

“Sounds good.”

Of course, steady with Mum along is more intense than on my own, it’s almost inevitable when you are with someone else. The extra bit of pace made its presence felt when we climbed up past the Tanzklub into Altenahr; I was blowing a bit by the time we came out of the tunnel.

“You alright, Gab?”

“Yeah, bit tight after last night I guess.”

Mum did hold the pace down a bit after that, mind you that’s almost a given when you’re negotiating Altenahr’s narrow main street, the bypass takes a lot of traffic but we were still dodging beer trucks, post vans and local shoppers. Across the level crossing and as the road looped past the campsite we settled into a comfortable pace, no longer trying to outdo each other. Another couple of minutes and we were on the quieter Münstereifel road, riding abreast.

 
 
“So how you doing?”

There had to be a reason for her riding out with me.

“Okay I guess.”

“You okay with doing the cross, George and your Dad can get a bit carried away with their plans.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “the cross should be fun I guess.”

“You can say no you know.”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you okay with Amanda coming next week, you’ve never said.”

“She’s a mate,”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The road started to ramp up into the hairpins which delayed any conversation for a few minutes as we both danced the pedals out of the valley, nothing like the climbs in Italy and Switzerland of course.

“So?” Mum pressed.

“I guess, but it won’t be like it was with Bern.”

“You’ve known Bernie for a long time, you only met Amanda, what, three months ago? Its bound to be different.”

We picked the pace up a little on the slight drop before the climb up to the roundabout.

I took the opportunity to think about my relationship with Amanda; even in the few weeks since we met at the velodrome in Manchester we’ve had some ‘adventures’. That weekend with Gran, all that stuff with Jess at Lilleshall, Switzerland and Italy of course. Now we’ll have more common experiences but I guess I don’t really know her that well, I’ve never been to her house, met her parents, exchanged presents – none of the stuff friends usually do with each other.

It’ll be hard for her too, moving not just away from home but also to a different country, a different school, away from her clique at school.

“Whatcha thinking?” Mum enquired as we started the drop into Bad Münstereifel.

“I was just thinking that it’s gonna be hard for Manda, you know leaving home and stuff.”

“It’s a big opportunity for her,” Mum offered.

“Yeah but she’s having to give up a lot too, I know what it was like when you came over here, Mand’s gonna have all that stuff, it’s not like it’s a five minute ride back to Croydon.”

“She won’t be a prisoner, kiddo.”

“I know.”

The traffic was quite heavy around the town; we cut through the pedestrian zone to miss some of it before picking up the road towards Adenau.

“You’re okay with her staying though? Maria’s offered to have her stay if it doesn’t work out.”

“Yeah, it’s just gonna be different I guess.” I surmised.

“You’ve remembered you have a hospital appointment next week?”

How could I forget? The quacks are going to want some sort of a decision, a decision I don’t want to make. I guess I’m reconciled to becoming Gaby 100%, get my plumbing sorted out but my head still thinks of me as Drew, male of the species. In reality that’s been the lie, Gaby is the truth but my head doesn’t want to accept that.

“Uh huh.”

“I know it’s difficult kiddo, I wouldn’t wish what you are going through with this on anyone but what’s done is done.”

I must admit that I’ve pretty much been wallowing in my own misery over all this gender stuff but of course it affects the rest of the family too. Jules makes a big joke of it, annoyingly so sometimes but it must be difficult for her having had a brother who’s really her sister. Dad never really says much to me about stuff that isn’t bikes; I guess he uses that as some sort of anchor on the situation.

Mum, I’m sure feels guilty about the whole thing. Maybe it could’ve been sorted out before, I don’t know, I didn’t even know I had a plumbing issue until a few months ago! I want to hug Mum and tell her it’s okay, it’s not her fault – if I do that we’ll end up in the ditch though!

We climbed wordlessly up the draggy road away from the town before chasing down to the main road to Adenau. It’s a bit narrow in places so we singled out which halted any further discussion about Amanda or me. Mum picked up the pace a little but we got caught behind a tractor that slowed us to twenty K.

“Which way?” Mum enquired.

“I was gonna go up to the circuit then back down to Ahrbruck.”

“We’ve got time, the Ring it is.”
 
 
The tractor eventually pulled off just outside of the town but of course then we had to negotiate the traffic through the centre. We ignored the direct route up to Nurburg instead taking the longer but no less steep climb up through Quiddelbach. The sounds of motorised speed junkies on the circuit echoed around the hillsides, screaming acceleration, lower tones as they braked before accelerating once again, up down, up down.

Mum instigated a rotation on the fast stretch alongside the race circuit which we continued until we started the climb around Hohe Acht. From there it was every man, well woman, for themselves on the headlong descent to Kesseling. Mum took the lead on the fast but lumpy ride down – if nothing else will, riding down here will get your adrenalin flowing!

I might have ridden slower but Mum was now pushing the pace, I was having to work to hang on! Ahrbruck, Altenahr, Mayschoß, Rech and we were back in Dernau. I thought the ride would be a chance to clear my thoughts; instead I’ve more stuff running around my head than I started with.

“Fritzy!”

Maddy Bell © 30.10.2014

 
 
One second I’m thinking about what to cook for tea, the next I’m flying through the air, what the…

Heh, heh, heh. Something was on my face, no not on, licking, I batted at whatever it was and made contact with something hairy, something…

“Fritzy, leave her alone!”

“You alright, Gab?” Mum’s voice enquired.

I peeled an eye open to find myself eyeball to eyeball with the errant pooch.

“Er I think so.”

“I’m so sorry, Frau Bond, Fritzy saw Gaby and just bolted,” Frau Holdorf fussed as she finally managed to drag the mutt off of me.

I eased myself upright, ooo, I’m gonna have some bruises in interesting places later. I looked over at my assailant, the look of confused innocence on Fritzy’s face was comical, I guess that’ll teach me about making a fuss of dogs.

“Are you alright dear?”

“Think I’ll live.”

“Can you stand?” Mum asked.

I tried, “ouch!”

“Stay there kiddo, can you stay with her, Frau Holdorf, I’ll get the car.”

“Of course, me and Fritzy’ll keep an eye on her.”

Mum took off leaving me in the care of a maniacal Dachshund and Dernau’s answer to Stern! I’m pretty sure nothings broken but it sure hurts when I move my left leg.
 
 

We were literally two minutes from home so it was no more than five minutes before my parents arrived in the Merc.

“Come on you,” Dad offered as he stooped to lift me up.

“Sorry.”

“For what, your Mum’s told me what happened, lets get you to the clinic.”

“I’ll take the bike home, ring me when you know what’s happening.” Mum told us.

By now I was sat across the back seat trying to get my leg in the least painful position I could.
 
 

An hour later I was propped up on a cot in casualty feeling quite sorry for myself, the adrenalin surge immediately after the tumble having been replaced by self pity and pain killers. Not only that but I’ve had to suffer the indignity of being stripped of my shorts, the nurse wanted to cut them off but at ninety euros a pop I insisted they were pulled off which did nothing for my pain receptors!

“So’, young lady,” a middle aged lady in a white coat started, “what have you been up to?”

“Would you believe a dog knocked me off my bike?”

“Your father says you can’t put weight on the leg?”

“Can’t even stand up.”

“Well the x-rays don’t show a break so it looks to be some sort of soft tissue damage, we’d best take a look eh?”

It wasn’t pretty, from groin to knee was already coming out in a corker of a bruise. The Doc carefully poked and prodded, moving my leg as far as my pain threshold would allow.

“Well I don’t think there’s any muscle damage, nothing’s torn as far as I can tell, I’m pretty sure that it’s just an impact trauma, a couple of day’s rest, no tight clothing for a few days and it’ll be right as rain.”

Just an impact trauma she says! From where I am it’s a major ouch.

“Kay, do I need to stay in hospital?”

“Oh I don’t think so, we’ll sort you out some painkillers then your dad can take you home.”

“Okay.”

 
 
“You didn’t have to go that far to get out of cooking,” Jules grinned as Dad plonked me on the sofa resplendent in my paper gown and knickers.

I blew her a raspberry in reply.

“Leave your sister alone,” Dad suggested.

“Aw, that’s not fair.”

“Fair or not that’s the deal.”

“So er, what is for dinner?” I queried quietly.

“You two hungry?” Mum queried from the door.

“Wouldn’t mind something, love,” Dad allowed.

“Don’t really need to ask you do I?”

“I’m a growing boy, well er girl.”

“Omelette okay?” she offered.

“It’ll fill a hole,” I grinned.

 
 
“Next thing I know the mutt’s licking my face.”

“Ew, gross!” Steff offered.

Whilst I wasn’t up to riding to school next morning I was deemed fit enough to hobble from the car, I can’t even score a day off after a crash!

“So what are you going as?” Nena queried.

“Dunno, hadn’t given it much thought.”

“It’s only a couple of weeks away Gab,” Brid mentioned.

“She could be the bike zombie,” Pia suggested waving her hands claw like in front of us.

“Sounds a bit lame to me,” Con put in, “lame, get it? Bruised leg?”

“We got it worst luck.” I said with a sigh.

“How about a Valkyrie, you could so do the Nordic goddess bit,” Nena put forward.

“She could take the souls of fallen battle hamsters to Walhalla,” Steff giggled.

“Hey, I am here, guys!”

“How about an undead elf? We’ve still got your outfit from Weihnachts.” Con added to the pot.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have a killer outfit in plenty of time.”

What I’ve no idea, it’s ages yet.

 
 
I still had a bit of a twinge on Friday but I was walking okay and even managed to ride to Silverberg but Garde was definitely out! Of course the bummer has been that on doctors orders I’ve not been able to wear anything restrictive so I’ve had to wear skirts all week – I draw the line at a dress.
 
 

“You gonna be alright for Sunday, kiddo?” Dad enquired.

“Sunday?”

“The sportive up at Dusseldorf, with Roni?”

“Dunno.”

“It would be useful before next week’s race,” he suggested.

“I guess, so how far is it?”

“Your event is only a hundred, pretty flat looking at the map. You can scratch if you want.”

“I’d never hear the end of it from Ron if I did.”

“I’ll confirm it with them then.”

“Suppose I should go to bed, work in the morning.”

“Night, kiddo.”
 
 

“Are you alright, Gaby?” Frau Holdorf enquired.

“A few bruises, I’ll live.”

“Fritzy, he’s such a naughty boy, once he makes his mind up there’s no stopping him.”

“So er, where is the little chap?”

“Outside, by the tree, see he’s over, Fritzy!”

The little bugger had slipped his collar and was already making good his escape, the pursuit of Frau Holdorf only hastening his departure.

Con was in hysterics; I was struggling to contain myself. He might’ve been the cause of some discomfort on my part this week but you can’t help being amused by him and his owner.

“You coming to Bonn this afternoon?” Con enquired after Frau Holdorf returned for her brotchen.

“Guess so, the others going?”

“Think so, I’ll ring round in a bit.”

 
 
I only had thirty minutes to get home, change and get back to the Bahnhof, still being a trouser free zone, at least for today, it shouldn’t be a long job.

“Where are you off to?” Jules queried.

“Bonn.”

“Bore-ing!”

“Some of us aren’t there every day,” I pointed out.
“So what’re you going for?”

“You know, looking at stuff, sugar I need to be outta here, the Express’ll be here in like ten minutes!”

I ran up to my eyrie, pretty much ripping my uniform off on the way. Hose off, denim skirt, where is it, there, vest top, grab a cardi, bag, where’s my purse? I grabbed fresh hose and rammed them in my bag before charging back downstairs.

“Shoes, you seen my shoes, Jules?”

“Which ones?”

“You know, my Skechers™.”

“In the corner?”

I found the missing footwear and slipped them on.

“I’ll never get there,” I moaned.

“Come on,” she sighed.

“Where?”

“I’ll give you a lift.”

We clattered out to her Mofa, so okay it’s not that quick but it’s faster than me walking.

Putt, putt, putt. We chugged through town, me riding sidesaddle behind my sister. I could see the Express coming down the line, Jules did too as she revved the bike to top speed, up the curb and then screeching to a halt at the barrier.

“Cheers, Jules!”

“Later.”

“Come on, Gabs!” Con yelled.

The zug hissed to a halt as I reached the platform, made it!

Maddy Bell © 31.10.2014

 
 
“Made it!” I gasped as I hobbled along to where the others were sat.

“That was so funny,” Steff grinned.

“Wish I had a camera.” Brid added.

“What?” Con enquired.

“How could you miss that?” Pia chortled.

“Miss what?” I asked.

“You running for the train,” Steff informed us.

“What’s so funny about that?” I queried indignantly.

“You looked like you had a wooden leg.” Pia cackled.

“Like a marionette,” Brid opined.

“Geez, you know who your friends are!” I pretty much spat.

“Calm down, Gab,” Con suggested, “seeing you run anytime is quite funny.”

I can’t help it if I don’t do running well.

“Hmmph!”

“So where’s Nen? She was all up for it when I rang earlier,” Con asked of the others.

“She just sent a text,” Pia advised, “here.”

She passed over her handy so we could see the message,

‘dnt w8t, sthng came up, N’

“Must be important to keep her from the shops.” I observed as I furtled about in my bag, “aha! Gotcha!”

“Got what?” Steff probed.

“Hose,” I announced.
 
 

Ever tried putting tights on whilst holding a conversation on a rattly train? Didn’t think so, ‘snot easy I can tell you!

“Gab!” Con complained, “Sit down, you’re showing your knickers.”

“In a minute.”

Where my friends request was basically ignored the wolf whistles and ribald comments from along the carriage did get a reaction. I was sat and turning a bit er russet in less than a second.

“You coulda said,” I whined to Con.

“She did.” Steff noted in Con’s defence.

The group of lads making all the fuss suddenly quieted.

“Myleen,” Con sighed looking down the train.

No one argues with our friendly train conductor, the last person to rub her up the wrong way had a long walk home!

 
 
I squirmed and tugged my tights into place, not very ladylike (duh!) but at least I felt dressed now although the contortions aggravated my sore thigh somewhat.

“Hi, girls.”

“Afternoon, Myleen.”

“Abend.”

“Hi, Myleen,” I added.

“Can we have less shows for the boys, eh girls?”

“It was Gabs,” Brid supplied.

Thanks, Bridget!

“I was just putting some hose on.”

“Hmm, passes?”

I know, seems a bit daft, we travel on here all the time and she wants to see our passes. We all fished our travel cards out for inspection.

“Off shopping?” Myleen proposed taking a vacant seat.

“Bonn.” Pia supplied.

“No rush at Remagen today girls, all the northbound services are delayed today.”

“By much?” Steff asked.

“‘Bout ten minutes, they are doing some work down at Andernach.” Myleen told us.

“Not too bad I guess.” I allowed.

“So what are you shopping for?”

“You know, My, this and that,” Pia offered.

“Or nothing,” Brid concluded.

“Well have a good time, girls, I’d best do some work.”

 
 
The northbound Rhein Express instead of being stood waiting rolled into the station a couple of minutes after we reached the platform. We found seats as the train departed our boarding point, five’s an awkward number for seating but given it’s under twenty minutes to Bonn, being sat in different places wasn’t an issue. It was not quite one fifteen when we joined the throng making its way into the maze that makes up Bonn’s shopping district.

“So where first?” Pia queried.

“Schuhstraße.” Steff suggested.

Of course that’s not really its name, it’s Sternstraße but there are loads of shoe shops and other places that are of interest to teenage girls along its length.

“We can go via the püppen shop Gabs.” Con put in.

Well I hadn’t been planning on model buying but if the opportunity is there…

 
 
“Which way then clever clogs?” Brid asked.

Steff was on the wrong end of her tongue having taken the lead after we departed the toy store. (I only spent forty euro honest!) I’m pretty sure we’re near the target but I’m not sure I’ve even been here before, a square containing the Alte Rathaus and a few stores that held little interest to our party.

“Let’s try that one,” Con suggested pointing to the opposite corner of the square, “’s got to go somewhere.”

No one having a better idea we made our way past some bell thing in the middle of the square and to where a couple of streets joined the plaza.

“I can see Deichmann’s along there.” Pia announced.

“It’s Schuhstraße,” Con announced.

“We must be at the other end to usual,” I observed.

“Lucky guess,” Brid moped

She’s being a right cow today.
 
 

“Straighten it out then,” I suggested.

“Hang on, your hair’s caught in it,” Steff mentioned.

“Ouch!”

“Sorree, there we go.”

Using a shop window as a mirror I admired the delicate choker that clumsy fingers had put on for me, I’m sure you’ve seen similar things, it looks almost like a tribal tattoo, I reckon it looks well cool.

“Stop admiring yourself, Princess, I’m starving let’s eat,” Con suggested.

“Dinea?” I promoted.

“Wherever, as long as I can get coffee,” Pia noted.
 
 

I’ve told you about Dinea before, the self-service restaurants? Well anyway we headed up to the top floor of the Karstadt and although it was heading towards three there was still plenty of food on offer.

“You’re not eating all that, Gab?” Steff queried looking at my tray.

“I’m riding tomorrow, I need my carbs.”

I suppose it does look quite a bit, braised beef, spätzle and veggies, a bowl of salad, lemon torte with cream and a large diet coke. I hope Mum hasn’t done a big dinner when I get home.

“You should be the size of a house,” Pia chuckled.

“I would be eating like that,” Con stated.

“You not eating, Brid?”

“Not hungry, I get fat just watching you eat.”

“Whatever.”
 
 

“I’m stuffed,” Con allowed sitting back from the table.

“You only had a bowl of soup,” I noted.

“And a slice of Pflaumkuchen.”

“Not like hollow legs over there,” Steff mentioned.

“Thought it was boys who had hollow legs,” Brid suggested.

I wanted to shout I am a boy! Was, I suppose now. I can hardly claim that title anymore, sat here with boobs, in a skirt with my girl friends.

“I don’t think Gab eats it at all, she’s got like a bag it goes in, you know like that fairy tale. When she gets home she empties it to start again.” Pia proposed.

“Ew, gross!” Steff squealed.

“Guys, me, Gaby, here?”

I finished my food; it was the cola I failed on, Steff emptied the cup for me.
 
 

Time was getting on now so we started making our way back towards the Bahnhof. That’s not to say we didn’t make a few stops on the way, Con bought a skirt in H&M, but otherwise we just did what girls do in shops – look! It was somehow almost five when we got back to the station, just in time to join the crowds waiting for the seventeen o five that terminates down in Koblenz.

It was already packed when it pulled in but enough travellers from Köln got off to free sufficient seating for most of the new passengers. Well okay, Brid did end up sat several rows from the table the rest of us commandeered but I’m sure she’ll survive twenty minutes. Jules does this journey several times a week; don’t think I could stand doing that.

Myleen and the Ahrtal Express were waiting when we got off at Remagen, fully two thirds of those who left the train from Bonn heading over to platform four.

“Good time, girls?” Myleen queried as we stepped onboard.

“Okay,” I allowed.

“Gab spent more on food than the rest of us spent altogether.” Steff told her.

“Hey!”

“No strip shows this time eh, Gaby?” Myleen suggested with a wink.

“I, er.”

“Come on, Gab, she’s only joking,” Con told me with a push towards our usual seats.
 
 

The ride up the valley was uneventful, the light starting to go a bit by the time my and Cons stop was reached.

“See you Monday.”

“Bye guys!”

I left Miss Thesing at the bakery and ten minutes later pushed the kitchen door of Schloss Bond open to be assailed with the unmistakeable smell of onion gravy.
Maddy Bell © 10.11.2014

 
 
“Ah Bisto*!” I announced.

“Well not actually,” Mum stated, “it’s OXO* I’ve thickened up.”

“So what we having?” I enquired, all thought of my earlier pile of food forgotten.

“Sausage toad**, there was a continental market in Mayen today and that English butcher was there.”

“Neat!”

It always seems a bit weird that something as ordinary as bangers aren’t in the local shops, English food is foreign exotica here in Germany.

“What have you done now?” Mum exclaimed.

“Done?” I queried.

“You know how I feel about tattoos.”

“Tattoos?”

What is she on about?

“Your neck.”

“Neck? Oh this, cool eh,” I enthused fingering my new choker.

“Not cool, you realise you’ll have that forever?”

“Dunno about that, might be a bit fiddly to get off, Steff took ages doing it up.”

“You got one of your friends to do it?” Mum was getting apoplectic.

“Who else?”

“You are so grounded, Gabrielle Bond, just wait until your father sees it.”

Grounded?

“Till I see what?” Dad enquired from the door.

“My choker I guess,” I suggested in a small voice.

“Your daughter has got herself tattooed, just look at her neck.” Mum instructed.

“Tattoo?” Dad and I chorused, I put two and two together – Mu-um!

“It’s not a tattoo, it’s a choker,” I pulled the plastic filigree away from my skin, “see?”

