Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

I awoke with a start, not sure quite why, the bed cave was warm and cosy after all, maybe it was a noise outside somewhere. I snuggled back down, it was only when some of the cave moved on its own that I remembered the sleeping arrangements. Oh well, we’re all girls here, aren’t we?

Sophia squirmed closer, yeah talk about weird, there was nothing, er sexual, about it, it really was all about comfort and warmth. it’s a drafty old castle in the middle of winter and the bed warmer had gone AWOL so like what are two girls supposed to do? Okay, my host was a bit more enthusiastic than me but it was either squidge up or freeze and I don’t like the cold.

Of course, when I was a boy, well you know what I mean, I did sometimes dream about sharing a bed with someone. The question of course was, with whom? The dreams were always quite ambiguous, some cuddling, possibly kissing but I never found out who was sharing my pallet, not even if they were male or female.

When I returned to consciousness again it was with a hand, not mine, cupping one of the girls and an urgent need to empty my bladder.
“Where you going?” my bedmate mumbled in enquiry as I peeled her paddy off of my chest.
“Bathroom,” I advised.
“What time is it?”
“Dunno, six maybe?”
“Don’t be long, liebchen.”
Liebchen? What is that girl on?

I didn’t get back to the comfort of the bed clothes, a knock on the door turned out to be the senior Thun & Taxis daughter announcing frühstuck. It wasn’t six but closer to seven so not quite the middle of the night and mention of food is always a motivator right? My bed-mate was up and with it much quicker than me of course, must be something to do with boarding school.

“Good night, girls?” the Duchess enquired when we arrived in the already busy dining room.
“The blanket wasn’t on so we had to cuddle up,” Sophia told her mother, “it was quite cosy.”
“Gaby?”
“Er yes, I mean I slept like a log, thanks.”
I’m no good at reading people but the Duchess’ expression suggested there was something I was missing.

Breakfast was, if you can imagine it, a cross between a family affair and a mid star hotel. A bit fancier than most people do at home but a more homely feel than a hotel dining room, we all shared the same table and the food was on said table. It’s always tempting to go overboard when presented with such a smorgasbord of options – I started with a boiled egg.

“So what are you girls going to do today?” Duke Ludwig asked.
“I thought I’d take Willie out,” Sara supplied, “I’ve not ridden him in ages.”
Ah, a horse.
“There’s plenty of mounts if anyone else wants to ride?” the Duke offered.
Not for me but I was surprised when my sister and Mand both volunteered for horse riding.
“What about you two?” Marianne enquired.
“I thought I’d show Gab around the Burg,” Sophia suggested.
“That alright, Gaby?” her father queried.
What can you say? It’s not like there was much alternative unless I want to bounce around on a horse.
“Er sure.”

The morning gathering of Clan Bond and our hosts broke up about eight thirty, the adults setting off for their own tour of Harburg, the equine brigade to go get horsed up with jodhpurs and so on leaving me and Soph to our own explorations.

“The visitors, they only see a small part really,” my guide advised.
“Right,” I allowed.
Look, I’ve been dragged around enough castles and stuff by pater over the years, I’m not particularly interested but I can make the right noises. To be fair, Harburg is a lot more than the usual ruins, it’s pretty much complete as it was in the Mittelalter, a sort of family home with visitors – you can imagine it being peopled with knights and serfs and so on quite easily. It was hardly a surprise when my guide told me about some of the period dramas filmed here.

It was more of a surprise to find the place was open to visitors today, we met one of the tours whilst Sophia was tracing her lineage for me in the chapel.

“A bit like your Brautjungferkleid eh?” Sophia observed.
We’d moved around the inner wall, past what is currently a restaurant to the ‘treasury’, a solid lump of building accessed by a bridge from the wall walkway. The displays inside ran to several armoured trunks bound with steel and huge locks to the costumes we were currently looking at.
“A lot fancier,” I noted, “must’ve cost a fortune with all that embroidery.”
“Maybe, I think maybe the ladies did a lot themselves, can’t do it myself, far too fiddly.”
“Not done any since junior school, we all had to do a sampler thing,” I allowed.
“This is the dress in the painting, see?”
We’d moved to a comparatively tiny dress next to an easel with a large oil painting on.
“The fifth Duchess, Theresia Amalia of Speyer.”
“She’s tiny.”
“I think she was twelve for the painting.”
“And she was the duchess?”
“It was different then.” Sophia shrugged.
“So how come you’ve still got these dresses and stuff?”
“You don’t get to be rich by being wasteful, we’ve got tons of this sort of stuff in the attics.”
“I bet museums would kill for it,” I noted.
“There is some in the Staatsmuseum in Stuttgart and the Textilmuseum in Ingolstadt has more,” she stated matter of factly.

Makes you feel quite insignificant really – I guess you can probably trace my family back a couple of hundred years, we don’t have anyone famous or old money or anything. But Sophia, well her family can be traced for like eight hundred years, she even knows their names, they’ve been part of the ruling classes most of that time and even own this castle. Yeah, small bier indeed.

“You interested in this stuff?” Soph asked.
“A bit I suppose.”
“Come on then, we’ll go to the attics.”

We were back in the ‘living’ tower, the attic might be in the roof space but a tiny crawl space it’s not!
“This is bigger than my house,” I proposed.
“And full of more junk I think.”
“Possibly.”
At some point the space had clearly been tidied up, stuff sorted and catalogued, it was hardly the dusty cobwebbed hole you generally associate with attics. No there was shelving with neatly stacked boxes and stuff, when I say stuff everything from ancient children’s toys to suits of armour. One man’s junk is another’s treasure, that couldn’t be more true than here.

“They change the displays from time to time, Mama works with the Trust on this stuff. Come on, the Kleid are over the other side.”
“’Kay.”
I followed her between the shelves to a clearly separate area, home to the Harburg clothing collection. Soph was soon opening boxes and pulling frocks from the rails to show me.
“Should we be doing this?”
“Me and Sara used to be up here all the time dressing up, it’s our stuff.”
“I guess.”
“I know, you can try on one of Theresia Amalia’s dresses,” she enthused.
“No really.”
“Oh go on, Gab, I’m too big but I reckon you’d fit.”
“I am nearly sixteen.”
“And you think Theresia stayed at twelve? Come on, I know just the dress.”

The dress turned out to be quite a fancy affair, a tight bodice over a full skirt with panniers making it much wider than it was front to back.
“Come on, Gab, lose the jeans.”
“I’m not sure about this.”
“It’s fine, come on.”
Well okay, it might be sort of fun I suppose, I wonder if the von Strechau’s have an Attic?

Soph was really into it, from somewhere she pulled out appropriate underpinnings, whilst I lost my BH I did keep my pants under the actual real bloomers I found myself wearing with the corsetry. Silk stockings and shoes, a bit small but not too uncomfortable and I was ready for the underskirts.

“How does it do up?”
“Lacing,” my tormentor managed from behind the dress.

It was soon dropped in place and my dresser started the job of closing the rear opening – I guess she has to lace the whole length, I didn’t see any strings when she pulled it out. There was a bit of tugging but after a few minutes she seemed satisfied.

“Hmm, something with your hair.”
“Really?”
“Oh come on, Gab, we’ve got this far.”
“Whatever!”
I lost my usual ponytail and surprisingly quickly Sophia was pinning my now braided tresses up into a quite ornate arrangement.

“There, done!”
“Do I get to see this?”
“I’ll get some pictures on my Handy, shitza, it’s downstairs.”
“Use mine, it’s in my jeans.”

The photographic efforts weren’t great to be honest, the light was a bit harsh but you got the general idea.
“Tell you what, we’ll go outside and get some better pics, I can borrow dad’s digital camera.”
“I dunno.”
“Oh come on, Gabs, live a little.”
“I’m not sure,” it’s one thing to put this stuff on up here, quite another to go outside and stuff.
“We’ll do this then we need to go down to meet the parents in the village for lunch, pretty please?”
“Go on then,” I sighed much against my best thoughts on the matter.

I’ve worn full skirted dresses before, they are a pain especially on steps but this time it was the unmoving width that was the main issue. I was now wider than the doorways on the upper floors as I found out when we returned to ‘our’ room – apparently I needed some slap as well as the hair. Lower down the building both stairs and doors were much wider – maybe made to accommodate such voluminous female attire.
Soph decided that the formal garden would be the ideal backdrop, I did convince her to let me change footwear, a pair of Deichmann sandals are not exactly right but who’s gonna see my feet? Most importantly I’m not damaging the museum piece shoes or my feet. The sun was out but it was still a bit chilly, I could’ve done with my fleece, which, of course, was still in the attic.

Of course, we were soon spotted by several paying guests so the quick, secret dressing up session took on a new aspect. I mean I could hardly run off and Sophia was quite keen to wax lyrical to all and sundry about the provenance of my clothing – sometimes I can’t work her out at all. Not that I know her that well really.

“Are we done?”
The last grockle had departed and I was shivering, my exposed bosom covered in goose-bumps.
“Yeah, we really should get a move on.”

Maddy Bell 09.04.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
“You go up, I just need to fetch something.”
Cheers Soph, leave me to get through those damned doors on my own! I nearly landed on my nose when I tripped on the flippin’ skirts on the last staircase. I’m stupid; I should’ve changed downstairs, whatever. I made my way to the ‘wardrobe’ and poked around the shelves a bit while I waited…and waited…and waited.

What’s keeping her? She was supposed to come straight up. I’ll ring her, oh bugger I can’t, my Handy is downstairs. I made my way back across to the stairs.

“Soph! Soph you there?”
The stairwell was silent, I could hear voices outside somewhere but this building was devoid of sound.
“Sophia, come on stop mucking about, where are you?”
I strained to hear a reply but there was nothing. Bum; guess I’ll have to go back down to find her. For a second time I carefully descended from the attic and made my way down to where I’d left Soph on the third floor landing.
“Soph?”
I made my way along toward ‘our’ room, the door was open and I could hear something inside.
“Soph, that you?”
It was like a scuffling noise with the odd squeak punctuating things.
“Soph?”
I hurried inside to find my missing roommate on the bathroom floor having convulsions. Shit! Erm what do I do? Help – that’s what I need. I turned round to find my Handy, where is it?

So of course the battery was flat – all those flash pictures earlier, I know Soph’s phone. I found it on the bed, who do I ring though? I flicked through her contacts, Sara; yeah her sister will know what to do.

The phone rang several times before it was picked up.
“Heya Sis, what’s up?” Sara enquired.
“Its Gaby, Soph’s having some sort of fit.”
“Sugar! Where are you?”
“In the bathroom.”
“Okay, look try to stop her hurting herself, I’ll get help.”
“Hurry, please.”

It seemed like hours but in reality was barely two minutes before help did arrive in the form of the tour guide we’d met earlier. He must be some sort of first aider as he quickly set about checking a still twitching Sophia out. I got myself out of the way, my attire not exactly conducive to small spaces, and perched on the bed.

The entire equine group arrived not long after.
“You okay, Gab?” Jules enquired.
“Er yeah, Soph?”
“She’ll be fine,” Sara told me; “she’s had epi turns before, looks worse than it is.”
“She was alright when I left her.”
“That’s how it goes, Stefan will get her sorted, she’ll be okay.”
“Come on, Gab, lets go down and get you a drink,” my sister suggested.
“’Kay.”

“So erm, how come you are dressed like that?” Mand asked once I’d calmed down a bit.
“We were looking at stuff, in the attic.”
“I think you should get changed, the olds will be here shortly.” Jules proposed.
“Yeah okay, can you undo me? I can’t reach.”
Jules went behind me, “Undo you where?”
“The laces.”
“There aren’t any laces, sure it’s not got a zip somewhere?”
“It’s a real period dress, they didn’t have zips, there must be laces somewhere.”
“Well I can’t see any.”
“Nor me,” Mand added.
“But…”
“Come on, Sara will know,” Jules supplied.

“That’s the Theresia Amalia dress,” Sara pronounced.
“Yeah, look I’m sorry, Sophia insisted, how is she?”
“Sleeping, she’ll have a few bruises I think, let’s get you out of that.”
“How? Where are the laces?”
“It is sewn closed, didn’t Soph tell you?”
“She said it had to be laced.”
“Come on, I’ve got scissors in my room.”

“I’ll stay with Sophia, I’ve some stuff to do for this evening anyway, take the girls down for lunch Sara, take the Polo.”
“Okay, Mama.”
“I’ll stay too,” I offered.
“You did well, Gaby, but go eat, she’ll be fine now.”
“Come on, Sis, you can’t make any difference here,” Jules added.

“You alright, kiddo?” Mum asked when we reached the rest of the party in the Restaurant Straussen down in the village.
“Bit shaky,” I admitted.
“Interesting hairstyle,” Gran mentioned.
“Soph did it, she will be okay won’t she?”
“We thought maybe she’d outgrown the attacks, when she was smaller it was most weeks,” the Duke advised.
“They couldn’t do anything?” Dad queried.
“Medication of course but it is not good long term. It is not so uncommon, most kind grow out of it, Soph hasn’t had a turn for nearly a year so we hoped.”
“What causes it,” I enquired.
“Sometimes excitement, sometimes other things.”
“She put Gaby in the Theresia Amalia papa,” Sara mentioned.
The Duke sighed, “We’ll have to lock that damned attic.”
“I’m sorry, she said it was okay, I didn’t want to.”
“It’s not your fault, Gaby, you aren’t in trouble or anything, ah here comes lunch!”

We might’ve driven down to the village but the adults commandeered the car for the return uphill journey leaving us girls to climb back up on foot. It’s not a long distance but what the dark largely hid last night is that the castle sits atop a considerable chunk of rock that dominates the village sat cowering at the base of the cliff face. Sara acted as guide for the climb, taking us up a little used path that led directly up into the outer court of the Burg.

“What was the thing with the dress, Sara?” Jules asked.
“The Theresia Amalia dress? It has set Sophia’s attacks off before, don’t know why.”
“Weird,” Mand commented.
“You looked very well in it, Gaby, it could’ve been made for you,” Sara mentioned.
“Instead of the fifth Duchess?”
“I can’t believe they used to sew them closed like that,” Mand opined.
“No buttons to lose, I think it was more common for the peasantry especially in winter, they would wear all their clothes to keep warm.”
“Smelly!”

We were gasping by the time we got to the top and the light was starting to fade. There was quite a lot of activity in the inner courtyard, despite this being a ‘family’ gathering, the highlight of the evening is to be a spectacular fireworks display using the castle as the backdrop. But that’s later; right now I need to find out how Sophia is getting along.

“Sorry about that, Gab,” Sophia told me when I went up to see her.
“You had me worried big style,” I admitted, “so you gonna be okay?”
“Apart from a few scrapes and bruises.”
“You were flailing all over the place, it was horrible.”
“I never remember any of it, not that I want to.”
“Your sister said something about that dress.”
“It’s just a coincidence really.”
“Coincidence?”
“Uh huh, just because you were wearing it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Your dad seemed to think otherwise,” I pointed out.
“The first time I had a bad turn I was trying it on alright, that’s it though. So we getting ready for this party or what?”

My new frock was finally revealed to the hoi polloi, I felt a little exposed but there’s no getting away from it – I look spectacular in it! I got Sophia to redo my hair; the braids just seemed appropriate in this very German, no Bavarian setting. I think Soph changed her outfit so that her bruises weren’t so obvious but she looked pretty smart nonetheless.

The party – that is the pre firework bit with dinner was in the restaurant rather than the living area, which was just as well given the number of people. I’m guessing the majority were ‘estate’ workers and their families, I saw Stefan the guide quaffing from a stein. What I hadn’t foreseen was that a lot of people would be in Kostüm including the Duke and Duchess.

“What’s with all the Kostüm?” I whispered to Soph as we waited for drinks.
“Guess it saves buying a new dress for everything, I’m not a fan.”
“I’ve got a couple,” I allowed, “could‘ve saved what this cost if I’d known.”
“Trust me, Gab, you are better off in a nice Kleid tonight, sets us apart from the locals.”
“What about your parents?”
“It’s expected, they play at being country folk, see Mother’s Kostüm is much fancier than the locals more dress up than workday.”
“Yeah, mine are both above knee,” I admitted.
“Anyhow, let’s get some seats or we won’t get fed.”

The restaurant was set out more like a bier hall than a restaurant, long tables with benches rather than individual chairs. It was all a bit feudal, the Duke and his guests at the top table with the workers below, Soph however wanted to be ‘down below’ so we were squeezed onto one of the long tables. Bier was flowing freely; it wasn’t difficult to liberate some when the jug came past – not that I drink of course.

Of course the Duke gave a little speech, it wasn’t really of much interest unless you were a local. Well okay, he mentioned staff now departed, new births and so on before signalling for the food. Oh yes the food!

Imagine a cross between a posh dinner with loads of courses and a medieval banquet and you’ll get a rough idea. Lots of courses but nothing too fancy, linsensuppe, pork hock, Rotkohl, potato, fruit, cheese – a bit of a bun fight! The atmosphere was great, the company excellent and everyone was having a good time.

It was all about having a good time, even if she can’t speak much German Gran seemed to be getting on, everywhere you looked people were smiling, joking, laughing. The food eventually ran out and the party started to move outside.

“What’s happening now?” Mand asked from my elbow.
“Oh, heya. Fireworks.”
“Gab,” Mum called out, “coat.”
It made sense now, Mum’s insistence that we bring our coats across to the restaurant, we’re going to be outside for a while and it’s not mid summer. Be-coated we joined the other revellers heading for the fields above the castle, not a long walk, perhaps four hundred metres. There were already a lot of other people on the hillside but the Dukes guests had a roped off area giving us a preferential view.

The castle floodlights blinked off leaving the assembled throng in complete darkness, the murmur of the crowd dropping to almost silence.

Maddy Bell 09.04.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
How can you describe a firework display? Suffice to say that there were lots of whizzes, bangs and explosions lighting up the Bavarian sky for the next thirty minutes. Around me there were sufficient ooh’s, aah’s and other appropriate noises that suggested the Dukes euros were well spent. The whole thing ended with countdown to the New Year with a suitably loud and sparkly finale at the midnight hour.

“I guess it’s bed now,” Mand noted as we started to walk back to the castle.
“Bed!” Sara exclaimed, “And miss the party, not likely.”
“Party?” I dumbly queried.
“Well duh, Gaby, you don’t think we dress up just to eat and watch the Feuerwerk? Now it’s time for the fun.”

And indeed it was clear we weren’t the only ones heading back into The Harburg, the mood was friendly, happy and maybe a little fuelled by a little of the local Anker Brau. It was certainly a step up from watching crappy TV and toasting with some grape juice, I could get used to doing this. By the time the Ducal party arrived back in the courtyard, dancing was in progress with music supplied by that most German of musical enterprise, an Oompah band!

I’ve no idea what time we gave up, I just recall the world spinning, lots of giggling and – well nothing else.

Hmmm, warm. I snuggled deeper, my mind unwilling to switch to ‘get up’ mode or concerned about what I was squidging against as long as it was warm and soft. Something was restraining me, not in a bad way, well actually a very nice way, I felt about until I found the warm thing and hugged it closer about my middle, yeah, luxury.

“Gaby, Sophia, you two getting up?”
“Eh?” my mind tried to make sense of the noise.
“They were well out of it last night,” a second voice suggested.
“Wassup?” I managed to groan.
“There is life,” voice one stated, “you decent in there?”
“Guess.” I replied cautiously.
The door sprang open and I sensed bodies entering, have to open an eye I guess.
“Ooo, very cosy!” voice two that I now connected to a name, Manda, offered.
“Gabs!” my sister’s voice cut through the fug.
“What?”
“Wassa matter,” Sophia sleepily requested from somewhere close to my ear.
“You coming for breakfast?” Mand asked very matter of factly.
Breakfast? I checked my watch, bum, nearly eight!
“Five…”
“Minutes, we know,” Jules observed.

I know it must’ve looked incriminating but honestly, nothing happened. When I say nothing, well Soph can be a bit feely touchy but sleep was all we did last night whatever it might have looked like. Anyhow I dragged myself out of Sophia’s clutches and started the morning ablutions.

No one looked especially chipper when I reached the breakfast table – Dad looked completely mashed, the Duke no better, even Mum was bleary eyed. It really had been some party.

“Someone slept well,” Gran opined.
There were silly grins on a couple of faces.
“Er okay I guess, morgen,” I replied taking a seat.
“Sophia getting up, Gaby?” the Duchess asked as I helped myself to coffee from the thermos jug.
“She was in the shower when I left.”

Of course the table was laden with the full frühstuck array but I wasn’t sure I could eat much – well I’ll have to give it a try.
“What are you girls doing today?” Mum asked, nursing her coffee.
“Dunno,” I admitted.
Yeah, there’s no way the parental units will be in a fit state to drive until much later today.
“You could come for a ride,” Jules suggested, “right, Sara?”
“On a horse?”
“Live a little, Gabs,” Mand put in.
“I’m sure we have riding kit you can borrow, Sara?” the Duchess suggested.
“Of course, Mama.”
“What about Sophia?”
“She has her own,” Sara noted.
Duh!

And so it was that the five of us set off for the stables half an hour later, Soph having readily agreed to the plan when she joined the breakfast crew. January the first was, for now at least, blue skies with the remains of a light frost, yep, cold. My sister and Mand seemed quite comfortable in the riding gear they’d worn yesterday, for my part I felt a bit daft and awkward.

“We can go up into the Wald,” Sophia suggested.
“Over the burg, we can get coffee at Mönchs,” her sister agreed.
It sounded like some sort of code and a recipe for personal discomfort.
“I’m not sure about this.”
“Even you can ride, Gab, there’s nothing to it,” my sister told me – thanks sis.
“You’ll be fine,” Mand added, “no pedalling, you just sit there.”
Somehow I didn’t believe that.

After a crash course in horse control I found myself high above the ground on the back of a behemoth known to humans as Freja (I’m not sure what the tonne of flesh thought about that but she seemed to respond to it.). I had a death grip on the reins and nearly fell off when my mount started to walk on – this is so not a good idea! Our little group left the stables and crossed the car park to the field where we’d watched last night’s fireworks.

“What the!” Mand exclaimed.
“Eh?”
“Over there,” she pointed to the top of the car park.

Sitting in red splendour was what even I could identify as an old British bus.
“What’s that doing here?”
“It’s here often I think,” Soph told us.
“They come on excursions from Aalen,” Sara added with more authority.
“On New Year’s Day?” Jules mentioned.
“Why not? The castle is open, lots of people visit today,” Sara advised, “it’s very popular.”
“In England everything’s closed.”
“So what do people do?” Sophia queried.
“Not a lot,” I admitted, go for a ride or a walk.”
“Watch telly,” Mand supplied.
“Well we’re riding so maybe we are British,” Sara offered, “come on, let’s get on.”
We had come to a halt as we talked; now I just had to get Freja into forward gear again.

At some point I released my death grip and relaxed a bit as we made our way up the hill, first across a wide swathe of grassland then into woodland that sits atop the hillside. Conversation was mostly related to the flora and fauna we passed, it’s not really my thing but if it is, well sat on the back of a horse is a pretty good way to see stuff. The path was clearly well used but even so by the time we reached the road again we’d only seen one woman walking her dogs, a pair of Dachshund.

Once back on the trail the path climbed steadily first along field roads then once again into the trees. Another road crossing and the route became steeper, a couple of times my mount nearly dislodged me on the uneven ground but eventually we reached a picnic area. When I say picnic, I don’t mean patch of grass with a bin but rather several bench/table things, the bin of course but also an impressive cooking grill.

“We’ll give the pferde a rest for a few minutes,” Sara instructed.
“Um, how do I get off?”
“Gab!”
“Hang on,” Sophia told me.
Well how was I supposed to know? And it’s a long way down from up there.