“Have to admit it looks like a tattoo,” Dad noted, “’s not though love.”

“It’s not? Let me see.”

I demonstrated the temporary nature of my neck decoration for her.

“Sorry, kiddo, I jump to conclusions sometimes.”

“Am I still grounded?” I queried.

“Grounded? No you’re off the hook.”

“Now that’s sorted, when’s dinner?” Dad asked sniffing the glorious odours coming from the stove.

 
 

“Looks like a nice day for it.” Dad observed as we headed north along the autobahn next morning.

And indeed it was looking quite promising, a thin mist sat over the fields but overhead the sky was almost cloud free, a blue several shades lighter than the shade normally associated with it. The shadow of my bike on the roof flickered along the road, quiet at this time on a Sunday morning. The early morning chill will almost certainly give way to something more comfortable later on.

Sometimes the journey up to Ron’s seems to take forever, this morning it was the opposite and it seemed but a few minutes before we were dropping through Gruiten towards Mettmann.

“Not coming today, Angela?” Dad enquired seeing Ron’s mum still in slippers.

“I got a better offer from my man,” she replied with a wink, “morning, Gaby.”

“Er morning.”

“Come on, Roni, they’re waiting!” Frau Grönberg called into the house.

“Coming, morning, Gab, Herr Bond.”

“Morning, Ron.
 
 

We soon had Ron’s bike on the rack, Angela having donated what looked suspiciously like sandwiches, cake and a flask of coffee. Today’s event, a sportive being run by a local club, only starts twenty minutes away in Dusseldorf, the tiny area known as Flehe.

“This must be it.” Dad surmised turning into the parking area already populated by cars, bikes and riders.

“It says registration is in the school,” Ron noted after scanning the flyer she was clutching.

“You two go and check in, I’ll sort the bikes – oh and see if you can get me a route map, girls.”

“Yes, Dad,” I agreed rolling my eyes.
 
 

We made our way into the school, the local primary and found the queue for registration.

“Morning, ladies, which distance hundred or hundred fifty?”

We looked at each other, yeah.

“One fifty.” I offered.

“You’re over sixteen, yes?”

“Of course, shrimp here is nearly seventeen.” Ron ad libbed.

“I can’t help being short,” I added.

“Have to check, ten euro each please,” the guy doing registration shrugged, “pop your details on the sheet.”

We filled in names and emergency contact details under the officials gaze and I handed over a twenty note.

“So, number on the front of the bike, get the card stamped at the checkpoints, green arrows to point two then blue for the long route, it’s a loop back to point two then you follow the green again okay?”

It was clear enough on the map.

“’Kay, could I get an extra map for my dad, please?”

“Sure, glück, remember it’s not a race.”

“We will,” Ron agreed.
 
 

“Wotcha say that for, that I’m seventeen?”

“He was gonna make us do the hundred. It worked didn’t it? I need the loo.”

Whatever. I followed her into school to use the facilities, ooo, showers afterwards.
 
 

“Sorted?” Dad enquired when we crossed back to the car.

“Yup, I remembered the map too,” I announced passing him the sheet.

“Hundred k, bought three hours then.”

“Erm,” Ron started, “we sort of accidentally entered the one fifty.”

“How’d, no I don’t want to know, just take it steady eh, I don’t want to have to explain to your mothers why you’re in the Krankenhaus eh?”

“We will, Dad, take it steady that is.”

He gave us one of those looks, “Let’s get theses numbers on, it’s ten to, best get yourselves sorted.”

 
 
This isn’t one of those big fancy events like we rode earlier in the year, no big sponsorship or thousands of riders. The start window is an hour; we joined about fifty others for the nine o’clock flag waving. Sportives are kind of like a race without the er race bit – ride alone or in a group, fast or slow, it’s a personal challenge with no prizes other than pride.

With at least three hours riding ahead of everyone the start was quite sedate, not least as we followed a narrow lane through market gardens to the Rhein where we climbed up to the motorway bridge to cross the meandering waters. We slotted into the back of a twenty strong group as the cycle track left the motorway. Letting others do the navigation was, at this stage a wise move as we flicked back and forth through housing estates and industrial areas.

The first kontrolle at Nievenheim was reached in about forty five minutes of riding, the others in our group content to let us sit in – at least for now. We queued up for our stamps before grabbing a cup of squash and half a narna.

“This is alright.” Ron suggested.

“Yeah like it’s only another hundred and twenty to go,” I pointed out.

“Pah! Come on, our lot are leaving!”

“Sugar!”

I rammed my banana in my mouth and quickly mounted my steed and pushed off. The others had stolen several hundred metres on us which it was soon evident we weren’t going to close easily. We eased off slightly and soon found ourselves at the head of a smaller group of riders.

An informal two-line rotation started up and by the time we passed the huge Neurath power station we were ticking along quite comfortably. Apart from motorway bridges it was now almost Holland flat and whilst still reasonably warm the sun was hidden behind a bank of grey cloud.

“Wonder where Dad is?”

“Probably struggling with this map!”

“Yeah it’s not the easiest is it.”

So far we’ve easily spotted the green arrows, I say we, our little peloton, eight in total.

“We must be near the next checkpoint,” I suggested as we dropped off another motorway bridge.

“Hope so, I need a wee,” Ron supplied.
 
 

We were closer than I’d imagined, barely a kilometre later we followed the arrows to kontrolle two next to a disused windmill.

“Wee, wee!” Ron squealed.”

“Gi’s your card, I’ll get it stamped.”

Ron minced off to find a suitable bladder emptying spot; I might need to do the same before we leave here. I’d got the cards stamped before I heard a familiar voice.

“You alright, kiddo? Where’s Ron?”

“Lav, wondered where you’d got to.”

“I just missed you at the first stop, you were too quick.”

“You’re in a car,” I mentioned.

“But I couldn’t jump straight onto the motorway, it’s quite a trip round by car.”

“Hi, Herr Bond,” Ron offered joining us.

“Okay? You sure you want to do the long route?”

“Course, fresh as daisies us,” I grinned.

“I’ll see you at the next control then.”
 
 

By the time we were ready to depart the other members of ‘our’ group had departed on the short route, we’ve got a loop of about fifty k back to the windmill and it looks like it’ll be just the two of us. The first couple of kilometres were remarkably tough, a stiff headwind making us grovel, have we boobed here? Off the main drag things improved, a succession of small villages marked our way, the now blue arrows forlornly directing us at each junction.

“So how far’s this kontrolle then?” Ron asked after we’d been in the saddle for best part of an hour.

“If the map’s right, about another five?”

“Bleh!”

“We’re over halfway when we get there,” I observed.

* Well known UK brands of gravy browning
** English sausages cooked in a Yorkshire pudding batter, commonly know as Toad in’t Hole.

Maddy Bell © 11.11.2014

 
 
By now the weak sun had, for now at least admitted defeat by the blanket of cloud, considering the time of day it was well gloomy. You can’t talk all the time and for the last kilometres to checkpoint three we rode in companionable silence along roads almost completely devoid of traffic. The highlight, if you could call it that was catching and passing an old bloke towing half a field of food in a trailer behind his bike, bet he’s not riding to Dusseldorf though!

“This looks like us,” I announced after spotting a blue arrow up ahead.

“‘Bout time,” Ron sighed, “maybe we shoulda done the hundred.”

“Wimp!” to be honest though, I’ve been harbouring the same thoughts.

We swung off the main road into some sort of yard populated by three cars, one of which was ours, a single rider just about to set off, Dad, a table with food and drink and of course the stamp man.

“I was just gonna come looking,” Dad stated as we pulled up.

“Considering how flat it is it’s been damn hard.”

“And boring,” Ron added.

Bikes parked, we got our cards stamped and did a locust job on the food!

“Bikes okay?” Dad asked.

“Mines okay,” I offered, “Ron’s back wheel’s got a little kick.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Ron admitted.

“I’ll take a quick look,” Dad told us.
 
 

“So, you enjoying it girls?” our ‘host’ enquired.

“It’s hard work with just us,” Ron allowed, “I thought there’d be a group we could hide in.”

He chortled at that, “there’s not many do this long route, I think its only twenty signed up today, about ten ahead of you.”

“Maybe we can catch some of them,” I suggested.

“Only in your fathers car I think, they are mostly about twenty minutes ahead.”

“Bum,” I sighed.

“You two gonna get moving,” Dad prompted returning to the table, “your wheels okay Roni, slight twist in your tyre is all.”

Well I guess it’s the homeward run now and it is flat.

“Let’s do it, Ron.”

“I’ll see you at the next control,” Dad told us.

“Okay.”

“Good luck, girls,” control man stated with a cheerful grin and wave.

We clicked in and returned to the road.
 
 

Getting going again after a stop is invariably less than fun, the longer the stop the less fun. The only saving point this time was the slight tail wind we picked up as our route turned south, how do I know it was south? Well duh, the sun was off to our right, what you could see of it through the cloud.

“So Amanda comes next week?”

“Saturday,” I confirmed.

“Will she race on Sunday?”

“Dunno, never asked.”

“Ga-ab! You’re not much good as a spy,” Ron chortled.

“Well I spy a turn by those trees.”

“But she’s going to Japan?”

“Uh huh, BC stumped up for her flight, they put to for mine too.”

“I wouldn’t’ve minded going,” Ron sighed as we made the turn.

“Well it’s gone from one race and some photo ops to racing nearly every day.”

“Still,” she lamented.

“Promise to bring you something cool back.”

“You’d better, Gaby Bond.”

With the wind’s assistance our speed had picked up a bit and this leg was a bit shorter than the others, so we turned into the windmill stop for the second time about three and a half hours after setting out. There were some other riders milling about, long stoppers from the one fifty or later starters on the hundred – whichever they were, from here back to Dusseldorf we’ll all be riding the same route. After the last hour or so, which was a comforting thought, hopefully we can get a bit of ‘rest’ rather than slogging along for another sixty odd K.

“I was talking to the chap doing the control,” Dad started, “says it’s a fastish run from here, fairly straight.”

“Good,” I grunted.

“You alright, kiddo?”

“Bit tired.”

“You could’ve done the hundred,” he pointed out.

“You ready, Gab?” Ron queried as she returned from using the facilities – again!

“Uh huh.”

“Come on then, those guys in the red and black are just about to leave.”
 
 

There were five of them, ‘bout Dad’s age I guess, we timed our departure so that we reached the road with them. We easily slipped onto the back and just the fact of being in a group reduced our effort for a similar speed. From Immerath we ducked under the autobahn then over a second motorway, our companions apparently happy for us to sit at the back.

“What’s with all the closed roads?”

“Kohl,” Ron noted.

“Kohl? As in green stuff?”

“Not kohl, coal, you know for the power stations?”

That sort of coal.

“You remember at the Spreewald, the open cast? Same here, brown coal.”

Now I remember, Herr Ansbacher was on about this before the summer hols.

“I didn’t realise it was still happening here.”
 
 

The riders ahead made a turn and we rode through the remains of a village, the signs posted at the roadside suggested that this area would be destroyed in pursuit of brown coal within the next year. It was eerie, the Freiwillig Fire station, stood empty, houses derelict, no life beyond the odd crow watching our silent progress. We took a turn on the front more out of politeness than need and soon enough we returned to some form of civilisation.

Up above the sun was doing its best to break through the greyness, just as it started to warm a little the sky suddenly came over black. In less than a minute the wind got up and rain started lashing down.

“Capes!” I suggested.

“Bus shelter.” Ron pointed to the roadside.

We jammed brakes on and quickly joined a couple of other riders already sheltering there, our companions pressing on through the downpour without us. Race capes were quickly donned and we huddled together in the face of the precipitation. Five minutes, ten minutes.

“Looks to be easing off.”

“You wanna push on?” Ron asked.

“Can’t stay here forever,” I pointed out, “sun’s coming out now.”

The rain continued but at a lesser rate, the wind having dropped considerably.

“Come on then,” I suggested.

On wet roads we set off once more, alone again, hopefully we’ll pick up some others on the way or at the last checkpoint.

“Stop!” Ron shouted.

With a squeal of brakes I came to a halt, “wassup?”

“Turn, that last corner.”

“You sure? I didn’t see anything.”

“Look that’s the guys from the Bushaltestelle.”

Our co rain refugees waved and shouted to us, indicating that indeed we had overshot. The sign was obscured by a parked van, at least we hadn’t gone too far off route. It was only a couple of hundred metres to the final kontrolle, a last chance to refill bottles and grab some extra food.
 
 

“You get caught in that cloudburst, girls?” the woman doing the stamping asked.

“Yeah, we had to hide in a bus shelter,” Ron told her.

“Well it’s not far now, you’ve done the one fifty?” she asked seeing our slightly soggy cards.

“Uh huh.”

“We haven’t had many Jan Wellem’s through today, well done!”

“Jan Wellem’s?” I queried.

“Geez, Gab, don’t you know anything? He was like the king of Dusseldorf, everyone knows that,” Ron stated.

“We call the riders doing the long route Jan Wellem’s because it goes past some of his schlosser,” our stamper explained.

“’Kay.”

“Where’s your dad?” Ron queried looking around the sports ground car park.

“No idea, we should press on.”

“Ready when you are.”

 
 
The next few kilometres reminded me very much of the lanes back home in north Nottinghamshire lanes around Clumber, twisty, narrow and fun to ride. Once again the roads were devoid of other riders but after the downpour the skies have cleared so that the sun is making its presence felt.

“You sure we’re going the right way?” Ron asked, “we shoulda seen some other riders by now.”

“There’s not been any signs,” I observed, “the maps not too clear though.”

“It doesn’t feel right, I’m sure we should be heading towards Neuss now, it was off to the left at those last lights.”

“If there’s no sign at the next junction we’ll ask someone,” I proposed.

No sign but I recognised the road ahead – we were here this morning!

“I don’t think we’re far from the bridge, we came this way earlier, we can just retrace.”
 
 

Okay so we were further away than I thought and maybe we should’ve turned right at the petrol station but we were now on the lane leading us to the Rhein bridge, sugar, nearly seven hours ago! After so far with hardly any up to speak of, the ramp up to the autobahn was hard work but we could see Flehe from the bridge and in less than five minutes we were back to the HQ.

“There you are,” an agitated Dad pronounced.

“That’s us,” I managed.

“We were just about to send out a search party, what happened? Some riders saw you just after checkpoint five but you disappeared.”

“We must’ve missed a sign,” I started.

“By the time we realised I think we were far from the course but Gab recognised the road so we retraced from this morning.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone kiddo?”

“It didn’t ring, honest!”

“Well you’re here now, get yourselves cleaned up.”

“Yes, Dad,” I replied stifling a yawn.

Maddy Bell © 14.11.2014

 
 
I gave an enormous yawn as I came out of the school building, the shower had been nice but our detour added over twenty k to our ride, I’m kernackered!

“Gab, you left your bibs in the changing room,” Ron told me before throwing the salt-caked garment at me.

“Ew! Nastee!”

BANG!

The explosion rent the previously quiet air, like bees to honey everyone rushed out to the road to investigate. Instead of unknown carnage the only body to be seen was Dad, currently shaking his head in a cloud of dust.

“What the heck was that?”

“That was Ron’s tyre,” he supplied.

The other would be spectators lost interest, Ron and I headed to the car.

Although strapped to the roof of the car, it was still easy enough to see the ten centimetre split in the rear tyre.

“Wow, some fail,” I allowed.

“Glad it happened here,” Ron noted.

“I’ll sort you a tyre when we drop you off Ron,” Dad advised, “so kiddo, you checked your phone?”

“Er no, hang on.”

I’d actually just transferred it from my jersey pocket to my shorts; I pulled it out and groaned.

“The battery’s dead.

“One day, Gaby, one day,” Dad shook his head.

“Sorry,” I launched into another yawn.

“I suppose you’re too tired for ice cream then?”

“Ice cream?”

“There’s a parlour just along the road,” Dad supplied.

“Count me in,” Ron put in.

“Hmm pistachio,” I mused.

“Stop daydreaming then, get in,” our chauffeur prompted.

 
 
It certainly was ‘just up the road’, a few hundred metres at most. Sat at one end of a block of apartments it barely looked open but even as we parked and locked up there was a steady stream of patrons arriving and departing. We crossed Aachener Strasse and took our turn at the door crowned with the word ‘Unbehaun’ and joined the queue.

“Where’s the menu?” I queried.

“On the wall,” Ron supplied.

“Where?”

“On the back, there.” She pointed at a small board.

I’d already seen that but it didn’t have any flavours on it, oh well I’ll make a decision at the counter. I looked around the shop, a dozen or so tables, about half occupied, the décor was super retro, no pictures of bizarre ice cream dishes or Mediterranean villages, the stock of ice cream parlours everywhere. Instead the walls were decorated with framed photos of what appeared to be this place.

“Hi,” the chap on the counter greeted, “what’ll it be?”

Dad had clearly been studying the menu more than me, “three regular please, I’ll have the Neapolitan, girls?”

“You got pineapple?” I enquired hopefully.

Eyebrows were raised, “You need to go up town for that, we have chocolate, citron, nut, vanilla and strawberry or you can have the Neapolitan.”

I was a bit disappointed; still, Eis is Eis, “Strawberry then.”

“Neapolitan,” Ron added.

 
 
Five minutes later we were tucking into our respective tubs sat close to the window so we could see the car.

“Dunno how they stay open, five flavours indeed!”

“Says here,” Ron started reading from a card on the table, “that they opened in 1906 and the Eis is made here in the shop from fresh milk.”

“Guess the burghers of Dusseldorf are happy with five, kiddo,” Dad suggested.

Indeed since our arrival there had never been less than three people queuing, some sitting in like us but mostly departing to eat on the street or I’m guessing by the packing, to take home.

“I guess, I was looking forward to pineapple and mango.”

“Well I think traditional is nice,” Ron supplied.

“It tastes alright doesn’t it?” Dad pressed.

“Yeah but like that’s not the point.”

“Hundred years,” Ron observed.

Whatever.
 
 

Frozen dairy product consumed we returned to the Mercedes and rather than picking up the autobahn we circumnavigated Dusseldorf before following the Düssel up to the Neanderthal Museum, the road soon depositing us back in Mettmann and up the hill to Ron’s abode.

“Sorry we’re so late, Angela, this pair got lost,” Dad told Ron’s mum when we decamped.

“Huh, blame us,” I accused, “who suggested ice cream?”

“Some place called Unbehaun,” Ron supplied.

“On Aachener Strasse?”

“You know it?” Dad queried.

“It’s famous in the area, one of Düssel’s hidden gems.”

“Well they could do with more flavours,” I moaned again.

“You guys staying to eat?”

“If it’s no trouble, we seem to’ve missed doing more than snack today,” Dad offered.

“That’s settled, you two need to shower?”

“We did that in Düssel mom.”

“Well get your kit in the washer, you too, Gaby.”

She’s worse than Mum!

“Coffee, Dave?”

 
 
I might have mentioned before that Ron’s mum is something of a demon in the kitchen, she genuinely enjoys feeding people. I’m sure she’d got the food ready in anticipation; Ron had barely got our cycling kit in the washer before we were called to the table.

“Help yourselves, there’s plenty.”

We seated ourselves and I waited to see what was on offer. Angela brought out a big casserole dish that spat and hissed at us.

“Hmm, that looks good,” Dad grinned.

And indeed it was, turkey breasts cooked in a cheese sauce topped with pineapple, boiled taters, peas and carrots – a veritable feast. It certainly hit the spot and I, for once, was stuffed when I finished.

 
 
“Come on, Gab,” Ron instructed me after the table was cleared.

“What we doing?”

“Just hangin’”

Fair enough, I can do that. We went up to her bedroom, I’ve been before, I’m mostly okay with girl’s bedrooms these days, I seem to spend a lot of time in them!

“You seen the latest Radsport?”

“Not yet.”

“On the night stand, there’s a report on the Worlds.”

“Kay,” I allowed as I retrieved the magazine.

“You get a mention.”

“I should hope so, hey what are you doing?”

What she was doing was getting pretty much naked! She was already down to her panties; I was being exposed to far more Roni than I need to see. Okay we’ve shared changing rooms but this is different, this, this blatant er nakedness.

“Getting comfortable, I’m a bit bloated after that dinner, chuck us that dress.”

I did my best to avert my eyes whilst giving her the dress but well; she’s got a nice bod okay. It was soon thankfully covered by said frock, geez, I’m comparing her boobs to my fried eggs, well not fried eggs, nope I’m a full C cup, thanks Mum. I so don’t want these things, I never did, flippin’ Mother Nature, you played Top Trumps with me and I lost big style.

“Gab?”

“Hmm?”

“You alright? You looked miles away.”

“Er yeah, just thinking.”

“There’s a photo gallery in the middle, nice pic of your mum.”