“It’s peaceful here,” Mand mentioned.
“Hmm,” I agreed around my apple.
“There are often parties in the summer,” Sara told us.
“There’s a place behind Max’s similar,” I told them.
“How’d you know, Gaby Bond?” my sister demanded.
“It’s hardly a secret, Ingrid went to a party there at Halloween.”
“Do you come?” Mand asked our guides.
“We aren’t here often and it’s not like we’d get invited anyway.” Sara sighed.
“How come?” I asked.
“Think about it, Gabs,” my sister suggested.
“Live in the schloss, own half the area?” Sophia noted.
“I didn’t think it was like that in Germany,” Mand opined.
“Maybe not in the cities but in the country it is often how do you say it, still Feudalismus.”
“But last night, the party?”
“Daddy puts it on so everyone comes,” Sara stated matter of factly.
“Come on, I’m getting cold,” Sophia told us.

I have to agree; it wasn’t the warmest place, the winter sun not penetrating the boughs above us to any great extent. We retrieved our mounts and returned to the saddle – I cheated by climbing on from a picnic table! We set off once more with the promise of coffee doing its best to warm us.

After another road crossing we started a steady descent, dare I say it, I was sort of enjoying the ride. There were a few more bods about now, dog walkers; mountain bikers and a family with toddlers who squealed and shrieked with I think delight when we passed. We weren’t the only ones on horses either; at least half a dozen crossed us as we progressed to this Mönchs place.

Everyone seemed happy, well some of the bike riders were a bit serious but generally it was smiles and friendly greetings. There was one thing, well maybe two but one thing in particular that was getting irksome, my hat, helmet whatever you call it. I’m used to wearing head protection, well dur, I race bikes but my helmet weighs nothing, you don’t know you’re wearing it, this thing is heavy and the fit is – approximate and as for the chinstrap.

I was certainly glad when we reached our coffee stop; the place is actually called Mönchsdeggingen, and could actually take the damn hat off. The horses were watered and tethered – you don’t have that effort with a bike, then we went into the ‘Schwarz Adler’.

“It’s gone twelve o’clock?”
“That’s what the clock says,” Mand confirmed.
“We could get lunch,” Sophia suggested as we seated ourselves in one of those horseshoe alcoves so popular in German restaurants and bars.
“Sounds good to me,” I agreed.
“We’ll do that then,” Sara confirmed, “I’ll order the coffee and get the Speisekarte.”
Now that sounds like a plan!
“I stink of horse,” Jules stated.
I sniffed my own hands and wrinkled my nose.
“Urgh! Where’s the ladies?”
I guess you can get a bit whiffy riding a bike but smelling of you is one thing, smelling of horse is something else, something somehow less pleasant. Now where is that toilet?

Maddy Bell 26.04.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
We’d be having dinner later so we restricted ourselves to soup, none of your tinned stuff of course but a rather fine home made Erbsen suppe complete with sliced würst – yummy. Although we’d had coffee everyone agreed on Heisse Shokolade to give a bit more warmth before returning to our steeds – well via the conveniences. When we emerged it was clear that the transport was impatient to get off if all the snorting and stuff was anything to go by.

Without a convenient table to stand on my climb to the perch was, well not exactly elegant, Sophia gave me a leg up which ended with me laid across Freja’s back. It took a bit of shuffling but I eventually settled into the saddle, much to everyone else’s amusement.

“We going back the same way?” Jules asked.
“If you want, I was going to go the short way,” Sara told us.
“Short way is good for me,” I quickly put in.
“Möggingen?” Soph confirmed with her sister.
“Uh huh, it’s mostly small lanes, it should be fine.”
“Let’s go then.”
With that we urged our four legged friends into movement and started the ride back to Harburg.

Riding on the road was very different to the forest tracks, well duh but it was a different thing for me. For one it’s noisier, no not from traffic of which there wasn’t any but from the horses themselves, the distinctive clip clop of hooves on asphalt had, for the most part been missing on the outward leg. The ride was harsher too, which was soon making itself felt via my poor derrière.

We clipped and clopped along the lanes for a while in companionable silence before Sara turned to speak to us.

“That’s Möggingen over there,” she pointed across the fields, “we can go through the village and round or up through the Wald and drop back down the meadows.”
“Which is quicker?” Mand asked.
“Nothing in it really.”
“Wald?” I promoted.
Jules shrugged noncommittally.
“Wald then,” Soph stated.

We turned onto another lane and headed up towards the trees.
“Sugar!” Soph exclaimed.
I turned to see what was up.
“We might want to get under the trees guys,” Soph went on.

Everyone by now had spotted the reason for her statement, a band of cloud that was definitely depositing something was heading our way quite quickly. There was no way we’d outrun it but the Taxis girls soon had us going at a faster walk. It wasn’t enough; the trees were still some way off when we were overtaken by what turned out to be something of a snow flurry.

It probably wasn’t going to come to much but flakes were settling on Freja as well as the ground long before we reached the meagre shelter of the largely leafless trees. Sara had us slow to our previous pace – no point wearing out the horses. We turned off of the road and onto a less travelled trail through the woodland, it was still snowing but less was reaching us.

The downside of being under the trees was lack of light; with the dark cloud above us not much light was making it below the canopy. The wildlife was now noticeable by its absence as we picked our way upward through the spooky trees, just the occasional snort from our mounts breaking the near silence. What had started out as a (reasonably) pleasant jaunt was now turning into something somewhat less enjoyable.
We seemed to have been riding through the gloom for hours but eventually we emerged from the trees pretty much as the weather departed leaving us cold, damp and did I mention cold? On a bike at least your legs are going round, you can keep some warmth but on these beasts all you do is sit and these jodhpur things are not the warmest apparel.

“Typical!” Soph exclaimed.
“Sod’s law,” Jules added.
“Well it’s not far now,” Sara told us, “we’ll go along the road for a bit then we’ll go through the Wald to the meadow, we should be back in about thirty minutes.”
“Hope so, I’m frozen,” Mand stated.

It wasn’t far to the road and not a great distance along the tarmac to the crossroads that took us back into the woodland. Although it was brighter now it is the middle of winter so the daylight was already fading even as we started the descent towards Harburg. The wildlife at least was making the most of the daylight; we were accompanied by plenty of birdsong and movement in the undergrowth.
Sara pulled her mount up as we came to the edge of the trees.

“Over there,” she whispered, pointing down the meadow.
Across the sward we could see a small herd of deer grazing on the winter grasses, all very picture postcard. Beyond, our destination, The Harburg stood out boldly, the white washed walls reflecting the low sunlight.

“Canter?” Sara suggested.
Now I may not be a horse person but even I know canter is faster than walk.
“I dunno.”
“Well I’m up for it,” Jules told us.
Damn, I’ll look a right wuss if I don’t go with it.
“Okay then.”
“It’ll be fine, Gab,” Soph insisted, “lift your bum off the saddle and keep a short rein, see?”

She demonstrated and I tried to copy her, it was a bit like being on tri bars I guess. Sara led off and all too quickly Freja was moving all too quickly across the grass, me hanging on with everything I have.
“Sugar!”

I was bouncing so much I couldn’t focus properly, I’m sure we were all out racing, surely canter isn’t this fast? I ended up closing my eyes; it must end soon, mustn’t it?

“Gab, pull back,” Sara instructed.
“What?” I yelled back.
“Pull back on the reins, she’ll slow down.”

Why isn’t there a brake lever? I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to do that but fortunately my mount started to slow as the other beasts put the brakes on around her. Both Mand and Jules seemed to have things under control – they did have more experience than me.

I was only too pleased to return Freja to the care of the stable staff and hurry, albeit a little stiffly back into the castle and warmth.
“Nice ride?” Mum enquired.
“It snowed.”
“Really?”
“Not much, Mum,” Jules told her.
“It was settling wasn’t it Mand?”
“A bit,” she agreed.
“Maybe a shower?” Gran suggested.
Now that sounds like a plan.
“And put something decent on afterwards,” Mum called to our retreating backs.

I’m not sure where Soph disappeared to, I get first crack at the shower I guess – if I can make it work of course. I stripped the damp and smelly riding kit off and clambered into the shower cubicle. After playing with the control for a couple of minutes I managed to get some luke warm water – well it was better than nothing.

“Here, turn it all the way.”
“Aaargh!” My eyes shot open as Sophia squidged in beside me and the water temperature changed from warn to yay!
“Better eh?” she stated.
“Er yeah.”
“Pass the soap.”

Look, I’ve seen naked women before, I’ve had showers before, what I’m not used to is sharing a shower with one of the aforesaid naked females. I passed the soap to her and let the blush pass over me, hands firmly covering my boobs.

“Turn round, I’ll do your back then you can do mine.”
Nooo!

Soph seemed to be oblivious to my embarrassment chatting about goodness knows what. It’s not the biggest of showers so it was inevitable we’d be um, touching – touching is one thing but any movement meant closer er contact. My brain was screaming, my body was doing weird stuff, I was heading towards meltdown.

“You alright, Gaby?” Dad enquired as I sipped at mug of Glühwein I’d been given when I returned to the family room.
“Er yeah, sure, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You look a bit distracted.”
“Just erm thinking.”
“That’ll be a first,” Jules chimed in.
“Girls!” Mum shut down any retort on my part before it got to my lips.
“I’m sore in places I didn’t think I had,” Mand advised us.
“You get used to it,” Sara mentioned joining us, “where’s Soph?”
“She was playing with her hair when I came down.”
Marianne, that’s the Duchess came through to join us.
“That’s dinner sorted, anyone for cards?”
Which is how I ended up playing cards with my Gran and a Duchess on New Year’s day in a Bavarian castle – you couldn’t make it up!

Dinner was, for a German household, unusual. It was goose but presented in a very non-German way more like a carvery back in England. Not that I’m complaining, there was plenty of meat and even if the roast taters were a little dry it wasn’t Bratkartoffeln and there was gravy, yup proper gravy. Not only the main course was a surprise, there was a proper dessert, okay it was strudel but with hot almost proper custard.

“Everything okay?” the Duchess asked as we tucked in.
“Lovely thank you, Marianne,” Mum replied.
“Luddy prefers his Vanillesoße thicker,” she told us.
“It’s brill,” I offered.
“We have it thick like this in England,” Mum added.
“That’s where I got the liking,” Ludwig told us, “I backpacked around England with some friends when I was a student, jam roly poly, amazing!”
“Now that’s a pudding,” Dad agreed, “Juliette is a dab hand making it.”
“Daad!” my sister complained.
“She does it for Willie at the restaurant sometimes.”
“Your daughters have many talents eh?” the Duchess stated looking at her own.
“We’ll have to do it next time you are at the Ahrtal,” Dad pressed on.

We ended the evening playing some inane board game where you had to answer questions on different subjects depending on the square you landed on. The adults seemed to enjoy it at least. By mutual consent we had a relatively early night, we’ll be heading home in the morning.

“What’s up, Gab? Come on the bed is warm tonight.”
“Er yeah.”
To be honest the earlier business in the shower has been on my mind all evening, not just sharing the cubicle but my reaction to it. It was only a shower; people share showers all the time don’t they? So why did my body respond like it did when Soph touched me?

And then there was this morning, it was nice cuddled up, comforting but… oh I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m used to sleeping on my own and the shower – well I used to use the communal showers when I went to Warsop College. Oh my god, I was showering with the boys, naked! Calm down, Gabs, you were a boy back then, well if not in fact, in belief, so it was alright wasn’t it?

“You getting in or what?” Soph prompted.
“Sure,” I replied clambering into the covers that my bedmate held open for me.
I was immediately pulled into a hug, a not entirely unwelcome hug. I pulled the light cord and closed my eyes.

Maddy Bell 26.04.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

I woke with a mouthful of hair; hair that I quickly realised was not attached to me. In fact a quick inventory suggested that not only was I sucking on Sophia’s hair but also I was firmly entwined, my face, well you don’t need to know that. It was, well, nice but my bladder was suggesting strongly that I visit the bathroom post haste.

A check of my timepiece revealed it was a few minutes to seven, time to get up anyhow. I took a chance and hit the shower not sure if I wanted to get clean on my own or have Sophia join me. In the event she was still gently snoring when I returned to the bedroom to dress leaving me with more questions than answers.

“You packed?” Mum asked as we descended for breakfast.
“Pretty much.”
“Your dad wants to get off quite sharp.”
“’Kay,” I agreed, well I’m up so that’s half the battle over.

Dad’s ‘pretty sharp’ and reality might not have exactly matched – it was fast approaching ten when the bus eventually left The Harburg! There was no single thing that caused the late start; the time just seemed to evaporate. But anyway we were on our way now.

“You’re quiet this morning, Gaby,” Gran noted as we negotiated Nordlingen’s ‘by-pass’ a few minutes into our journey.
“I guess.”
“I suppose you’re looking forward to school tomorrow?”
“As if!”
“That’s more like the Gaby I know,” Gran chuckled, “so what’s on your mind that’s keeping you so quiet?”
“Nothing really, just stuff, Gran.”
“Well if you want to talk about any of this ‘stuff’ you know you can talk to me.”
“Maybe at home,” I allowed nodding towards the front of the bus where the others seemed to be disarguing about something or other.
“Later then, I’m going to try and get forty winks,” she told me.

By the time we reached the autobahn we were all pretty much lost in our own worlds, Gran snoozing, Jules had her nose in some textbook she was supposed to have read over the holidays, Mand working on one of those Sudoku things. Me? Well whilst I was nominally looking out of the window at the passing scenery my mind was somewhere else.

You can probably take a reasonable stab at what was on my mind, it was certainly weighing quite heavily. Soph hadn’t said anything, was it all in my head? Was there really anything going on there at all? Sure we shared a bed, we snuggled up but was that just what happens in this situation.

It’s not like Soph exactly came on to me; there was no kissing or erm, touching as such, not like with Max or even Toni last summer. Not that I encourage him but I’m sure if it had been Max in the bed it would’ve been a bit, no a lot, more touching. So just what is it I’m feeling?

Hmm, Max, now there’s a can of worms. What really happened over Christmas, was it just the atmosphere, a bit of alcohol fuelled exuberance or is it genuine attraction? None of my friends seemed inclined to act the same way, a quick snog with von Strechau certainly hit different buttons to being with his cousin.

By the time we pulled into Würzburg Süd services I’d played the whole thing through my head every which way for well over an hour. The only conclusion I’d come to was that it was nice cuddling with Sophia this weekend. On the other hand getting close and personal with Max, well it’s different, nice but in a different sort of way.

“Coffee?” Mum suggested, a full complement of agreements were returned – Gran has finally agreed that the excuse for tea you get served in Germany just isn’t worth the heartbreak!

The usual ritual had to be followed of course, queue for the ladies, scratch through your purse for change to get in and receive a voucher for 50c which you might remember to use towards the bladder refill. More likely it’ll join the collection of similar slips hiding in your bag, staying forgotten there until you have the annual clearout when it’ll get binned. Today though Mum was on the ball, collecting six vouchers that went towards our refreshment bill.

“Urgh!” I complained after sampling my caffeine infusion, “That’s terrible.”
“Tastes alright to me,” Mand offered.
“They’ve used the wrong beans, either that or they didn’t clean the pan.”
“We’ll bow to your superior knowledge,” Jules put in.
“It’s important.”
“As long as it’s wet,” Dad added from the next table.

Philistine! He’d drink anything that has even the merest hint of coffee flavouring. I’m not a coffee snob but if you are going to make it at least make it properly.

“So what’s been keeping you so quiet anyway?” Mand enquired between mouthfuls of just about passable Pflaumkuchen.
“Just thinking.”
“About getting it on with Max,” my sister opined.
“As if!”
“Jules,” Mum warned.
“She calls me on Boris all the time.”
“Do not,” I riposted.
“Dad?” Jules appealed.
“Don’t drag me into it.”
“But she’s always doing it,” my sister whined.
Okay, I’ll admit that I have been known to tease her about ole rubber lips but always?
“Well both of you are old enough to know better, Jules stop teasing your sister about Max and, Gaby, same applies to Boris,” Mum instructed us.
“No fun,” I mumbled.
Mum twitched an eyebrow, next would be Sunday names.
“Yes, Mum.”
“Whatever,” Jules added.
“I mean it,” Mum insisted.
Mand never did get an answer to her question.

The rest of the drive back to the Ahr was under increasingly ominous skies, somewhere around Frankfurt they finally started to give up their load. It was at least not snow but the rain that fell was in biblical quantities – at one point we had to slow to a crawl to negotiate flooding of the motorway that had claimed some fool in a tricked out Golf. Another toilet stop delayed us a bit more but we pulled onto our front a bit after four.

“Gran?”
“Yes love?” she finished ironing a pair of knickers – who needs pressed pants?
“You know earlier?”
“You want to talk?”
“Er please?”
“Put the kettle on, I’ll make sure we aren’t disturbed.”

“… And she didn’t say anything?”
“Well not as such.”
“Not as such?” Gran confirmed.
“Well she sort of said she was looking forward to sharing again.”
“I think you’re reading more into things than is there love. You have a soft toy in your bed? Most girls do.”
“Er Poly,” I admitted, he’s a Polar Bear alright?
“And you sometimes wake up cuddling it? I know your mother used to, it was a moth eaten thing called Ted. I’m pretty sure Sophia was enjoying having someone to cuddle up to, it’s probably quite lonely for her away at school and she sees you as a surrogate sister, someone to offer some comfort.”
“I don’t cuddle with Jules.”
“But that doesn’t mean you won’t, what about when your Mum was ill?”
“Well I guess we did a bit, once or twice – but we never shared a bed,” I pointed out.
“Lots of girls do, it doesn’t have to be about sex,” Gran told me.
“I guess not,” I agreed.

I’m still not sure what I felt about it all, maybe it’s me fancying her rather than the other way about? Well it’s a possibility, I do like her but no more than the Angels or Roni or even Mand.

“Urgh!” I announced as I dripped into Thesing’s. Yesterdays rain was still falling, it might have stopped for a bit during the night but it’s as wet as ever this morning.
“And happy New Year to you too,” Con mentioned.
We did exchange texts but I’ve not actually spoken to anyone since Wednesday last year.

“Fröhes Neu Jahre,” I offered in mitigation.
“So how was Bavaria?” Steff enquired.
“Okay I guess.”
“Just okay?” Nena queried.
“Well you guys weren’t there.”
“Or Max,” Pia added.
“Him as well,” I agreed.
“So what did you get up to?” Con pressed.
“Nothing much, they had a firework display and a big party, usual New Years really.”
“I cannot believe that,” Pia stated.
“It was in the castle,” I allowed.
“Usual she says,” Bridg noted with a roll of her eyes.
“I suppose you spent Saturday sleeping it off,” Nena suggested.
“Dad did, he was well lathered, we went riding.”
“You took your bikes?” Con accused.
“Dur, pferde dummy,” I told them.
“You, on a horse? Where did they find one small enough?” Steff asked.
“Yes a horse, it was flippin’ huge.”
“So you’re giving up the fahrrad then?” Pia proposed.
“No way!”

The ride to school was pretty dire, well it could’ve been worse but we squeezed our steeds onto the Express so we only had the short hop from the station to Silverberg to get wet. It was more than far enough to get quite thoroughly wet which only added to the damp atmosphere pervading much of the school. I did at least have spare shoes to change into, thanks Gran, but my jeans were sodden.

“You can’t sit in those all day, Gaby, you’ll catch your death,” Frau Dürst mentioned after registration.
I wasn’t the only one who was wet but I was the one doing most of the dripping and shivering.
“I didn’t bring anything to change into.”
“You can borrow mine,” Rolf suggested.
“Not helpful, Rolf, come on, Gaby, let’s see if Claudia has anything in lost property.”

The options in the lost property box were, well limited to say the least, two pairs of boys trousers, a pair of football shorts, some jeggings that made me look like Nora Batty* and to my dismay a netball skirt in the school’s bright red colours. It was Hobson’s choice, that is none at all; at least my spare tights were still in my bag. I still stood out like a lighthouse, the only girl in school wearing a skirt, a short one at that – I left my jeans dripping in the cloakroom.

“How come the rock?” Steff asked at lunch.
“Frau Dürst insisted because my jeans were soaked.”
“It’s not exactly ready for January,” Brid pointed out.
“Tell me about it, it’s all there was in lost property. Anyhow how comes you lot have dry trousers?”
“Planning?” Pia giggled.

Maddy Bell 02.05.16

* Character from the much loved Yorkshire sitcom Last of the Summer Wine; Nora’s stockings were always wrinkled.

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
When I got home there was a packet waiting for me, the postmark was Worksop, I wonder who’s sending me stuff? I’ve had presents and stuff from everyone, I’m sure I did. Opening would have to wait, my jeans, despite dripping all day were still sodden and this flippin’ skirt didn’t offer much protection on the ride home – a shower and warm clothes first.

The house was strangely quiet, Gran was out with Mum, Dad was doing stuff with George in the office today and the others wouldn’t be home for a while yet. I luxuriated under the water for a bit too long, I was starting to prune by the time I finished. Monday, cheer practice, I guess I should dress for that; I can layer up a bit for warmth after all.

Back in the kitchen I made a brew and opened the package – ah, the stuff from Miss Cowlishaw, I’d forgotten about that. There was a stack of photocopied pages with a note pinned to the top.

Dear Gaby,
As promised find enclosed the new moves we talked about, I was going to email them but it was simpler just to copy and post them. They are graded for difficulty and I’ve added a few notes that you might find useful in teaching your girls how to do them.
Let me know you’ve got the notes and of course drop me a line if you have any questions.
Have fun,
Fran

I flicked through the pages, I recognised some of the moves, others were new to me – of course it’s been a couple of years since I left the Foresters after that to do in America. My mind flicked back to that day in Fairfax…
“And in first place with a most innovative set, all the way from England, The Sure-wood Foresters!”
Em and Ally were doing a jig already.
“Come on girls, shake a leg.” Miss C beamed, “let’s show ‘em how it's done”

We must have some sort of ESP as we lined up and made our entrance to huge applause and cheering. How did Miss C know? Despite trying to stay professional I couldn't help my face breaking into a cheesy grin as we were presented with the ridiculous trophy. It was a bit like Eurovision, the winners all got to reprise their performance, the familiar tones of our backing track started up and we got to repeat our performance.

It all came back, the moves, the cheering, the final drop into the splits and yeah, that daft trophy. I enjoyed my time with the Foresters but in the end, well bikes and the move here put paid to things. Flicking through the pages, I started to put a programme together in my head – okay the Ahr All Stars might not be brilliant at the moment but who knows what’ll happen in the future.

“Gaby?” Dad called from the office, “A minute.”
What have I done now? “Coming.”
I put my notes down and joined pater.
“Sit down, kiddo.”
Ot oh, not good.
“I’ve been with George most of the day, we’ve been looking at the programme up to Easter.”
“Right.” I allowed.
“We both agree that it’s time for us, as a team to up our horizons, the Junge Cup is okay as far as it goes but we’d like to move on. The guys at BC are keen to back us in these ambitions, experience breeds success eh?”
“Er sure.”
“We’ll be looking to join the European Junior series, events like the junior classics.”
“Kewl!”
“But we have a problem.”
“Oh?”
“You.”
“Me? How?”
“Well the European series are much stricter with who rides what, they segregate the events tightly.”
I think I could see where this was going, “Kay.”
“So question is, do you ride with the lads or the girls?”
“The lads of course,” I enthused.
“Don’t be so hasty.”
“But I’ve been beating the boys,” I pointed out.
“I know but there’s a catch, if you are signed up to the lad’s series that’s it, no going back, you are committed for the series.”
“And?”
“Well if you can’t compete on their level that’s it, sink or swim.”
“It sounds like there’s a plan B?”
“We could put you in the girls’ series, the top ten riders can opt to ride the lad’s events, if it doesn’t workout you can return to the girls’ events.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad, what about Ron and the others?”
“Same thing, I wanted to run it by you first, give you the option. It doesn’t affect the domestic events or even all the internationals, well you rode Switzerland which is mixed.”
“So like, how do we get in the top ten?”
“The UCI have a ranking committee, George has spoken with them, you and Ron are already in as is that Swiss girl.”
“So I can ride the lad’s events anyway?”
“As long as you keep that ranking.”
“No probs,” I replied with enthusiasm.
“That’s sorted then, I suppose you want a lift to the Tanzklub?”
“Plee-ase.”
“Ten minutes.”