It’s a German magazine but they were quite generous in their coverage, I suppose the fact that me and Mum live here and ride for a German team doesn’t hurt. The shot of Mum was a classic long shot, Mum punching the air in delight as the remains of the women’s race straggled along behind. I featured in two pictures, a podium shot for the road and a side on shot taken in the TT alongside a similar shot of Tony Martin, my co champion.

I wasn’t the only one in the room featured; Ron’s third place in the TT got her a podium shot. I studied the time trial pictures, Martin clearly taller but well tucked, me much more compact. But more than that, the caption said Drew Bond, junior men’s Weltmeister, even I could see that the picture was of Gaby Bond, junior woman – I’ve never really looked before, how anyone can not see the girl or rather does see boy!
 
 

“Gaby? Time to go,” Dad called up.

“Kay.”

The pair of us returned to the ground floor where Dad and Angela were waiting.

“Make sure you dry that kit when you get home,” Angela instructed.

“Er yeah, sure,”

“So we’ll see you Sunday?”

“Yeah, I’ll ring to confirm times later in the week,” Dad agreed, “oh nearly forgot Roni, you need a tyre, you okay for tubes?”

“Yes plenty of tubes thanks.”

We migrated out to the car, Ron’s bike was absent, Dad must’ve unloaded it while we were upstairs. Dad opened the rear door and dug around in a plastic crate for the tyre.

“Here you go, let me have the old one next week, we might be able to get some credit on it.”

“I’ll make sure she brings it, Dave,” Angela stated.

“Mum!”

It’s not just me that gets embarrassing parent syndrome.

By the time we departed, the light was starting to go, it’ll be about nine before we get back to Dernau. Not that I’d see much of the journey, shortly after we joined the autobahn my eyes decided they needed a shutdown, the rest of my body was only too keen to join that enterprise.
 
 Maddy Bell © 15.11.2014

 
 
“I bet Gab’s got some,” Brid stated as I joined the others in Thesing’s.

“Some what?”

I plonked myself down next to Steff, guh; I’m still tired from yesterday.

“Fancy underwear,” Pia supplied.

“Course she has, you don’t wear C&A® with those fancy frocks,” Steff opined.

“F-fancy?”

Now let me state, now, categorically, I do not like girls underwear, well I suppose my knickers are comfortable but bras, brrrr and don’t get me started on corsets, wearing that one at the wedding was like torture.

“You know, something a bit naughty.” Con offered with a smirk.

Look, I might’ve been wearing the stuff for best part of two years but I take no pleasure from it. Well okay, I’ll admit I’ve got a couple of favourite bras but that’s cos they are comfortable, no other reason, really.

“Didn’t you have a corset for the wedding?” Steff suggested.

You know me; I could feel my face changing colour.

“I, er.”

“We’ll take that as a yes,” Brid almost giggled.

“So, er why are we discussing underwear?” I managed to ask.

I’m not comfortable with this girl stuff okay?

“There was a thing on Morgen, they’ve done a survey which reckons Eifel women each have two sets of special undies,” Pia explained.

“Kay,” so okay it’s not a completely random conversation. “No Nena?”

“Not heard since Saturday,” Brid noted.

“Hope she’s okay,” Steff put in.

“I’ll pop in on the way to cheering, it’s on my way,” Pia suggested.

“Yeah, I’ll come with,“ I volunteered.

“Girls?” Frau Thesing called across, “its ten past.”

“Oops!” Con allowed.

 
 

The ride down to Silverberg was uneventful, well apart from my posterior complaining about the Schauff’s fat bouncy saddle. Not that I think any saddle would be any better; Dad reckons we did over a hundred and seventy kilometres with our little er diversion. It wasn’t my fault okay?

Yeah so apart from my bum its turning into just another day.
 
 

“Okay everyone, pop quiz.” Herr Bollt announced.

That was met with a round of moans; Herr Bollt’s geography quizzes are notorious. I personally quite like the subject but he comes up with some really off the wall questions to catch us out. Paper was passed around, names affixed and a throat clearing announced our imminent doom.

“Question one.”

I wrote ‘1’ in the margin.

“How many City Länder are there in the German Republic?” he paused, “and two, name them.”

See what I mean, you can guess question one but you have to know for question two.

I scribbled my answers – well not scribbled exactly, you know what I mean.

“Question three, by area and population, which is the smallest Länder?”

‘S easy, Bremen, I added that to my sheet and waited for the next question.

 
 
“Question twenty nine, to the nearest round percentage number, how much of Germany is forest.”

We only did this last week, thirty percent?

“And lastly, question thirty, of the fifteen National Parks, how many occupy coastal positions.”

Sugar, no idea, Wattenmeer, Jasmund, five? Sounds about right.

“Okay everyone, sheets to the front, quickly,” Herr Bollt instructed.

Yeah, just another day.

 
 
Instead of my usual training session after school I decided that I’d be better off loosening up ready for the evenings cheering session. Instead of bibs and a jersey, the days lycra experience ran to a fuchsia sports bra and a pair of dance tights. Yeah I know, hardly macho Drew stuff but the girls need support and the tights are, well they’re comfortable okay?

I don’t have a set routine but I usually cover the same stuff and after a couple of months of relative inactivity with this stuff some of the more er stretchy moves just weren’t happening. Hmm, maybe I need a different approach.

Ten minutes later I was using the banister as a makeshift barre and going through the moves Laura had me doing at Lilleshall. So okay, they’re ballet moves but after a few minutes I was feeling looser, perhaps there’s something to this stuff. I’d been at it for about half an hour when a snicker alerted me to an audience.

“What are you up to Gab?” the Dark One enquired.

“Well duh, what’s it look like?”

“It looks like you need a tutu,” she giggled.

“Ha de ha.”

Of course she’d caught me with my foot hooked on the top of the rail and now I seem to be er stuck.

“Er, can you give me a hand Ju, I’m sort of stuck.”

“Idiot,” she stated before lifting me off.

“Um thanks.”

“So what’s with the ballet stuff?”

“Trying to loosen up for tonight, sugar, what time is it; I’m supposed to be meeting P.”

She looked at her watch, “twenty to five.”

“Bum!”

Bum indeed, I’m supposed to be at Pia’s at five, I must’ve been at this longer than I thought.

“So what time you meeting?”

“Five?”

“I’ll give you a lift if you want.”

“Er cool, five minutes?”

Geez, that’s twice in a week she’s offered me a seat on the mofa, must be something wrong with her but I’ll not complain. Of course five minutes was closer to ten by the time I’d dressed for public consumption and grabbed the cheer stuff. My sister already had the bike put-putting when I got outside.

“Here,” she handed me a helmet, “Mum’ll go potty if you don’t have that on.”

Whatever, given the speed of the thing, especially with a passenger, it’s a bit of overkill. I climbed on behind Jules and we set off.

 
 
It was only when we got to the Sebenschuh’s place that I realised I’d boobed by taking up Jules’ offer, we are supposed to be checking up on Nena.

“Hi guys,” Pia greeted us, “no bike Gab?”

“Sugar, I thought your Dad was taking us.”

“You can borrow Ingrid’s.”

“Thanks for the lift Jules,” I gave her the helmet which she strapped to the rack.

“No prob, laters!”

And with a whine of complaint she took off back towards Dernau.
 
 

“So why the lift?” Pia asked as we headed towards the garage.

“I was er doing some stuff and forgot the time and she offered.”

“Unusual.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Ingrid’s bike was another typical town bike, a Kalkoff in a particularly girly white and pink paintjob – very um girly. Beggars can’t be choosers; I dropped my bag in the basket and wheeled it outside.

“Afternoon Gaby.”

“Hi Mr S.”

“You two off to the Tanzklub?”

“Er yeah, cheering tonight.”

“Take care then, tschuss.

“Yeah, tschuss.”
 
 

We set off up the bike track towards Mayschoβ, it’s not a long way but far enough. It follows the railway line for the most part and even uses an old tunnel to cut the corner to the village. Nena lives up near the campsite on Sonnscheidestrasse; it’s not much of a climb but still a bit of an effort on these bikes.

“Hmm, no car,” Pia observed as we coasted to a stop.

“Shutters are down too.”

We parked the bikes and headed around the back, which looked similarly unpromising. I rang the bell anyway.

“Looks like they’re away.”

“She coulda said,” I sighed, “come on, let’s get to Tanz.”

“Let me try her phone.”

Nothing to lose I guess. Pia hit the speed dial, a moment later we could hear a phone ringing inside the house.

“Well that solves that mystery, wherever they’ve gone she forgot her phone,” Pia concluded.

“Hello, girls? You are looking for the Fischer’s?”

We turned to find a woman at the door of the next house.

“Er yeah, Nena wasn’t at school, we just came to see if she’s okay.”

“Ah, I recognise you, you were Weinkönigin last year.”

“Guilty,” I admitted.

“So pretty.” She smiled.

“The Fischer’s?” Pia prompted.

“Such a shock, of course I said I’d look after Moritz while they are away.”

“Shock?” I queried.

“Moritz?” Pia added.

“The dog,” she turned to the house, “Moritz boy, come to Angie.”

In short order an elderly Alsatian arrived at ‘Angies’ feet, well I know, after Fritz you’d think I’d know better but Moritz looked like he needed a fuss.

“The family?” Pia suggested.

“Oh yes, so sad, the eldest daughter, you know her yes?”

“Claud?” my blood ran cold.

“Yes, she has taken a bad turn; they’ve gone to Baden to be with her.”

Maddy Bell © 19.11.2014

 
 

Claudia, no it can’t be true, I mean I know she wasn’t well in the summer, we did that Weihnachts thing for her*. To be honest I hadn’t really even thought about her in more than an abstract way since her return to Bad whatever it is. But now, now the girl responsible for me having blue hair, for dressing as the Angel Gabrielle, is not long for this world.

“Thanks for telling us, um Angie, we’ll er catch up with them later.”

“Take care, girls.”
 
 

“Gab, slow down!”

Hmm? I eased off my pedalling, freewheeling until Pia caught up to me.

“Um sorry.”

“We don’t know the whole story,” she pointed out.

“They’ve gone to the Schwarzwald, she had a turn.”

“It’s happened before, Gab.”

“You saw her in the summer,” I mentioned.

I don’t think we’ve really talked about her condition, like most teens it’s in the category of something that happens to others. It’s not like it was with Mum even, or when Ally was shot, I was closer to them, to what was happening. This is more, more remote and I’m not quite sure what my feelings are, loss yes, sheesh we don’t even know if she’s passed and I’m talking as though she is.

We continued our journey to the Tanzklub in almost silence, each of us lost to their own thoughts. Certainly my earlier happy mood was broken.

 
 
The cheer team is months away from even thinking of competition stuff so after warming up we got into practicing some of the basics. Despite the news about Claudia it was good fun, we’ve only lost one of last weeks recruits and everyone seems very enthusiastic.

“What’s up, Gab?” Margot enquired as I collected my stuff.

“Nothing really.”

“You can’t fool me, young lady, is it something with the club?”

“No, no nothing like that.”

“Well?”

“We just found out earlier, on the way here, that someone we know is like very ill.”

“I take it ‘we’ is Pia?”

“Uh huh,” I agreed.

“That explains the long faces when I got here, so I take it things don’t look good?”

“Claud’s got MS, the family’s gone to the clinic to be with her.”

“They’ve got all sorts of drugs these days.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, but they don’t help now do they, “I don’t know what to feel Mar, I can’t do anything to help, I can’t go and see her even, I feel pretty useless.”

“The Weihnachts party was your idea,” Pia stated.

I hadn’t even noticed her joining us.

“Fat lot of help that was.”

“Gab, it was something very positive, we raised a bucket load for the MS charity.”

“Hasn’t helped Claudia though has it?”

“She had a great time, she got to do stuff she wouldn’t’ve done otherwise.”

That of course was the whole purpose wasn’t it, not the money but giving her a good memory, something positive to remember.

“Come on you two, put your bikes in the utility room, I don’t want either of you riding in this state, I’m driving you home,” Margot instructed.

For a change I didn’t have argument in me.

 
 
“Come on, kiddo, we have to be there for ten thirty,” Mum called up to my eyrie.

Yup, today it’s decision time for me, well in reality it’s more about discussing a timetable. I might still want to be Drew; male of the species but that was always a lie wasn’t it? The reason I made such a good looking girl in all those dress up sessions was that I was a girl, am a girl, a girl with weird plumbing; but a girl nevertheless.

So today we get to talk about removing what I had always thought of as my male stuff, what made me Drew Bond. The choice between fully working Gaby and imitation male Drew was, in the end, less traumatic than I had thought. Gaby has a life and friends; Drew is just a name on bits of paper – and in my head.

Of course, if you’ve been following things you’ll know that things are running a bit behind. Dr Fischer agreed the delay when I got the Worlds selection but now, now we can’t delay any further. Shortly after Japan I get to be a fully functioning female, I am so not looking forward to that!

 
 
The meeting with Dr Fischer at the hospital in Köln was much shorter than I’d been expecting, Mum and Dad did most of the talking and it seems my Drew bits get a further reprieve of two weeks due to surgery schedules. But the date is set, November 14th, five weeks time. They needed to do the vampire bit to make sure that I’m up to surgery but by twelve o’clock we were sat watching the shipping on the Rhein.

“You okay, kiddo?” Dad asked.

“Well it’s not what I wanted,” I noted.

“We know, we, your Dad and me should’ve pushed the doctors in Worksop when this whole thing started.”

“It wouldn’t have made much difference, I’d still not be male would I?”

“I guess not, kiddo, I guess not,” Dad sighed pulling me into him so my head was resting on his chest, hmm comfy.

 
 
“How’d it go yesterday, Gab?” Con enquired as I sipped my coffee.

“I’ve got a date to get things sorted, November fourteen.”

“What they doing?” Brid queried.

Con’s the only one fully up to speed and I’m not about to change things now, “Not sure exactly, they used loads of fancy names but I should be fixed afterwards.” Yeah fixed as a girl.

“Well that’s good, yeah?” Steff opined.

“Yeah, regular periods here I come.”

My attempt at levity raised a chuckle or two but I really wasn’t feeling it.

“Take it no one’s heard from Nena?”

“To be fair, if she’s left her phone at home she probably doesn’t have anyone’s number,” Steff proposed.

No news is good news I guess, I’m sure Nena will call but I can’t help thinking that call will be the one none of us want.

 
 
“Well done, Fraulein Bond,” Herr Boltt mentioned as he dropped Monday’s test back on my desk.

With everything else that’s been going on it wasn’t something I’d given much thought to since finishing it. Thirty questions, fifty marks available and I got forty-five, how did I manage that?

“So you all have your sheets, some disappointing results, Constance.”

“Yes sir,” Con agreed.

“Some of you clearly did not read the chapter on bio diversity, only one of you got question thirty correct.”

I checked my paper, last one, yay, twas me!

“Well done, Gabrielle,” he will insist on using full names, like no one calls me that except him.

“Um, thank you, sir,” I allowed as my face changed colour.

“For all of you scoring under thirty five there will be another test next Monday so I suggest you actually do the reading this time?”

“Yes, sir.” The chorus rang out.

Comparing notes afterwards it seems I got the highest mark – well joint highest, Willy Lehmann got the same. Poor old Con scored worst, just eighteen out of fifty, she’s not usually that bad, not Einstein but not Dumbo either.

 
 
“What are you doing Saturday?” Dad enquired as I stuffed my sweaty bike kit in the washer.

“Saturday? I thought Kassel was Sunday.”

“Sometimes, Gaby,” he sighed, “ Saturday, Amanda’s coming? Are you coming to the airport?”

“I’m supposed to be working, I said I would.”

“That’s okay, I just wanted to know beforehand. Can you make the bed up? Your mother’s left the linen on top of the ottoman.”

“I guess, when’s she get back?”

“Saturday, I’ll collect her and Maria at the same time as Amanda.”

“’Kay.” Yeah Mum and Maria flew to Vienna today, some promo thing for Apollinaris.

 
 
To be truthful, I’d forgotten Mand was coming Saturday, that sounds wrong, I hadn’t forgotten rather I’ve had other things on my mind. It’s gonna be strange having her here, when Bern stayed it was different, we’ve been friends for like ever – I’ve only known Mand since the summer. Yup, the goal posts are gonna be different.

The guest room looks pretty sterile at the moment, no junk, no piles of washing, no boxes of assorted ‘stuff’. It still smells a bit of fresh paint and the only decoration is a framed vintage Campagnolo poster that Dad got off t’internet. How long it’ll stay this tidy I couldn’t say – if I moved in it would be like Steptoe’s yard in a day!

The biggest job in the bed making is felling the timber, just kidding; it’s getting the duvet in the cover properly. There are probably easier ways but being a bit vertically challenged I find myself inside the cover then fighting my way out, doubles are like bed linen Armageddon for me! I wonder how much stuff she’ll bring? I never thought, is she bringing a bike?

 
 
“Bed done,” I announced taking my favourite spot at one end of the couch.

“Thanks, kiddo, you want to go out to eat?” Dad offered.

Well it will get me out of cooking, how comes it’s always my turn anyhow?

“Sure,” I agreed.

“I need to finish this paperwork first so you’ve got half an hour.”

That sounded like a hint, a strong hint that my current scruffy t-shirt and cargo shorts would not be acceptable.

“Yes, Dad,” I allowed before climbing back off the sofa, and I was just getting comfy too.

 
 
I know it seems a bit of a cliché but one look in the wardrobe confirmed it, I don’t have anything to wear. Let’s put that in context, I refuse to go out wearing my school stuff and there is just no way I’m putting on some fancy frock! Which leaves not a lot, my ‘wedding’ suit, two skirts, one dress and a couple of jumpers.

Not quite nothing but I’m gonna have to buy some decent trousers and stuff – I am not gonna wear dresses and skirts any more than I can help. Hmm, maybe I can scam some dosh to go shopping? This evening though my options are slim, looks like it’s a skirt and jumper that means at least making a little effort with my hair and makeup.

 
 
“You ready, kiddo?” Dad hollered up the stairs.

“Just coming.”

To be fair he didn’t say anything when I arrived, he didn’t need to, the look on his face was enough, I passed muster but there was something else in that look too, something I couldn’t put my finger on.

* See book 9

Maddy Bell © 21.11.2014

 
 
“So where’re we going?”

“Thought we’d go to the Schloss, your sister’s working there tonight, save me making an extra journey later.”

There had to be an ulterior motive. I’m sure I mentioned before that Goth Gurl has been recruited by Wilhelm, that’s Max’s dad, to make or at least advise on making some English dishes and if I’d actually checked the calendar tonight is English night.

 
 
It’s not a long way to the von Strechau place so just fifteen minutes later we were sat in the barn like restaurant – let’s get it right, it was a barn originally, the place was busy and I smelt a rat when Max took us straight to a table – clearly we were expected.

“Drinks, Herr Bond?” Max asked.

“Radler please, Max, Gab?”

“The same?”

“Two Radler coming up, Mum and Dad’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Well at least it’s only Gloria and not the Baroness, I don’t think I could cope with her tonight.

Max was quickly back with our drinks and tonight’s menu, “Two Radler, I’ll get your order when my rents come.”

“Thanks, Max,” Dad allowed.

“Later, Gab.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

“Looks like Will is getting a bit adventurous,” Dad noted as he checked out the menu.

I looked myself, potato and leek soup to start then a choice of liver and bacon roll or ‘West Country’ pasty both served with mash and seasonal veg. Whilst the Germans don’t generally do much in the dessert line, Wilhelm had two options tonight, treacle tart and rice pudding. Hmm, what to have?

 
 
I decided to forego the soup, I don’t want to struggle with the pud after all, liver and bacon roll can be a bit heavy and I’ve not had treacle tart in like forever.

“So, Gaby, Max says you are off to Japan,” Gloria stated as we waited for the food.

How did he know? I mean it’s not like a secret or anything but I never told him.

“Er yeah, we’re doing some races to promote women’s racing in Asia.”

Dad was by now in deep conversation with Wilhelm so I wouldn’t get any help there.

“That sounds exciting.”

“I guess.”

“I hope it’s not all bikes though, there’s lots to see, and Tokyo is amazing.”

“You’ve been?”

“In my gap year, Japan, Hong Kong, Korea, Australia and America, great fun but I was glad to get home.”

“Sounds exciting, we did an exchange thing to America when I was in England,” I told her.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was different, we did some interesting stuff and I met some great people but I don’t think I’d want to live there.”

“No?”

“My friend, Ally, she got herself shot while we were there.”

“She is okay?”

“Yeah but she was lucky.”

“Yes, the Americans are very fond of their guns I think.”

Further conversation was put on hold when Max and Jules arrived with the other’s soup. It actually looked and smelt pretty good, I was nearly regretting missing it.

“Another drink, Gab?” Max enquired.

I checked my glass, where’d that go?

“Could I just have a Sprite® please?”

“Sure, Herr Bond? Mum? Dad?”

“Not for me, Max,” Dad replied.

“Small beers for your mum and me,” Wilhelm told his son.

“Coming up.”

Meanwhile the Goth One, tonight managing a reasonably normal look, had served the soup, food now replacing conversation.
 
 

The main course, when it arrived, was a fair facsimile of the advertised meal, the suet was maybe a little dry for my liking but somehow they’d managed to not puree the potato’s, which almost compensated. Seasonal veg turned out to be green beans, carrots and cauliflower – very British and quite colourful on the plate. Both the von Strechau’s had the same only Dad chanced the pasty and I reckon someone needs more practice making them, there seemed to be a lot of empty in Dad’s example!

I was glad that I’d passed on the soup as I was fairly stuffed when I finished the main course. Treacle tart can be spot on or easily made terrible, this example was borderline. Still, a liberal dose of ‘sauce Anglais’ can rescue a lot and whilst a bit chewy the tart was eatable.

“What do you think?” Wilhelm enquired as he pushed his plate to one side.

“Well I enjoyed it,” Dad supplied.

“Very rustic,” Gloria stated, “I like it.”

“What about you, Gaby?”

“Pretty good, the bacon roll was a bit dry and the tart was a bit overcooked, eight and a half out of ten.”

“Bit harsh, kiddo.”

“Just saying, I’m not saying I’d do better.”

“She’s honest at least, Dave.” Von Strechau grinned.

“Too much so sometimes,” Dad noted.

 
 
It was closer to eleven than ten when we got home; I was well ready for bed. I only realised that I’d left my handy at home when I clambered up to my nest to find it flashing and beeping at me. Ten missed calls? Who the heck is trying to call me? Eight were from Pia, the latest just ten minutes ago so I hit dial and made myself comfortable while I waited for it to connect.

“‘I can’t take your call right now, please lea..’ Gaby?”

“Wassup?”

“Where’ve you been, I’ve been ringing all evening.”

“We went out for dinner, I forgot my handy.”

“Frau Fischer rang earlier.”

Sugar.

“Claudia?”

“She passed this afternoon,” Pia sniffed.

I didn’t know what to say, know we’d sort of been expecting this but I was still unprepared for the reality.

“Gab? You still there?”

“Uh yeah,” I snuffled, a tear ran unchecked down my cheek.

“They’ll be coming home at the weekend.”

“That’s er good.”

“I spoke to the others earlier, we’re all gonna go Monday.”

“Erm yeah, uh sure.”

“See you at Thesing’s, yeah?”

“Er sure,” I agreed, “um nite.”

“Night, Gab.”

 
 

“Gab? You all right?” Jules queried from the doorway.

“Hmm,” I sniffed.

“Didn’t think the gravy was that bad.”

“She’s dead.”

“Who?”

“Claud.”

Confusion flashed across Jules face before she replied, “The girl in the wheelchair?”

I nodded in agreement as she dropped onto my bed next to me.

“It was expected, yeah?”

“Kind of,” I agreed between sniffs.

She pulled me into a hug, which is the last thing I can remember.

 
 
“You okay, kiddo?” Dad enquired when I reached the kitchen Friday morning.

“I guess.”

Okay in as much as I’d cried myself out last night, not quite so okay as I didn’t sleep very much. I sloshed some coffee into my mug and joined him at the table.

“It gets better kiddo,” he stated.

“I suppose,” I allowed.

“When I was a student a lad I knew from drinking at the Union* was killed in a car crash.”

I grunted at this information.

“I remember feeling cheated, I was upset of course but outside of going drinking together I didn’t really know him, I couldn’t even tell you what he was studying. It was like, how dare he die? One night we’re partying big style, next he’s not there, gone. So I was angry, angry because we hadn’t said goodbye and now I couldn’t, he’d gone and we wouldn’t be talking rubbish ever again.”

Did I feel like that? Cheated of a longer friendship? It’s not like I knew her particularly well, I mean we got on well enough but a couple of shopping trips don’t really make us count as close friends. Certainly the others have known her longer but even so you can’t really be close to someone you barely know.

 
 
Pia was missing when I got to the bakery and the others had understandably long faces.

“It’s probably a relief to the family,” Brid offered as we set off for school.

“Brid!” Con sanctioned.

“She’s right Con, they’ve had it hanging over them for years, we knew she wasn’t expected to see Weihnachts,” Steff observed.

“Nena must be devastated,” Con went on.

“It is her sister,” I noted.

“Pia knew her almost from kindergarten,” Steff put in.

I didn’t know that.

“Has anyone told Anna?” I queried.

“I’m pretty sure Pia has, they were like sisters before Claudia went to the hospice,” Con supplied.

* Student Union, cheap watering hole attached to the University

Maddy Bell © 22.11.2014

 
 
Pia didn’t show at Garde Friday night either but it gets me out of doing a ‘gym’ session with Dad so I made the effort. Of course news of Claudia’s demise had already made it to a lot of the others, some had been to school with her like Anna so it was hardly a joyous evening.

“Gaby? A word?”

“Sure Margot,” I allowed as I dragged my sweatshirt back on.

I followed her through to the office, closing the door behind me, “Wassup?”

“You had any thoughts on the cheer costumes yet? Frau Doerning wants to get them started before the Christmas show stuff.”

“I was thinking fairly traditional?”

“Works for me, can you put something on paper for Monday for me?”

“I guess,” it’s not like I’m doing much this weekend, working tomorrow, big race on Sunday – plenty of free time.

“Great, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Sure, tschussie!”

“Tschuss!”

 
 
“So we should be back around four,” Dad informed me as I finished my cocoa.

“I should be home by then,” I supplied.

“Please try, we’ll eat up at the Krone then it’s an early night, we’re picking Angela and Roni up at seven thirty.”

Heavens to Murgatroyd, we have to leave here at like six!

“’Kay.”
 
 

I didn’t sleep well, my mind kept going back to Claudia, I must have slept at some point as I was awoken by my alarm at silly o’clock. Yup, time to get up for work, I need to shower, do my hair, makeup (what?) and get to the shop ready to open at seven. At least doing Sundays I get a bit of a lie in.

No one else was up, why would they be? I banged some bread in the toaster and set the percolator going – Dad will appreciate it being ready when he surfaces. It was looking pretty grey and horrible outside and by the time I was ready to leave it was precipitating quite persistently – great.
 
 

“Morning, Gaby.”

“Hi, Herr Thesing,” I offered as I shook my coat out.

“Weather for ducks eh?”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“I’ve done the tills so you can start on the Gaggia.”

“’Kay.”

Gaby Bond, barista – not really my number one career choice!

 
 
So of course with cats & dogs falling outside the day started slowly. The regulars still braved the elements, not deterred by the weather due to necessity or habit. I was able to cover the shop on my own until Connie’s mum joined me just before eight. It’s usually the busy period but with it still raining things were slower than usual.

“How’re we doing?”

“Bit slow,” I allowed, “still got plenty of brotchen and croissants.”

“I’ll tell the boss to delay the second batches then.”

“Okay – remind me later, I need brotchen for tomorrow morning, we’re leaving early.”

“Where are you off to this time?”

“Kassel, it’s the last Junge League of the year.”

“That’s a fair drive.”

“Yeah and we have to pick Roni up on the way.”

“Your team mate?”

“Yeah, she lives up near Dusseldorf.”

There’s one thing with the bakery trade, our customers almost always turn up eventually, fresh bread, I don’t mean that reheated supermarket stuff but fresh made on the premises stuff is an integral part of life for most people. So when it started to dry up half an hour later we suddenly found ourselves inundated and idle chatter was halted.

Frau Holdorf – and Fritzy of course, Goth Gurl fetched baked goods for her and Dad, Gloria Pilsen, Frau Viessner, that’s my English teachers significant other – they all made an appearance at some point. It was heading towards ten when I headed up to the flat for my break.

 
 
“That you, Gab?” Con’s voice enquired from down the hallway.

“Yeah, it’s been murder down there,” I called back as I found crockery and cutlery, ”you eating?”

“Wouldn’t mind a coffee.”

“’Kay.”

Frau Thesing had left me a plate of meat and cheese in the fridge, I’d brought a couple of fresh brotchen up with me and there’s always bread available – it is a bakery after all! I poured the coffee and sat at the counter, bleh.

“Morning!” Con offered when she appeared still in her jarmas.

“Geez, Con, you not dressed?”

Talk about state the obvious!

She blew a raspberry before stealing a slice of bierwurst from my plate.

“Hey!”

“What? So you coming up to Steff’s later?”

“Can’t,” I supplied as I assembled a sandwich, “Mand’s coming today so I’ve got to get home and sorted before they arrive.”

“You’ve always got something going on,” she observed.

“I guess,” I agreed before ploughing into the cheese and meat.

“So what are you doing for the party?”

“Doing?”

“Costume?”

“Oh right, it’s a um surprise,” to me too!

“You’ve not got conned into helping Max again?”

“Nah, I reckon I frightened him off with the last time.”

“That was pretty awesome, if he’d been shorter no one woulda pegged him.”

“It wasn’t that good.”

“If you say so.”
 
 

We chatted about this and that whilst I ate and drank somehow dodging the Elephant that is Claudia. My break over I headed back to the shop for another couple of hours of serving bread product and hot water flavoured by roast and crushed berries. The weather was drying up if not brightening up, by the time I finished my shift I only needed my coat for warmth.

Back home I took another shower, filled the washer, had a bit of a tidy round and then, with the time approaching the travellers expected arrival, I started getting myself ready. We’ve eaten at the Krone fairly regularly, it’s not posh but the rents get a bit anal about not going to eat out in anything remotely scruffy. I struggled the other night for something appropriate, today is gonna be awkward, nothing too girly but at the same time I need to be Gaby.
 
 

Voices below announced their arrival; I’d got as far as underwear in the dressing stakes.

“Gaby?” Dad called up.

“Up here, just dressing,” I replied in similar shouty fashion.

“Amanda’s here, you coming down?”

“Minute.”

Sugar! I grabbed the first hanger that came to hand, can’t wear that, the next was holding a dressy little number that needs heels, oh what the heck. I wiggled into it, hmm, bit short but at least the girls aren’t too exposed. I found my sandals, the strappy ones with a seven-centimetre heel and padded downstairs.

 
 
“Dr-aby?”

“Heya, Mand, good flight?” I queried giving her a hug

“Um okay I guess.”

“Gab love, can you show Amanda her room and so on?” Mum proposed.

“Sure,” I dropped my footwear by the front door for later, “come on.”
 
 

“Do you always dress as Gaby?” Mand asked when we reached the first floor.

“I am Gaby, whatever I feel about it,” I sighed.

“So have you got a date or something, I can’t believe you wear stuff like that all the time.”

“Or something, we are going out to eat tonight.”

“Somewhere posh? I’ve not got anything fancy.” She noted with a worried look.

“Nah, not posh but people generally dress up a bit to go out here.”

“Oh.”

“You have brought a dress?”

“Nothing sort of dinnery, you said to bring a party frock.”

“Jules is about your size, I’m sure we can borrow something. So this one’s your room,” I mentioned changing the subject.

 
 
The tour didn’t take too long and we were soon unpacking her case, Dad having heaved it upstairs whilst I explained what was where in the bathroom. After helping unpack I raided Jules wardrobe whilst Mand showered. Perhaps surprisingly my sister has some pretty vanilla stuff amongst the black netting.

“What’re you up to?”

“I thought you were at Boris’s tonight? You got anything Mand can borrow to wear to dinner?”

“Nope, you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“So can we borrow a dress?”

“I guess, you going in that?”

“Yeah,” I agreed somewhat defensively.

She shuffled the closets contents a bit, “Try this, might need a slip.”

I took the offered garment, “Cheers sis, I’ll introduce you in a bit.”

“Whatever.”

 
 
I knocked on the bathroom door, “Mand?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ve left you a dress in your room, Jules says you might need a slip.”

“Thanks, Gab.”

“No prob, I’ll find you in a bit.”

“Kay.”

“Ten minutes?”

“Sure.”

I decided I needed hose so I clambered up to the eyrie.
 
 

Maddy Bell © 24.11.2014

 
 
Dad was well out numbered, Mum, Jules, Mand and me filling the Mercedes with distinctly non-male odours. Jules was getting along surprisingly well with our new house guest – just as well as after Japan she’s charged with herding Mand to school in Bonn. Of course, it’s not far up to Altenahr, it takes nearly as long to walk from the car park to the Krone!

Mand kept giving me weird looks as we followed the rest of clan Bond onto the bridge.

“What?”

“Um, nothing.”

“Come on, what’s up?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on Mand, something’s eating you.”

“This girl stuff, it’s really you isn’t it?”

“Course it is worst luck, I told you at Gran’s didn’t I?”

“Yeah but like in the summer, it was like you were doing it kind of as a lark?”

“Lark!” I pretty much shouted.

“Come on you two, stop lollygagging,” Mum called back to us.

“Coming,” I called back, “lark, I wish. So what brought on this revelation?”

”You did,” she paused, “when I got to your house, I was expecting to find the Drew that was about in the summer. Instead there’s this girl, no shyness or sign of boy whatsoever, looking and acting just like, well, any girl our age.

“I did say,” I pointed out.

“Sorry, Drew, it just all seemed too far fetched to be real.”

“Gaby.”

“Eh?”

“Drew’s gone, everyone knows me as Gaby here, Drew is just a front for racing and even that ends tomorrow,” I sighed.

“Your dad mentioned something about tomorrow, what’s the crack?”

“Watch the steps, they can be quite slippery,” I advised as we joined the others at the hotel.

 
 
Dad had reserved us a table, it can get quite busy on Saturday evenings. We were soon seated; it was a corner booth, guess who got the corner seat?

“Mand was asking about tomorrow, Dad,” I prompted.

“Tomorrow,” he started, “is the last Jüngere League race of the season, most of Germany’s top junior riders will be there. I put an entry in for you Amanda but you don’t have to ride.”

“Me? Ride?”

“It’s what you’ve come for,” I pointed out.

“Getränke?” our waitress enquired.

“Zwei weiss bier, cola light, Sprite, Amanda wie trinkt?” Dad asked

“Eh?”

“What do you want to drink?” I translated.

“Er coke?”

“So, zwei weiss bier, eine cola light, eine Sprite und eine cola max.”

“Ja bitte,” Dad confirmed.

“Danke,” our waitress replied before leaving us with the menus.
 
 

“So you fancy riding?” Dad queried.

“I wasn’t expecting to race so soon.”

“Well you’ve got some form, it’ll be good experience, Tali and Gret are coming down.”

“But I’ve not got any Apollinaris kit,” she pointed out, “just my Catford stuff.”

“Course you have, it’s back at the house,” Mum interjected.

“They’ll keep on until you give in,” Jules opined.

“Okay I guess,” Mand submitted.

“Now that’s settled what are we eating?”
 
 

It’s sort of in cycling folklore that the top riders eat steak before a race and who am I to argue? From past experience here at the Krone I decided on the steak in pepper sauce served with ‘Bratkartoffeln’. Mand needed help with the menu; well you didn’t think she’d amazingly become fluent since arriving did you? She ended up with the pork medallions, you can’t go too far wrong with that.

 
 
“What are you two up to tomorrow?” Dad enquired of Mum and my sibling.

“Getting some overdue mother daughter time,” Mum supplied.

“We’re going to Centro, they’ve got an open Sunday,” Jules put in.

“It’s a huge shopping centre Mand, the girls were on about going there Christmas shopping but it’s like over two hours on the train and you have to get a bus when you get to Oberhausen,” I mentioned.

“Couldn’t you go some other Sunday, leave early or something?” Manda suggested.

“It’s not open.”

“Course it is, those places are open all the time,” Mand stated.

“Not in Germany, you sometimes get a special opening on the odd Sunday but it’s rare.” Jules advised.

“Looks like I’ve got a lot to learn, so if the shops are shut on Sundays what do people do?”

“Gab works in the bakery,” Goth Gurl told her.

“Cleaning or something?”

“Not likely, I’m in charge of coffee.”

“But I thought you just said the shops are closed on Sunday?”

“The bakery’s open from eight till one, I usually hang out with Con in the afternoon.”

“Watching that stupid Tatort thing,” Jules interjected.

“It’s not stupid!”

“Well it’s hardly realistic is it?”

“And Corry is?”

“Girls!” Dad admonished.

We’ve argued on the subject before, it’s one reason I usually watch Tatort at Cons.

We weren’t late getting home; I was however glad I’d put some tights on as it was turning a bit chilly as we walked back to the car.
 
 

“Don’t be too late going to bed you two,” Dad ordered as I ushered Mand up stairs.

“No, Dad,” I agreed.

“Night, kids!” Mum called out.

“Nite.”

“Goodnight,” Manda added.

“Come on,“ I urged.

“I’m not sure about tomorrow, Gab.”

“You’ll be alright, it’s not like Switzerland, more sedate.”

“Last week I was riding a 3,V, J,” she mentioned.

“You were okay riding with the others in Switzerland, it’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re gonna be racing in Japan next week,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, I can’t believe I’m even going.”

“Me either.”

“So what are you doing this week?”

“Mostly hanging with your mum I think, I need to get registered at this school place and your mum was on about some sort of train ticket?”

“We can do that online,” I suggested.

“So what do you do, apart from school and riding?”

“Mondays it’s cheering, Garde on Friday night, nothing much the rest of the time.”

“Garde, that’s that dance thingy you told us about the other week yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m not on the regular team but it’s a good workout.”

“Think I’ll give it a miss.”

“You’ll have to meet the gang, maybe Tuesday afternoon.”

“Me no speak German!”

“‘S alright, neither do they,” I chuckled, “seriously though we do English at school so we can all get by.”

“I hope the rest of my stuff arrives okay.”

“You’ve got more coming?”

“Course, I could hardly bring my computer and shoe collection on the plane could I?”

We chatted for a while longer; I was surprised how late it was when I headed up to my nest.

 
 
The sky had barely lightened to pre dawn when I woke minutes before the alarm was due. Why am I awake at this time? My kit bag was already packed, no harm in checking it though, shoes, helmet, mitts – yep, looks like everything – ooo, licence, yup. I padded downstairs and knocked on Manda’s door.

“You up, Mand?” I whispered.

“Urgh.”

“‘S time to get up.” For once it’s not me oversleeping.

“Get up,” she repeated.

“Breakfast in five minutes.”

“Yeah.”

 
 
I descended to the kitchen to find Dad already sat with his coffee.

“Amanda up?”

“She’s awake,” I allowed, “you need help with the bikes?”

“Already loaded, everything in your bag?”

“Yup,” I confirmed before taking a long drag of my coffee.
 
 

“Mornin’” Mand greeted us a few minutes later.

“You want coffee?”

“Is there any juice?”

Maddy Bell © 25.11.2014

 
 

We were somehow ready about ten minutes before Dad’s planned departure, no point in hanging about, we’ve got road to cover! I’ve told you about the drive up to Roni’s place numerous times, at silly on a Sunday morning you can do the journey in about an hour and a half. Once we got onto the motorway at Ahrweiler Dad didn’t spare the horses and we were soon flashing through the Rhein hinterland at close to one forty kph!

Yesterday’s travelling had clearly tired Mand out; we hadn’t reached Bonn before she was dozing across the back seat.

“You could get a few zee’s too, kiddo,” Dad suggested.

“Yeah maybe.”

I looked out over the fields, the weather has been pretty mixed up this week and whilst dry today is looking like we might get some wet.

“What’s the forecast?” Dad always checks the weather.

“Cloudy this morning with a chance of rain, brightening up after lunch.”

“That’s what they reckoned at Roskilde and look how that turned out,” I noted.

“Why all the doom and gloom?”

“It’s been a week I’d rather not repeat.”

“Claudia?”

“Claudia,” I agreed.

“These things happen kiddo; you had some warning at least.”

“I know but it’s so unfair.”

“Whoever said life was fair was lying.”

“I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want everyone moping about, I only met her at that shindig of yours but she seemed like a really positive person.”

“She is… was but that sort of makes it worse.”

Sleep couldn’t find me and Mand woke up as we turned off the autobahn to head to Mettmann.

 
 
“We there yet?” she asked around a yawn.

“Bout five minutes from Ron’s,” I supplied.

“What time is it?”

“Ten past seven.”

“You’ll have to ride in the back when we pick the Grönbergs up, Gab,” Dad advised.

Which means as littlest I’ll get to sit in the middle.

“Give ‘em a call with an eta, kiddo?”

“Yes, Dad.”

 
 
Ron and Angela were waiting outside when we arrived, Ron and her Mum loaded stuff in the back while Dad put the bike on top; I was still trying to find my seatbelt when Ron crowded in beside me.

“Morning, guys!”

How come she’s so chipper?

“Morning,” we both chorused.

“So, you decided to race today, Amanda?”

“Mr Bond can be quite persuasive,” Mand offered.