“So let me get this right,” Mand paused, “if you enter the lad’s series they consider you as a boy full stop but girls.”
“Some,” I interrupted.
“Some girls,” she confirmed, “can ride the lad’s event or the girls’?”
“Just about sums it up,” I agreed as I finished tying my laces.
“Well I won’t be troubling the lads, will I?”
“You never know and we’ll still be riding mixed events here in Germany.”
“It’s a bit of a double standard though,” she pointed out.
“I guess,” I allowed. I hadn’t really looked at things beyond what it means to me.

“And one and two aaaand stop!” Hannah cut the tape, “hold it and… relax.”

I wasn’t the only one puffing a bit after running through our start up programme. Next week we’ll start working on some of the moves from Miss Cowli, I mean Fran’s sheets. Everyone seemed to be enthused by the prospect of the competition – even those not currently in the main squad.

“Well done girls,” Hannah told us, “Gab?”
“Yeah, good session everyone,” I gasped a deep lungful of air, “we need to tighten up the landings a bit but practice makes perfect.”
“Okay then, I’ll see the Garde on Friday, the rest of you next week,” Hannah concluded.

“We seem to be progressing,” Hannah supplied during our debrief.
“We’ll try some of Fran’s new moves next week.”
“Thank her for us, she seems a good sort.”
“Yeah, she is,” I agreed.
“You coming Friday, you looked a bit stiff tonight.”
“Horse riding.”
“I didn’t know you rode.”
“We were at a friend’s for New Year, they ride so we did too, my bum still feels bruised.”
“A long, hot bath – works wonders,” she suggested.
“Might try that.”

We might have got out of bike training yesterday but not today. School was less traumatic than yesterday – well I didn’t end up wearing a stupid short skirt. Anyhow the continuing damp – combined with it being January meant that for me and Mand training was on the turbo’s in the garage.

I might’ve mentioned that I hate static trainers but sometimes they have their uses like today. I have to go to the clinic tomorrow to be signed off as fit so my return to training is a little pre-emptive. The noise is silly, Caroline suggested listening to music with headphones – maybe I’ll have to buy some this weekend.

Thankfully it was an endurance session so after warming up it was pretty much forty minutes of constant ninety percent effort ending with a ramping up of effort before warming down. BC want us to use heart rate monitors, you won’t believe how difficult it is to stay in your training zone – I had to ease off a couple of times as I’d subconsciously upped my effort. Of course the other issue with indoor training is heat, when you are outside you are cooled by passing air but not in our garage.

Even stripping to bra and bib shorts, with the fan going we were soon leaking salty water onto the floor. By the end of the session we were drenched, our clothing a soggy mess.

“So how was it?” Mum asked when I returned from my eyrie.
“I hate turbo sessions.”
“Better than being out in the wet.”
“Only just,” I grunted.
“I’ll pick you up from school tomorrow, we can do some shopping before your appointment.”
“What about my bike?”
“It’ll go on the rack.”
“’Kay,” I agreed.

“Don’t plan anything Saturday,” Dad instructed as I cleared my breakfast stuff away.
“I’m supposed to be working.”
“That’s fine.”
“Why?”
“We’re taking your Gran out, I’ve got a table booked at the schloss.”
“I suppose it’s posh frocks?”
“What do you think?”
“’Kay, what time’s her flight?”
“Not till six, your Mum suggested Sunday lunch then a leisurely ride to the airport.”
“I suppose I’m cooking then,” I mused.
“I’m sure it won’t just be you.”
“Maybe, it’ll seem weird with her not here.”
“You miss her don’t you?”
“A lot, I know we didn’t see her a lot but she was only a couple of hours away, now it’s a flight and like half a day.”
“You can phone her.”
”It’s not the same though.”
No it’s not the same, you can’t cuddle, it’s impersonal, yes you can talk but it’s not the same as being there.

The weather was still miserable, miserable but not for now at least actually raining.
“We still going to the costume thing?” Bridg queried.
“I’m in,” I told the gang.
“Suppose we need costumes,” Pia suggested.
“There supposed to be a theme?” Con enquired.
“Think so,” Steff mentioned, “I’ll look on the website later.”
“Hope it’s nothing too fancy,” Nena put in.
“We can get Anna on board,” I suggested.

Maddy Bell 03.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
So okay we had the bike rack on the car but my Schauff is no racing lightweight. We had a right Laurel & Hardy time trying to get it on board; you need to be an octopus. Of course I was hardly any help as I couldn’t even reach the rack, we were eventually rescued by Marty who spotted the pair of us doing the bike tango – he had it up and locked in place in seconds – grrr.

“Cheers, Mart.”
“No probs, Gab, Frau Bond.”
“You heard from Bern?” I enquired whilst Mum stowed my basket amongst the assorted bike kit in the car’s boot.
“She writes every week, even my mother is taken by Drea’s antics.”
I’m not really a baby fan, I might’ve helped Drea into the world but the mere thought of having children myself – well, urgh, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

“I should write to her, it’s been quite hectic the last few weeks.”
“Gabs,” Mum hinted.
“Have to go, thanks for the bike.”
“Anytime, see you tomorrow.”
“Tschuss.”

“He’s a nice lad,” Mum opined as we negotiated the afternoon traffic out to the bypass.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “he’s a good egg and pretty stuck on Bern.”
“Did you say she coming to visit?”
“In a few weeks,” I confirmed.
“She bringing the baby?”
“Think so.”
“That’ll be nice, eh?”
“I guess.”
Of course it won’t be the same as before, having a baby along will cramp our style and our options when we go out.
“Just don’t you and Max give me grand children too soon eh, I’m not old enough to be Oma.”
“Mum! That is just so not going to happen!”
I couldn’t help but see the smirk on Mum’s face, phew; she’s winding me up.

We parked in Lidl’s car park; we often come down to Sinzig, as it’s usually quieter than the ones up the valley. It was one thing we had to adapt to when we moved out here, there were a few Aldi, Lidl and Netto stores opening in the Worksop area but they were a bit of a sideshow. If you wanted to do the weekly shop it was Sainsbury’s or Tesco – huge shops selling everything from knickers to haggis, you kind of got used to buying pretty much everything and anything under one roof.

If you’ve ever been into a German supermarket you’ll know what I’m talking about – a smaller range, less branded stuff, absence of cafes and certainly no clothing or TV’s – unless you count the weekly offers. It might explain why Germans love their department stores; there are butchers, bakers, shoe shops and boutiques aplenty. You want a Geburtstag card – go to a card shop, printer cartridge – a visit to Saturn is for you, drinks for a party? The Getränke Markt will have everything you want.

So why do people use the ‘supermarkets’? Basics and emergencies for the most part. You have to buy toilet paper somewhere, they are the go to place for milk and of course they are open from dawn till dusk. Mum’s shopping list was short but important, the aforesaid loo roll and milk but also some fixings – more stuff you don’t see in the UK semolina dumplings, Bratkartoffeln dressing, Jäger sauce.
Instead of an hour or more in Sainsbury’s our Lidl shop took just fifteen minutes – I managed to sneak some gummi bears into the trolley, I’m Gaby, I’m an addict!

I wasn’t looking forward to my appointment, yeah it should clear me as fit but the prodding and poking – not fun. Then there was the bloodletting, weeing into a pot and the smell, they must bottle that hospital odour, it’s the same everywhere and I should know, I’ve been in enough of the places. We found a parking spot and I changed my jeans for a long skirt and yes, clean pants before we headed into the Remagen Frauenklinik.

We didn’t have to wait too long past our appointed time before Hilde called us through to the examination room where Dr Schindler was waiting for me.
“So how are we doing, Miss Bond?”
Rub it in why don’t you.
“Okay,” I replied non-commitally.
“So no problems? How have your period’s been?”
Apart from bloaty, bloody and messy?
“The last one wasn’t as heavy was it, Gab?” Mum volunteered.
“Gaby?” Dr Schindler prompted.
“I don’t have much to compare with so I don’t know what normal is but I guess it wasn’t as bad as the one before.”
“It should settle down.”
“What about the birth control? They stopped it before.”
“If your bloods are okay we can see about putting you back on them, have to make sure we get it right, eh?”
That was supposed to be the bright spot to today, getting the prescription for those tiny tabs.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine, let’s do the exam, Hilde will give you a hand.”
I am not telling you about that, it’s traumatic enough as it is, half naked, legs akimbo, on view to the world.

“Well everything looks fine,” the Doc announced when I returned from Hilde’s bodily fluid extractions.
“So I’m clear to train?”
“Yes you’re clear although I suspect you’ve already started?”
“A bit,” I allowed.
“Well take it easy to begin with, any pain or inflammation ease off eh, Mum?”
“I’ll keep an eye,” Mum agreed.
“Okay, well I think that’s us done, you’ll get a letter in a few days discharging you, you can talk to your own doctor about birth control or go to the Well Woman clinic in Bad Neuenahr.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Mum offered.
“Um yeah,” I added.
“Well we don’t get too many patients as troublesome as you young lady, I don’t want to see you again until your annual, eh?”
“Yeah, I mean no.”

When we got home Gran had cooked dinner, an English stew that only lacked the suet dumplings. Well you can’t have everything, Mum suggested doing some Yorkshire puds, you know, the king size ones for which we did have the makings – it only delayed eating for half an hour and went down well with everyone. Homemade rice pudding completed the meal – Gran makes it particularly glutinous, it’ll stick to anything, can’t be beaten!

The problem was that it made me even more Gran sick; I’m really going to miss her when she goes home. I don’t even know when I’ll get to see her again, she’ll probably come again next Christmas but that’s like a year away. But before then, well I’ve no idea when we’ll be together again, in a few weeks the racing season kicks off and time will be at a premium.

“So the doctor says you are well?” Con suggested passing me a coffee next morning.
“Well I shouldn’t start falling apart at least.”
“Gaby, can I have a word?” Herr Thesing requested from the bakery door.
“Er sure.”
I slipped out of the booth and went across to the bakery.
“What’s up, Mr T?”
“Saturday,” he started.
“I’m yours all day.”
“That’s the thing, Gaby, Gloria has swapped her shift so we only need you in the afternoon.”
Bum, I could’ve done with a full shift, my current account is looking a bit thin after Chrimbo.
“Er sure, what time then?”
“One o’clock okay?”
“Sure,” I agreed.

Thursday wasn’t much different to any other school day, well the weather was a bit crappy but it is January after all. On the plus side I didn’t suffer any clothing issues, the flip side though was a mock exam in English and a disappointing mark on my Geography homework. Just another day in the life of Gaby Bond, spinster of this parish.

“Well if you aren’t working in the morning you can train with Manda,” Dad suggested as he dropped me off at Friday’s Garde.
“I guess so,” I allowed without much enthusiasm.
“Look, kiddo, I know you’ve been off the bike for a while but you need to get back into the habit.”
“I’ve been on the turbo.”
“Once, I know it can be hard getting back in the habit but if you want to race…”
“I know,” I interrupted, “no pain, no gain.”
“I wasn’t going to say that but yes. We’re not going to force you, Gaby, if you don’t want to race, you don’t have to, we’ll support you either way.”
“But I want to race!”
“So the morning?”
“Yeah, yeah, we can do the Nurburgring I guess. Have to go.”
“Don’t forget your bag!”
I returned to the car and retrieved my dance bag.

“So where’re we going again?” Mand asked as we clacked out of the garage into the weak January sunshine.
“Münstereifel, well it’s Bad Münstereifel, really.”
“I’ve seen that on a sign somewhere.”
“Altenahr, we go up the valley then we turn off just past the campsite,” I told her as I clipped in.
“So why not up to the Ring?”
“Dad thought it would be a bit more even effort, it’s not as much up or down.”
“I might be able to keep up then.”
“You’re not on a horse this week,” I pointed out before poking my tongue out at her.

The roads of course were damp, a few puddles of course and the temperature low enough to warrant heavy gloves but not so cool that the air hurts your lungs. We set off up the valley at a steady pace, a pace that took us easily through Rech and Mayschoß, the climb past the Tanzklub and through the tunnel the first time we had to dig a little deeper. I wasn’t trying to push things, to be honest it had me working harder than I’d expected, I usually float up.

We dodged the usual Saturday morning traffic through Altenahr, hausfrau hitting the Fleischerei, the florist doing a steady trade despite the time of year and the usual daft driving. Along to the bridge and up to the level crossing, which we crossed as the signals, started flashing and jangling. Things settled down as we took the sweeping bend around to Kreuzberg where the new road crosses and the sign pointing to Münstereifel.

It might not be the long, long climb up to Adenau but the mix of following the river before the hairpin climb to Effelsburg give a more varied mix of effort. You can just see the telescope from the road; Mand was quite impressed when I pointed it out to her.

“Looks more impressive than that place we went past when we were at Manchester.”
“Jodrell Bank?”
“If you say so.”

Now that brings back memories, Mum memories, Gran memories and yes, Gaby memories.

Maddy Bell 05.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
“Come on, if you don’t hurry up we won’t get there in time!”

Although not really a race, the fancy dress competitors still had that urge to go as quick as possible. Some were encumbered by their costumes, Tower Bridge was one example, but our closer fitting costumes allowed us to race along almost unhindered. So it was that by the time we reached the finish, we had caught another three teams and we finished to a great cheer from the gallery of cyclists and locals that lined the finish area.

‘Oh yes indeed,’ I mused as we headed up to the roundabout, ‘the first time I made an appearance as Gaby on a bike.’

Back then my twelve year old aspirations were mostly about having fun, Mum was still teaching geography at my school, I hadn’t even worked out that I was related to Mad. Thinking back though it was probably sometime around then that my life started to change, yeah things were never the same after that Christmas.

“Gab!”
“Eh?”
“Which way?” Mand queried.
I quickly assessed where we were, “Left.”
We made the turn before Mand spoke again.
“So what were you thinking about, you looked away with the fairies, there.”
“Nothing really, just some race I did with Mum a couple of years back, it went past Jodrell.”
“Must’ve made an impression.”
“Could say that,” I allowed, “you could say it was the real start of Gaby Bond’s cycling career.”
“You say that like as though it wasn’t you.”
“I’m not sure it was.”

We made the descent into Bad Münstereifel and rather than go around the town I took us into the centre to show Mand the telephone box.
“Weird or what?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “no idea why it’s here.”
“Take a picture for us,” Mand demanded.
“Go on then,” I allowed.
She stood in front of the red British telephone box with her steed, the camera on my phone isn’t brilliant but you could just about workout who was in the picture.
“We’d best get a move on,” I suggested after noting the time on the church clock.
“Have to come here for a look sometime,” Mand suggested.
“A lot of tourists come in the summer, there’s some glass place at the top of the town.”

It didn’t take us long to return to our task and we were soon heading south on the Blankenheim road. I nearly missed our turn back towards the Ahrtal, I was looking for Adenau on the sign but it only had Mahlberg – it was the bus that turned just ahead of us that saved a lengthy detour.

“Mand?”
“Hmm?” she replied through a mouthful from her bidon.
“Have you ever slept with another girl?”
“Like the same bed?”
“I guess.”
“A few times, if I stayed at Sian’s or my cousin’s in Slough.”
“Right.”
“Why’d you ask?”
“Nothing really.”
“Something to do with staying with Sophia?” Mand guessed.
“Yes, no, well sort of.”
“She come on to you or something?”
“Well not exactly,” I demurred.
“She either did or didn’t, Gab.”
“We sort of cuddled.”
“And?”
“Well that’s it really.”
“Is that all? I thought you were going to announce undying love or something.”
“That’s just it Mand, I don’t know what I feel; left at the bottom,” I advised as we descended through the trees.

We made the turn before picking up the conversation.
“You didn’t want to ravish her, kiss her to death or anything?”
“No.”
“And she didn’t put on any moves?”
“Ut uh,” I agreed.
“But you cuddled.”
“Uh huh, ‘nother left coming up.”
“Dunno what your stressing about, cuddling is hardly illegal or anything.”
“But?”
“Nothing wrong with a cuddle, it’s pretty normal you know.”
“I suppose.”

We tackled the bends down to Dumpelfeld where we joined the main Ahrtal road that will take us back home. The gradient isn’t much but we started to wind things up a bit after Hönningen towards Brück, the end of the Express line. We crossed the Preiser’s pick up, exchanging a wave with his mum; Erika who I’m guessing had been shopping down in Ahrweiler.

Things got a bit competitive on the run back into Altenahr, Mand ran me close for the name board sprint – maybe I’m more out of condition than I thought. We dodged more shoppers then it was into the hole and down into the gorge. It was every girl for herself as we chased down the valley, neither of us giving an inch until we’d passed the Dernau board.

“Don’t forget you need to get home sharp,” Mum instructed as I scooted the Schauff down the drive.
“Later!”
As if I’d forget Gran’s dinner, hmm I wonder if Max’ll be about? My stomach growled in agreement, maybe I need to grab something at Thesing’s.

I enjoy working at the bakery, okay it’s probably not a full time career choice but there are worse places to earn a few euros. You soon know nearly everyone who comes in, certainly at this time of year, you get a few grockles in the summer. The product range is pretty fixed, a few seasonal specials for Easter and Christmas and there’s no hard sell – suits me to a T.

Today, the first week of January was pretty standard, a few people dropping in for coffee and cake, gateaux and buns for tea, the last bread orders collected. Plenty of time to clean up and just as importantly to grab a coffee and a slightly wilted brötchen to tide me over. Salami over salad isn’t my first choice in a sandwich but it filled the hole.

Of course I wasn’t alone, Con was acting boss so we did as much chatting as working.
“So she sewed you into the dress?”
“Uh huh, I didn’t know like, well not until I tried to take it off.”
“That’s a bit extreme.”
“Apparently it was common at one time, they didn’t change clothes for weeks.”
“Ew! I’m like a polecat after a day.”
“You said it,” I grinned.
“Why you, you, Gaby Bond, you!”
“So anyway we went outside to get some pictures.”
“I thought it snowed?”
“That was Saturday, it was quite nice on Friday down there.”
“Better than here.”
“Well anyway we went back inside and she went to get something in the bedroom while I went to the attic, when she didn’t come I went to find her.”
“And she was fitting on the floor?”
“Yeah, she had some right bruises afterwards.”
“She’s okay now though?”
“I guess.”
“I thought it was flashing lights that did it? They have those warnings on the TV.”
“Marianne, that’s her mum…”
“The Duchess. right?” Con interrupted.
“Yeah, so anyway she said it could be almost anything, just getting excited even which is what happens with Soph.”
“Downer or what?”
“Yeah, sugar, look at the time.”
Five past five, we close at five on Saturdays and I need to get home toot sweet!

I was out within two minutes, the dyno lighting my way home. I should’ve got a dress out earlier, what should I wear, not the white dress, the red one’s a bit much for a family dinner too. I got the revs going so I’d get back up the drive, almost crashing into the door, the Schauff’s brakes are pretty poor.

“There you are, Gabs, what are you wearing tonight?” Jules asked as I popped into the kitchen to lose my coat.
“Not sure yet.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah, Mum suggested you wear your Swiss thing, Gran likes it on you apparently.”
“Looks like that’s decided then,” I sighed.

Great, so now I have to dress up like a tourist doll!

Maddy Bell 05.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
Well okay it’s not the worst thing in the world and, well I do kind of like how I look in it but that’s between you and me. It’s just, well it’s Gran, I mean I know she’s there for me, always has been but how does she really see me? Oh well, I’d best go get ready.

Knock, knock!
“Hello?”
“Gab’s, can I come in?” Mand requested.
What does she want? I’m trying to dress.
“I guess,” I agreed rewrapping myself in a towel. “Wassup?”
She came in and closed the door.
“Er Jules told me what you’re wearing tonight.”
“That was good of her,” I mumped.
“I asked, I didn’t want to look a tit by over dressing or something.”
“I guess not,” I allowed, “so what are you wearing?”
“That’s the thing, like I was wondering, well you’re wearing the dirndl thing, well could I maybe wear your other one?”
“You want to wear Kostüm?”
“Well I erm thought that, well you wouldn’t feel so erm odd?”
“Did the Dark One put you up to this?”
“No, no, it’s my idea.”
“’Kay, it might not fit, you are a bit bigger than me.”
“Not much.”
Well I guess that’s true; it’s mostly that she’s taller, maybe a bit bustier.
“Okay then, let me get dressed and I’ll come down to your room, ten, fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll get showered.”

Mand despatched, I returned to my own dressing, it might look complicated but really it’s not. So okay it’s more than just a dress but the fuss some people make…

A few minutes later I was inspecting myself in the mirror, I need to do my hair and slap but clothing wise I was sorted. I hefted the girls, I suppose the underwired BH works okay but I will get one of those unter BH things to er complete the look. What am I saying?
I had a lightbulb moment and grabbed my Handy.

It rang twice before being answered, “Gabs?”
“Von Strechau.”
“What’s up?”
“I want to ask a favour, you know we’re coming to the restaurant tonight?”

“You’ve got too much boob,” I sighed a few minutes later.
“It’s not far off,” Mand groaned.
It was looking like the whole plan was going down the toilet. I stood looking at Mand’s chest – I’m not a perv, I don’t usually check out other people’s boobs. Hmm, maybe.
“Take it off, I’ve got an idea.”

“Ta da!”
I stood back and surveyed my girl friend.
“It’s like wearing a corset,” she suggested.
“Except more comfortable and you can still move,” I pointed out.
“I’ll take your word on that,” Mand allowed, checking herself out in the mirror, “I’ve never worn one.”

The solution had been quite simple in the end, a change of bra; instead of an underwire we swapped her to a t-shirt bra. Once the dirndl was zipped up we er, fluffed things up et voila, a suitable display of girl chest flesh! Now we just had to finish stuff off.

“Amanda?” Mum pointlessly queried.
“What do you reckon?” I asked in turn.
“It’s Gab’s dress,” Mand supplied.
Dad just shook his head with a smirk on his face.
We’d gone all out with hair and makeup, we both sported elaborate pretzel braids, Mand’s once white locks are a bit more toned down now but she’s still favouring a very blonde look.
“Sugar!” Jules groaned. Instead of Gaby looking a right narna, with Manda similarly dressed she was the one who was looking a complete dog’s dinner.

Of course when Gran saw them she was effusive in her compliments, not that she ignored her eldest grand child but, well the youngsters had gone the extra mile.

Dad had ordered a taxi bus, no one would have to worry about drinking tonight – which is just as well when Willie von Strechau is the host! Of course it also meant that we could all travel in one vehicle without being sat on top of each other.
“Come on, ladies, the bus is here,” Dad told us.

Of course, it’s not far up to the Schloss and we pulled up outside of the restaurant after less than ten minutes even after waiting at the level crossing for the Express. Dad corralled his flock and herded us into the barn where we were greeted by a waiting Max.
“Good evening, Herr Bond, ladies, if you would follow me please,” he requested, giving me a wink.

He really is a good egg; he’d got his own Kostüm on and was looking pretty dapper. We were seated and drink orders taken before being left with the menus.

I looked around the room, I’m sure I’ve said before, it’s a fairly exclusive up market place, it’s not even open every day. Tonight we were one of seven parties here to enjoy Willie’s sometimes eclectic culinary delights – none of your tiny portions on huge plates at inflated prices. No the von Strechau thing is healthy portions of country food from around Europe, one week it could be French, the next British and so on.

Tonight however the menu was, by coincidence, German, well Germanic I suppose. Not your schnitzel and sausage but a more exciting and varied range of offerings, even I wasn’t sure what some of the dishes actually are.

“When you told me Wilhelm had a restaurant, I never imagined this,” Gran opined.
“Jules helps out sometimes, don’t you love?” Mum told her mother.
“A bit,” my sister conceded.
“Do you have a costume too?” Gran asked.
“Not likely, I work in the kitchen.”
“Ah, Bonds!” Baron von Strechau cheerfully greeted our table a moment later.
Max had excelled himself; his dad was dressed in Kostüm too, much to Gran’s obvious surprise and delight.