“Alle ist gut?” Dad enquired once Angela was in.

“Er Manda?” I suggested.

“Sorry, Amanda, I’m so used to using German, I forgot you don’t speak it.”

“Guess I need to learn.” She observed.

Dad stuck the car in gear and we were on the move again.

 
 
“Sorry, introductions, Amanda, this is Roni’s mum Angela.”

“Hello, Amanda, welcome to Germany,” Angela managed in her best English, a language she’s not too comfortable with.

“Nice to meet you,” Mand replied.

“Angela helps out with feeds and race mechanic stuff, you’ll meet Sonja and Dieter, Greta’s parents later, on a big race like today the ladies do the feeds and Dieter rides with me as mechanic,” Dad explained.

We weren’t going the way I’d expected instead picking up the eastbound 46 – I guess Dad knows where he’s going.

 
 
“Recovered from last week?” Ron queried.

“Last week?” Mand asked.

“Yeah, we did a sportive, hundred and fifty kilometres.”

“That’s far,” Manda opined.

“It’s worse than that,” Ron babbled on, “we got lost so we ended up doing like one seven five.”

“Ouch! My bum’s hurting just thinking of it,” Mand supplied.

“I certainly slept Sunday night.” I put in.

So instead of catching forty winks, Mand and Roni had a full catch up session around me as we changed to the One just past Wuppertal, picking up signs for Dortmund and Unna. Dad and Angela were chatting away in the front, it’s not polite to listen in so I pretty much zoned out watching the road out through the windscreen.

 
 
“Toilets anyone?” Dad asked after we swapped to the forty four at Unna.

“Please,” I replied, just mention of the word had set my bladder into burst mode.

“Couple of minutes then.”

True to his word we were pulling off into Am Haarstrang services in under five minutes and quickly parked up.

“I need a coffee,” Dad decided, can’t say as I blame him, he was up before me this morning and we’ve been driving for like two and a half hours.

 
 
I led the way to the facilities, my need seemingly greater than the others, fortunately they were free or I might have wet myself! I’m guessing the others followed; leastways they weren’t outside when I got there.

“Gab!” Angela called over from the café, “Frühstück?”

“Bitte.”

The others were still chatting in Germlish when they appeared a moment later, the three of us then headed to where Dad and Angela were manhandling a couple of trays.

“Food?” Mand stated the obvious.

“Hey, don’t look a gift horse,” I opined.

“Gab, grab the bread basket,” Dad instructed.

 
 
We were, at eight thirty, the only customers so there was plenty of room to spread out across a couple of tables.

“Dig in or Gab’ll eat it all,” Ron advised Mand.

“Tell me about it, there was this one time in Italy…” I tuned out, the two of them didn’t need my input, but while they are otherwise occupied that slice of Tilsiter is going begging!

I know we’ve been up for several hours but it was really only with the coffee here that I woke up properly. We didn’t rush but neither did we tarry too long, it’s still a fair drive to Kassel and the start is at eleven.

“Can we swap places?” I asked Mand as we walked back to the Mercedes.

“I guess.”

“I wanna try to get a bit of sleep if I can.”

“Sure,” she agreed.

Ha, ha, my evil plan is working! I might not have any extra space but at least I won’t be sat in the middle of a conversation. The countryside around here isn’t exactly exciting so although I hadn’t really intended to go to sleep I found myself nodding off anyhow.

 
 
A change in engine tone woke me, cracking an eye to look out of the window revealed a hedge but with distinct overtones of sunshine. There was more tilt to the countryside than when I dropped off, today is not gonna be easy. I stretched, nearly punching Mand in the ear as I did so.

“Sorry.”

“Ha, sleeping beauty awakes!” Roni mentioned.

“Which would actually be funnier if she wasn’t actually so cute.” Mand added.

“Give over; if one more person calls me cute I’ll…ooooh!”

This caused my seatmates to dissolve into near hysterics.

“Everything okay back there?”

“Fine, Mr Bond,” Mand giggled.

Just you wait Manda de Vreen!

 
 
You get to some weird places with this cycling lark and today was as weird as any, I think it’s the first time I’ve ever been to a golf course, the ‘Golf Club Kassel-Wilhelmshöhe’ the sign said but for today at least golf sticks were outnumbered by bicycle wheels. Dieter was waiting for us by the car park entrance.

“Morning, Dave, ladies,” he greeted us.

“Morning, everything okay last night?” Dad enquired.

“Took a bit of finding, went round the village twice but it’s a nice place, comfy beds,” he allowed.

“Where are we?”

“I managed to get a spot at the far corner, the awning’s up, the girls have just gone to sign on, they’re a bit disorganised this morning.”

Dad drove to where Dieter had our shelter set up next to the Vita bus he’d hired for the weekend.
 
 

Amanda’s eyes were on stalks, we had this sort of set up with BC in Switzerland but back in England, well this was the stuff of dreams. Of course our Apollinaris shelter wasn’t the only one, I could see at least three more in this bit of car park.

“Flippin ‘eck!”

“Welcome to racing Euro style!” I grinned.

“You three want to go and get signed on?”

“Sure, Dad, you got Mand’s paperwork?”

He fished in his race folder and handed Mand her new German race permit along with her international licence.

 
 
“I can’t believe this is real,” Mand mumbled as we headed to the clubhouse to sign on.

“As real as it gets.” I allowed.

“At the beginning of the summer the nearest to a foreign race I’d ridden was the track in Cardiff.”

“I’ve raced there,” I observed.

“And now,” she went on, “I’ve done a stage race in Switzerland, the Worlds in Denmark and I’m about to race in Germany.”

“Don’t forget we’re going to Japan next week,” I added.

“Racing’s racing!” Ron espoused.
 
 

Maddy Bell © 26.11.2014

 
 
“What’s going on?” Mand queried as we formed up.

“Introductions,” Tali advised.

“Introductions?”

“Yeah,” I offered, “before each race the top teams and riders are introduced to the spectators, you’ll get used to it.”

 
 

“And finally,” the MC droned, “Team Apollinaris – fresh from the Weltmeister series in Danmark, every member of their squad was in action including new signing Amanda de Vreen. They returned with medals and series leader Drew Bond is joined today by not only de Vreen but girls leader Roni Grönberg, Greta Luchow and Thalia Schmidt!”

I did the customary wave as the crowd of parents and helpers clapped and cheered, as is their wont.

“Smile and wave Mand,” I hissed.

“What’d he say?”

“Just that we’d been to the Worlds.”

Of course the main perk of being ‘famous’ is our front row start, the downside is my horrible series leader shirt. Today at least the result isn’t a big deal, neither Ron nor myself can be caught although in theory the minor placings could change hands. That doesn’t mean we won’t be chasing the win but it does mean we can afford to take more chances.

The Bürger meister of Kassel was next on the mic – well they all like to give what they think is an inspirational send off! This particular example included the usual good luck bits, nice to host the event, enjoy ourselves and so on in a surprisingly short speech. The MC took over again and the tension amongst the waiting teens was palpable.

“Three, two, one, GO!”

The worthy enthusiastically waved the start flag and had to be pulled to the side to avoid being flattened by best part of a hundred teens on bikes. Of course, the first kilo is under the red flag but whilst racing isn’t permitted, moving about the peloton is allowed and plenty of riders believed they had more right to the front than us. Not really that much of an issue, we don’t actually want to be at the front, so the five of us slipped back some but stayed within reach of the front.

We do two laps today; we don’t even go into Kassel until just before the finish and according to Dad the circuit is rolling, the only significant climb being at the end of each lap. The start however is downhill, the lead car hared off ahead, the first turn coming all too quickly. We cleared that obstacle and by the time we’d sorted ourselves out we were starting on the first ‘climb’ of the day.

It wasn’t long, it wasn’t steep but it was a drag. Almost every race you get some of the ‘lesser’ lights chancing their arm early on and today was to be no different, three lads using the uphill to launch an attack. These moves are very rarely successful, I’d be more concerned next time around, so whilst keeping tempo, we pretty much ignored the move.

The escapees had about seventy metres on us as we rolled over the top and started a wide, shallow turn with just enough descent to allow freewheeling in the bunch. None of what I would consider to be the ‘contenders’ seemed very interested, even when a couple more riders made a break for freedom as we started the next ‘climb’ through a deep cutting. So far the peloton hasn’t started to work but it’s also not working against itself either.

Over the brow and the rolling hills of the Rotes Land stretched away before us as we bypassed a village on a well-surfaced newish road. The five breakaways were still separated from us by under a hundred metres, the road stretching ahead straight and rolling.

“How you doing?” I asked Mand.

“Okay so far, it like this, the whole circuit?”

“Dunno, it’s new to me,” I turned to Gret on my other shoulder, “you been round?”

“Yeah, there’s only like the one climb on the lap, we couldn’t drive up the finish though, looks interesting.”

“I wish Josh was here,” I lamented.

“We managed without him before,” Gret pointed out.

I guess I’ve just got used to him at my shoulder.

“Yeah.”

 
 

We actually went through the next village, the turn as we departed almost caught us out, quite a few riders finding themselves under geared for the climb that followed. Another rider took off in pursuit of the lead, we’ll have to get things organised soon. The road rolled along past not one but three ruined castles, tracking a railway line before eventually climbing over it.

Another town loomed ahead and, well I never, another castle in front of us. Instead of going into this town we turned right at this latest schloss and by my computer, started the inward leg of the circuit.

“Ready for some work?” I enquired of my Valkyrie escort.

“Going for it?” Tali asked.

“No, just shake things up a bit eh?” I offered.

“When?”

“Next climb.”

“Kay,” she agreed.

I dropped back to Mand, “you get that?”

“Making a move?”

“Not super serious, just turning the screws up for a bit, peloton is a bit big.”

“’Kay, what do I do?”

“Keep an eye on Tali, try to go with her when she goes, when you get caught just sit up and try not to get shelled.”

“Easier said,” she noted.

 
 

The road was straight enough that the breakaways were constantly in view, so too was the climb up under the autobahn. With five of us stirring things up we’ll hopefully get some sort of reaction and at least lift the pace from the low thirties to closer to forty. Herr Sol chose that moment to make an appearance; suddenly the road was crossed by distinct bands of shadow, hmm, useful.

Tali rotated to the front of our enclave, our new recruit hard on her wheel. It was excruciating waiting for the jump off but eventually Tal considered it time and made her move. Manda barely hesitated before taking off in pursuit; it wasn’t a full-bore attack – this time.

Just ‘a couple of girls’ didn’t provoke a reaction, that didn’t come until Gret took her turn. A third Apollinaris rider made it look like something was up and there was a stirring in the bunch. I timed my effort to coincide with us passing under the motorway bridge; I flipped my glasses down my face before standing on the pedals.

Temporarily blinded by the sudden shade my co-riders allowed me to get clear before several curses heralded the pursuit. Gret meanwhile had reached our premier duo and they were almost halfway across the gap to the leaders. Breaking out into the sunlight once more I repositioned my eyewear as I in turn ‘chased’ the others.

The smarter riders were soon up to me, which allowed me to ease off slightly as they in turn took over the pace setting. It was another draggy climb, by the nominal summit the newly activated bunch was almost on the girls and the leaders were under fifty metres further ahead. Behind us the race was now stretched over a good chunk of road, any reduction in effort though could see a coming together – especially as the road now appears to have a distinctive downward tendency ahead of us.

Our ruse worked, when Roni did a classic blind sider as the others were sucked back in it provided the impetus to keep the speed going. A quick look around confirmed that a selection had been made, we were under thirty strong, if we keep the pace up those behind will be unlikely to regain contact. Tali herded Mand in at the back, just girls eh?

 
 

We turned onto a wider road signposted for Kassel, Ron in turn was swept up but the new vigour had a rotation started, much easier to keep pace if the effort’s shared. The road bumped along for several kilometres, we finally caught and almost immediately spat out the breakaway, they’d been away for close on fifty kilometres. At the next village we turned off and found ourselves on another arrow straight road.

The tarmac dipped under another railway bridge before starting a more determined climb that continued after joining another main-ish road. It never got to Italy steep but it was easily the hardest grade we’ve seen so far. The groups pace dropped several k but it remained steady up through the set of hairpins.
With the grade easing off towards the summit a board announcing the feed flashed past. A quick check confirmed that all four girls were still on board even if Mand in particular was looking a bit ragged. At the beginning of the summer she would’ve been out the back as soon as the pace went up.

I spotted Angela with three musettes, Sonja a little further on with the other two. Feed stations are always ripe for accidents, even when it’s the pros so when it’s a bunch of teens, well caution is the watchword! Somehow everyone having a feed collected them without issue, it’s a sort of unwritten rule that you don’t attack at this point, even the non-feeders respected that convention.

Most people had transferred their victuals by the summit, which was just as well, the down wasn’t steep but it was fast. Our group strung out as a lad I last saw at Stuttgart put pedal to metal, taking us into lap two. Looking at the other riders in the string I don’t think a long break with me in it would survive, no today is for a different tactic.

 
 

The false flat before the draggy climb had things coming together again although it was less rotation than a few stronger riders half wheeling at the front. Whilst it’s nice to keep the pace up this sort of thing can be very destructive, indeed we’d managed to tail off a couple of riders already. Thankfully by the time we reached the cutting common sense prevailed and instead of a tadpole our group returned to a more ordered rotation riding piano.

I took the opportunity to feed my face; a chunk of Angela’s honey flapjack certainly hit the mark.

“Is it always this manic?” Mand asked as we passed.

“Sometimes it’s worse,” I grinned.

I know she’s ridden the Worlds and the Swiss jobbie but these German domestics can be brutal.

 
 

We turned north once more with the speed touching forty-five by the time we hit the flat. Our companions, with more to lose than us, all seemed content to hold things together and whilst the result, for me for the competition at least is irrelevant, they are unwittingly giving me a better tilt at the result. We rolled along smoothly and after last time around we were ready for the turn off after Wolfhagen.

I thought we might see some action on the climb, we did but not exactly what I was expecting. Instead of an attack off the front it was Gret blowing big style out of the back.

“Should we wait?” Mand asked.

“She’s a big girl,” Tali opined, “let’s concentrate on us eh?”

“Yes, boss girl,” Roni offered.

No time for castle spotting this time around, although we were each contributing, the pace was relentless. Gret wasn’t the only rider to go backwards, a couple of the weaker lads were bungee-ing at the back, I’m pretty sure we’ll lose them on the climb.

“Everyone okay?” I enquired.

“For now,” Mand offered.

“Don’t think I can keep this pace too much longer,” Tali admitted.

“Ron?”

“I’d be happier if it dropped a notch.”

Hmm, looks like any move I make will be on my lonesome, it’ll be nice if there are fewer bodies contesting the finale but I need to be there. The decision was however taken for me, we hadn’t reached the autobahn yet when not one but two of my foes made a break for freedom. With the girls on the rivet, its gonna be up to me now.

A third lad gave chase, the kid from Stuttgart, I dropped a sprocket and made my own move. The original escapees had about twenty metres on us but that dropped to barely a bike length very quickly after the motorway bridge. It’s bad luck to look behind, I resisted the urge but my companion couldn’t, his reaction, a slight easing off told me enough, we were free.

Two plus two became four, four determined riders for now at least prepared to work together. We quickly had a rotation going, those behind would undoubtedly try chasing us down. I’ve ridden against these guys before, against and beaten, I knew it and they knew it but what could they do about it.

My computer reckons it’s just about twenty kilometres to the finish, I considered going for a long one but I doubted I could break the elastic. No I think I know what I need to do and I have to be closer to the finale before making my move.

Maddy Bell © 2.12.2014

 
 
We made the next turn, away in the distance I imagined I could see the railway bridge with the turn just beyond except this time around we weren’t making that turn. The rotation remained – for now at least, clearly the others were expecting a move from yours truly. Go too soon and they’ll make minced Gaby of me, no it’s a waiting game, for now at least.

I checked that everything was working, feet clicked in firmly; both tyres look hard, gears seem to be working okay, yup I’m ready for action. We dipped under the bridge and Stuttgart lost patience and made a move, ha, takes some pressure off me at least. Of course the others hardly wanted to work with me to bring him back but neither did they want him getting away!

Of course I hardly wanted to do too much at this stage, I made my contribution, a long out of the saddle effort the others had to match. There were still a few metres of clear when we passed the turn but our momentum had us closing rapidly on the escapee. The road started to bobble about a bit now; we had less than ten to go now, time to divest some weight.

A last pull on my bidon emptied that; my fellow breakaway companions made similar preparations, any semblance of organisation now forgotten. The speed faltered a little as we entered city streets, our route making a couple of turns before a sharp right put us on a very ornamental avenue.

“Sugar,” someone muttered causing me to look up ahead.

My eyes were drawn upward and up, dominating the skyline was a huge tower with some figure on top, Herkules I’m guessing. Between it and us we have something like two kilometres and a climb, a climb of some significance. Just have to pick my moment I guess.

The four of us tracked along the ornamental drive, past a series of impressive buildings, maybe some sort of palace before the road converged to pass through a gateway into an ornamental park. What gradient there had been so far was supplanted by a speed sapping increase in percentage. Two out of three of my companions still looked comfortable enough, the other resorting to short out of saddle efforts to stay in contention.

Our route now started to wind about a bit as we closed on the foot of the climb proper. We were climbing steadily but easily through the parkland, the smooth roadway masking our effort somewhat. The tower was lost to sight now as we closed on the base of the precipice it stands on.

With a sudden acceleration the lead car shot ahead, what’s that about? By now our weak link was pretty much constantly out of the saddle at the back of our group. A lazy hairpin gave a view back down the park, we had maybe a couple of minutes lead over the main peloton already in the parkland, any slip up and even at this stage they could be on us. A few metres ahead the lead car was parked, a motorbike by its side, interesting.

A few roadside observers cheered us past then as we approached the car the motorcycle set off, apparently our new escort but why? We entered what looked like a turning area, the road apparently ending however the bike headed off towards the top corner and I realised this might be my chance. I moved wide of the others, which gave me a momentary advantage in a view of the path we were headed for.

Sugar, it didn’t just narrow but it ramps up and the smooth tarmac looks, well less smooth! Come on, Drew, confidence, let’s do it. Up on the pedals, I hit the gas; by the time I reached the narrow defile I had some decent momentum. I chased the motorbike out of the saddle past the one to go board, the sound of pursuit still in my ears.

Although it’s been dry most of the day, the trees and shaded position ensured that the roadway was quite slick in places, a dab of wheel spin quickly reseating me. It wasn’t so much that the surface was potholed, there were a few, no it’s the unevenness that you have to fight. A few more bods stood by the roadside now giving some encouragement through the turns.

The escort’s engine was straining at times as we climbed through a series of hairpins, my pursuers were still only a few metres in arrears, I need to get more of a gap. Another board, five hundred metres to go, well all or nothing I guess. Ahead is another hairpin, the road surface looks reasonably smooth too, yup, all or nothing it is.

I watched the motorbike accelerate through the corner and seconds later did the same. The road curled to the right some and I tracked up the drainage channel there, out of the saddle giving my all. A bit more of a kick increased the burn in my thighs then a sharper but non-hairpin right-hander gave me a view out, wow, I’m nearly up to the tower!

Spectators were in more abundance up here as I started my final sprint effort, the first signs of oxygen deficit clouding my vision.

“Come on, Drew!”

“Go girl!”

“Up, up, up!”

My knees started to buckle but the grade was easing and ahead I could see a funnel of supporters and the ‘Finis’ banner. I hit the top and couldn’t help myself looking behind, no one close, yay! Sitting up I straightened my jersey before the short descent to the line, I could afford to freewheel now, my first proper road victory in over two months.

Angela caught me after the line, just as well, my legs were like jelly! I was too busy trying to breathe to take any note of my pursuers arriving in equally or perhaps more distress. At some point Dad arrived which resulted in me being bodily lifted from my steed and sat on the ground.
 
 

“And in first place and winner of the Jüngere League, Drew Bond, Team Apollinaris!”

The assembled crowd cheered and clapped as I was presented with the winner’s laurels, well actually a trophy nearly as tall as me! Tali was our next rider in which earnt her the girl’s prize ahead of Roni, Gret was in close attendance. Mand got to the bottom of the climb before blowing, not bad all things considered.

“Another presentation to attend,” Dad noted as we walked back to the Apollinaris pit area.

“It’s only two,” I mentioned, “where is it?”

“They move it about,” Roni put in, I think it was Munich last year.”

“You might have something from the Rhein Eiffel series too.” Dad advised.

“Busy social calendar, Gab,” Manda chortled.

“We eating?” I enquired.

“It’s a stomach on legs,” Tali stated.

“Mountain Goat,” Gret suggested, “she eats anything!”

“Huh!”

“Girls,” Dad broke in, “quicker you’re changed, quicker we eat.”