You don’t want and I’m not going to go through the evening in fine detail, suffice to say that we had a great evening. Well okay I had what is essentially the all day breakfast, Bauernfrühstück, you know, fried potato, chopped sausage, onion and this incarnation was topped off with a fried egg. Elsewhere around the table Labskaus, Leberknödel, some sort of roulade and pork knuckle were consumed.

It was pretty late by the time we left, in good spirits and after, well I said didn’t I, a stonking evening. Mand and me were complimented on our appearance by several of the other diners – Kostüm might not really be that popular in these parts, not like down south but even so it’s liked. I hadn’t noticed but one of the other tables was occupied by my Headmistress, Frau Boxberg and I guess some friends.

“Ah fraulein Bond, our English rose is now a German edelweiss eh?”
“Um.”
“Can you pop and see me after classes Monday?”
“Er yes, Miss.”

Yeah, I can’t even escape school when we go out to eat.

As we waited for our ride home I managed to slip around a corner outside, dragging Max after me.
“Thanks for getting togged up, Gran was made up.”
“How could I refuse, I’m quite partial to a girl in Kostüm myself.”
“You look pretty good yourself,” I allowed with a bit of a blush developing – well he does.
“Kiss?”
“Thought you’d never ask!”

I could’ve done with a box to stand on, when did Max get so tall? It’s been a fortnight since we last played tonsil hockey, I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it. I can confirm that holding Max is different to cuddling with his cousin, not just the obvious but it feels different inside. This with Max is more, I dunno, exciting.
“Gab! Taxi’s here,” Dad called out.

Alright, it’s hardly a secret I guess, well it’s not exactly public but you wouldn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to conclude we er, like each other’s company.

“Look after yourself, Gaby, remember I’m only at the other end of the phone line,” Gran told me as we stood outside of the security gate.
“I know, Gran.”
“Come here,” she pulled me into a tight hug and a tear rolled down my cheek. “Now come on, no crying, eh?”
“No Gran,” I replied, quickly wiping away more wetness.
“And look after Max, he’s a handsome devil, eh?”
Eek, Gran knows too, “Um I guess, we’re only friends.”
“A good friend to have, I need to go now, Gab,” she kissed me on the top of the head, “take care.
“And you, Gran, see you soon.”
We parted and after a quick hug with Mum she disappeared into the sea of bodies heading into the bowels of the airport.

“Come on, kiddo,” Mum suggested – in the end it was just me and Mum who brought Gran to the airport.
It was already dark; there was little point in trying to watch her take off so reluctantly I followed Mum back to the car park.

I grabbed Max’s sleeve and pulled him to one side as he left the bike sheds.
“And good morning to you, too.”
“Yeah morning,” I allowed.
“So what’s up?”
“Saturday.”
“What about it?”
“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” I threatened.
“Who’d I tell? And tell ‘them’ what exactly?”
“If anyone asks and well anything, nothing happened.”
“Okay, okay. Your Oma get away okay?”
“Er yeah, thanks.”
“So is that it?”
“Um yeah.”
“In that case,” he leant down and kissed me square on the lips, “I need to pay a visit before class.”
I was dumbstruck; he’d made his escape before words could form on my tongue, “Max!”

“What’s he done now?” Steff asked finding me still goldfishing by the main entrance.
“A, a,” well I could hardly admit he’d just kissed me and more to the point how come I’d been talking to him in the first place could I?
The first bell went.
“Come on you, don’t want to be late - you can tell us at lunch.”
Yeah, like that’s gonna happen! I picked up my dropped bag and followed her inside.

Maddy Bell 06.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“So?” Con enquired when we convened to eat lunch.
“I’m wondering whether to go get a frikadel,” it’s cold out and my usual Thesing’s lunch wasn’t cutting it for me.
“Ooo! Gaby Bond, sometimes!” Pia huffed.
“What?”
“Max?” Steff suggested.
“Do you know, I think I will get a frikadel,” I told them quickly slipping from my seat.

It’s not like I hadn’t been thinking about this morning, well all morning it had been on my mind. After some internal debate I realised that it wasn’t the act itself or even who did it, no it was that I wasn’t expecting it. Yeah, yeah I know, I was the one instigating things on Saturday but well, I’m not ready for things to go public.
“Brotchen?”
Eh, my mind snapped back to the present, the woman serving looked at me expectantly.
“Er no, frites and mayo please,” and?

She shrugged before filling my order, you’d think girls don’t need to eat or something. By the time I got back to the others they were talking make up, a safe enough subject even for me. I tucked into my warm lunch with enthusiasm, whoever came up with mayo and chips; well I’m forever in their debt.

“So come on, Gab,” Bridget changed the subject again.
“What?”
“Your boyfriend? This morning?” Nena prompted.
“He’s not my b..”
“Boyfriend, we know,” Pia interrupted, “so spill, what’d he do?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh come on, Gab, you were stood there like you’d been slapped with a herring,” Steff put in.
They’re like flippin’ terriers!
“He kissed me, okay,” I admitted.
“And?” Con pressed.
“Well I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Says the future Baroness,” Pia chuckled.
“I wasn’t, I mean I’m not, I er.”
“She’s teasing, Gab,” Steff told me.
“Hmmph!”

“Hi, Gaby,” Claudia greeted, “what can I do for you?”
“Er Frau Boxberg, she wanted to see me?”
Max assaulting my lips this morning hasn’t been the only thing on my mind today, I’ve no idea what the Head wants, but it’s rarely good to be summonsed.
“Take a seat, Gaby, she’s got someone in at the moment.”
“’Kay,” I allowed.
I sat myself down for an indeterminate wait.

“Gaby, sit yourself down,” Frau Boxberg instructed.
Well at least the chair is more comfortable in the Head’s office.
“So how are you now?”
Now there’s a leading question if ever there was one.
“Er okay, Miss, the clinic discharged me last week so I can train again now.”
“Everything else in your world, okay?”
Well I’m not telling her about Max am I? Everything is a big word though.
I shrugged, “Pretty much.”
“School work?”
“Think so, the extra classes have caught me up.”
“Hmm,” she shuffled some papers, “I’ve been talking to your teachers, they seem to agree with you.”
“Does that mean I can stop the classes, Miss?”
“Caught up, Gaby, I and the others think you could do better though. Oh you’ll pass the certificate, somewhere in the middle of the results but we think you could get a much better grade, with a little effort on your part. I’m sure your parents would agree, a better pass mark will open more doors when you leave us, whatever career path you decide on.”
Dang! “Yes, Miss,” it seemed appropriate to say something.
“What we propose, if you want to, is to continue the sessions up to half term.”
“Okay.”
I so want to say no but the rents would go ballistic.
“So how does that sound?”
“Great, I mean yes I’d like to do that.”
“You don’t have to, you can discuss it with your parents if you want.”
“No, Miss, I’ll do it please.”
“Okay, I’ll let your tutors know. So have you given life after Silverberg any thought?”

Life after Silverberg, now there’s an open book. Well I’m still keen on becoming a pro bike rider but as Mum keeps pointing out, I should have a backup plan. Jules is the academic one, despite appearances she’s expected to get A’s in all her A levels this summer, she already has a place at the Humboldt University in Berlin, Boris is going there too. Me, well I’ve always been towards the top of the class but much more of a plodder.

“I’ve been thinking something in catering?” I offered.
“Not a Barista I hope,” she smiled.
Well it sort of had crossed my mind.
“Of course not, Miss, some sort of manager?”
Sounds a bit more ambitious at least.
“Hmm, they do a course at the college in Koblenz, might be worth checking out.”
“Erm yes, Miss.”
“I’ll ask Claudia to get the details for you.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
“Off you go then, I’m sure you’ve places to go and I’ve got someone else to see.”
I gathered my stuff and got as far as the door before Frau Boxberg spoke again.
“And, Gaby.”
“Yes, Miss?”
“You and your friend looked very nice on Saturday.”
I started to colour up, “Er thanks, Miss, um bye, Miss.”
“Bye, Gaby, can you let Claudia know I’m free please?”
“Yes, Miss,” I finally made good my escape, well it could’ve been worse I guess.

“What do you reckon, up or down?”
“Up,” Mand told me, I repositioned the handful of hair I was gripping. “So what did she want?”
“Nothing much,” I paused to check my ponytail was at least half decent, “just school stuff, oh she said we looked nice on Saturday.”
I didn’t really want to discuss my interrogation; we have important stuff to sort at Cheer tonight.
“Thought you were going to get toasted.”
So did I, “Nah, it was more like a careers thing really.”
“You gonna be a rocket scientist then?”
“Brain surgeon.”
“Phew, for a moment I thought you were going to say something difficult like bike racer.”
“Ha de ha.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Something in catering I think.”
“Dish washer,” she chuckled.
“Hey don’t mock, it’s a step up from floor sweeper. So what about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you doing Uni or anything?”
“Dunno, probably, depends on my grades I guess.”
“We’ll have to look for rich boyfriends,” I suggested in jest.
“You already have one.”
“He’s not rich and he’s not my boyfriend,” I stated firmly.
“If you say so.”
Dad’s voice reached us from below, “You two going tonight?”
“Coming!” I called down.

I’d put together a routine that was reminiscent of that which the Foresters performed in Fairfax, okay there wasn’t the first bit in the long dresses but the rest was fairly similar from what I could remember. Hannah did a sort of storyboard as I went through a demonstration run, then it was time to get the other girls to give it a try. Yeah, we need to practice – technically they were okay on the individual moves but doing them as a set, well wooden would be polite.

I’m not exactly on top of the game but I was at least transitioning the moves better, even Mand had got the idea. I say even, Mand is actually quite a mover on the dance floor.

“Look guys, I’ll do it with Manda, watch how we go between the pieces.”
“You want the music, Gaby?” Hannah queried.
“Please.”
Mand joined me facing the troupe and the music started up, and one and two…

In the end Hannah suggested we break it into smaller parts we could then work it up as the girls improved. It seemed like a good idea so we spent the rest of the session doing just that. I’d sort of co-opted Mand as deputy coach, she wasn’t in the squad as such and it kind of legitimised her presence at the sessions.

When we got home I thought I’d bring Miss C, Fran up to date so I set about sending her an email.

Now let’s see,
Hi Fran,
I’ve put together a routine – the stuff you sent was invaluable! We started working on it tonight; the difficult bit is getting it to flow together. The girls are quite good at individual moves but a bit robotic going from one to another! I’ll have to send you another film in a couple of weeks so you can see my progress as a coach!
Thanks again
Gaby Bond

That should do it; I added the address and hit send.

While I had the email programme open I did a bit of housekeeping, binning the spam, where does it all come from, how do they get your email address? One looked interesting, it was that lingerie shop in Koblenz inviting me to go see the new Playtex™ range – as if! But it did remind me about that other item, I quickly composed another mail asking them to order it for me.

Another mail had come in; I was surprised to see it was a reply from Fran;
Hi Gaby,
Glad you are finding the information useful, I look forward to seeing how you are getting on.
It looks like I might be able to do that in person, Geoff, Mr Wood, has asked me to fill in for Karen James on the first years’ trip next month, her baby’s arrived a bit early. Guess where they are going? Cologne, not far from you I think. Once I have all the details I’ll let you know and we can see if we can arrange something.
Bye for now
Fran

Cool! Maybe I can catch the train up or something, wonder what they are coming over for? It’ll certainly be good to see Miss C again, she was always one of my favourite teachers at Warsop and she was pretty cool with Gaby from day one. Yeah, something to look forward to.

Maddy Bell 07.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
“I’ll be back Thursday afternoon,” Dave advised the assembled masses, well Jen and his youngest.
“George picking you up?” Jen enquired.
“In about,” he checked his watch, “ten minutes.”

“Where are they going?”
“Bologna.” The current women’s Arc en Ciel told her daughter.
“Like Italy?”
“Is there another? He did tell you last night.”
“Probably,” Gab allowed, “anyway I need to make tracks, tschuss!”
“Tschuss,” Jen replied to her daughters already disappearing back.

Dave wasn’t the greatest fan of flying, he’d suggested driving down but George wasn’t having it. Given all the hanging about in airports its not like flying was that much quicker, get your foot down on the autobahn, overnight down in the Alps. George is the boss though so it was his call.
And all the extra security, well it was tedious, back in the day you turned up, checked in and got your passport checked. Now they make you queue for ages before having you just about strip and woe betide you missing that 1 cent coin ‘hidden’ in your pocket. And that business with what you can take through in hand luggage – definitely paranoia.

“Dave?”
He started, “oh sorry, I was miles away.”
“You want coffee before we leave?”
“Good idea.”

They shuffled closer to passport control, their arrival had coincided with a flight from London and the two guys checking travel documents weren’t the fastest.

“So why’s he going to Italy?” Pia queried.
“Not sure really, some sponsorship thing probably.”
“I thought Apollinaris sponsored your team.” Nena mentioned.
“Well yeah but like other companies pay to have their names on the jerseys.”

To be honest I wasn’t sure how things actually worked, I know some of the Pro teams have a bunch of sponsors but others only have a couple, guess it depends on how rich they are. The junior team are part of Apollinaris but they have more sponsors on their jerseys, I guess it costs a lot more to run. Dad’s often in the office trying to stretch the team budget and Mum often has to do stuff for the sponsors.

“I checked the website for the Cosplay,” Steff told us.
“So?” Con enquired.
“Science fiction.”
“Like Star Wars™?” I asked.
“Star Wars, the Doctor Who, that sort of thing,” Steff confirmed.
“I’ll do the Princess,” Brid crowed.
Yeah, I wasn’t gonna do that anyhow, have to do some research I guess.”

The drive to the first meeting was an hour south on the autostrada to Firenze; Dave had volunteered to drive leaving George to shuffle through his paperwork – again. It was busy but there were no hold ups until they left the motorway even so they pulled up at the factory thirty minutes before their appointment. It was going to be a long couple of days, tomorrow was going to be one long round of drive, meeting, drive at least this was the only one today.

“You gonna come to the Con?”
“Eh?” Mand queried looking up from her homework.
“Rheincon,” I promoted, “the gang are all going.”
“What is it?”
She acting dumb on purpose?
“You know, costumes, comics and stuff, you’ve seen the costumes in my wardrobe.”
“I’m not really into stuff like that.”
“You don’t have to costume,” I pointed out, “its just a bit of fun.”
“So what are you going as?”
“Not sure yet, it’s a sci-fi theme.”
“Princess Leia,” Mand suggested.
“Nah, there’ll be loads doing her and Brid’s already claimed her, so?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Let us know as soon as, Steff is sorting the tickets at the weekend.”
“’Kay, did you know Hitler was a painter?”
“What, like windows and doors?”
“Nah, fancied himself as a proper art painter.”

“Well that went okay,” Dave suggested when they returned to the car.
Having two rainbow jerseys’ on the roster was certainly a good bargaining chip, who wouldn’t want to be associated with that? Tomorrow would be more of a challenge and perhaps their bargaining chips would be less important.
“Ja, hopefully the others will go so well,” George agreed.

Dave started their transport and the journey to their hotel best part of 300km away.

Of course this whole trip shouldn’t’ve been necessary, an understanding with one of the big international brands had been signed back in the autumn but that had turned sour as they then wanted to oust Apollinaris as headline sponsors. Approaches to domestic suppliers had proven fruitless; it wasn’t lack of interest but lack of budget, a result of the localised nature of most of the brands. Whilst Apollinaris were putting more money in that would only go so far and so the hunt was on in earnest for bikes and clothing.

A look out of the kitchen window revealed misery, misery in the form of a cold and wet start to the day. Bond junior sighed, it was gonna be a long day – school of course then the extra tutorial and back home the turbo trainer would be waiting her attention. Boring but a necessary evil if there was to be any repeat of last year’s success on two wheels.

“Morning Gab,” Con greeted a few minutes later.
“What a morning.”
“I thought it had stopped,” Pia mentioned.
“Its persisting down,” I told the others.
“Great,” Brid groaned.

So of course the ride down to Silverberg was a muted affair, a desire to get there and out of the liquid sunshine trumping any conversation. It wasn’t a repeat of last week, although I had taken the precaution of having some dry in my bag, it actually reduced to a fine drizzle while we were riding. Not the best start to the day.

The first meeting on Wednesday hadn’t been very useful in reality, they’d been shown some nice bikes sure enough but essentially they’d been shunted onto the German distributor. Another stretch of autostrada linked them to the second stop of the day; both men were in contemplative mood, if the first result was repeated they’d have to rethink their strategy and possibly the team’s aspirations. Of course they could look for other out of sport support but that could have other issues attached to it.

“That was more positive,” Dave told his boss as they waited for their lunch in the motorway services.
It might not’ve been everything they were looking for and there were strings but nothing they couldn’t live with.
“I sense a ‘but’ Dave?”
“Well I’m a bit concerned whether they can deliver everything.”
“I’ve heard the rumours too but it’s a good deal.”
“Lets see what this afternoon brings.”
George grunted his agreement.

“You seen this Mand?”
“What’s that?”
“You can get Campag Chorus with a carbon chainset now.”
“Out of my range.”
“Mine too, Mum used to have Record on her race bike but I think that was nine speed.”
“One of the guys in the club had that, everyone called him Campy Dave. Thought you had a bike with Campag on?”
“My old race bike had Mirage, not even sure where that is now, I stopped using it when I got the team bike.”
“It was a bit weird on those bikes in Japan.”
“I find it easier to use with my little hands, I’m always stretching with the Shimano.”
“Hadn’t really thought about it that much,” Mand admitted.
“I suppose we’d best get some riding done.”
“Can we not listen to Shania Twain today, it’s doing my head in.”
“Philistine!”

“I suppose it depends what we can get in Vicenza,” George suggested.
“We could stick with Shimano,” his DS opined.
“After last season? Come on Dave, we had three shifters break in one race.”
“It was just an idea. We gonna try for the wheels too?”
“Worth a go,” George agreed, “otherwise we can get trade on Mavic.”
“Not the worst dilemma,” Dave agreed.

They were sat in the restaurant of the Hotel Europa in Desenzano on Lake Garda, not the busiest place in January. Vicenza, their destination in the morning would be an hour’s drive then they had to get back to Bologna for the flight back to Germany. Getting the iconic Italian company on board would be a bit of a coup, the Italians being famously under represented in the professional peleton.

“There’s not many costumes for girls,” Con complained.
“Wonder Woman?” Nena suggested.
“P-lease,” I put in, “that is so lame.”
“And you’re doing?” Steff enquired.
“Er dunno,” I admitted.
“Well I’m doing Star Trek,” Pia informed us.
“What about you Steff?” Bridg asked.
“Mum suggested a Bene Gesserit.”
“A what?” I queried.
“They’re like priestess’s from the Dune books.”
“I think Mum has some of those,” I allowed, “something about deserts?”
“If its desserts Gab’ll be there,” Con opined.
“Huh!”

The afternoon bell sounded which prevented further retribution, I was still no nearer.

“I’ll ring Pinarello,” George stated as he climbed into his seat.
“I didn’t think they were going to bite,” Dave allowed.
“I think the girls will be pleased.”
“And for the juniors too,” Dave mentioned, “hope we make the flight.”
“What are you waiting for, lets go,” George urged as he fished for his phone.

They’d done better than expected, full support from Campagnolo including wheels; Pinarello would back them with frames and forks. Yes there was some cost but it was nominal, more to keep things on the right side of the taxman. The clothing company was small but the advantage there lay in their enthusiasm to produce top quality gear and get it onto an international stage.

Maddy Bell 17.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
“Gaby! Dinner!” Mand yelled up to my eyrie.
“Coming!”
What a day, well it wasn’t too bad until this afternoon when Herr Boltt dropped news of yet another mock exam tomorrow. As if that wasn’t enough Herr Ansbacher set me extra homework for my tutorial next week, an essay on the decline of the Hanseatic League. Yeah I know, boring.

I clomped down to kitchen; we don’t use the dining table unless we have visitors or too many bodies for the kitchen.
“Plates please Gab,” Mum requested.
“Dad not back?”
“There was a hold up on the autobahn, should be here any time.”

I pulled out another plate, just four of us tonight then, Jules was staying in Bonn – again. Right on cue the sound of a car stopping outside announced Dads arrival; a minute later he came in the door.
“Hmm, smells good.”
“Spag bol – oh you didn’t?” Mum queried plonking the tureen of spaghetti on the table.
“Not had a chance to eat today and George wanted steak last night.”
“You okay eating now?”
“Let me just lose this stuff,” he indicated the bag and jacket he was holding, “and I’ll be right back.”
“I think this is ready,” Mand suggested from the stove where she was stirring the sauce.
“Okay,” Mum agreed, “Parmesan please Gab.”
“’Kay.”
Dad was back, unjacketed and beslippered with a bottle of wine in his hand.

“So,” Mum started once we were started, “we got bikes to ride?”
Dad finished his mouthful of stringy pasta before replying, “bikes and clothing.”
“Why’d you need to go to Italy to buy bikes?”
“Its not quite as simple as dropping into Schauff and asking for twenty bikes kiddo,” Mum supplied.
“I know that,” it isn’t?
“So?” Mum addressed Dad again; “we have to drag it out of you?”
“Um eang,” Dad managed around a mouthful of spaghetti.
I looked at Mand who rolled her eyes at me.
Dad finished his current mouthful and took a sip of wine, “you’ll be riding Pinarello’s.”
“I thought you were talking to Colnago and Bianchi,” Mum mentioned.
“We got a better offer from Pinarello,” Dad told us.
“I’ve never heard of them,” I put in.
“They might not be so well known but they are well respected, you’ll be getting their new carbon Dogma frames.”
“All of us?” Mand queried.
“Uh huh,” Dad agreed before guiding another forkful of food into his mouth.
“Wow!”
Carbon, they cost a fortune! And we’ll be racing on them all the time, go Pinarello! It’s a step up for the seniors too, they’ve been riding top end aluminium, nice bikes but not carbon.
“Ultegra?” Mum queried.
“Ut uh.”
“Dura Ace,” Mum supplied with an accepting nod.
“Think again,” pater advised, “we went to Vicenza this morning.”
“That’s where Campag come from,” I gasped.
“Seniors get Record, juniors Chorus.”
The clang of cutlery dropping onto plates was the only reply made for a good minute, Dad just kept feeding his face.
“Like the ten speed?” I eventually queried.
“Uh huh.”
“Your kidding Dave,” Mum accused, “don’t tease the girls like that.”
Dad seemed to be the only one eating; when he finished the current forkful he went on, “straight up, full support, wheels, the lot. You girls not eating? The spags getting cold.”
I know they won’t actually be ours like in own but talk about the best present.

Anyone who’s even remotely into bikes will know the excitement that getting a new bike brings – even someone who already has several. After dinner we all decamped to the living room where Dad filled us in a bit more.
“So we get two bikes?” Mand queried, “what for?”
“They’re investing a lot of money Mand, they don’t want to see you guys riding another brand do they? Your Dogma’s will be the race bikes of course and they were suggesting you’d get one of the aluminium frames for training.”
“I don’t know how you managed it Dave but thanks,” Mum leant over and planted one on Dads lips.
“I need to ring Ron,” I mentioned.

Dad freed himself from the snog fest, “whoa, hold on a minute young lady. The others will find out soon enough, for now I want you both to keep it under your hats. The Italians are keen to do a big launch, George is talking about doing a full team presentation at the same time.”
“When?” I pushed.
“End of next month probably, we should have all the kit by then.”
“What happens to all the old bikes and kit?” Mand asked.
“You get to keep the clothing if you want it, George’ll sell the bikes and so on, bit extra into the team coffers,” Mum advised.

I might not be able to spill all the bike news but there was no reason not to ring Ron, we’ve not spoken for at least three days!
“New bikes?” Ron pretty much echoed Mand’s question.
“Uh huh, there’s gonna be a presentation in a few weeks.”
“So what are we getting then?”
“Can’t tell, Dad swore me to secrecy but think Italian and not aluminium.”
“Carbon?”
“Could be.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope.”
“Kewl!”

“Another bike? You’ve already got a garage full,” Con, clearly unimpressed, noted.
“Its carbon fibre,” I pressed.
“Does it go faster?”
“Well not on its own,” I admitted.
“So what’s the point then?”
I love Con to bits but she really doesn’t get bikes.
“Help me out guys?” I appealed to the others riding ahead of us.
“How many gears?” Brid asked.
“Twenty.”
“Markus has twenty four on his mountain bike,” she told us.
“So does mine.”
“So what’s so good about a bike with only twenty gears?”
I give up.

“Gabs, wait up!”
Max. I stopped and turned to let him catch up.
“What? And don’t you dare try kissing me!”
“I wasn’t going to.”
His eyes betrayed him but I let it go – for now.
“So?”
“Oh right, um you fancy going to the cinema tomorrow? I’ll pay.”
“Possibly,” I allowed, “what’s on?”
“Its an English film, they have sub titles, something about a guide to the galaxy.”
“Hitch Hikers,” I supplied.
“That’s it,” he agreed.
“I’ve got training and I’m working at Thesing’s after.”
“We can go in the evening, Dad’ll taxi.”
It was tempting – I’ve wanted to see it since it came out last year, we don’t exactly keep up with all the latest releases here though.
“Let me know what time.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Well duh.”
“Yes!”
“I need to go, places to be and all that.”
“Er right, so um I’ll let you know the time.”

“So what did lover boy want?” Con asked as I joined her at the bikes, the others had gone ahead, my BFF as usual waited for me.
“Pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“You know, moving images, big screen.”
“I know what they are, so you going?”
“I said so, it’s a film I want to see.”
“Fat chance of that,” she chuckled.
“Why?”
“Cinema, boyfriend?”
“What about it, and he’s not…”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re just friends.”
“We are.”
“So what is this cinematic masterpiece?”
“The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy.”
“That so has to be British,” she opined.
“Might be.”
“He’s trying to impress you Gab.”
“If he’s paying I’m not bothered.”

“Pictures, as in cinema?” Mand confirmed.
“The same.”
“I thought you weren’t interested?”
“I’m not.”
“Pictures?”
“I want to see the film.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh come on Gabs, no boy takes a girl to the pictures to actually watch the film.”
“And you know this how?”
“Everyone knows, ask Jules if you don’t believe me.”
“Ask Jules what?” the Dark One enquired joining us in the kitchen.
“She’s going to the cinema with Max tomorrow.”
“Wipe your lipstick off before it starts Sis, easier than cleaning up after.”
“Not you too?”

I only want to see the film, honest.

Maddy Bell 17.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
“And just when were you going mention the cinema?” Mum demanded as I walked into the lounge after Garde, Herr Sebenschuh was on taxi duty tonight.
I was caught a little on the hop to say the least.
“Cinema?”
“Don’t play clever with me, young lady.”
“I wasn’t.”
“So?”
“Nothing’s arranged.”
“So why did Wilhelm ring to let you know what time he’s picking you up?”
“He did?”
“Well?”
What was the question again? Oh yeah.

“Max only asked me this afternoon, I was gonna ask once I knew all the details, honest.”
“Hmm.”
“I’ll ring him to say I’m not going,” it’s not like I was that fixed on going.
“And why would you do that?”
“Well I’m being grounded or something aren’t I?”
“Did I say that?”
“I just thought…”
“Gaby, you’re nearly sixteen, we try to give you and your sister space to do your own thing but we do like to be kept in the loop. It’s embarrassing to say the least when your daughter’s boyfriend’s parents are the ones telling us what’s going on.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I interjected.
“Call him what you want, if you go out, especially in the evenings we want to know.”
“What about Jules? She spends more time in Bonn than she does here,” I pointed out.
“Number one, she’s older than you and number two, she has to check in with me or your dad every night.”
“Yeah right,” I mumbled.
“Look, kiddo, it’s not that we don’t trust you, far from it but we do like to know where you are, I’m sure your friend’s parents are the same.”
“I guess,” I admitted, “so can I go tomorrow?”
“Of course you can, front and centre seventeen hundred sharp.”

Saturday arrived cold but dry, which is preferable to nearly any other weather option you get in January. Unless it’s really cold it can be quite enjoyable for riding, so okay you need hats, overshoes and thermals but at least you aren’t dodging puddles or worrying about ice. Add in a few rays of best solar radiation and it’s about as good as it gets this time of year north of the Alps.

“You coming, de Vreen?”
“These flippin’ overshoes,” she complained.
“Come here,” I instructed unclipping at the same time.

She propped her steed against the garage door then offered me her foot, blacksmith style. Usual problem of course, the material of the overshoes sole was trapped under the cleat, they either make the hole too small or gaping big. I cleared the offending cleat and checked her other foot.

“There you go.”
“Cheers, so where we headed?” my re-shod companion enquired.
“Dad suggested we go up to the Honnef ferry then get the Breisig ferry back over.”
“How far’s that?” she clicked a foot into her pedal.
“Dunno, seventy maybe but it’s pretty flat.”
“Come on then or you won’t be back for work.”

I’ve taken you round similar rides before I’m sure, Mum would call it a short spin but even so I reckon it’ll take us about three hours to get round. The first and last bits are along past Ahrweiler, which is probably the busiest stretch too. Once down at Remagen it’s a fast wide cycle track almost to the ferry, the other side of the Rhein is much quieter so we’ll use the road.

There is a short cut, the Linz ferry which takes about twenty K off the ride, useful if the weather turns or we get held up. The Breisig ferry obviously gets us back on the Dernau side of the river then it’s a fast run up to Sinzig, we usually then take the lane up to Bad Neunahr and home. As I told Mand, there’s no real climbing involved, the ferries break up what could otherwise be a fairly boring ride.

“So what was that all about?” Mand enquired as we waited for the Honnef ferry.
“What?”
“Last night, sounded like your mum was having a right go.”
“Nothing much.”
“Boyfriends,” she surmised.
“All right, boyfriends,” I allowed.
The ferry clanged onto the slipway below us.
“And?”
“She was miffed I hadn’t said anything about going to the pictures.”

Rather than continuing the conversation Mand scooted down the ramp to the suitably named ‘Bad Honnef’ where she dismounted to wheel her steed onboard, I, ever the show off, bunny hopped then nearly came a cropper on the greasy deck.

“Silly moo!”
“It’s these tyres,” I opined as I untangled myself.
“Whatever.”
The conductor collected our fares by which time we were already halfway across the murky waters of Father Rhein.
“So you still going?”
“Going?”
“The flicks?”
“Yeah, she seems to think it’s a date.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Not likely!”
The ferry docked and we both cautiously rode back onto dry land to start the longish southbound trek.
“So what you wearing for this ‘not a date’ then?”
“Dunno, jeans and a jumper I guess.”

We were doing a steady lick; this is what in cycling terms we call ‘getting the miles in’, the serious stuff this time of year is on the turbo’s. The sun had gone into hiding before we crossed the river, the resulting drop in temperature was quite marked. True to form there was little traffic down past Unkel which allowed us to ride abreast untroubled by motorised road users.

Mand seems more interested in my cinema trip than I am, I wonder, oh sugar, I know why.

“Why don’t you come?”
“Eh?” my companion allowed replacing her bidon, “The bakery?”
“If you like but I meant the cinema.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Well for one I’m not invited.”
“I just did,” I pointed out.
“Max didn’t, he invited you.”
“That can be fixed.”
“Even if he did want a gooseberry there’s no point, it’ll be in German which I’m crap at.”
“Ha, got you there, it’s in English with subtitles!”
“Regardless, it’s not gonna happen.”
There was a bit of a catch in her voice that gave her away though.

I made a more cautious transfer to the Breisig ferry; I didn’t fancy a repeat of earlier, especially as there were other passengers this time. Once stopped I pulled my Handy out and hit a familiar set of keys.

“So I was wondering, Max, would you mind if Mand came?”
“No Gab!” said friend tried to interrupt.
I waved her away.
There was only the slightest hesitation up in Schloss Rech, “Yeah that’s okay, there’s room in the car.”
“Cool, we’ll see you at five then, tschussie.”
“Bye.”
I ended the call.
“Gaa-ab,” Mand complained.
“That’s sorted, you can get the popcorn.”

We turned the wick up a bit for the last leg back up through Sinzig to home which, if nothing else, stopped Mand from telling me ad nauseum that she wasn’t playing gooseberry this afternoon. Me, well said prickly green fruit, whilst not the reason I want her to come is, well it’s a useful side effect.

“So let me get this right,” Con started, “Mand is going with you on this ‘not a date’?”
“Yup, I’ve not been a very good friend to her have I, dumping her on you guys when I was er, indisposed, leaving her at home when I come here.”
“And taking her along on your hot date is supposed to put that right?”
“It’s not a date!”
“Well it’s not now, why didn’t you just invite the rest of the village along.”
“Did you want to come?”
“No I don’t, sometimes, Gaby Bond!”
“What’d I do now?”

It was a bit of a rush getting home from Thesing’s, showered and ready in the forty-five minutes I had. Despite her earlier protestations, Mand was ready and waiting before me looking slightly more dressed up than me, well she had a skirt on and more makeup than usual.

“Have a nice time, girls,” Mum suggested.
“We will,” I allowed slipping into my best coat.
A car horn announced our transport spot on the hour.

“Hi girls,” von Strechau senior greeted as we climbed into his Passat through a door helpfully held open by Max.
“Thanks for taking us,” I offered in reply.
“No problem, sorry it’s not the Porsche, Gloria’s gone to her sister’s for the weekend in it.”
I’m not sure if he was being serious or not, I mean the Passat is newer than our Mercedes and doesn’t have bike racks and ‘Apollinaris’ emblazoned all over it – got to be a win.

Unless you go to Bonn or Koblenz we have a choice of two picture houses, a tiny two screen in Remagen or where we were headed the four-screen in Bad Neunahr. It’s not that far of course and we were climbing out less than fifteen minutes later.

“Give me a call when you come out and I’ll be straight down.”
“Yes Dad,” Max agreed.
“Enjoy the film.”
With that our chauffeur departed for parts unknown.
“He going back to Rech?” I asked.
“To yours I think, the restaurants closed this week, he was mumbling about poker earlier.”
“That’ll be Mum then, she’s a right card shark.”
On that note we joined the few other cinemagoers inside the bright facade.

Maddy Bell 19.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

So you’ve watched a film with subtitles right? You miss a bit of the action reading the captions but it’s not the worst thing, at least you can sort of follow the plot – I get to do it with Anime quite a bit. But when the sound and subtitles are in different but equally understood languages it starts getting messy.

I’m sure Mand was ignoring the German text, just enjoying the English soundtrack and I think Max was following the text. Me though, well I was getting a bit brain-tied, flitting between visual and aural input. I think I lasted about thirty minutes before I gave up and just ignored both – well I’ve read the Douglas Adams book so I know the main points of the plot.

It was a bit awkward of course, it ended up with Max sat between me and Mand – not my ideal situation but he did pay for the tickets. To be fair to him, he didn’t try anything; well I let him hold my hand for a bit, which seemed to be well received. I’m not a fan of pop corn so I had a bag of Skittles™ while the others shared a huge pot of flavoured cardboard, talk about awkward!

Personally I think they botched the film a bit, Marvin didn’t look like I imagined and the main character in the book, Arthur Dent seemed to be less important in the film. I suppose if you haven’t read the book (well books, it’s a trilogy in five parts) you wouldn’t have my preconceptions but for me it was but a typically watered down version of the original. By the time the credits started to roll I was well ready to get out, I needed a wee thanks to the litre of Sprite™ I’d been nursing and the noises coming from two rows behind were distracting too.

“I enjoyed that,” Max advised as we made our way out.
“I’ve seen worse,” Mand told us.
“I prefer the book.”
“There’s a book?” Max queried.
“We’ve got a copy at home somewhere, you can borrow it if you want but it’s in English of course.”
“Er maybe sometime.”
“I need a wee, Mand?”
“Er okay.”
“I’ll ring Dad,” my wannabe beau suggested.

What happens in the ladies stays in the ladies; we had to queue so it was nearly ten minutes later before the pair of us found Max in the almost deserted foyer.

“Dad’ll be about thirty minutes he suggested we get a coffee or something.”
Well given the alternative was to stand out in the now quite frigid January night it seemed as good an idea as any.
“’Kay, it’s a bit of a hike to BK though.”
“There’s a place a couple of doors down, more of a kebap place really but you can sit in,” Max told us.
“What’re we waiting for, I’m starved.”
“You’ve just eaten half a ton of popcorn,” I pointed out as we made our way outside.
“Max had more than me.”
“Keep me out of it,” Max requested.
To be honest I was feeling a bit hollow, I only managed to grab a few biscuits before we left.

A couple of doors turned out to be a five-minute walk and despite my coat I was grateful to enter the warm and steamy interior of ‘Kebap Turkiye’.

“I’ll get them,” Max offered.
“You got the tickets, this is on me,” I interjected, I mean, fairs fair. “You want pommes or anything?”
“Er just coffee thanks, I’ll get some seats.”
That would be difficult – not! We weren’t the only ones in but apart from the noisy couple from the cinema, the rest, several Mediterranean types, were playing cards around a single table toward the back of the shop. Max left to claim a table leaving the better-looking part of the party to order.
“Plis?” the swarthy chap behind the counter enquired.
“Er three milk coffees please,” I turned to Mand, “what you eating?”
“Frikadel and chips? I’ll give you the money,” she started scrabbling for her purse
“We’ll sort it out in a bit,” I returned my attention to Achmed or whatever his name is, “um, can we get some food too?”
“For in?”
“Please,” the milk steamer interrupted my reply.

The food turned up remarkably quickly considering, Mand’s frikadel on a plate awash with pommes my lasagne with half a green grocer’s.
“Got enough there, Gabs?” Max chuckled.
“I wasn’t expecting this much,” I admitted as I poked at the greenery.
“You want some chips, Max?” Mand offered.
“Go on then, I’ll get a fork.”

A few of Mand’s chips evolved into half of my lasagne too, at least I didn’t feel so bad, I’d inadvertently fed our cinematic benefactor. We were a bit over half an hour when we headed back out into the cold but von Strechau senior was just pulling up outside the cinema so we didn’t have any more delay.

“Good film?”
“Not what I was expecting,” Max advised his father as he threaded us out of downtown Bad Neunahr.
“Good or bad?”
“Different.”
“What about, you girls, I hope my son behaved himself.”
“Apart from the lasagne,” I almost giggled.
“Should I ask?”

Of course, you missed that, lasagne wars. It started when we both made a stab for the same bit of tomato, before long it was a competition to see who could spear food off my plate without the other dislodging it. Mand stopped it getting too messy by using a frite to claim some of my sauce so introducing a new element to the fun.

“Best not,” Max told his dad.

I peered out of the car windscreen, I’ve no idea where we are, I fell asleep before we got to the autobahn only waking when Dad pulled into the services for fuel.
“Where are we?” an equally dopey de Vreen enquired.
“No idea,” I admitted.

Outside it was still not quite light, we set off at silly o’clock and it’s a little after eight now. Why? Well my cross season might not’ve gone to plan but Anita and Erika have been flying the Apollinaris flag with some success and today is the German Open Championships near Eisenach. If you don’t know where that is, well I had to look on a map, it’s sort of south east of Kassel although Dad said we were using a route past Frankfurt.

Dad opened his door and climbed inside, “Coffee?”
Well it’s been a while since breakfast, “And a bun?”
“If you want,” Dad agreed setting the car back in motion for the short distance from the Tankstelle to the restaurant.

The cold hit you as soon as the car door opened, I’m glad we’ve got waterproofs to put on when we get there, they’ll add some extra insulation. Mand ran across to the building, me in hot pursuit – first stop, you’ve guessed it, the lav’s. By the time the pair of us returned to the restaurant Dad had drinks and pastries organised and was heading towards a table.

“Ooo, not had one of these for ages,” I mentioned picking up my strawberry and custard Danish.
“The Pflaumkuchen looked a bit past its best,” Dad advised, “that okay, Mand?”
Mand had a chocolate croissant, “Mmmm.”
The coffee was strong and slightly bitter – even with three sugars but it certainly kick started the system.
“How much further, Mr B?” Mand asked as we sipped our hot beverages.
“About an hour on the motorway then it’s a short way to the course.”
“We meeting the girls there?” I asked.
“No, we’re going to their hotel, Carsten has the team bus so we’ll leave the car there and all go in the bus.”
Well I had wondered why we didn’t have the bus ourselves.
“No one else coming?” Mand enquired.
“George and Petra are with them, we should have plenty of bods to help in the pits.”
“Typical George,” I opined, “turns up for the glory.”
“He’d be a pretty poor boss if he didn’t,” Dad noted, “you two done?”

The hour was only fifty minutes and the hotel was only just off the motorway. The others were just finishing breakfast, we snaffled more coffee – we might not get a chance for a while, and went to join them.

“Morning everyone, sleep well?” Dad enquired.
“Not bad,” Anita allowed, “how is it out there?”
“Cold, there’s a bit of frost in places.”
“Might make the going a bit easier,” Erika offered, “it was pretty sticky yesterday.”
“You might need the spikes,” Carsten suggested.
“Spikes?” Mand asked.
“The ice tyres,” Erika explained, “they have metal studs to help grip.”
“We don’t use them much but it’s good to have them,” Anita added.
“We should make a move,” George suggested.

When the boss speaks – well we eventually gave up our seats and headed out to the bus.

“You okay, Gaby?” Petra asked plonking herself down opposite the seat I’d claimed, “not seen you for a while.”
“Er not too bad, you?”
“Pretty good, George keeps me busy.”
You might remember that Petra is the team masseuse but away from race days she’s the team gopher and George’s assistant.
“I’ll need to get you measured for the new kit.”
“Measured? I haven’t grown.”
“Not just you, Sintani are making everything to order for us, we’ll have some spare kit in standard sizes for emergencies but we’ll be their flagship advertising.”
“Kewl.”
“They’ll want some promo pics when we’ve got the kit, especially you and your mum.”
“The curse of the rainbow.”
“Eh?”
“That’s what Mum calls it, everyone wants a slice of the glory.”
“Well two Weltmeisterin in the team certainly helped to seal the deal with Sintani.”

The bus lurched over a speed hump that drew our attention to our surroundings, no not a speed hump but a curb that gave us access to the field being used for competitor’s vehicles. Cross is a bit Cinderella in Germany but even so the Open Championships draw a lot of riders who mostly ride their local leagues. Today they get the chance to rub shoulders with riders from across the Federation and the relatively few elite riders who are more often found riding in the Low Countries.

With typical German efficiency we were directed to our allocated parking, by only having one vehicle we’d have space – just, to put up the awning. Mand and I were set to helping Petra get stuff ready, Dad and Carsten loaded the washer and water containers onto the trolley before sorting out the bikes and George did his managerial bit with Anita and Erika.

There’s something about a bike race that I find intoxicating – all the supporters, the kit and enthusiasm, you just don’t get it quite the same in other sports. Although you all ride separately for the most part, you are part of a team that includes more than just your fellow riders who are all working towards success for the team. If I had to give up racing I think I’d still want to be involved somehow just to be part of things.

I’m not sure where the time went, one minute we were unloading the bus, the next we were making our way up to the course, a technical affair through the woodland and fields surrounding the Wartburg sat high above us. I might not be riding but the adrenalin was flowing, I was getting excited and – sugar where’s the toilets?

Maddy Bell 20.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
For what was probably the twentieth time Bern checked she had all her documents, sure she’d flown before but this was the first time on her own. Well that’s not really true is it; Drea was strapped to her chest oblivious to the world beyond her mother despite the hustle and bustle of Manchester Airport going on around them.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” her mother asked once more.
“Yes, Mum,” Bern replied, “Mrs Preiser is picking me up from the airport, I’ll ring as soon as I get there.”
“You’ve got everything?”
“Yes! Stuff for the flight,” she patted her shoulder bag, “everything else is in the case, Dad?”
“She’s just worried luv.”
“I’ll be fine, we’ll be fine, I should go through.”
“Okay, luv.”
Her mum pulled them into a hug, “Be safe and ring me.”
“Cheryl, come on they need to go.”

Jack Rose gave his girls a quick kiss each before joining his wife to watch the rest of his family disappear into the melee.

With less confidence than she’d let her parents see, Bern started the queuing that is so much a part of modern air travel, security then passports. Of course being under sixteen she had to have parental consent, the officer however barely glanced at that, didn’t even look at Drea. With a sigh of relief and a need to use the facilities she moved on into the departure lounge.

Whilst this trip was all above board they’d had to delay things as Drea had taken a cold just before their intended departure. Her Dad had managed to get the flights changed so here they were, a few days late but on their way. By the time they returned to the main concourse their flight was being called.

Flying with babies and small children is generally more stressful for the other passengers than the parents. Tantrums, terror and poor behaviour are the blight of many a flight often fuelled by parents disregard for other passengers. Bern was determined that wasn’t going to be her but she needn’t have worried.

Indeed, apart from waking briefly looking for lunch Drea slept through most of the flight only waking as the plane bumped back onto terra firma. The German passport control did want to see the baby who managed to supply a cherubic smile as she was presented. Next up, luggage reclaim.

Of course back in Manchester she had her parents to help but this side she’d have to sort out, baby, case and buggy on her own. She’d seen women – and men for that matter using the papoose things and always thought them a bit of an affectation but her opinion changed after Helen gave her one as a Christmas present. She could do stuff without worrying about the babe, using it for the flight was both logical and almost essential.

The carousel started producing luggage almost as soon as she reached it and Drea’s pushchair was the first thing to come through. She went to pull it down but was beaten by a tall, well-dressed chap who not only retrieved it but put it up for her.

“Er danke,” her German was a bit rusty to say the least.
“Keine problem, fraulein.”

It was sod’s law of course, after the buggy’s early arrival their case was almost the last, by now there was only a granny and a middle aged couple left with her. She managed to snag the case although she nearly ended up on her bum as the momentum swung her about. She briefly debated putting Drea in the buggy and towing the case but it seemed more logical to balance the case on the buggy and leave her daughter where she was.

“Bern!”
She scanned the gallery of people waiting to greet family and friends.
“Over here,” it was Marty.

She hurried out into the arrival’s area towards the tall, handsome youth she’d last seen last spring. He didn’t waste any time pulling her into a hug that she was just as quick to reciprocate.
“I’ve missed you.”

Bern was close to blubbing, gripping tighter rather than speaking.

Mart released her after an all too short minute, “And this is Andrea?”
“Uh huh.”
“She’s beautiful just like her mother.”
The dam finally burst and Mart pulled her back into a hug.
“Hut hum.”
“Oh sorry, Mum,” Marty offered, “Bern, this is my mum.”
“I think we met before.”
“I think so to, please excuse my English, welcome back to Germany.”
“Thank you, Frau Preiser.”
“Please, call me Erika, Frau Preiser it sounds like mein mutter. So, come let us get you and this mite back to Stattel, eh?”
“I’ll take the case,” Mart volunteered.

Being back in Germany was strange; strange and a bit daunting, here they were relying on almost strangers for everything. It was a bit of a leap of faith, Mart was of course someone she felt secure with and there was no reason to doubt his parents, they were after all supplying accommodation to a single mum and her baby. That was definitely a plus.

“The baby, she is very quiet.”
“Er yes, tired I think, it’s been a long day.”

Frau Preiser, Erika that is, had surprised her by having a baby seat in the car when they reached it. Apparently they’d had it for Marty and never got rid, Bern was more than grateful, Drea had been strapped to her for over four hours. Mart turned and grinned at her, would he still be doing so after she’d told him her plan?

“When is her essen?”
Essen, essen – food, of course, “Maybe thirty minutes?”
“Sorry?”
“Halb heure,” Mart translated for his mother.
“We should be home about then.”

Outside it looked cold, inside the well-used Volkswagen people carrier it was, if anything a bit too warm. She didn’t recognise anything, when she’d stayed with the Bond’s last year they had got around a bit but the distraction of having Gab in the car – well she took little notice of stuff outside.