We ended up in the Hotel place in Ehlen that we passed during the race, I say ended up, Dad had obviously arranged it beforehand as they were expecting us despite seeming to be closed. As is usual after a race I’d’ve eaten a scabby dog but better fare was at hand which saved the local canines! The Ehlener Poststuben had some interesting stuff on the menu not just your usual schnitzel and chips.

“So what’s this Kalb huff steak mit get rock net?” Mand queried,

“Come again?”

“Third one down.”

“Oh I see, that’s like veal with cranberries, flat noodles and salad,” I translated.

“Oh, so what are you guys having?”

“I’m gonna be boring,” Tali offered, “I’m gonna have the Schnitzel with pink cabbage and fried potato.”

“Where’s that?”

“One from the bottom,” Gret pointed it out on Mand’s menu.

“Well I’m having lasagne,” Ron told us, “just above the schnitzel, Mand.”

I know what I fancied, the steak in a cherry pepper sauce with apple chutney in a hazelnut pancake with cream and noodles, Dad’d go ape though, it’s twenty Euros!

“Bet Gab has the steak,” Gret suggested.

“So happens I’m gonna have the pork with apple mustard and risotto.” I riposted.

“That’s what I’ll have too,” Mand advised I think mostly because she recognised some of it!

“You lot ready to order?” Dad enquired.
 
 

“Are all the races as hard as that?” Mand asked while we waited for the food to arrive.

“You’re in the big league now,” I supplied.

“What the munchkin means is that there’s no easy rides in the league events,” Gret supplied, “the smaller races are probably more like you’re used to in England from what Josh says.”

“Munchkin?”

Gret blew a raspberry that caused the others to laugh, oh well; I’ve been called worse.

“You did really well today,” Ron stated.

“But I got blown out the back,” Mand moaned.

“After a hundred K.” Tal pointed out.

“I did better in Switzerland,” she sighed.

“That was different,” I put in, “one day races are always more intense, well that’s what Mum says.”

“You guys didn’t get dropped.”

“We’ve been doing these all year, you’ll learn,” Ron encouraged.

“You wouldn’t be here if Dad didn’t think you were up to it,” I observed.

“I guess.”

 
 
The food arrived and very good it was too, Tali’s Bratkartoffeln looked better than the risotto though. There were five clean plates when we’d finished so I guess everyone enjoyed it, maybe it was just post race hunger but I reckon the food was above average. Dad got our attention by rapping a spoon on the table.

“Okay everyone, I know we’ll be getting together in December but I need to put a few things out there. It’s been quite a season, well you were there so you know but I have to say that back in January I wasn’t expecting the results we’ve had. Hopefully next year we can continue in winning mode, I’m working on George to increase our budget, I’d like to recruit a couple more riders as well as do more races as a team not just the League.

I’ll be keeping in touch with you all, Tali, I’ll be coming up to see you and your parents next month and I’ll be over in Cottbus too. I know it sometimes seems that everything is over in the Rheinland but you aren’t forgotten and I want to get the team riding more widely across the country. Gret, your Dad says you want to give the track a try?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“What about you, Tali?”

“Not got a bike like.”

“If you did have?”

“Could give it a go I guess.”

“Leave it with me then, I’ll see what I can sort out. Any questions?”

“You think I might try cross like Gab?” Roni queried.

“I’m sure there’ll be an opportunity, what about you Amanda, anything you want to ask?”

“Not really, I’m just the new girl.”

“Well don’t be shy of asking, I’m sure you all talk, I know Gaby and Ron do – a lot,” Angela snorted into her coffee, ”the better you know each other the better you work together. So, you guys heading north need to get off, I’ll talk to everyone during the week.”
 
 

“I thought you guys all rode the same races,” Mand mentioned after we’d said our farewells and started back towards the Rhein.

“Only about once a month usually,” I supplied.

“Me and Gab ride together most times, it’ll be a help having you as well,” Ron noted.

“We don’t do so bad,” I put in.

“Yeah but an extra bod’ll help me when you go on one of your madcap escapes.”

“Me? Mad?”

The replying chuckles from the other occupants of the Mercedes provided enough answer to that one!

Maddy Bell © 18.12.2014

 
 
“Hey, Dad, how come we didn’t ride that Dam race this year?” I enquired after spotting a sign for the Möhne Dam.

“The Möhne Grand Prix? You lot were otherwise engaged in Switzerland I think.”

“I enjoyed that,” I noted.

“You didn’t get gored by Eber,” Ron mentioned.

I guess I’d sort of forgotten about that.

“Translation, Gab?” Mand asked.

“Soz, we did a race near here last year, Ron was attacked by a wild boar.”

“Wild boar?”

“I’ve got an interesting scar,” Ron supplied.

“It was my first win in Germany,” I added.

“But not the last,” Mand mused.

Well duh, course not; I just won today didn’t I?
 
 

It didn’t seem to take so long on the return trip and soon we were on familiar roads taking us into Mettmann.

“You guys having coffee?” Angela asked as we turned into the estate.

What a daft question, no way are we missing her torte!

“We can’t stop long, Ang, need to get this pair home at a reasonable time.” Dad stated.

“Only one slice of cake then,” I moped.

“I’ll have to mark the day in my diary,” Ron chortled.

Of course, without thinking about it, we were rattling on in German, Manda was looking a bit lost.

“Sorry, Mand, “ I started in English, “we keep using German.”

“We are in Germany,” she pointed out.

Dad stopped our steed by the Grönberg domicile and we all clambered out.

“I’ll get the coffee on,” Angela mentioned leaving the rest of us to collect Ron’s bike and kit.
 
 

It’s almost like it’s written in stone, the ‘girls’ head for Roni’s room whilst the adults talk downstairs.

“Sorry for the mess,” Ron offered to Mand.

I’ve been up here enough times to know she’s less tidy than me. I spotted the shorts she bought on that shopping trip before the summer.

“We should go shopping again sometime,” I suggested.

“Yeah, you in Amanda? We need to get you Landeskostum.”

“Shopping? Sure.”

“Have to be after Japan and we’ll go somewhere with real shops, not that Hilden place,” I pronounced.

“Not even for models?”

“That’s different.”

“Models?” Mand queried.

“Gabs collects these tiny model cars,” Ron advised her.

“They’re not that small,” I noted.

“Small enough,” Ron mentioned.

“Never took you for being into stuff like that, Gab.”

“I don’t just do bikes,” I pointed out.

“What’s Landy costume?” I thought she’d missed that.

“You know, the dirndl, blouse and stuff, like Gabs wore in Switzerland, you’ll need one for sure.”

“You could borrow one of mine but I’m not sure they’d fit,” I offered, just about keeping a straight face.

“You said they were expensive, Gab, I’m not sure I’ve got that much money,” Mand stated with a little worry in her voice.

“You can get some nice ones in C & A, bout a hundred I think.”

“That’s a couple of weeks allowance.”

“I guess I could lend you some.”

“Um.”

“Stop teasing her, Gab,” Ron couldn’t contain herself any longer, “we were just winding you Mand, it’s not common to wear that stuff in en are vey (NRW) – maybe more in the south.”

“Why you!” Mand batted at me.

“Soz, your face though.”

“You had me well going there.”

“We could do Köln, Ron, there’re some cool stores there.”

“I bow to your experience as a fashion guru, Gab.”

“Fashion guru?” Mand interjected.

“She not told you?”

“Ro-onn,” I whined.

“Girls!” Angela called up.

“Ooh, bun time!” I enthused.

 
 
“I think I need to go on a diet,” Mand allowed as we started out for Dernau.

“You only had one slice,” I noted.

“Unlike miss cake eater.”

I only had two bits; even Ron’s Dad had two slices.

“Can’t let it go to waste.”

“Hmmph!” Dad offered from the front.

“What?” I demanded.

“Nothing, kiddo.”

“Busy on here.”

“Think Fortuna were playing Leverkusen.” Dad supplied.

“Busy?” Mand queried looking out at the traffic.

“There’s not usually this much on here,” I told her.

“Not exactly the M25 is it?”

 
 
It was a little after nine when we arrived at Schloss Bond; it’s been a long day what with all the traveling.

“Your phone’s been going potty, Gab,” Goth Gurl noted when I reached the lounge.

“I thought I’d forgotten something.”

Right on cue it set off anew from where I left it this morning on the end table.

“Bond.”

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been ringing all afternoon,” Con got out all in one breath.

“Racing, I told you yesterday,” I stated as I moved through to the relative privacy of the kitchen.

“Until now? Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

“I left it at home, it was a right race, I won by yonks, so what’s up?”

“The Fischer’s are back.”

“Oh.”

Claudia. Nena.

“We’re going up after school, Herr Sebenschuh’s taking us in his bus.”

“What time till?”

“Dunno, as long as it is,” she supplied.

“I have to be at cheer practice for seven.”

“Just for once, Gab, lose the timetable,” Con huffed.

“I was only asking.”

“It’s always about you, me, me, me, tell you what, don’t bother, go to your stupid cheering!” and with that she slammed the phone down.

What’d I do?

 
 
“That sounded a bit heated?” Dad suggested.

“Connie, she was right off.”

“You weren’t down to work today or something?”

“Nothing like that, everyone’s going to the Fischer’s tomorrow to see Nena.”

“I sense a but coming up,” Dad opined.

“I just asked what time we’ll be done, you know, so I can sort out stuff for cheering,” I advised him, slumping into my usual seat. “Then she like flew off the handle, accused me of being selfish and slammed down the phone. I’m gonna ring her back.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

“Sounded like it to me.”

“She’s probably just upset,” Dad offered.

“Coulda fooled me!” I pretty much spat as I searched for my Handy again.

“Calm down kiddo, I’m sure you can sort it out in the morning.”

“Hmmph! I guess, where’s Mand’s?” I asked finally noticing that Dad and I were alone.

“She’s gone up with your sister.”

“Oh,” I deflated, my ire at least temporarily eased.

“Might be an idea for you to get an early night, it’s been a long day.” he suggested.

I couldn’t argue with that and I must admit to feeling less than awake.

“’Kay,” I agreed with a sigh, perhaps it’s best not to ring Con and start a slanging match, Dad’s probably right, she’ll be upset.

“Off with you then, I’ll be up myself in a few minutes.”

Of course, he’s been on the go all day too, he’s probably as knackered as me.
 
 

Jules door was shut, mumbled voices suggested they’d be talking for a while, I decided to just go on up to my nest in the rafters. Of course, once in bed with the light out I couldn’t get to sleep, the conversation with Connie playing on my mind. Do I really go on about me all the time? Don’t be daft, girl; she’s just wound up.

I tried thinking of positive things, today’s race, yeah, that was pretty cool. It was a bit rude of the organisers to put that climb in at the finish, but hah, I laugh at them and their petty plots! Mand did okay considering she was like thrown in at the deep end.

I’m sure I don’t go on about my racing all the time, do I?

Maddy Bell © 20.12.2014

 
 
I woke after a fitful night; I slept at some point but not well.

“You look like shite,” Jules opined when I clambered down to the kitchen.

“Thanks.”

“You lost ten and found one?”

“Could say that, Con had a go last night, said I was selfish and pretty much said I don’t think about anyone else.”

“‘S’ a bit harsh, you can be a bit single minded sometimes.”

“Cheers,” I replied flatly sloshing coffee into my mug, my angel mug, ironic eh?

“Morning!” Mand greeted us arriving with a bounce.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t we the happy one?”

“She’s had a falling out,” Jules filled in.

“It happens,” Mand shrugged, “it’s gonna take some getting used to seeing you wearing girl’s stuff.”

“I’m wearing jim jams.

“Pink Hello Kitty™ ones teamed with pink fuzzy slippers.”

Jules snorted into her tea.

“They were presents.”

“So was Gran’s jumper last Christmas,” my sister pointed out.

“You don’t wear yours either,” I shot back.

“Ooh do tell,” Mand pressed.

“Think five year olds, kittens and bunnies, mine was pink and white.”

“And mine was white and pink,” Jules supplied.

“Bet you looked well cute,” Miss de Vreen giggled.

“You can go off people,” I noted.

“Shouldn’t you be getting dressed anyhow?” Goth Gurl suggested.

I sighed deeply, “I guess.”

 
 
Manda’s comments irked me less than I thought, but as for Connie Thesing, hmmph, I’ll show her!
 
 

“I was just,” Dad started when I returned to the kitchen, “gonna call you,” he tailed off.

“Geez, sis, you taken some extra girl pills this morning?”

Amanda didn’t add to the conversation as she was busy picking her jaw off the ground.

“Not exactly your usual school outfit kiddo,” Dad suggested.

“Thought I should make an effort as we’re going to the Fischer’s after class.”

“Effort to get the boys on a leash,” Jules muttered under her breath.

“It’s not too much?” I asked.

“I might have gone for less eyeliner,” Manda observed.

I looked in the top oven window for a mirror, “hmm, might be right, still too late now. Why’re you guys still all here?”

“Dad’s taking us,” Jules advised.

“Well, I’d best get off, see you later, tschussie!”

 
 
I checked I’d got everything once I’d dragged the Schauff out of the garage, books, wallet – bank cards in there, make up bag – yup, that’s it. I mounted my steed and set off, almost immediately regretting several elements of my outfit. Shoes, skirt and top each had their own issues when combined with bicycle riding, perhaps I should’ve thought this through a bit better.

I had debated not going to the bakery this morning but I decided that was being churlish and besides I need to pick up my lunch.

 
 
All heads snapped around when I clacked in the door, the restrictive skirt forcing me into pigeon steps making it even more er girly. Even in these heels I’m barely one metre seventy (5’6” in American speak) but I commanded the room!

“Gab? That you in there?” Frau Thesing was the first to voice anything.

“Morning, can I get a puddingbrezel with my lunch please?”

“Er sure, er, Gaby”

I stifled a giggle as she caught herself bobbing to me.

“Morning guys,” I smiled as I headed to the Angels’ table.

“Er why are you dressed like that?” Brid put the words the others were debating into sounds.

“We have an engagement later do we not?”

“Yeah but don’t you think that’s a bit over the top?” Pia suggested.

“Considering the occasion I thought it appropriate to make an effort,” I stated looking directly at Connie.

Not that the others were scruffy but they were in their typical school day stuff whereas I’m dressed more er formally, the Baroness would, I’m sure, approve. What am I wearing? Well I must admit raiding Mum’s wardrobe for the navy pencil skirt which on me is knee length (hence my bike riding issues), the black silk vest top is mine as is the navy jacket and they’re my 10cm heels from the wedding in Munich. Plaiting and fixing my hair up took longer than dressing and a bit more effort on the make up front completed the sophisticated look I was aiming for.

“You’ll regret those shoes,” Stef mentioned.

I was thinking that too, I’ve got some ballets in my locker at school though.

“I stopped at Bohr’s on the way, I’ve ordered some flowers to be delivered here for us to take.”

“We were gonna sort that later,” Pia advised.

“Well it’s sorted now.”

“How much do we owe you?” Brid asked turning to her bag for her purse.

I struggled not to wince at the €95 the floral tribute had cost.

“Nothing, they’re paid for.” I advised them all the while looking at Connie.

“Girls! Time!” Frau Thesing called over.

 
 
If I thought the ride to the bakery was awkward, the ride down to Ahrweiler was distinctly unpleasant – not that I’d let on to the others. The heels weren’t so bad, the soles are pretty stiff after all, the breeze blowing directly onto the girls was more of a temperature thing, no it was the tight skirt and stocking combination that was the real issue. I had to hitch my skirt over my knees to ride at all, not very elegant, just how did those women do it with longer skirts?

Then it clicked.

“Hang on a mo,” I requested as I pulled my beast to a halt.

“What’s up?” Steff asked.

“Need to make an adjustment.”

“We’ll go on,” Con told us, “see you there.”

Nice.

 
 
“What’s with you and Con this morning? You’ve hardly exchanged two words,” Steff noted as I fiddled with my seatpost.

“Nothing.”

“You can’t fool me, Gaby Bond, I’ve known you two far too long, something’s up between you and you dressing up has something to do with it.”

“That should do it!”

“You listening, Gab?”

“I’m listening, come on or we’ll be late.”

The higher saddle position was better, my heels meant I could still pedal easy enough but with legs straighter my skirt hung much more comfortably and my ‘spenders chafed less, okay I’ll admit that the stockings are probably a bit overboard but I’m committed now.

“So?” Steff pushed.

Hmm, much better.

“We had an argument last night,” I admitted.

“What about?”

Good question, I’m not 100% sure myself.

 
 
I’ve known Steff longer than anyone else at school, well okay not by much but she was the first one of the Angels I considered would be a friend. That said I’d’ve said my BF was Connie and I guess the others knew we were a little closer than the group at large. Steff listened as I filled her in on last night’s call.

“It was a simple question,” I noted.

“She’s just upset over Claud.”

“And I’m not? I’ll never get her back for that blue hair now,” I joked.

“I’d forgotten about that, that was well funny.”

“It wasn’t you walking round looking like a Smurf®.”

“She’ll come round, Gab,” Steff offered.

“I hope so, I’ll have to leave my job otherwise.”

“It won’t come to that.”

I really hope not.

It really hadn’t been my intention but Jules’s comment about boys was prophetic. Lads that I see every day with barely a glance from were certainly giving me more attention today. Clearly at least the male population at Silverberg Gymnasium like the sophisticated look – a lesson there for anyone looking for a boyfriend – which I’m not of course.

So of course I was caught unawares when I was accosted outside of the facilities.

“You look nice, Gab, wedding or funeral?”

“Max!”

“Soz, they’re the only times mom dresses up.”

“If you must know it’s a sort of wake.”

“Damn, foot in mouth again, the girl in the wheelchair?”

“Claudia. You didn’t know.”

“Still it was a bit thoughtless.”

“You’re excused this time.”

“So you want me to come?”

Do I? Bit of moral support? Hang on, what am I thinking?

“No it’s okay, I’m going with the girls.”

“Hadn’t noticed any of them dressed up,” Max mentioned.

“Someone has to set an example for the Hoi Polloi,” I hammed.

“You’re all right you are, Gaby Bond,” he stated pulling me into a hug.

I should at this point have been making good my escape, instead I found myself sinking into the embrace and even putting my arms around his waist to hold him there. First it was Toni and now I’m getting up close and friendly with Max, damn these hormones, I’m really not interested in boys. I tightened my grip and snuggled closer.
 
 
Maddy Bell © 26.12.2014

 
 
“Better?” Max enquired when I eventually released my grip.

“A bit thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

I bet it was!

“This doesn’t mean anything right, we’re just friends.”

“Just friends,” he agreed with that little smile he does.

“How are you getting to Mart’s party?”

“Dunno, probably get mums taxi.”

“Any chance me and Mand can grab a lift? My Dad’ll bring us back.”

“Who’s ‘Mand’?”

“The English girl who’s come to join our Rennrad team.”

“Sure, don’t see why not, that’s what friends are for,” he grinned.

Was that a twinkle in his eye? Have I just changed our relationship?
 
 

Herr Sebenschuh was waiting for us when we finished school, his minibus towing a trailer for our bikes. You didn’t think we were leaving them here did you?

“Come on ladies, don’t want to be late eh.”

“Thanks for taking us,” Brid offered.

“Its no problem, I want to see Joachim and Rosina myself.”

“We need to stop at the bakery dad, Gab ordered some flowers to take up,” Pia advised her parent.

“Okay,” he agreed.

Ingrid, Pia’s sister was already sat inside.

“Hiya girls.”

“Hi Ingrid,” I replied as I tried to work out how to get into the bus wearing heels and a tight skirt.

“Dad, can you lift Gab up?” Pia called out much to my embarrassment.

“That’s the problem with tight skirts,” Ingrid offered by way of wisdom.

Tell me about it, I wasn’t really thinking this morning was I?

The others all clambered inside before Herr Sebenschuh lifted me inside before climbing on board himself.

“Everyone okay?”

He took the various mumblings for confirmation and pointed the ageing 307 towards the valley road.

 
 
Given the situation, we were hardly a bundle of laughs and the big basket of flowers that I’d ordered made things even more sombre despite the colourful display. Dunno about you but I’ve never done this wake business before, no one I know has ever died so its completely new territory. The bus covered the distance up to Mayschoß in minutes flat and we were soon parked on Sonnscheidestrasse, a few houses down from the Fischer’s place.

“You alright getting down Gaby?” Mr S asked when he pulled the door open.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind?"

“No problem.”

Once I was on terra firma he reached in for the flowers then his jacket as the others joined me at the roadside. Ingrid I noticed, whilst not heeled and suited had put on a smart ensemble of black trousers and blazer over a white blouse – not too formal but respectful. Her dad meanwhile had put on a jacket, one of those Länder things with no collar that well to do Germans seem to favour.