Stattel of course is not in the Ahrtal but thirty minutes drive uphill from the Bond’s place and it’s actually easier to approach from the other side of the hill. The light was fading quickly; it was almost dark when they left the autobahn to start the final leg of the journey. Their speed barely seemed to drop as Erika navigated the quiet lanes of the Hohe Eifel towards the Preiser farm.

Drea was just starting her wakeup routine, smacking lips and waving arms, as they bounced into the yard and pulled to a stop.
“Come, Bernie, let’s get you both inside, Marty will bring your stuff in,” Erika instructed.

It was certainly fresh up here; a stiff breeze scoured the cobbles as they crossed to the house, a security light casting deep shadows ahead of them. The last time Bern had been at the farm it was to a party held in one of the barns, they didn’t even go in the house for toilets, as there was one in the barn. She hadn’t really got a clue what to expect, she’d never been in a farmhouse in her life.
Erika held the door for her, “Go on in, there on the left.”

The door led into a fair sized kitchen, the light already illuminating the space.

“Sit, sit, you feed from the bust?”
“Er yes.”
“It is good for her, do you need anything?”
“I’ve got everything in here,” she indicated her bag.
“Gut, I’ll make us some kaffee.”
There was some bumping and grunting outside, presumably Marty with her case.
“Er not for me thanks, the caffeine isn’t good for her.
“Tea then?”
“Thanks.”

She always felt a bit uncomfortable feeding her daughter in front of strangers; it’s so taboo for women to expose their chests that whilst perfectly natural it still felt wrong. She could understand why most women wouldn’t do the deed in public places. Still, Erika was almost telling her to get on with it so she soon had her daughter latched to a teat.

“Where shall I put the, whoa, sorry,” Marty exited almost as quickly as he’d entered.
“Marty?” his mother called after him.
“I didn’t realise Bern was erm…”
“Feeding the baby, don’t be so squeamish, I’m sure Bernie doesn’t mind.”
“Well I do, where shall I put the pram?”
“In the laundry for now, is the heat on in the bedroom?”
“I think so, it felt quite warm.”
“Well check please, we don’t want the baby getting a cold, eh?”
“No, Mama.”

Bernie only caught bits of the German exchange, something about the bedroom being cold.

“Stefan, Marty’s father will be here soon, I’ll start dinner then.”
“Can I help?”
“It is just schnitzel tonight, the boy will show you your room, you can unpack while I cook, eh?”
“Er okay.”

The next person through the kitchen door showed none of his son’s embarrassment at Bern’s exposed breast.

“The daft mare’s thrown another shoe!”
“Stefan, the English visitors,” Erika hinted as her husband proceeded to wash his hands.
He hurriedly dried his hands before offering one to her, “Stefan.”
She freed a hand to take it, “Er Bernadette, um Bernie and this is Drea.”
“Welcome to Stattel.”
It was beyond strange to be talking like this with her daughter chewing on her chest, Stefan completely ignoring her state of undress.
“I’ll ring Tomas, see if he can come in the morning, one of the pferde has lost a shoe,” Stefan explained for their guest.

By the time Marty returned Drea had finished dinner and was intent on returning to slumber. Bern had watched fascinated as her hostess, sliced, bashed and breadcrumbed their dinner, she’d never seen schnitzel made from scratch before. Mart cautiously poked his head around the door.

“There you are,” Erika mentioned, “take Bernie up to her room please, dinner will be about half an hour.”
After gathering her stuff Bern followed Mart out into the house.
“Sorry about, you know, earlier.”
“It’s alright, I don’t mind you seeing, watching.”
“Yeah, well sorry anyway.”
They climbed a narrow staircase, not steep but definitely no passing space.
“Mum’ll do the full tour tomorrow I expect,” Mart suggested, “bathroom here, Mum and Dad are next and you’re at the end.”
“Where’s your room?” oops, that sounded a bit forward.
“Oh I’m up the other stairs above the kitchen.”

The guest room was er ‘bijou’, a double bed took most of the floor space, her case was sat on the end. Wardrobe, chest of drawers and a vintage cot filled the remainder, no doubt another Marty relic. Drea usually slept with her but maybe she could try the cot as it was there complete with quilt, mobile and alarm.

“There’s towels on the chair there, if you need more they’re in that dresser in the corridor.”
“Thanks, Mart.”
“’S’alright.” He went to leave.
“No don’t, please?”
She laid her daughter on the bed before hugging the man she loved, “Thank you, Martin Preiser.”

Maddy Bell 21.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

Joy, the doc did say this might happen but why now? Why today? A Porta loo in a castle car park is not the best place to sort out the arrival of a girls monthly visitor, at least this time I’m – oh bugger!

“Er, Mand.”
“Where are you? I’ve got your accreditation here.”
“Er still in the lav.”
“The door stuck or something?”
“Something, I’ve started, you know, thingy?”
Mand sighed before replying, “And you haven’t got anything?”
“No, well yes.”
“Make your mind up.”
“I’ve got stuff in my bag…”
“…But you haven’t got your bag,” Mand finished.
“It’s in the..” no it wasn’t in the bus, I left it in the car which is back at the hotel, “car.”
“Why didn’t you bring it? No forget it. How bad is it?”
“Not much, a few spots so far.”
“Use toilet roll for now, I’m sure Petra will have stuff but she’s already gone over to the other pit area.”
Just my flippin’ luck.
“’Kay, be with you in a couple of minutes.”

You don’t really want the whole saga but Petra did indeed save the day, her workbox was stocked with the necessaries and I only missed six laps getting sorted out.

“Maybe we need to get Tampax™ to sponsor us,” Mand suggested when I eventually joined her to do the time board.
“Ha de ha, can you imagine Josh racing with that all over his shirt?”
“Make a man of him,” Mand suggested.
“There’s enough Josh as it is.”
“You hussy! Do tell.”

A chorus of whistles and shouting interrupted Mand’s line of questioning, the race was approaching.

Unlike road racing, cross is a much more individual affair, a single rider has as much chance of success as someone in a well represented team. There are two things to remember, stay out of trouble and finish at the front – both easier said than done. Anita is expert at reading the races, Erika seems to be picking it up too, so it was no surprise when both of them came past in the front group of a dozen riders.
We shouted encouragement at our girls then watched as the rest of the field processed past our position.

Mand was to be denied however.
“So how about Josh then?”
“What about him?”
“You know, oh my god, you shared a room in Switzerland!” she gasped.
Bum, I knew that would have repercussions. Look, boys don’t look at each other like that, well most of us don’t and like we used the bathroom to change – on our own.
“I just meant he’s a big lad.”
“I bet he is!”
“Mand!”
“What?”
“You have a dirty mind, de Vreen,” I stated.
“Just saying.”
“Look, he saw more of me than I did him.”
“What? Your boobs?”
“Well I could hardly wear a bra could I?”
“Geez, Gab, and nothing happened?”
“You know it didn’t,” I huffed.

By lap fifteen our riders were separated by just under thirty seconds, surprisingly it was Erika who was still holding top three albeit a few seconds adrift of first and second. The occasional waft from the hotdog stall some two hundred metres along the course was annoying too, reminding my stomach that we hadn’t really eaten yet today. My mind started to wander, thoughts of a sausage in a bun with all the trimmings taking me away from the cold, hungry reality.

“So what about, Max?” Mand enquired.
“What about him?”
“Well duh! You know, his equipment.”
“Mand!”
“Just curious.”
“How the heck should I know?”
“Oh come on, Gab, you trying to tell me your little passion sessions have never got beyond tonsil hockey?”
“He’s a good kisser.”
“Gab.”
“What else would we do?”

I might be blonde but I do know what she’s on about and yes we’ve er both had a bit of a erm grope. Max has been fairly enthusiastic in handling the girls, through my clothes of course, what do you take me for? Come on Mand, buy the bluff.

“Somehow, Gaby Bond I’m tempted to believe you.”
“Here they come,” I enthused, hopefully deflecting her attention away from my love life.

We missed the finish – we couldn’t get across the course but the last time past us Anita was back with Erika and they were literally five metres from the leading duo.
“Hotdog?”
Mand’s stomach answered for her, “What about money?”

Look, I might not be up to speed on the whole girl thing but there are two things that go pretty much everywhere, my Handy and my wallet. Okay, a wallet isn’t very girly I know but it’s a good solution for me, jersey pockets, jeans, alright, Handtasche – it works everywhere. Anyway, where I didn’t have female hygiene products on my person, my wallet was in my pocket.

“Ta da!” I brandished my cash store.

The hotdog stall had a short queue but plenty of staff so we were soon chomping on what the Danes call ‘Ristet’, well something like that. A lot of places in Germany you get the sausage in the middle of the bread but these were ‘real’ split bread jobs with fried onions, sliced gherkin, mustard and tom ketchup. We ate as we walked back to the start/finish area where the presentation was already underway.

“Und second place, riding for Apollinaris, Anita Pilz!” the crackling PA announced.
“Go Nita!” I yelled out, brill, we got the win, wonder where Erika came?

“There you are, girls, can you help Dave and Carsten with the bikes please?” George suggested.
Well he is the boss; we found Dad and Carsten looking somewhat wet and muddy still hosing bikes down.
“We’ve come to help.” Mand offered.
“Hotdog?” Dad suggested.
“How’d you know?” I queried.
“Ketchup on your face, kiddo.”
Sugar, I wiped at the offending blob with a serviette that Mand handed me.
“So what we doing?” Mand asked.
“If you can take those two bikes back to the bus then come back for these, and fetch us a couple of those sausages, eh?”
“Yes, Dad,” I allowed.

The men’s event was already underway by the time we were squared away, I wouldn’t’ve minded watching but everyone else was a) in need of a shower and b) wanting to eat. Well I was certainly in favour of b), the hotdog might have filled a little hole but a celebratory meal – count me in! We dropped back down the steep incline to Eisenach and were soon back at the hotel.

We were of course driving home today; the others were staying overnight so we decamped to various hotel rooms to get cleaned up and into a fit state for polite company in the restaurant. I forgot to say, Erika just missed the podium in the last scramble for the line but fourth was still pretty impressive.

“Tuesday afternoon, Gaby,” Petra advised as I retrieved my coat.
“Eh?”
“At the office? Kit?”
“Oh right,” I’d forgotten our earlier conversation, “you need Manda, too?”
“Your dad was going to bring her later but if she’s about we can kill two birds.”
“We’ll see you Tuesday then.”
“Tuesday,” she confirmed.

There were several hours drive ahead of us when we finally left Eisenach after a boisterous but good-natured celebration. The girls still have a few events to ride but essentially this marks the end of the cross season and the start of serious road preparation.
“We’ll stop for coffee around Frankfurt,” Dad advised as we joined the autobahn.

Good, I’ll need the ‘Klein Mädchen Raum’ by then, we did get through a fair amount of wet stuff – I’m sure at least one glass wasn’t Radler either. The road was quiet and with nothing to see outside I was soon nodding off.

I jolted awake, there was a sense of déjà vu as I stretched and returned to some sort of conscious state.
“Services?”
“Taunusblick.”
“Eh?”
“Near Frankfurt, your phone was going doo-lally, Mand? We’re stopping.”

Dad parked us near the Rasthaus and we hurried inside, it was damned cold again, well still, it’s never really warmed up today.

We’d done the necessary visit and were sat with our Milchkaffee before I fished my Handy out to see who’d been after me. Four missed calls, let’s see, Marty, what’s he want? There was a text too, let’s see;
‘Bern and Drea arrived safe, c u 2moro, M’
“Sugar!”
“Wassup?” Mand asked.
“I forgot all about Bernie coming.”
“As in Gaby the midwife?”
“Uh huh.”
“Back in a minute,” Dad mentioned before heading for the conveniences.

Damn, I’ve been so wrapped in my own stuff that my friend’s arrival really had slipped my mind. I did read that email from her the other day with the new dates but I promptly filed that under ‘not needed yet’. Sugar, sugar, sugar! I tapped out a reply;
‘Give them hugs, talk in am, G’
I hit send with a sigh.
“So I’ll finally get to see this baby you delivered,” Mand went on.
“Helped.”
“Helped then, you were there.”
Yes I was.

The rest of the ride home was uneventful, Mand returned to slumber but I stayed awake, Dad had some old school rock playing on the CD which I found myself humming along to. That was barely a distraction though, my thoughts kept returning to last summer and young Drea’s arrival, not just that but other highs and a few lows in my relationship with Bernie. Am I a bad friend to forget she was coming?

Maddy Bell 23.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“Where is she? Where’s Bern?” I demanded.
“At the farm?” Mart suggested, “You didn’t think she was coming to school did you?”
“Well it had crossed my mind,” I admitted.
“She was still asleep when we set off this morning, where were you yesterday, Mum was gonna take you with us to the airport.”

Fill the guilt bin why don’t you, Mart.

“Er bike stuff over in Thuringen, it was organised weeks ago.”
“Well anyway, Mum suggested you come to eat with us tonight, Dad’ll drop you home after”
Bum, bum, bum! What do I do? I’m supposed to be at cheer.
“Er right, yeah okay, er what time?”
“You can come straight up when dad picks me up.”

Just to explain, they might live on the farm but Stefan, Mart’s dad that is, has a job in the Apollinaris labs, checking water purity or something. Father and son generally commute together; Frau Preiser is the one who runs the farm on a daily basis.
Sugar.

“We having a girls night for Bernie?” Pia asked at lunch.
“When?” I queried between mouthfuls of pepperoni and mozzarella.
“How about tomorrow?” Brid suggested.
“Might be a bit awkward for me, bike stuff,” I offered.
“Wednesday?” Steff counter proposed.
“Can we use the Stube P?” Nena enquired.
“Should be okay.”
“Remember she has Drea with her,” I mentioned – which reminds me, “we should invite Anna.”
“I can sort some food if you want,” Con offered.
“Before we plan too much shouldn’t we check Bernie wants a do?” Steff opined.
“Gab can ask later,” Nena proposed.
“Er yeah,” I allowed.

“Anna.”
“Heya, Gab, what’s up?”
“Why does anything need to be up?”
“There’s usually something afoot when you guys call.”
“You remember that Bernie was coming?”
“You said before Weihnachts.”
“Well she’s here now, we’re having a party on Wednesday if you can get.”
“I’m good, where, the Stube?”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s a date,” she enthused.
“Um, Bern wants to see your mum while she’s over, she’s brought Drea with her.”
“I’m sure Mum would love to see them, I’ll speak to her and let you know what she says.”
“Thanks.”
“See you Wednesday then?”
“Wednesday,” I agreed, “tschuss.”
“Tschuss.”

“Gab?” Mart called over.
I’d been sat in the bus shelter re-organising my evening as we waited for Herr Preiser.
“Coming.”
Not for the first time my Schauff was loaded into the back of the Preiser’s pickup, I’ve been rescued on more than one occasion.
“Hi, Gaby,” Herr Preiser offered.
“Hi, Mr P.”
“Get yourself inside, it’s a bit parky, eh?”
I couldn’t argue that, it’s been perishing again today and the half hour waiting for our lift hadn’t done anything to improve my comfort level.

We navigated Ahrweiler and set off on the steep, direct three hundred-metre climb up into the hills. It’s not a road I end up on very often; maybe I should bring Mand up here sometime – no that’s wicked. At Rammersbach we turned onto an even quieter, narrower lane that, after a few twists, turns and even a ford delivered us into the Preiser’s farm – certainly not a route I’ve used before.

“Look who we found,” Herr Preiser announced as we trailed into the house.
“Shusshh!” his wife told him indicating the buggy in a corner of the kitchen, “The baby has only just gone down.”
“Where’s Bernie,” Mart enquired.
“She’s just gone for a quick lie down, hi Gaby.”
“Hi, Frau Preiser.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you went up, Gaby; Martin, show Gaby the way.”
“Yes Mum, come on, Gab, you can leave your bag in the hall.”
I followed Mart back out of the kitchen, deposited my bag and coat in the hall and through the house to a narrow staircase.
“Up the stairs, door at the far end, there’ll be a while before dinner.”
“Cheers, Mart.”

I climbed the stairs and made my way to the end of the corridor where I paused a moment before tapping on the door.
“Come in.”
I pushed the door open, light from the hallway spilling past me into the dark interior.
“Heya, Bern.”
“Gab?” there was movement from the bed as Bern sat up.
“In the er flesh.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Come to see you?”
“Oh, Gab!”

It was a wet and weepy half hour or so before Mart came to find us.
“You two want coffee or something?”
“Er sure,” I agreed, “we’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”
“Sure.”
“Drea still asleep?” Bern asked her beau.
“Was when I came up.”

I’m sure she’ll tell me more later but it didn’t sound like she was having a good time back in Warsop. Maddy was still being a bit of a, well tit and whilst the others were friendlier, well it was all a bit forced. She didn’t go into specifics but it sounded like the Social were giving her some grief too – in short she was getting to the end of her tether.

I was reintroduced to Drea before dinner as she woke up looking for her own supper. Now me and babies, well let’s just say, I might have the equipment but I’ve got no intention of putting it to use. That said, well who could resist a baby smiling at them, certainly not me, I was soon clucking and fussing.

“You want to feed her?” Bern asked.
“I thought you were breast feeding?”
“I expressed some earlier, my teats need a rest from being chewed once in a while.”
“She hasn’t got teeth has she?”
“Not yet thankfully but getting gummed isn’t any better, so?”
“Go on then.”

In theory I know what to do, remember that whole maternity thing I had to do at school? I settled Drea into the crook of my arm whist her mother sorted out the milk and as they do, she started trying to suckle. Is that supposed to happen? My nipple was like, well it’s embarrassing.
Anyway, moving on, Drea took her milk and settled down again which at least meant Bern got to eat in peace. It’s a farm right, Mrs P is a fair cook, if it’s not quite restaurant quality the quantity more than made up for it. It was liver, one of my favourites, served with pureed potato and mixed veg – there certainly wasn’t much left on anyone’s plate – at least Bern has a good appetite.

“The girls are having a bit of a do on Wednesday night if you’re up for it?”

I’m not sure where the time went but it was almost eight and time for me to go home.

“I don’t have transport,” she pointed out.
“Don’t worry about that, you in?”
“It depends on Drea.”
“You can bring Drea, Gott, everyone wants to see her.”
“If it’s okay with the Preiser’s.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“What about Marty?”
“What about him?”
“Can he come?”
“I guess so, not sure he’ll want to be stuck with a bunch of girls and a baby all evening.”
“But he can come?”
“I said so didn’t I?”
“You ready, Gaby?” Herr Preiser enquired.
“Sure,” I replied before turning back to Bern, “I’ll let Mart have the details right, see you Wednesday.”
I gave her a hug.
“Bye, Gab.”
“Nite, Bern.”

The drive down to Dernau was mostly done in silence, well apart from RTL on the cars radio. Don’t get me wrong, it’s brill to see Bern and the baby but I can’t help feeling there’s more to her visit than a few days away from home. If she really wanted a break why did she bring Drea with her, I’m sure her mum would’ve baby-sat.

“Why didn’t you tell us Bernie was coming this week?” Mum asked as I was ‘debriefed’ over a pot of tea.
“I forgot? She did mail me to say but I thought it was next weekend.”
“And today?”
“Well Mart dropped it on me this morning, I could hardly say no could I?”
“No, kiddo, you did the right thing. I’ll give Erika a call in the morning, I need to see this baby that survived you delivering it, for myself.”
“Mu-um!”
“What?”
“Just don’t make too much fuss, eh?”
“Me? Fuss? What’s up, Gabrielle Bond? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Well you remember when she first came last year, she was sort of withdrawn and stuff?”
“Which was understandable.”
“Yeah, but like well its like she’s waiting for something, you know, really nervous.”
“I’ll ring Cheryl before I go up to the Preiser’s.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
Well it wasn’t quite a weight off my chest, but you know what they say about sharing troubles.

Maddy Bell 24.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
“So I get off at Lohrsdorf right?” Mand confirmed.
“It’s the first stop out of Remagen,” I pointed out.
“Should manage that.”
“I’ll meet you at the station, it’s not far to Apollinaris.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later, tschuss.”
Her German is improving, she’s actually not so afraid of using it.

Of course I don’t usually see Mand in the mornings, she catches a bus that takes her down to the station at Remagen which only runs one journey a day for commuters. Talk about a culture shock, back in Croydon she could walk to school, here she’s an hours commute away. It’s not that uncommon of course, some kids at Silverberg live nearly twenty kilometres away and once you start college – well I might have to go to Koblenz!

Having got up half an hour earlier than usual to catch Mand, (I forgot last night okay), I now had time to kill before going to Thesing’s so for want of anything else to do I got my manicure set out. I don’t do girly, nails and stuff – well okay, if it’s a party or something I will but Brid for example always has her nails immaculate. Mine are a right mess so I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tidy them up a bit.

“You still here?” Dad needlessly asked joining me in the kitchen.
I finished coating the last nail with top coat, “Had a bit of time to kill, what do you reckon?” I presented my shiny blue nails for his approval.
“Very nice, you do know what the time is?”
“Yeah, I’ve got,” I checked the kitchen clock, “oh sugar!”

Yep you’ve guessed it, the spare thirty minutes was now ten minutes late! Ever tried putting your coat on without smudging your nails? And gloves – well they’ll have to wait. It was damn cold again as I set off in the pre dawn gloom to meet the rest of the gang.

“What’s with the nails,” Nena enquired as I slid into the booth.
“Had a few minutes spare this morning.”
“Nice colour,” Pia opined.
“Danke.”
“So how was Bernie?” Steff asked.
I took a bite of my Pflaumkuchen, “Mother and child doing well.”
“So we on for tomorrow?” Con queried.
“Uh huh, we need to organise some transport for them.”
“I’ll talk to Daddy nicely,” Pia suggested.
“Erm, I said it would be okay if Mart came, Bern seemed keen on that.”
“He can watch the football,” Brid posited.
“Oh and Anna said she can get,” I added.
“Is Manda coming?” Con requested.
“I did tell her, best count her in.”
“So that’s nine, ten with Mart,” Steff noted, “unless you’re inviting Max, Gab?”
“And why would I?”
“Well if you don’t know…”

“See you in the morning,” Con called out as the flock of Angels less one set off from Silverberg.
“Laters!”

There was time to kill before meeting Mand, an hour in fact, my own fault for suggesting we go to see Petra together. I rode into town, a walk through the shops would kill a bit of time, maybe I’ll see something for Drea. The smell of coffee from the café opposite the tourist office outweighed any desire for window-shopping in the chilly afternoon air.

Of course you can’t have coffee without cake and the mandarin torte did look particularly good. I was feeling somewhat happier after my snackette – and a trip to the ladies in advance to returning to the cold beyond the glass. Scooting along Niederhutstraße, well you aren’t supposed to ride, my eye was caught by the soft toys in the window of the toy cum craft shop, and I screeched to a halt outside.
It wasn’t a huge selection and the thing that grabbed my attention turned out to be a rather naff bear thing. Still, I was stopped now so I parked the Schauff and went inside for a look. It’s hardly Puppenkönig so there isn’t a huge range of stuff, some board games, puzzles, Playmobil™, Lego™ and a bunch of dolls.

I may be a girl, apparently, but I do not do dolls. Jules had some of course but I certainly didn’t, boys don’t do dolls, we have action figures! So okay they were dolls under a different name but you didn’t play dress up or have tea parties with Spidey.

They did have some baby toys, educational – that’s good yeah? A set of cloth cubes in primary colours with numbers and animals on each face looked a good bet and within budget. That decided I had a look at the model cars – well I was already in the shop wasn’t I?

Okay I added to my collection, only two, Volkswagen Polo and one of those new BMW Mini’s. By the time I hit the street the light was fast fading and I had ten minutes to get to Lohrsdorf station – not a problem on a road bike, just doable but on the heavy Schauff, well it’s pushing it. With a silent curse I mounted up and joined the afternoon traffic.