He grabbed the flower basket and led the way up to the house, I had to grab hold of Steff, heels really don’t work on uneven pavements! Moritz barked excitedly from the garden on our approach, however he quieted when he got a look at us. Dunno if he recognized us or reacted to our demeanour but whichever, the door opened before we got there.

“Helmut.” Nena’s dad greeted.

“I’ve brought the girls.”

“Of course, Nen said they were coming, come on in.”

“How’s Rosie Jo?”

“As you might expect, she’s lying down for a bit, girls, go on through.” He indicated a doorway that I’m guessing led to the lounge.

“We brought flowers?” I mentioned indicating our driver’s burden.

“You didn’t need to.”

“We just thought.”

“Gaby, don’t apologise, I’m glad she had friends like you and the others, she was always talking about the Weihnachten you guys organised for her.”

My face didn’t know what to do, blush or cry so settled on a bit of each.

“Thank you for the flowers, now go on through, I’ll sort you out some drinks.”

“I’ll give you a hand Jo,” Mr S stated.

 
 
“Where’d you go?” Steff asked.

“Talking to Herr Fischer.”

Any further inquisition was aborted when Nena spotted me.

“You’ve grown Gab.”

“Heels,” I suggested.

I’m not sure what I’d expected of Nena, a sobbing mess maybe, what we got was a tired looking girl with dark rings suggesting sleep had been short this last week.

She chuckled a little at my observance, “so what’s everyone been up to?”

By mutual agreement we avoided the elephant unless Nena mentioned it, her dad brought a tray of cups and coffee through and we got on with the business of catching up. Of course Claudia did eventually become the subject of conversation that was hard for all of us. I don’t mind admitting to more than a few tears as tales old and new were exchanged.

 
 
“I thought I heard voices, hello girls, thanks for coming.” Frau Fischer offered coming into the room.

“Er no problem,” Steff replied for all of us.

“She didn’t have many friends but I know you girls meant a lot to her.”

More tears were soon on their way.

“And Gaby.”

“Hmmm?”

“She made me promise to thank you especially.”

“Me? Why?” my cheeks reddened further.

“Because, how did she put it now, you were a real sport about the hair and because you came up with the Weihnachten idea. That made her so happy, she kept on about it right up to the last.”

“It wasn’t just me,” I dissembled.

“Oh I know that young lady but you were instrumental in getting it off the ground, I know you and your boyfriend worked hard to make it happen.”

I didn’t have anything to say, no witty comeback, nothing but more tears. Somehow I ended up being hugged for the second time today, this time by Rosina Fischer who I was supposed to be supporting. Tables turned I sniffed and snuffled for several minutes before we were disturbed by the men.

 
 
“We should go,” Herr Sebenschuh suggested.

I had to agree; I don’t think I could do much more crying today.

“See you Wednesday then?” Con quizzed Nena a few minutes later.

“Yeah, thanks for coming guys.”

“Its what friends do,” Steff supplied.

“If you need anything Jo you know where to find me.”

“Thanks Helmut.”

Mr S hugged and shook with the Fischer’s as appropriate and we departed – not before I’d made a fuss of Moritz who sat patiently in the garden. No point in passing up a chance of banking some doggy points, never know when you might need to cash them in.

 
 
“Gab?” Con started.

“Glad I had waterproof mascara, I’d be a right panda by now.”

“Gab, look I’m sorry about last night.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You know darned well, look I was a bit upset, okay a lot upset and you were so, so casual about it all. It was like you didn’t care, it didn’t matter to you.”

“Well duh! Course it matters!”

“I know it does, I do, I was just … emotional. Friends?”

I guess that’s as much apology as I’ll get.

“Friends,” I agreed.
 
 

“I’ve got us a lift to the party,” I advised Manda when I returned to the living room after losing the skirt and heels.

“Party?”

“Mart’s party? I told you about it.”

“That party.”

“Yeah well I spoke to Max earlier (okay so we got a bit closer than talking), we’ll get a lift up with Gloria.”

“So who’s Max and who is Gloria?”

“Max von Strechau, Gloria’s his mum.”

“Max is her boyfriend,” Jules stated.

“Is not!” I denied.

“Don’t listen to her Mand, they are definitely a couple.”

“Jules, stop teasing your sister,” Mum instructed from the doorway.

You tell her Mum.

“And you young lady, ask before you borrow stuff in future.”

“But you weren’t here.”

Her look brooked no argument.

“Yes Mum.”

“And Gaby.”

“Yeah?”

“If you are going out with Max just say so, you’re certainly old enough and you could do a lot worse, just don’t give me grandchildren anytime soon eh?”

“Mu-um!”

Talk about embarrassing.

 
 
“Ooh do tell!” Mand requested after Mum had departed.

“I borrowed her skirt.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I want all the details about you and Max.”

What’s to tell? There is no Max and Gaby… is there?

Maddy Bell © 26.12.2014

 
 
Of course the visit to the Fischer’s hadn’t actually taken that long, I had plenty of time to get to Cheer.

“I thought all girls wanted to be ballerinas.”

“Ut uh, not this one,“ Mand stated.

“Even Goth Gurl did ballet until secondary school.”

“So you’re making up for lost time?”

“No! Look, are you coming or what?”

It had taken a bit of persuasion to get her to agree to coming to Cheer with me, only a demonstration of my flexibility convinced her – maybe I should’ve warmed up a bit before doing the splits.

“Come on you two,” Dad chivvied.

 
 
“Everything okay today, Gab?” Pater enquired as we set off for Altenahr.

“Think so,” I allowed.

“You sort out your disagreement with Connie?”

It wasn’t exactly a disagreement was it?

“Yeah, we’re talking again at least.”

“Remember to tell Hannah you won’t be there Friday or next week.”

“Yes, Dad,” I sighed, it was after all my reason for asking Con about time last night, not that I got a chance to explain.

In no time we were baling at the Tanzklub and joining my would-be cheerleaders.

 
 

“New recruit, Gab?” Hannah asked spotting Mand nervously following me.

“Kind of, she’s come from England to join my rad team, I thought she’d benefit from some off the bike stuff, if that’s alright?”

“Sure, I’ll sort you out the forms.”

“Oh and she doesn’t have any German.”

“She has a name?”

“Duh! Sorree. Hannah meet Amanda de Vreen,” I switched to English, “Mand, this is Hannah, she’s in charge of Garde and Cheer.”

“Um, Gooten ar bent,” Mand offered.

“You’re Welcome.”

They were both equally bad at each other’s language; guess I’m stuck as translator.

“Whilst I remember, Hannah, I won’t be here next week or at Garde.”

“Off gallivanting again, eh?”

“Er yeah,” I admitted.

“Where this time?”

“Japan.”

“Wow, you do live an exciting life, Gaby Bond!”

“Too exciting sometimes, we’d best get ready.”
 
 

I might have had an emotional day but a couple of hours of hard exercise soon takes your mind off things. Despite her initial reticence even Mand was getting into it by the time we finished, most of the time it’s visual so Mand’s lack of language skills wasn’t such a handicap.

“I ache all over.” Manda supplied as we waited for our taxi – Pia having ducked out.

“It gets better,” I suggested.

“I’ll take your word on that. I’m starting to see that there’s more to little Miss Bond than first meets the eye. Talking of which, you never did tell me about this Max properly.”

Talk about a terrier.

 
 
“What are you doing tomorrow, Amanda?” Mum enquired as we headed home, taxi duty having been passed to her.

“Not sure, Mrs Bond.”

“I’ve told you, it’s Jenny. In that case you can come to HQ with me, meet George and the girls, we’ve got a ride out after lunch, Gab, you coming?”

“I guess so,” I sighed, “you’ll have to take my kit though, I’m not lugging that lot around school.”

“Well that’s that sorted out.”
 
 
I toned things down with my outfit Tuesday morning, no stilts, no tight skirt and no stockings! So okay, I’m back, almost to my normal stuff, the exception being a cord skirt instead of trousers – look it’s easier for changing when I get to Apollinaris alright? Of course I forgot to readjust my saddle before setting off so I ended up stood on the pedals around to Thesing’s, dumkopf!

“Where’s her ladyship this morning?” Frau Thesing queried.

“Got fed up yesterday, sent me instead.”

“Pudding or pflaum?”

“Tempting but I’m out with Mum this afternoon so I’d best give it a miss today.”

“You poor thing,” she grinned, “here, you can take the coffee over.”

“Slave driver.”

“I don’t pay you to talk.”

“You’re not paying me anyhow.”

“On with you!”

“It’s the real Gaby Bond!” Steff announced.

“Not you too.”

“You’re no fun.”

“So what’s this about you getting all up close and personal with Max yesterday?” Brid enquired.

“Not gonna happen.”

“Florian said she saw you two at it near the rest rooms.”

Bum.

“We weren’t ‘at it’, I slipped and he caught me okay?”

“‘S not how she told it,” Brid pressed.

“Well I was a bit emotional so I might have held on a bit longer than strictly required,” I admitted.

“Ha, knew it!”

“He’s a friend, okay?”

“She protesteth too much.”

“What am I missing?” Con enquired arriving from the flat.

“Florian saw Gabs and Max in a clinch yesterday.” Pia filled her in.

“Well he is her boyfriend,” Con stated.

“He is not my boyfriend!” I stated through gritted teeth.

“Come on, Gab, everyone knows you two are a couple.”

“We are not!”

“So who are you going to Mart’s with?” Brid pressed.

“Max.”

“I thought you just said Max.” Con grinned.

“I did, me and Manda are cadging a lift, but that’s all.”

“Ha, knew it!” Brid crowed.

“Talking of which, when do we get to meet this mystery girl?” Steff asked.

“She’s hardly a mystery.”

“Well you’ve not brought her out to meet us yet,” Pia put in.

“Con’s met her.”

“When?” Miss Thesing queried.

“When I went to Italy? We stopped here for frühstuck?”

“That was Amanda? Bit taller than you, short mousey hair?”

“Everyone’s taller than Gabs,” Steff chuckled.

“Her hair’s not that short,” I noted (and certainly no longer mousey after that disastrous dye job in Switzerland!).

“No don’t remember her,” Con stated before creasing up. “Sorry, couldn’t resist, Gab.”

“You lot gossiping all day or going to school?” Frau Thesing enquired.

“We’ve got a choice?” Pia riposted.

“No, now shoo!”

“But I’ve got boots on,” Steff mentioned.

What’s with all the comedians this morning?
 
 

I didn’t get the attention that yesterday’s garb attracted, today I was just one of the crowd.

“Gab!” Max hissed as Frau Dürst started to take the register.

“What?”

“I got the transport fixed.”

“Cool.”

“Bond?” Frau Dürst queried.

“Here!”

“Mum’ll pick you guys up at yours.”

“Tell her thanks.”

 
 
“Not your boyfriend, eh?” Con observed with a twitch of her eyebrows.

“I told you it’s a lift, that’s all.”

“You could have come in the car with me and Anna.”

I hadn’t actually even thought of that.

“There’s two of us remember, Gloria’s car isn’t exactly big.”

That seemed to satisfy her, I on the other hand am as confused as ever, why didn’t I just ask my rents?
 
 

That and the questions from Herr Ansbacher’s history homework all seemed to escape me as I perpetuated the dizzy blonde thing. Somehow I survived the school day without further prying or any repeat of yesterday’s hug fest with Max.

I wasn’t due to meet Mum and the others for an hour after school let out, normally I’d just go and hang out but today I found myself pushing the Schauff through the Altstadt window shopping. It then hit me, what am I going to wear to the party? It’s tomorrow and I’ve no idea, bum!

“Ha, thought it was you!” a familiar voice stated.

Yup, I was stood outside Eloise Couture, could only be one person.

“Hello, Gerta,” I offered through a forced smile.

Maddy Bell © 26.12.2014

 
 

“The Baroness tells me you have another wedding coming up.”

“I do?”

I racked my brain; Max hasn’t said anything has he? Hang on, he did mumble something before I went to Manchester, was that a wedding?

“We’ll have to get you in so we don’t have the rush like the Coburg affair.”

“Um yes, I guess so, how’s Dotty?” have to check the details with Max, not that I want to go to another wedding bash.

“She’s fine, thank you. So what brings you here today?”

I was tempted to say ‘my bike’ but Gerta isn’t one for levity.

“I erm just realised I haven’t got a frock for Marty’s party tomorrow.”

“This will be at the Preiser farm?”

How does she know this stuff?

“Er yeah, I mean yes.”

“Park that thing up,” she indicated my trusty steed, “and we’ll see what we can find.”

“But I,”

“Still there, come along, girl, time waits for no one.”

Don’t I know it. Oh well, in for a cent, in for a euro.

 
 
“We are on a budget of course,” Gerta pretty much noted to herself.

Budget, hell yeah! Frankly I didn’t think Eloise Couture did teenage barn dance as an option but no harm in looking.

“Something fun but practical,” she muttered heading across the showroom.

Pimkie® it isn’t, neither are the prices.
“Come on, gel, colour?”

“I was thinking blue? Or red maybe?”

“You have shoes?”

“Well not with me.”

“In blue or red?” she suggested.

“Er both.”

“Heels of course,” came as more of a statement.

“Ten centimeter?” I offered. “Nothing too um, formal?”

“Of course not, it’s a party not a reception.”

There’s a difference?

“Thirty two if I recall.”

“Um yes, B cup,” I allowed.

“Nice to know but not essential at this point.”

She started pulling frocks from one of the rails, not just my colour choices but a full spectrum of hues and styles.

“That blue one looks nice,” I opined.

“Make you look like a stick, you’ve got good legs, make use of them.”

That’s me told.

“Stand.”

Well you don’t mess with Gerta; I put my bag down and stood in the space between the rails.

“Dotty! Come give me a hand here.”

A minute later the seamstress joined us, “Oh the von Strechau girl, so nice to see you again.”

“Bond,” I corrected.

“Oh yes, Gerta, very James Bond.”

“Let’s see it against the gel.”

‘It’ in this case was a somewhat fussy metallic gold affair that might be better off on a Barbie™ doll, not on Gabrielle Bond! Gerta at least this time seemed to agree.

“No, too much, hair up or down, girl?”

“Hadn’t thought that far.”

A couple more frocks were discarded without reaching me, Dotty held a couple more up to me for Gerta to see.

“Yes I think that’s the one,” she finally announced.

“It is?” I queried trying to get a look at the garment.

Well it was blue, dark but not navy with rhinestone decoration across the chest.

“Try it on then, gel.”

“Um, yes ma’am.”

I checked my watch, sugar; I’m supposed to be at Apollinaris in like ten minutes. My choice of a skirt this morning did at least speed things up, the dress was nice and after I put on the shop heels Dotty slid in to the changing room, I had to agree with Gerta.

“Come on, girl, let’s take a look.”

I went out to the shop for inspection.

“Bit loose across the top,” Dotty offered.

“A bit off the length?”

“Oh indeed,” the seamstress agreed.

In minutes I was pinned to perfection before redressing in my street clothes.
“I’ll put it on your account.”

“Um, account, yes,” I have an account?

“We’ll see you at three o’clock tomorrow, bring your own shoes,” Gerta ordered.

“Um yes, okay, tomorrow.”

 
 
I was outside at my bike before I looked at the chit Gerta had put in my hand, how much? Mums’ gonna kill me, nearly two hundred euros on a dress! Mum, sugar! I hit the speed dial.

“Where the heck are you?” Mum fumed.

“Dress fitting? I’ll be there in like ten?”

“Dress? No don’t tell me, just get your bum over here as soon as.”

“On my way.”

Am I gonna get flack for this!

 
 
The Schauff isn’t the fastest bike around but I didn’t let that hold me back as I cut through the afternoon traffic of Bad Neunahr and out to the Apollinaris plant. I screeched to a halt, I really need to get Dad look at those brakes, and to some amusement from the girls grabbed my kit bag and straight into the changing rooms.

“Where is she?” Mum asked coming out of the office.

“Changing room,” Tina advised with a smirk.

“One day,” Jenny mentioned shaking her head.

“She’s young, Jen,” Erika told her.

“Don’t I know it,” Jen sighed.

 
 
I got my bibs on inside out first try, more speed, less haste, Drew. Drew, ha, not hardly worst luck. I headed out still putting my shoes on to find everyone still in the briefing room. Tina indicated a spot next to her; I hurried over to join them.

“What’s going on?”

“Pep talk from the boss.”
 
 

“Everyone here?” George enquired as he wandered out of his office, “yes?”

“They are now,” Mum mentioned glowering at me.

George followed her look, shrugged and turned back to his clipboard.

“I won’t keep you long, just some stuff for Japan. So the flight is at eleven thirty, we get there at seven am local time. Check in is at nine, I’d like everyone there for eight thirty, the Bonds are going down Friday night, Tina, Anja, you two fixed up?”

“Anja’s staying at mine, Dad’ll take us through to the Flughafen.”

“Terminal one, Erica I’ll pick you up at six thirty?”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Questions?”

I stuck my hand up.

“Gaby?”

“What are we doing about bikes?”

“I’ve struck a deal with Bianchi, their Japanese distributor is supplying your steeds for the week, it’s not viable to freight ours over for a week. Your Dad is going to mechanic for us so don’t worry, everything will be ship shape. Anything else?”

No one else had any questions, leastways not that they wanted to voice.

“Okay, sixty steady, Jen you’re in charge.”

“Right then troops, let’s at it, Gab’s cooking tonight and I don’t want Pilze on toast again!”

Cheeky moo – I’ve never done that!

We rescued our mounts, sometime today Mand had acquired a team bike, I’m guessing it was Tina’s originally by the size.

“Gaby?”

“Yes, Mum,” now I’m for it.

“I want you to look after Mandy, our steady will likely put her on the rivet, if she looks in trouble don’t leave her, don’t leave her in any case.”

“’Kay.”

With Maria not in attendance we were six strong, not enough to hide in but enough to get some rest, we’ll be riding piano after all. Mum led us out and we were soon dropping down towards the Rhein, Mike the mechanic following several lengths behind. We quickly had a two-line rotation organised, me paired with Manda.

“They got you all kitted out then,” I observed.

“Yeah, it’s a pool bike, George said I’ll get a new one in the New Year.”

“Uh huh, pretty cool we’ll have Bianchi’s in Japan, eh?”

“Don’t like that green.”

We were rolling along at a comfortable twenty-five, business like but talkable. We took our turn on the front, picking up a bit of speed as we dropped towards Remagen, our conversation resumed when we returned to the rear.

“So what kept you, your mum said you get out of school at two.”

“We do start at eight,” I pointed out.

“So?”

“Well I need a dress for the party tomorrow and I sort of forgot the time.

“You found one though?”

“Uh huh.”

“Go on, how much?”
I mouthed the amount to her not wishing to alert Mum too early.

“How much?”

Maddy Bell © 26.12.2014

 
 
“You two okay?” Mum enquired.

“Just telling Mand how much the new eleven speed kit costs.”

“Don’t be afraid to speak up if the pace is too high, Amanda.”

“Er sure um, Jenny.”

 
 
Mum picked up the pace a little once we cleared the lights in Remagen and we made good time up through Oberwinter and on towards Bonn. We picked up a bit more traffic now but we soon lost most of it by taking the river road. Once or twice Mand lost her wheel but we were still all together when we reached the Rheinbrücke, our crossing point to Königswinter.

We made short work of the one-way system and were rolling down to Bad Honnef when Anja signaled a flat. It’s not a race and Mike is on his own so it’s not exactly race service so we all pulled up to wait for her.

“How we doing?” Mum asked Mand.

“Okay so far.”

“We’ll roll down to Linz then turn it up down to the ferry.”

“Ferry?”

“Well the next bridge adds another thirty k.” Mum advised.

Anja rolled up to us and we were on our way once again.

“What did she mean by turn it up?”

“You know, pop the speed up a bit?”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry,” I offered.

“Don’t worry she says, I’m riding with two World Champions, who aren’t even going full out and I’m on the edge already without them ‘turning things up’.”

“We’ll be steady for a while yet, it’ll only get quick for about five k,” I advised.

She was getting herself into a bit of a panic.

“It’s all right for you, you know you can keep up.”

I’ve no idea what was going through her mind, being abandoned, missing the ferry, getting lost – none of that was gonna happen.

“Calm down, you’ve done this in Switzerland and survived and anyway Mum said I have to look after you.”

“Now I need a babysitter!”

There’s no winning this one. Rather than waste breath arguing I left it at that.

 
 
One thing about riding along the river, this one at least, is the lack of climbing, even going up stream so we made good time through Unkel and were soon tracking the river opposite Remagen. Despite her doubts, Manda was still doing her turn without issue but of course we aren’t at Linz yet. A certain amount of pre effort preparation started taking place, a bite of energy bar by Tina, a slug from a bidon by Anja – yup they’d be going full throttle.

After the ferry traffic lights Mum started ramping the speed, no longer were we rotating, this is full on race effort. Mand doggedly hung on out of Linz but would blow anytime; I sat up and let the others get on with it, taking Mand off with me.