“I thought you’d forgotten,” Mand accused, “I was about to ring you.”
“Traffic?”
“On a bike?”
“I did get caught at the level crossing.”
“Hmm, so which way to Apollinaris?”
“It’s along by the viaduct.”
Mand looked where I was pointing up the valley.
“That’s miles away, you never said we had a ten mile hike,” Mand complained.
“Bike?”
“Well it’s alright for you, spot the problem? No bike for Amanda.”
“Stop moaning, you can ride on my rack, you know, side saddle.”
“You are kidding.”
“We do it all the time,” I lied.
So I know it’s not really allowed but plenty of kids do it, I’ve been a passenger a couple of times but not in charge – it can’t be that difficult.

I’m glad it wasn’t actually that far, the biggest problem was Mand wanting to balance, when she did sit still it made things a lot easier. The bike rides like a pig at the best of times so it was more overcoming the extra fifty kilo’s that was the issue. By the time we squealed to a halt in the Apollinaris yard I was quite warm from the effort and my calves were burning.

The shed that is Team Apollinaris HQ was open, I pushed the bike inside and we went in search of Petra. She didn’t take much finding; her ‘office’ door was open and leaking Euro pop.

“Hi, girls.”
“Hi, Petra.”
“Your mum said she’ll pick you up, Gab.”
Thank heavens for that, I wasn’t looking forward to transporting Mand to the station.
“Cool, so what’s the crack?”
“Well they want a full set of measurements, I did your mum and the others this morning.”
“Full?” Mand queried.
“Most of the gear will be fully bespoke so they want more than the usual top middle and bottom.”

I couldn’t quite see how some of the measurements related to clothing fit but what do I know. We had to strip down to our underwear of course – at least the room was quite warm – it’s where Petra does massage for the team so it sees plenty of bare female flesh! The other thing it has is a coffee percolator – not as good as a Gaggia® but it makes reasonable coffee.
Someone had to be first, so I volunteered.

I was sipping at a cup of caffeine while Mand was being metricated when Mum poked her head around the door.
“Hey, guys, how we doing?”
“Hi, Mum.”
“About ten minutes,” Petra allowed.
“I’ll put Gab’s bike on the car then, I’ll have a cup of that when I get back.”
Well that’s me told.

“Well I need to get this pair home, Pet, they have a turbo session waiting for them.”
Bum, I forgot about that.
“Can’t interfere with training, eh?”
“Guess not,” I sighed.
We both collected our stuff together and headed for the door.
“See you soon, girls; remember it’s nine in the morning, Jen.”
“How could I forget, see you tomorrow.”

Dad already had our bikes set up when we got home so there was no excuse for delaying our session, a quick change and we were ready to start. I’m not sure where he got the idea from but Dad seems to think we’ve been slacking a bit so he’s decided to have a more pro active input – think stood there with a stopwatch. We mounted up and started our warm up.

“Right, five minutes spinning, bottom gear,” Dad instructed.
The bikes were already set up in the right gear so it was mostly a case of getting pedalling.

“Come on, Gaby, get those legs going.”
Slave driver.

My legs were flying around, the bike bouncing about a bit as I put it all into a final effort.
Dad chopped his hand down, “Aaand end!”

The temptation at this point is to freewheel and get off as soon as but of course that’s not what you should do. Dad passed each of us towels and bidons as we sat up to start our ten minutes of warm down. The garage door that had been partially open was closed – don’t want to catch a chill do we?

“Good session, girls, two more minutes, I’ll see you upstairs.”

We were pretty much steaming now, not pleasant and with Dad out of the room I wasted no time in stripping out of my sweaty sports bra, flinging it towards the washing machine.

“Ga-ab!” Mand opined.
“What?” I queried wiping myself down with the towel.
It was nice feeling the slight breeze in the garage as it cooled my newly exposed skin.
“Do you have to flaunt yourself like that?”
“Eh?”
“Cover yourself up a bit?”
I was doing it again wasn’t I? Acting like a boy, I did this to Josh last summer and I’m doing it to Mand now too.
“If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” I blustered whilst covering the girls with the towel.
I really need to consider what I’m doing a bit more I guess.

Before Mand came to stay I would’ve used the downstairs shower but with two of us I’d drawn the short straw of having to go upstairs to clean up leaving Mand in the garage. I sprinted up to my eyrie and was soon snuffling under the needle points of hot water from my shower.

Why me, why has all this happened to me? I used to know what I was, how to behave, what was accepted behaviour. As a boy, as Drew no one would blink at me stripping my top off but now, well as Gaby it’s less acceptable. I don’t just strip at the drop of a hat in front of anyone; I think it’s something to do with comfort. I am, was comfortable around Josh, I am comfortable with Mand but perhaps I need to rein in how I show that a bit.

Maddy Bell 25.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“Did you speak to Bern’s mum?” I asked my own mater as I fried the Bratkartoffeln we were having with our chops for dinner.
“I did,” she confirmed draining the veg.
“And?”
“I’m guessing Bern told you about Social Services? Pass me the measuring jug.”
I gave her the mug, “Uh huh, she thinks they’ve got it in for her.”
“She might not be too far wrong from what Cheryl said, do you know where the mushroom sauce is?”
“Er,” I had to think on that, “middle shelf, left hand side?”
“Ah there it is, thanks.”
“So? I pressed.
“Did you know we had Gulasch mix in here?”
“Yes, you bought it last week—Bern?”
“Oh right, yeah so Cheryl said that the social worker is a nasty bit of work and seems determined to take Drea away.”
“They can’t do that can they?”
“If they think the baby or child is at risk.”
“Risk of what? Seems a bit heavy handed.”
“Well it’s because some kids have been killed or injured by their carers.”
“But Bern wouldn’t hurt Drea,” I stated.
“Well it’s apparently policy to put them on the register if the parents aren’t in a stable relationship.”
“That sucks.”
“Cheryl reckons that there’s a policy of taking babies and giving them for adoption.”
“They take babies away?”
“They have to have a good enough reason, but yes,” Mum confirmed.
“No wonder Bern’s worried, I would be, I mean if I had children, I’d be worried.”
“Me too, kiddo,”
“And there’s no way of getting off this list?”
“It’s rare, getting married helps apparently and the older the child the less likely as well – it’s easy to find parents for babies but less so for older children.”
I returned to dinner, it’s easy to overcook fried potato and ours were reaching the turning point.

“So everything’s set?” I asked before digging into my custard Danish the following morning in Thesing’s.
“Mart’s mum’ll bring them down and my dad’ll take them back,” Pia advised.
“Dad’s doing us a torte,” Con put in.
Now that’s something to look forward to.
“Mum’s gonna do us a pasta party,” Pia added.
We really are talking now!
“What time we meeting? Me and Mand have training first,” and I’ve got my extra tuition.
“Six?” Steff suggested.
“Suits,” Nena allowed.
“Gab?” Pia queried.
“Should be okay.” It might be a bit tight but Mum said she’d drop us up.

It still seems pretty gross having to check the contents of my knickers every chance I get, the only good thing is that this time round it’s not been too messy. Apart from Sunday’s lack of preparation I seem to have got things largely under control. With any luck – and a bit of attention, next time should be even better as the pill overrides my ovaries.

My ovaries, I still can’t get how I I’ve always had them but no one knew until last year. I guess no one was looking, you don’t see stuff if you don’t look for it and there wasn’t any reason to look. I redressed and after the usual ablutions headed back to class.

I’d already sorted out what I was wearing before our turbo session so once I was cleaned up it was straight into my nice undies, hose and dress. Just because it’s just a girls night doesn’t mean slopping around in jeans with no makeup, it’s nice to make some effort. I must admit that I picked the dress to match my nails, it was easier than redoing my talons and much quicker.

I grabbed my shoes and headed downstairs, there is no way I’m trying to navigate these stairs in heels. It’s not something I ever thought of as being a useful life skill well not for me at any rate. Heels I can do, heels and stairs – not if I can help it!

“We going the same place?” Mand asked when I got to the lounge.
She was dressed smart but not in a dress, fancy blouse, jeans and ballets – with my heels I could just about look her in the eye!
“Dinner at the Ritz?”
“You sure it’s okay for me to come?”
“Why not?”
“Well I don’t even know her for starters.”
“You know everyone else,” I pointed out, “you’ll like her.”
“You two ready?” Mum asked.
“Ready,” I agreed, “come on, de Vreen, let’s party.”
I was at the door before Mand’s voice brought me up short, “Forget something, Bond?”
Well I had my coat on, I remember putting my Handy and stuff in the clutch I was using, keys?
“What?”
She dangled the toyshop bag in front of her.
“Er, just testing your observation.”
“Girls!” Mum encouraged.

The guests of honour were the last to arrive that meant our being a couple of minutes late was easily overlooked. We did at least get our coats stowed before a car pulling into the car park announced the group from Staffel’s arrival. There was some door noise then Mart backed through the door followed by Miss Rose.

After some initial awkwardness from all parties, the gurgling from the car seat that Mart had brought in created a new focus. I let the others go all gooey; I’d already had my go on Monday.

“You alright, Mart?”
“I guess, look I didn’t want to come but she insisted.”
“No sweat, I think Mr S will have the match on later, you should be able to escape.”
“What’s she hiding, Gabs?”
“Hiding?”
“Look I’m not stupid, I know something’s going on. I mean it’s great to see her and the baby but it’s like she’s distracted all the time.”
“She’s got stuff going on back home,” I told him in a lowered voice.
“Her parents?”
“No, other stuff, I can’t tell you, I don’t know everything.”
His look said he didn’t believe me, “I’ll tell you what I know but not here, school tomorrow.”
“’Kay,” he allowed.
I think I need to talk to Bern again.
“Where’s Gab?” Nena queried from across the room.
“Here.”
“Come on, Gab, what’re you two doing over there?” Steff asked.
“Just chatting about the English mock on Friday.”

Drea for her part seemed unfazed by all the attention, happily gurgling away in her cosy cocoon. Bern certainly seemed a bit more on form than she had on Monday, not her old self but there was certainly some sparkle back. After some initial awkwardness, Mand was right in there with the others cooing over the babe.

Frau Sebenschuh had, as usual done us proud with the food, so okay it was nothing that special or complicated but who doesn’t like a pasta party? Factor in a bunch of hungry teens and what had looked like a veritable mountain of food was soon reduced to some left over sauce and a few strands of linguini. The torte Herr Thesing had sent up would however, have to wait, we were all stuffed.

Mart snuck away at some point to watch the footie, I think it was Köln vs. Bremen but don’t quote me on that. I caught up with Bern when we both headed for the lavs.

“Okay?”
“Yeah, I’d forgotten how much fun we all had last year.”
“Uh huh,” I agreed, “look Bern I think you ought to speak to Mart.”
“I do.”
“I know it’s not my business but he’s quite concerned.”
“What’s he said?”
“Nothing really but I’m sure he’ll be fine if you bring him up to speed, he just feels, I guess, a bit out of the loop you know?”
She looked thoughtful, like she was debating something with herself.
“Yeah, you’re right; I’ll talk to him later.”
“You ready for the bottle?”
“You guys still do that?”
“Of course,” I agreed leading the way back to the Stube.

Pia’s dad ran the guests of honour back up the hill as soon as the football was over just after nine. We had made some inroads into the torte; well in truth the last couple of slices went up to Staffel for the Preiser parents. That left the rest of us to get on with the gossip.

“She’s looking a bit thin,” Bridg suggested.
“Well she was pregnant last time you saw her,” Anna pointed out.
“I still think she looks like she needs a few good dinners,” Bridg went on.
“Says Fraulein Stick,” Steff mentioned.

Bridget is stick thin, she runs a lot but she eats a lot too, bit like me, still she’s right about Bern, she does look quite thin, drawn.

"What do you think, Gabs?” Pia enquired.
“Eh?”
“Bern.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“It must be difficult with the baby and school,” Con offered.
“I think she has other stuff going on too,” I added.
“Drea is a happy little thing,” Anna opined.
“Yeah, considering how she arrived,” Nena grinned.
“Hey!” I complained.

Of course Anna has her Mofa now so she didn’t have to wait for a parent taxi.
“You sort out, you know?” I enquired as she kitted up.
“With Mum?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, Mum’s going up to the farm after tomorrow’s class.”
“Tell her thanks from me.”
“It’s what she does, Gab.”
“I know but even so.”
“I’ll tell her. You got a costume for next weekend yet?”
“No idea, everything I think of is like so clichéd.”
“You’re right, there are hardly any decent female sci fi characters, if I think of anything I’ll let you know.”
“Cheers, take care, it looks like it might be a bit frosty.”
“See you soon, ciao!”

Her mount whined away just as Dad arrived for the Dernau taxi – Steff and Con were travelling back with us.

“Enjoy it last night?” I asked Mart when I got into class.
“I guess.”
“I suggested Bern bring you up to speed,” I supplied.
“She did, when we got back last night.”
“So you know everything now?”
He seemed a little distracted.
“Everything okay, Mart?”
“Yeah, yeah fine, yeah she told me everything.”
“Good.”

“What was that all about?” Max queried from behind me.
“Just something we were talking about last night.”
“Last night?”
“He came to our girls’ night.”
“What’s he do that for?”
“He came with Drea and Bern.”
“Who are they?”
“What is this Max, twenty questions?”
“Just interested.”
“Bernie, from England, his girlfriend, Drea’s.”
“Her daughter, I remember.”

“What was that about?” I asked Con beside me.
“That, Gaby Bond, was jealousy!”

Maddy Bell 25.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
It seems a bit strange, Bern being just a few kilometres away but being somehow as remote as she is at home in England. Mart wasn’t saying a great deal either considering he’s usually bouncing about every message, every picture received from Warsop. Oh well, Mum’s invited them all down for dinner on Saturday, maybe I can find out what’s going on then.

“Gab, do you reckon Bernie would be up for Koblenz on Saturday,” Nena asked as we rode in to school Friday morning.
“Dunno, probably, you should speak to Marty,” I suggested.
“Good idea, he can ring and find out.”
“How you getting there?”
“Pia’s dad said he’d take us.”
“Right.”

Well of course I can’t go, even if I didn’t have a training ride in the morning I’m working at the bakery all afternoon. I sort of felt a bit left out, she is my friend and I’m hardly getting to see her. She could’ve stayed at ours but she wanted to stay at the Preiser’s, I’m sure there’s something going on.

“So which way’re we going then?” Manda asked as we clicked in and rolled down to the road.
“Down to Sinzig, along the river then back over the tops.”
“It was alright until you said over the tops.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Says the mountain goat.”
We joined the valley road and started the descent to the Rhein.
“It’s not, honest.”
“Hmm.”

We were reasonably warmed up by the time we hit the bypass, not my favourite bit of road but as an alternative to navigating the traffic of Ahrweiler and Bad Neuenahr it’s a godsend. Once past the autobahn we picked up the back lane down to Sinzig where we joined the main road – not too busy on a January Saturday thankfully. We were doing steady piano, a pace you can keep up comfortably all day – well that’s the theory.

We had forty-five minutes on the clock at Bad Breisig and I spotted a couple of riders ahead of us. The gap to our bait was dropping steadily – not fast but we had a couple of kph on them. I lost sight of them as we approached our turn at Brohl; I guess they were going straight down the river.

“This isn’t too bad,” Mand allowed as we rolled along the lower reaches of the Brohltal.
“We follow the railway most of the way up.”
“Railway?”
“Vulkan Express, it’s like a tourist line, steam trains and stuff.”
“I keep forgetting that you get tourists coming here, the only tourists we get back home are going through Gatwick.”
“It can get quite busy in the summer.”

We made our first crossing of the railway and as the valley widened a little the road’s long sweeping bend revealed what looked to be the same pair of riders ahead of us. We are out getting steady miles in, not racing but we looked at each other and by mutual agreement upped the pace a little. The road to Maria Laach branched off, it’s a horrible climb, I’m glad we’re sticking to the valley.

Each pedal turn closed the gap and by the time we left Burgbrohl we were just metres behind. I hung back, dropping the pace to match the two chaps seemingly unaware of our presence as they carried on a conversation that carried back to us. If even half of their supposed exploits were real they should be riding in the big tours, typical Weekend Warriors.

The Brohltal Viaduct loomed above us taking the E31 to the south or up to Köln, I signalled to Mand before clicking up a gear. Mand dropped onto my wheel and I towed her up to the bait, a quick glance for traffic and I powered past.
“Morgen!” we both called in unison.

We doubled back up and dropped the pace back to our earlier rate; a glance back as we made the next rail crossing confirmed they’d taken up the gauntlet. The almost flat road along to Niederzissen let us recover a bit and the Warriors catch up to us. Through the village and the road tracked the rail line to Oberzissen.

“Start climbing here,” I mentioned under my breath.
Mand nodded her understanding.

The main road drags uphill for several kilometres but follow the railway and it’s much easier until the last drag to the top station. I signalled for the left turn and we swept into the first short sharp climb, when it started to flatten our toys came around us seemingly confident of their superiority on the climb. Since last summer Mand’s climbing has really come on, I might still have more punch but she can hold her own in most company and this isn’t the Alps.

We let them drag us up to Brenk; they’d clearly been this way before as they started changing down for the steep section to the railhead. Their progress became untidy almost as soon as the road kicked up; the two girlies were around them and dancing up the incline with a calculated ‘tschuss’ in passing.

“Feck,” Mand gasped as we crossed the railway at the top of the incline.
“There’s some downhill when we get to the village.”
“Whatever,” she allowed taking a drag from her bidon.

I took a look behind as we reached Engeln village, the Warriors were only just at the level crossing, as I watched they stopped and collapsed over their bikes. There was indeed a stretch of downhill that was marred by a horrible surface, any chance of riding fast down it gone. At the main road we turned towards the Nurburgring but we took the next right, which started us on the steady climb north.

Although we only had about twenty kilometres to go we both munched on energy bars, no point getting into bonk land when you can avoid it so easily.
“That was a bit mean back there,” Mand suggested.
“Fun though.”
“If you say so.”
“They thought we’d be mashed before the climb.”
“They were probably only doing a gentle ride.”
“We didn’t force them to chase after us.”
“I guess,” Mand eventually agreed.

We held a good tempo up to the summit of Adert where we took the narrow lane to Ramersbach; we aren’t far from the Preiser’s here. Mindful of the drive up on Monday I kept the speed quite sensible for our descent to Ahrweiler. When we reached the town wall even Mand knew where she was and it was simple enough to make our way around to the main road for the last couple of kilometres back home.

For once I had a reasonable amount of time to get ready for work and I was kind of glad I was going. No sooner had Mand emerged from the shower than Mum was roping her into some pre dinner party house keeping. I get out of cooking too, result!

“You look happy,” Con mentioned when I joined her in the bakery.
“You know the Preiser’s are coming to dinner at mine?”
“You did mention it yesterday, several times in fact.”
“Well guess who isn’t cooking and cleaning?”
“Maybe not at home but there’s plenty to do here,” she pointed out.
“But this is different.”
“How so?”
“Well I get paid for this.”
“You are mercenary, Gaby Bond.”
“Your point being?”
“Tables?” she suggested throwing a cloth at me.
“Yes boss!”

It’s January and Saturday afternoons are not exactly busy – it’s different in the summer but this time of year, like the Vulkan Express, the Ahrtal is devoid of tourists. I spent most of the afternoon cleaning as it turns out, tables, Gaggia™ and crockery from the couple of customers who did come in for coffee and cake.

I was quite surprised when Mand came in about half an hour before closing time.
“Heya, guys.”
“Hi, Mand,” Con offered.
“What’s up,” I queried, Mand never comes to the bakery on her own.
“There any brotchen left?”
“Er,” Con looked in the bin, “two.”
“Bum, we need,” she counted on her fingers, “ten.”
“Ten? What’re they for?” I enquired.
“Soup.”
There’re ten eating? Dad’ll have to extend the table.
“We’ve got some baguettes, three should do it.”
“I suppose it’ll do.”
“Well it’s that or nothing,” I pointed out.
“In that case it’s baguettes, she said she’ll sort you out when you get back, later.”
“Later,” I sighed.
She’s stuffed me again, I know I get staff discount but she never actually gives me the money, I know it’s not a lot but it’s my not a lot.

The house was full of cooking smells when I got home, not just smells but people too, well Boris and my sister at least.
“Right, Gaby, you can do dessert,” Mum informed me.
“Really?”
“Really,” she confirmed.
“What is it then?”
“Rhubarb crumble.”
“Why cant Jules do it?” I moaned.
“Your sister has a guest.”
“It’s Boris, he practically lives here at weekends.”
She gave me a look, one of those ‘if I have to tell you again’ looks that comes just ahead of full Sunday names.
“Whatever,” I sighed.

I had to make two crumbles of course as we didn’t have a single dish big enough to make it for ten – all extra time, I hope they appreciate my efforts. But of course crumble means custard, well it does in House Bond so that was another twenty minutes after the crumbles went in the bottom of the oven. By the time I was done everyone else was ready for show time and I had twenty minutes before our guests arrive, grrr!

So of course the Preiser’s with Bern and the baby were early – I heard them arrive before I’d even got in the shower. And twenty minutes, well that was never gonna happen was it?
“You coming, Gab?” Jules asked poking her head around my door, “Mum’s wanting to dish.”
“Er, can you zip me, I think it’s got caught.”
“You sure you want to wear this?”
“Why not?”
She sighed deeply, “Come here.”
It took some fiddling but eventually she freed my hair and got me zipped into my dress. I checked the view in the mirror, yep I’ll do.
“Come on then,” I suggested.
“‘Bout time.”

Of course when I joined everyone else downstairs it was too late to change my mind, everyone else was dressed ‘nicely’, even Bernie had a nice dress on. That sounds bitchy, what I meant was, well everyone else had made an effort, me on the other hand, well I felt like a right dog’s dinner. Over dressed doesn’t come into it, it might’ve been suitable for a posh do but a house party with friends, it was well overboard, I felt like crawling into a hole.

Maddy Bell 25.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

As you know, the Bond clan are no strangers to entertaining or being entertained, casual barbeques, more formal do’s with Dukes and even royalty but this evening, well it was awkward to say the least. If you overlook my dress faux pas, things were certainly at eleven on the weird scale. The parent’s conversation was of course the usual at one end of the table; at the other end it was ‘happy couples’, Jules and Boris, Mart and Bern, which left me and Mand, well not in either group.

“What’s up kiddo?” Mum asked as she stacked the soup bowls in the dishwasher.
“Nothing.”
“Come on, what is it?” she pressed.
I put the pile of plates down in the table, “I feel like the hired help, maybe a bit overdressed,” I admitted, “me and Mand are sat between two conversations neither of which include us. You could’ve asked Jules to help with this but no, muggings here has to do it.”
“Jules has a guest.”
“So do I, or isn’t Bern my friend anymore?”
“Of course she is.”
“So how come Jules is in there talking to her and not me? It’s not fair!”

And with that I stormed out – not just the kitchen but the house.
“Gaby!” Mum’s voice yelled after me, “Come back here!”
I kept going.
I got as far as the tiny park opposite the Netto before the cold and my stupidity brought my actions into focus. I perched on one of the benches and the waterworks started.

“Where’s Gaby?” Dave asked his wife, he’d heard raised voices from the kitchen but not the content and had come to investigate.
“Gone out,” Jen started, “for a breather.”
“What do you mean, gone out?”
“Dave, I think I’ve mucked up big style, she was pretty upset, she didn’t take a coat even.”
“I won’t ask what it’s about, you look after the Preiser’s, I’ll go find trouble.”
“Sorry, Dave,” Jen snuffled.

‘Where would she go?’ Dave asked himself, ‘the Thesing’s most likely.”

He pulled his own jacket on before grabbing his daughter’s and leaving his other half snuffling, set off to bring Gaby home. Ten minutes later and he was more worried, she wasn’t at the bakery, so where was she?

Did I mention it was cold? Well freezing actually and here I am, no coat, no Handy and a stupid dress sat on a stone bench in the shadow of the church. My rage had initially kept me warm but I was hardly dressed for the weather so I was soon blubbing and shivering in equal measure. Just because I’m the youngest I have to do everything, it’s not fair!

I can’t tell you what was going through my head, stuff but I can’t remember what. At some point I decided a walk would warm me up so with arms wrapped around myself I got up and started aimlessly walking. I berated myself for not grabbing my bag at least, a coat would’ve been a good idea too, but what’s done is done.