“What’s up?” Mand puffed.

“Just fancy taking it easy.”

She gave me a look but said nothing as we returned to a comfortable twenty-five k pace. When we reached the Bad Hönningen ferry not so many minutes later the others were still puffing from their efforts and the ferry was on its way back to our bank of the river. Mum winked at me as we joined them on the slipway.

“Who got it?”

Mum pointed over to Erica.

“First time since May,” the victor noted.

Which started a round of lively banter.

“What they saying?” Amanda queried as the ferry landed below us.

“Just ragging Erica over her poor form this summer, she won the sprint.”

“I really do need to learn some German.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick it up.”

“Come on kids, the fahre won’t wait you know!” Tina advised.

 
 
The rest of the ride was more sedate back up through Singen then up the lane to Neunahr and Apollinaris, the light fading rapidly as we covered the last few kilometres. The others headed for the showers but as Mum had the car, the Mercedes that is, we loaded our bikes including the Schauff before heading home still in our kit. One advantage of having several showers in the house is no one has to wait to use one.

 
 
“So our ride is picking us up about six thirty just make sure you’re ready.” I instructed Manda between mouthfuls of Wednesday’s lunch.

“What time are you back here?”

“Dunno, depends on Gerta, half four maybe.”

“That’s cutting things fine.”

“Gaby Bond, living on the edge!”

“Get over yourself! I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, laters.”

I closed my handy and returned to eating.

“That the mystery English?” Steff queried.

“She’s not a mystery and yes that was her.”

“So we meet her tonight, eh?”

“Yeth,” I agreed around a mouthful of mozzarella and tomato.

It was quarter to three when I arrived at Eloise Couture – a bit early but time is of the essence!

The bell over the door announced my arrival.

“Moment!”

“It’s er Gaby, the blue dress?”

“The von Strechau gel, you have your shoes?” Gerta queried coming through into the shop.

“Er yes,” I agreed holding them up for inspection.

“Well stop shilly shallying, go try it on.”

I assumed that meant the dress was in the changing room, “Er yes, ma’am.”

 
 
The dress didn’t look any different, it didn’t look like €189 either but I’m committed now, it’s this or raid Goth Gurl’s wardrobe. I quickly stripped down to my undies; I did at least wear tan hose so I can wear my stilts. The dress was certainly snugger in the boob area; I slipped on the shoes and checked my reflection.

“You coming out of there?” Gerta barked.

“Um, coming.”

I tottered into the shop where Dotty and Gerta were waiting.

“Ah, perfect!”

“She does look nice,” Dotty agreed.

“The shoes are a reasonable match, darker would’ve been better,” Gerta, ever the perfectionist, observed. “Well what do you think, gel?”

What could I say? It’s been altered to fit me, my alternative options are almost nil and okay, I like it, there I’ve said it.

“I’ll take it!”

“Well we knew that, how does it fit?” Gerta huffed.

“A lot better than yesterday, I don’t feel like I’m falling out of it quite so much.”

“Good, you’ll need different hose of course.”

“Whatever you suggest,” I agreed. This is gonna max out my spending account, I’ll have to transfer some from my savings for Japan.

“Well get changed then, you haven’t got all day!”

Put like that I had to agree, I have about two hours.

 
 
“I’ve put suitable hose in the bag along with your shoes,” Gerta advised indicating the large Eloise Couture carrier holding the dress.

“How much do I owe?”

“It’s on your account, I just need you to initial this for me.”

I took the receipt book and scanned the neat writing;

Yowch! Well she won’t take my money so what choice do I have? I initialed it at the bottom and returned it to Gerta.

“I hope you have a good time tonight,” she offered with a smile, slipping a copy of the receipt into the bag.

“I’m sure I will, I’d best shake a leg.”

“Take care,” she offered handing me the bag.

“Thanks, tschuss!”

“Wiedersehn.”

 
 
Of course the bag was too big to fit in my basket, bum, how do I get everything home? Hmm, half three, if I go to the city stop I can get the Express up to Dernau. I made it with seconds to spare, my dress dangling from the bars not making things easy.

 
 
“You get it?” Mand enquired as I slipped past her door.

“Yeah,” I sighed.

“You need a hand with anything?”

“Any good with putting hair up?”

“Am I? gis a shout when you’re ready.”

“Gaby? That you?” Dad’s voice reached us from below.

“Yes, Dad,” I agreed.

“Gloria rang, she’ll be a few minutes earlier so make sure you’re ready, let Amanda know.”

“Yes, Dad,” I confirmed.

“Best get a move on, girl!” Mand prompted.
 
 

“Wow!” Manda exclaimed when I reached the hallway.

“Looking one hot chica, yourself,” she did, it might not be a €200 dress she was wearing but she’ll be turning a few heads tonight.

Dad’s dismembered voice rang out, “Call when you want picking up, don’t make it too late please, I have to go to Dortmund in the morning.”

“Yes, Dad.”

A restrained toot of a horn announced our ride.

“See you later!”

“Take care.”

Par-tee!

Maddy Bell © 27.12.2014

 
 
We tottered down to Gloria’s Porsche Cayenne; Max was stood at the door.

“Close your mouth, von Strechau,” I instructed.

“I er, yeah.”

“Mand meet Max, Max this is Amanda.”

“Er pleased to meet you,” Max supplied in his best English, he remembered what I told him earlier.

“And you, Max.”

He collected his thoughts from wherever they’d gone and opened the door, “Um please.”

Mand got in first, sliding across behind Gloria, I climbed in as graciously as I could manage. Max closed the door and got in the front.

“Evening, Gaby, sorry I’m early, I’ve got a meeting with the tourist board in Andernach at seven thirty.”

“No problem, thanks for taking us, Dad’s always moaning about being used as a taxi.”

Gloria set off before continuing.

“Wilhelm too,” she noted, so who is your friend?”

“Mu-um!” Max hissed.

“Amanda, she’s joining the team from England,” I explained.

“Hello, Amanda.”

“Mand, this is, Gloria, Max’s mum.”

“Um hi.”

“So, Gaby,” Gloria went on, “you are looking very nice tonight, a new dress?”

“Er thanks, I um got the dress today.”

“I’m sure someone will appreciate your effort.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Just why have I got a new dress and got tarted up? It’s not like I’m on the pull (as if!) or it’s some fancy do. No, it’s a night out with my friends and peers in a draughty barn, some of my friends just happen to be boys.

“So Max was saying it’s this week you go to Japon?”

“Saturday,” I confirmed.

“I do hope you get a chance to see some of the temples, they are amazing.”

“Hopefully, Dad’s keen to do some sightseeing between the racing.”
 
 

The Porsche ate up the kilometres along the valley and Gloria didn’t hold the horses on the climb up from Ahrbrück. We turned into the Preiser property much sooner than I expected, Gloria spinning the car around in the courtyard to drop us at the barn door.
 
 

“Thanks again, Gloria.”

“No problem, Gaby, nice to meet you, Amanda, look after them, Max.”

“Yes, Mum,” he replied with a roll of the eyes.

“I mean it, Max.”

“Yeah.”

And then she was gone, the Cayenne’s taillights bouncing over the cobbles before disappearing into the darkness.
 
 

So of course, here I am, short frock, ten-centimeter heels stood in a dark rough cobbled courtyard – again.

“Um, Max?”

“What’s up?”

“Could you like give me a hand, I don’t want to fall and break something.”

“Sure,” he agreed, “You okay, Amanda?”

“What’s he say?” she hissed.

“Do you need a hand on the cobbles?”

“Should be okay.”

“She’s fine, Max.”

Well of course, she’s not wearing stilts, okay her shoes, well sandals have a heel but it’s like four centimeters and somewhat broader than my stilettos. Why couldn’t I have got something in H&M® when we were in Bonn? A breeze blowing around my fundament reminded me we needed to get inside.

“Come on, it’s a bit chilly out here,” I urged.
 
 

I was still holding onto Max when we made our entrance, Mand bringing up the rear of our party. We were far from the first arrivals so we drew some attention as we crossed the threshold.

“Max, Gaby, glad you made it,” Mart enthused.

“Wouldn’t miss one of your parties would we, Gab?” Max supplied.

“Not on your er Nellie, I know you like the English ladies, Mart, do you think you could look after Manda tonight?”

“Manda?” he queried.

“Mand,” I had to release my grip on Max to pull her forward, hang on, why am I still gripping Max like death? Anyhow, “this is Mart, it’s his party, I told you about Bern? He’s her boyfriend.”

“Um, thanks for inviting me,” Mand offered.

After spending time with Bern in the spring Mart’s English is pretty good which is why I thought he might look after Mand no German.

“Any friend of our Prinzessin, talking of which, Bernie wrote this week, she sent pictures of Andrea,” he enthused.

“You’ll have to show me,” I noted, “come on, Mand, best introduce you around.”
 
 

The Angels, including I was glad to see, Nena, were stowing bags and coats still, they must’ve arrived just before us. I headed over to them, you can’t hurry in these shoes, I was spotted well before we crossed the ‘dance floor’. In what was obviously a rehearsed move they all turned and as one curtsied with a single chorus of, “welcome your Majesty!”

Talk about embarrassing!

“Give over!”

“Yes, your majesty,” Steff grinned, the others couldn’t hold it any longer and started cackling like a flock of hens.

“Your face, Gab,” Pia allowed.

“I know you said you had a dress sorted,” Con mentioned,” You didn’t say it was couture.”

“Biba actually.”

“You’re looking pretty dapper as well, Max,” Bridg supplied.

“Can’t let Gab get all the attention,” he stated from far too close, damn it; I’m hanging on his arm again!

I quickly extricated myself, oh right, my ‘lady in waiting’, “Er guys, this is Amanda, from England?”

True to form the girls set to practicing their varying levels of Anglo Saxon conversation, I wish they’d give up on the princess stuff.

“I’ll go give Mart a hand,” Max—he still here?—noted.

“’Kay.”

“Not your boyfriend, eh?” Nena stated.

“In his dreams, he’s not even on the list.”

“There’s a list?”

“No!”

“Whatever you say, highness,” she smirked.

“I thought we’d finished with all that guff?”

“Come on, Gab, you turn up on the arm of one of the most eligible lads in the area wearing a designer frock, bet those aren’t Aldi strumpf are they?”

I looked down at my legs, “Er Wolford.”

“Wolford, sheesh, and I bet your knickers cost more than my dress. Whether you like it or not you are ‘royalty’ in these parts and we, as your friends will rib you with it, it’s what friends do.”

“Thank you, friend. You okay?”

“Not really,” she admitted, ”but I need to get on with things, Claudia wouldn’t want us to get all maudlin.”

“She was a bit of a dynamo,” I agreed.

“Yeah,” she allowed with the start of a sniff.

“We should remember the real Claudia, let’s party in her memory, she’d appreciate that.”

Nen brightened a bit; “You know she’d’ve gone for the Prinzessin business big style don’t you?”

“Guess I can live with that.”

“Guys!” Nena called for the others attention.

They eased up on Mand long enough to find out what Nena wanted.

“I’ve been speaking to her majesty, Wolford strumpf! And she has decreed that we should party hard just like my sister would’ve, Claud, tonight’s for you!”

I’m sure they practice this stuff; the girls all repeated the curtsey thing, after a glance at the others even Mand joined in.

“Thank you, ladies, time to boogie! Max! Music please.”

“Coming right up!”
 
 

Mart’s parties are legendary, his parents keep an eye on things of course – thirty or so teenagers can get a bit rowdy. Of course there’s no alcohol, as if, but the punch is fruity, the snacks delish, the lads put on some kick a, I mean nice music and the emphasis is on having a good time. We started with some handbag tunes and things progressed from there.

“Having fun?”

“Your friends are mad!” Mand noted.

“Quite possibly,” I agreed.

“And you,” her eyes flicked past me, “enjoy.”

Enjoy?

A pair of hands snaked around me, who? I recognize that smell, Max.

“Dance, your highness?”

“Go on then,” I sighed, he’s a good sport after all.

“Maestro!” he called out and instead of a rockin’ tune, a classical number filled the barn, music that brought back memories of Munich and dancing with a real Prince. Claudia would’ve loved all that intrigue.

Max slipped me into position and we started the waltz to much amusement, cat calling and enthusiasm. Several girls dragged boyfriends or girl friends to the floor so by the end of the tune the floor was awash with inexpert waltzing, I like to think Max and I did it best. I saw Marty having his feet stood on by Mand, yeah, we were having fun.
 
 

“My feet are killing me,” I moaned as we waited for Dad’s taxi, almost the last to depart.

“Dunno how you lasted in those shoes,” Mand opined.

“Practice?”

“Gab, your dad’s here.” Max announced from the door.

“Coming!”

Yeah, a good night, you would've loved it, Claud.

 
 
Maddy Bell © 28.12.2014

 
 
Max had of course to help me to the car where, Mand and I took the back seat whilst Max took the spare front spot.

“Good evening?” Dad enquired as we bounced out of the courtyard.

“Not bad,” I allowed.

“Good.”

I’m not sure if he was really listening or asking by reflex.

“Oh, your mother wanted me to remind you to come home straight away tomorrow, you need to pack, there won’t be time on Friday.

“It sounds like an exciting trip, Herr Bond,” Max offered.

“Busy, Max, busy.”

Well that killed that conversation! The Mercedes doesn’t roll about as much as Gloria’s Porsche, the road down to Ahrbrück still however managing to shake us around more than a bit. Once on the valley road though Dad put his foot down and we were through Altenahr and turning into the Schloss less than thirty minutes after leaving Mart’s place.

 
 
“Thanks for the lift, Herr Bond,” Max noted as he climbed out, “nice to meet you, Amanda, see you tomorrow, Gab, tschuss.”

“Goodnight,” Mand offered.

“Byee,” I added as he closed the door.

Dad waited until he was at the door then swung around to depart for the last couple of kilometres back to Burg Bond.

“I’ve never met anyone who lives in a castle before,” Mand mentioned.

“Well technically it’s not a castle as such, a schloss can be like a country house through to a defended house, you know with a moat and stuff?”

“Looked like a castle to me.”

“Well I guess the walls are quite high,” I admitted.

“Maybe you can take Amanda up to show her around after Japan,” Dad suggested.

“Maybe,” I allowed although why I would have access was beyond me.
 
 

Of course talk at school the next morning was largely about the party, well what else? Well actually the ‘else’ was me and Max, it was a party okay, people dance, it’s a big part of what you do. My protestations of denial fell on deaf ears; let them believe what they want.

The other subject, apart from history and English, under discussion was who was doing what next week. I trumped everyone else with Japan but I was feeling a bit like a spare part as the others discussed shopping trips, going for coffee with Anna and Claud’s memorial service. The last really hurt, I felt cheated that I wouldn’t be there next Monday, that the others would have something I didn’t, a final memory of Claudia.

 
 
I also missed out on the coffee stop in Ahrweiler after school, I didn’t dare being under strict instructions to go straight home.

“That you, Gaby?” Mum’s voice enquired as I stomped up from the garage.

“In person.”

“Washing down here as soon as, there’s a load in should be just about done.”

“Wasn’t running when I came in.” I noted.

“Get on then!” she chivvied.

“Yes, Mum.” I sighed.

 
 
Somehow I collected enough stuff that needed washing for two loads plus a stack of more delicate hand wash stuff – no way are those €40 Wolford strumpf going in the machine! Apparently Mand was out in Dortmund with Dad, which meant there weren’t any distractions as I did my laundry. Even so it was after four when the second load went in the drier, I thought I was supposed to be packing?

“Do you know what you are taking?”

“Bike kit?”

“Obviously, we’ll put all that in one case, we’ll struggle to get all the bags in the car as it is. Make sure you have enough underwear, posh frock and you’ll need some off the bike stuff.”

“How posh?”

“Nothing you’re gonna show me up with, I’ve already warned your sister.”

Looks like the new frock will get a second outing.

“’Kay.”

“We’re going out to eat when your Dad gets back so get a move on, use the blue case, I’ve left it on my bed.”

“Yes, Mum.”

 
 
The blue dress in the end didn’t make the cut, the case isn’t that big and if I took the Biba I’d barely get anything else in. bulk ruled out a couple of other options, I eventually settled on a slip dress that when rolled up barely took any space. Most of my underwear was still drying so I gathered my bike kit together and took that downstairs to be packed.

“You finished?” Mum enquired as I put my stuff by the kit bag.

“Just need my undies from the drier.”

“Got your camera? Passport?”

“I’ll put them in my bag tomorrow.”

“Tonight, we’ll be leaving for the hotel as soon as you get home from school.”

 
 
The others arrived just then, Dad having picked Jules up on the way back.

“We all packed?” Dad asked.

“Getting there,” Mum allowed.

“Let me get changed and we’ll go eat.”
 
 

School on Friday seemed to drag forever but eventually it was over.

“See you a week Monday then, Gab,” Steff noted when we got back to Dernau.

“Tuesday,” I corrected, “we get there before we leave but it’s like a full day coming back.”

“That sucks,” Brid put in.

“Not many, wish I was gonna be here Monday,” I lamented.

“‘S’not your fault,” Pia observed.

“I still feel bad.”

“Just make sure you win in Japon, Deutschland rules!” Con cheered.

“Yeah.”

“Have a good trip, Gab,” Pia grinned.

“I’ll try, tschuss!”

 
 
At the house I arrived to find Dad playing musical cases in the car with Mum not helping by being there.

“In and change,” she directed.

I didn’t need a second prompt.

“So how long they been playing with the cases?” I asked the others when I got upstairs.

“Twenty minutes,” Jules supplied.

“They were all in once,” Mand noted, “then your Mum wanted to check in one of the bags for something.”

“I’d best get ready, she’ll be in a mood.”
 
 

“Passports?” Mum queried thirty minutes later.

We each waved the necessary document for her to see.

“I’ve got yours luv,” Dad noted.

“Let’s go then.”

“‘Bout time,” Jules mumbled.

 
 
Guess who ended up in the middle? Okay no prizes there; at least it’s not too far from here down to Frankfurt. The weirdest thing is going on a cycling trip without a bike, it just doesn’t seem right. But we’re on our way, Mum’s traveled a fair bit, I’ve been to the States with Jules somehow though this feels more of an adventure.

I think Mand is excited, it’s difficult to tell as she’s not saying much, it must be difficult for her what with leaving home, getting dumped into a different culture and now haring off literally halfway around the world.

“You okay, Mand?”

“I guess.”

“Wonder what sort of plane we’re going on?”

“A big one?”

“Well I know that, we went on a Jumbo when we went to the States a couple of years ago, I think Lufthansa have got some of those new Airbus thingies.”

“Nice for them.”

I’ve got a feeling she doesn’t want to talk.

 
 
We’re not staying in Frankfurt of course, that’d be plain daft, Dad’s got us booked into a hotel a couple of miles from the Airport. They have their own shuttle bus so once we’ve unloaded, Dad’ll take the car and park it for the week and we’ll catch the bus in the morning. Well that’s the plan.

We made good time to our accommodation, after some debate Dad had booked a triple and a double, I get to bunk with Jules and Mand, I hope she’s okay with that. It was nearly eight by the time Dad got back from dropping the car off, one less thing to do in the morning, so anyway we ate at the hotel, not that anyone seemed that hungry. Even the rents seemed quite wired and by mutual consent we all retired quite early.

 
 
“George!” Dad called across the concourse.

Our leader had the others all in tow and headed toward the ‘English’ party, i.e. us, were waiting.

“Everything okay?” George asked.

“Smooth as clockwork.”

“The English, she looks a bit peaky?”

“She was quiet last night, we’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Okay everyone,” George addressed the assembled throng, “let’s get checked in and through security then we should have time for coffee before boarding.”

I’m sure most of you know the form for flying these days, flying within Europe is fairly straight forward, go farther afield and there might be some extra hoops to jump. The Lufthansa people were very efficient at check in and apart from having to show the security people Mum and my World’s medals (the Japanese are apparently keen to do some photo stuff with us and the gongs) we were through heading toward our gate before nine.

As promised we stopped off for coffee, our flight was called as we finished up so it was time to use the facilities then along to the gate. We joined the queue of expectant travelers and waited our turn to board our transport. Our seat allocation meant that Mand and I were sat with Anja, Jules was with the rents in the row behind, the others were across the aisle in the central bank of seats.

“Neat eh?”

“I guess,” Mand allowed.

“What’s up, you’ve been quiet all morning.”

“I, I’m scared of flying,” she admitted.

“Why didn’t you say?”

“I thought I could brave it out but I’m petrified, Gab. When I came last weekend it wasn’t too bad but this is like ten hours.”

“Well I’m here this time, you’ll be fine.”

In what seemed no time we were taxiing out to the runway, bye Germany, when we touch down we will be in Japan.

Maddy Bell © 29.12.2014