I hardly saw a soul as I wandered Dernau’s lanes – not unusual especially this time of year – everyone’s tucked up in the warm. My feet were starting to hurt, a combination of the cold and maybe not the most comfortable footwear for extended walking. Realising I was near the keep fit trail I knew where there was a bench.

“Miss, are you okay?”
I less snapped but I cranked an eye open.
The voice repeated the question, “Are you okay, miss?”
“Ccc-cold.”
There was some noise then I felt a weight enclose me before lapsing once more into unconsciousness.

“Young woman answering description located at the Tauglichkeitweg (Fitness park), over.”
“Condition please?”
“Request ambulance, over.”

The exchange was loud enough that Dave and his wife, stood behind the police van, heard it clearly.
“Dave?” Jen looked at her husband.
“She’ll be alright, love,” he held his wife tightly, ‘I hope.’

When Dave returned after thirty minutes without his daughter it was clear to everyone that something was up. The meal was forgotten and more bodies added to the search, a second sweep of the town had borne no fruit and with the time getting on the Police were called. Generally the forces of law and order would’ve suggested waiting before getting too involved, given the temperature and how the runaway was dressed they agreed to add their resources to the search.

It was still after midnight, five hours after she’d left that she was found, less than a kilometre from home.

Someone nearby was talking, “We need to get her core temperature up.”
“But she’ll be alright?” another voice queried.
“Hypothermia can be a funny thing, once we get her warmed up we can run more tests. She does have early stage frostbite so that’s our main concern for now,” voice one stated.
Concentrating on the words was difficult and I was tired, sleep.

The beeping of a respiratory monitor was the thing that I noticed first, that and the restriction you get with a sheet made bed rather than a duvet. Hospital, did I have an accident? I searched my mind but it was like a blank memory stick, operating system but no data.

I opened an eye, yep hospital alright and a tug on my arm confirmed it was me being monitored. Hospitals – well there’s usually pain involved but nothing seemed to hurt, my hands and feet are a bit tingly, you know like pins and needles but unless I’m well sedated as far as I can tell there’s nothing broken. I turned my head a little to take in the room, yep it’s definitely a medical ward, not like at the Frauenklinik.

But I was still tired, I closed my eyes and things faded away.

“Mum?”
“No kiddo, it’s Dad, I can fetch your mum if you want?”
“Ut uh,” I’m not sure why but I didn’t want to speak to her. “What happened? Why am I here?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I remember being cold.”
Dave paused to consider his words, “you remember arguing with Mum?”
Do I? We were having dinner, Bernie and the Preiser’s were there, “Nope, what about?”
“I’m not sure, kiddo, but you took off, the Polizei found you up at the Tauglichkeitweg, half frozen five hours later.”
“But I’m alright, yeah?”
“Hypothermia and frostbite.”
“Frostbite?”
Dave wanted to rave at her, what did she think would happen?
“The docs were quite concerned but they don’t think there’s any lasting damage.”
“Lasting,” my voice trailed off, “like things falling off?”
“You were barefoot when they found you.”
“But?”
“You still have a full set of toes – just. You might not be wearing those silly stilts for a week or two though.”
I guess toes are good.

The medics wanted to keep me in a second night, which of course meant more time off school. I’m still not clear on what I argued with Mum over and she’s not saying, it’s like I’ve wiped my memories clean. If it was that important I’m sure she’d say something.
Anyway back at home was weird too, everyone was on eggshells around me, Mand, Jules (they’d both skived off school) and especially Mum. My fingers and toes were still sore and tingly and certainly not the colour they should be – I had to take the blue off my nails, as it looked well weird now.

“I’ll take you up to Bernie later, if you want,” Mum offered after lunch.
“Er okay, I should go to cheer tonight.”
“I’m sure Margot will understand.”
“But I’m supposed to be in charge,” I pointed out.
“You won’t be doing much with those feet will you, I’ll ring her and explain.”

I can hear that conversation – ‘Gaby decided to get some frostbite so she can’t walk very well this week’, talk about make me look stupid. Well I suppose I deserve that, going out sans coat in the freezing cold was not the most sensible thing I’ve ever done – and I’ve done some stupid stuff.
“Okay,” I heard myself agree.

I hobbled into the Preiser’s kitchen, Mum prodding me forward. Everyone had gone a bit weird when I suggested Jules and Mand come up too, maybe Bern can enlighten me?
“Heya,” Bern greeted us, “you had us all worried there, Gabs.”
“Er yeah, um sorry for that.”
“Sit, sit,” Erika prompted, “coffee everyone?”

Once we had drinks Erika and Mum left the two of us in the kitchen and departed for the lounge.
“So,” I offered.
“So,” Bern agreed, “what was the disappearing stuff about?”
“I was hoping you could tell me, my mind’s a blank, I remember clearing the soup stuff, then nothing.”
“Well we heard you shouting at your mum then you slammed out. So how are your fingers?”
“Not dropping off this week but sore,” I showed her my hands, “feet are worse.”
“Nasty.”
“That’s me, stupid is as stupid does but what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Come on, Bern, it’s me, I know there’s something going on – oh my God, you’re pregnant again, by Mart!”
“Gab!”
“That’s it, that’s why you came.”
“No it’s not,” she replied firmly, I mean, think about it, Gab, just when could we have, you know done the deed, I’ve not seen him since Drea was born have I?”
“I guess not,” I allowed, “but there’s something, I know it!”
Bern hesitated; should she tell Gab, bring her friend into the web?
“I told you everything last week.”
“You didn’t tell me the Social want to take Drea away.”
“How’d? – You spoke to mum,” she surmised.
“Well not me, Mum rang her last week. So coming here is something to do with that?”
Bern sighed, “Not here, come up and see Drea.”
“I wondered where she was.”
“Sleeping I hope.”

I followed my friend up to her room – somehow that seemed right, not the room she was staying in but her room. It looks like I’m going to find out what this is all about, whatever ‘this’ is.

Maddy Bell 30.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
“So let me get this right, if Mart is the ‘father’ they can’t take her away?”
“She’d have dual nationality so it would be more difficult and we lived here we’d be safe.”
“Wow,” I managed; you’ve really thought this through. What does Mart think about this? He does know doesn’t he?”
Bern looked a bit sheepish, “Not yet.”
“Bern, you have to tell him.”
“I will, I’m going to.”
“When?” I pressed.
“Before we go home, honest.”
“What if he says no?”
“He won’t.”
“But what if he does?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Just don’t do anything rash Bern, for Drea’s sake.”
“Gab’s, you can’t tell a soul, promise?”
“Who’d I tell?”
“Promise?” Bern implored.
I mimed zipping my lips, before giving her a hug, “Promise.”
“We’d best go back down,” Bern suggested.
“I could do with another coffee.”

Having got the biggy out of the way, conversation returned to safer subjects, the trip to Koblenz on Saturday, and Gloria’s visit midweek. It only occurred to me just before we left that we’d actually been talking in German most of the evening, Bern’s definitely been practising. For me, well I use German most of the time, even at home only flipping to English when Mand’s about.

We picked Mand up on the way home; she’d still gone to cheerleading, I think she enjoys it more than she lets on.

“How’d it go?”
“Go?”
“You okay with Bernie now?” she clarified.
“Er yeah, fine,” I allowed, “what about cheer? You cope without me?”
“Only just, we spent a lot of time going over the sets, I think Margot was quite pleased.”
“I’ll be there next week,” I mentioned.

Dad insisted on taking me to school Tuesday morning although he did bring the Schauff down, I’ll be riding home at least. We were early enough that my bike was stowed before the others arrived, I waited for them inside – cold is not my friend!

“Hey, Gab, you okay,” Max enquired spotting me sat on the stairs.
“Yeah fine.”
He joined me on the step, “Con said you got hypothermia?”
“Uh huh, went out without a coat.”
“You need to take better care of yourself, Gab, you could’ve got pneumonia or something.”

Something, I glanced at my be-gloved hands, yeah something.
When he put his arm around me, I couldn’t help myself, I shuffled closer and leant my head on his shoulder. So of course that’s how the girls found us a couple of minutes later.

“Get a room you two,” Brid suggested.
I sprung away from Max.
“We weren’t doing anything.” Well maybe Max did have his face in my hair.

“So what’s with the gloves?” Pia enquired at lunch.
“Doctors orders,” I allowed before spooning more Gulasch into my cakehole.
“They’re not that bad are they?” Nena queried.
“Show us, Gab,” Steff pressed.
“There’s nothing to see.”
“Ga-ab?” Con complained.
“Whatever,” I put my spoon down and pulled off the thin thermal gloves I’ve had on all day.
“What were you thinking, Gab?” Steff asked inspecting my discoloured digits.
Wish I knew myself.
“Dunno, it wasn’t exactly planned.”
I pulled the gloves back on.
“When your dad came we didn’t know what to think,” Con stated, “you had everyone really worried you know.”
“Sorry.”

I was wrapped up like an Eskimo for the ride home, it wasn’t as cold as the weekend but even so I was feeling quite chilled when I got home. The quick solution was a shower that past experience has shown, works quite quickly.

“So you feeling okay, kiddo?” Dad asked when I re-emerged from the warming waters.
“Bit tingly still.”
“So you’ll be up for training then?”

Am I? I’m sure Dad wouldn’t press it but if I say no, what does that say about me? About my commitment and ambition? It’s easy to not do stuff, training when you aren’t 100% committed, well you might as well read a book. I do want, no need, to succeed, I need to validate who I am and that means going the extra mile so to speak.

“There’s nothing wrong with my legs.”

The look he gave me questioned that but he didn’t voice any concerns he might have, “I’ll get your bike set up then.”

“Aaand end!”
I flopped over the bars absolutely mashed.
“Don’t stop, proper cool down,” Dad instructed, “you too, Manda, good session both of you.”

I hadn’t, well neither did Mand have anything to answer with. It was the same session we did last week but I had given it my all, Mand doing her best to match my efforts. My abused digits weren’t too much of an issue although holding the bars towards the end wasn’t so good.

“I was on with BC earlier,” Dad advised as we did our warm down, “you’ll be going to Manchester at half term for your evaluations.”
“All week?” I got out.
“Just a couple of days, you’ll be at the velodrome Monday and Tuesday back Wednesday.”
“You coming?”
“Just your mother, seems she’s still of interest to them.”
“I should hope so,” Mand interjected.
“They’ve been a bit fickle in the past.” Dad noted, “You’ll stay at your Gran’s.”
“Great!” I enthused.
“Right then, finish up, we’re going to the Pinger’s for dinner, front and centre thirty minutes.”

Slave driver.

A second shower, well you didn’t think I’d just dress and go did you? Well anyway I dressed quickly and even had time to text Bern before meeting at the assembly point.

“Ready?” Dad asked slipping his own coat on.
“Hungry,” I suggested.
“Times two,” Mand added.
“In that case, we’d best make a move.”

It’s been a while since we’ve been down to the Pinger’s place to eat – well relatively; I guess it wasn’t much before Chrimbo in actual fact. Hen’s barbeques are legend within the team but January is hardly the season for outdoor cooking so I was more than a little surprised to see smoke coming from the back of their house. Given that is was more curious was the fact we went into the house rather than the garden.

“Hey guys,” Kat greeted.
“Hi Kat, we having a barbeque?”
“In January? Don’t be so daft, Gab.”
“Well there’s smoke out there,” I mentioned.
“Tell me about it, Dad’s latest project, we’re christening it today.”
I raised an eyebrow in question.
“Oh right, it’s a pizza oven, why we can’t just order from San Marco’s I don’t know.”
“This I have to see, coming, Mand?”
“Think I’ll give it a miss.”
I went through to the kitchen where Mum and Maria were both already on the vino – so much for bodies being temples.
“Your dad’s already out there and do that coat up.”
“Yes, Mum,” like I wouldn’t.

The reason for all the smoke became evident once I reached the outdoor kitchen, the oven is pretty big and wood fired – that’s supposed to be good for pizza.

“Hi, Gaby.”
“Hi, Henryck, it’s a bit smoky isn’t it?”
“It’ll soon clear, just needs priming.”
“Mum won’t let you have one, Dad,” I mentioned as he fed some sticks into the flames.
It certainly wasn’t something bought in Obi , Hen must’ve built this himself.
“So like, how does it work then?”
“It’s essentially like a Roman bread oven,” Dad started, “you heat the oven with the fire so you get sufficient hot coals. Then you rake them to the sides, put the bread in the middle, close the door and it bakes it.”
“Right,” I’d had visions of balancing the pizza over blazing flames.
“So you can cook other stuff too?”
“It’ll be a boon in the summer, Gabs,” Henryck enthused, “fresh bread, stuffed peppers, quiche.”
“Couldn’t you just use the oven indoors?”
“Not the same, you don’t get the smokiness in the flavour eh, Dave?”
“It does add a certain authenticity,” Dad agreed, “I think it’s nearly ready Hen, the smoke’s dying down.”
“Can you ask Maria to get the food ready, Gaby, then we’ll test this baby out!”

“So how’s it going?” Maria enquired when I returned to the kitchen.
“About ready to go apparently, they’re ready for the food.”
“Good job it’s ready then.”

The food, as advertised, was pizza, home made although I think the bases might’ve been from the deli. There were four of them, about thirty centimetres, liberally covered in meat, cheese and vegetable matter. I picked up the nearest and headed into the gloom outside.

We weren’t eating outside – which was just as well considering the dropping temperature, rather Mum and Maria had put together a sort of winter salad selection – some green leaves, Rotkohl and Kartoffel salat on the dining table. The oven was big enough for two pizzas at a time so we started on the first arrivals whilst the second batch were cooking. Hmm, maybe they could do with a bit longer, the bases were a little doughy but they were definitely morish!

There certainly wasn’t much of anything left to waste when we’d had our fill, I got a slice of all four pizzas – well you have to check them. Kat made hot chocolate to go with the mud pie thing Maria had cooked more traditionally indoors. I forced myself to eat a slice but to be honest I was stuffed.

“So Hen, we know where to come for pizza in future,” Mum opined, sipping wine again.
“Don’t encourage him, Jen,” Maria chastised.
“A man needs hobbies eh, Dave?”
“It’s what keeps us sane,” Dad replied with a grin.

I don’t think Dad gets a lot of time for his hobbies these days, we moan when he wants to look at a castle or something. We aren’t very fair to him really, he has to put up with everyone else’s pastimes but it’s a bit one-way. With threats of school attendance tomorrow we headed home a bit after nine, I’m sure Mum was a bit tipsy.

Maddy Bell 31.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
“You decided yet?” Steff enquired.

I was back to the usual bakery ritual on Wednesday and talk was dominated by the upcoming Con in Koblenz.

“I was thinking of the Doctor.”
“Doctor?” Nena queried.
“Yeah, you know, woo woo, whooo, woo,” well you try humming the theme tune, “Timelord, Tardis, Daleks, Cybermen?”
“The English programme,” Pia suggested.
“Uh huh,” I agreed, look I know it’s made in Wales but you try explaining the difference to the Germans.
“But I thought that it was a man,” Steff opined.
“Well that doesn’t mean I can’t do it does it?”
“Guess not, it’s not like there’s a lot of female characters,” Pia allowed.
“And they’ll be done to death,” Con surmised.
“Yeah, like there’ll be dozens of Leia’s,” I noted with a glance at Brid.
“What?” she queried.

I was still wearing the gloves, my fingers still look a mess, well and my feet, but they do feel a lot better. The doctor said I might have the tingling for a while – better that than missing digits I guess. I’ve got cold enough to get the tingles before but this is stepping things up a level – a level I’d prefer not to have reached.

Today was at least a little milder, not quite the bone chilling temperatures of the last few days certainly. The ride to school was almost pleasant, the Sun doing its best to break through the early morning grey. That doesn’t mean it’s warm; indeed we were all still wrapped up to the ear holes with hats and scarves muffling us from the elements.

“Can I have a word, Gab,” Mart requested as I headed into the school buildings.
“Guess so, what’s up?”

He directed me to a quiet corner, away from prying ears.

“So?”
“It’s Bern.”
“Tall girl, reddish hair, what about her?”
“Gab!”
“Well come on then, what is it?”
“She wants a serious talk, about us. I was sort of wondering if you knew anything?”
“Why would I know?”
“She’s your friend, you talk,” he surmised.
“When is this ‘chat’, not that I know anything.”
“Friday, Mum’s looking after Drea and we’re going out to eat.”
“I’ll see what I can find out okay?”
“Thanks, Gaby, see you in class,” and he was gone.

“Max’ll get jealous.”
“Eh?”
“You and Mart,” Con enlarged.
“We were just talking about Bernie.”
“If you say so.”
“And anyway, we are not a couple.”
“So when are you seeing him again?”
“In about five minutes.” I told her.
“Five minutes?”
“In class, dummy.”
“Gaby.”
“Well you did ask.”

It’s weeks until we take our exams but I don’t suppose I’m alone in being fed up with them already. If it’s not mocks, it’s extra classes, whole sessions going over stuff we did last year, it really sucks. When you start school no one tells you that it all ends like this, you think it’s always going to be learning new stuff but no, you spend loads of time being coached to pass exams.

In September we start at college, courses designed to put us onto our particular career choice, I’m sixteen, well nearly, how do I know what I want to do next year, let alone for the rest of my life. I thought I did, I had it all worked out, I was going to be a pro cyclist, win the Tour de France, then, well probably start a bike company like Chris Boardman or Eddy Merckx. But now, well there just aren’t the opportunities for women riders that there are for the men, fewer races, fewer teams, lower wages – you get the picture.

“You doing anything Saturday?”
“You what?”
“Saturday, you doing anything?” Max asked as we stood in line in the cafeteria.
“Training, work, normal stuff for a bike skivvy.”
“Eh?” he shook his head, “Whatever, you fancy going out?”
“Like a date? Not the pictures again.”
“No, the Lion’s have a fundraiser at the Bad, there’s some spare tickets, thought you might want to go – there’s food.”
“How posh?”
Well you have to consider these things.
“Long frock?” he suggested.
“At the Bad?” I confirmed.
“Mum and Dad are going so they’ll take us.”
“I’ll have to check with the Rents.”
“We’ll pick you up at seven.”

“So what was that about?” Pia asked when I plonked my lunch, Wiener schnitzel with Pommes, on the table.
“What’s what about?”
“Oh come on, Gab,” Steff started, “Max was whispering in your ear all the time you were queuing.”

I started to colour up, they might not have heard but they were watching, am I that entertaining?

“He wants me to be his plus one at some thing in Neuenahr on Saturday.”
“A date!” Brid enthused.
“Not the Lions do?” Pia pursued.
“Might be,” I allowed poking the frites around my plate.
“You are going?” Con queried.
“Possibly.”
“A date, for sure,” Nena stated.

“Dad?”
“No you can’t miss training.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that. You know Saturday?”
“What about it? Is this going to cost me?”
“No, well possibly, anyway can I go out Saturday night?”
“Saturday?” he looked up, “I don’t see why not, hang on there’s a catch isn’t there?”
“Catch?”
“Gaby? Where are you going?”
“Erm, Max wants me to go to the Lions do with him, Gloria and Wilhelm are going.”

Dave gave his youngest child an appraising look, is this really the same child who even a couple of months ago was denying any interest in boys, let alone volunteering to go out with one.

“Just remember that we’re taking the Rose’s to the airport on Sunday.”
Mum had mentioned that on the way home Monday.
“I remember.”
“Okay, do you need a ride?”
“We’ll go with Max’s Rents, they’ll pick me up here.”

“So what am I supposed to wear?” I quizzed.
“Mum said it’s quite posh,” Max allowed down the line.
“Not Royal wedding posh?”
“Not that, it’s like all the local big wigs, they want to put on a show, Dad says they mistake glitz for class, there’s like a scale depending how rich they are.”
“Where do I come on this scale then?”
“You don’t.”
“What? I don’t even make the scale?” I screeched.
“You don’t because you are off the scale.” Max soothed.
“Gaby? You alright up there?” Mum enquired from below.
“Yeah fine,” I called down.
“Well keep the noise down, missy.”
“Yes, Mum.”
I returned to the hastily discarded Handy, “Max, you still there?”
“Still here,” he noted.
“So you reckon there’ll be any quiet corners at the spa?”
“And why would you want to know that, Fraulein Bond?”
“Just curious.”
“I’m sure we can find you somewhere.”

Free food and kissing, looking forward to it already. I closed the call – well not straight away, maybe half an hour later, Max wouldn’t put the phone down.

When I got home from school Thursday I was surprised, very surprised, to find Bern and Drea there.
“Hiya, Gab.”
“Hi yourself, wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“I caught the bus down to the station then the Express down to here.”
“I didn’t know there was a bus.” I admitted.
“I think there’s about three a day, your mum said she’ll run us back.”
“’Kay, you want another cup?” I motioned towards her teacup.
“Go on then,” she agreed.
“So tomorrow’s the big night.”
“We’re going to some place in Adenau, someone from Mart’s football runs it.”
“He’s been asking if I know anything,” I told her, returning to the table with our drinks.
“You’ve not said anything?”
“Bern,” I admonished.
“Well it’s important.”
“I know,” I agreed, “you sure about it though?”
“No, I’m shit scared.”
Drea chose that moment to start mithering.
“I’ll get her.”

Well, I won’t have much more opportunity will I? I sat back at the table and gently rocked her, she exchanged the complaining for watching, she really is cute.

“You’re a natural,” Bern stated.
“Natural blonde,” I agreed.
“You’ll make a great mum.”
“Not this side of hell freezing over.” I stated before chucking Drea under the chin.
“So you aren’t going out with Max Saturday then?”
“How’d you find out?”
“Mothers have ears!”

Maddy Bell 31.05.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“Mum!”
“You were on the phone a long time last night,” mater stated.
Bern chuckled.
“You were listening,” I accused.
“Not intentionally, kiddo, but your room is over your Dad and me,” she pointed out, “you staying to eat Bernie?”
So now I know, my eyrie isn’t as private as I thought.

The girls stayed to eat, as I was playing aunt I got out of cooking although I’m not sure having a baby is the best way of getting out of cooking. For starters Mum would go potty – what am I even thinking about it for; it is so not going to happen, not ever! I joined the expedition to take them back up to Stattel – how can one baby need so much stuff?

“Good luck for tomorrow,” I offered, giving Bern a hug before we left them.
“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Have a good time, see you Sunday.”
“And you, say hi to Max for me.”
“I will,” I gave her a final squeeze, “tschuss!”
“Bye!”

Friday of course was just like, well a Friday. Herr Ansbacher had us watch one of those ‘infodoc’ things about Charlemagne and the founding of the Holy Roman Empire – revision without the written tests. But otherwise the day was uneventful, as normal a day as you get really.

“Hey, Mart!” Nena called across the canteen.
“What’s up?” he queried when he reached us.
“You think Bernie would be up for a trip to Bonn tomorrow?” Nena posed.
“Er probably.”
“You could come too,” Steff offered.
“To carry the bags,” Bridg added.
“I’ll give her a call,” I volunteered.

“You all set for tonight?”
“Nervous as heck.”
“It’ll be fine, I reckon he’s just as nervous,” I opined.
“I really like him, Gabs, this could muck everything up.”
There was that, I hadn’t wanted to voice it but clearly Bern has been thinking about it.
“So I’ll tell the girls you’re on for tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I might need to get away from here if it goes wrong.”
“It won’t,” I told her with more conviction than I felt, “look, I have to go, lunch is nearly over, have a good time – and don’t worry, eh?”
“I’ll try, tschuss.”
“Tschussie.”

“You going Garde tonight, Gabs?” Pia asked, as we got ready for the ride back up the valley.
“Think so.”
“You need a lift?”
Do I? “Er please.”
“Usual time then. You look a bit distracted, what’s up?”
“Er nothing, really, just wondering what to wear tomorrow.”

Nothing, hah! Bern voicing her concerns earlier had been a distraction ever since, what if Mart does say no what happens then? I’m certain that Mart is well smitten, not just with Bern but with Drea too and I think he’d be a good dad. But it is a big thing to ask, especially of a sixteen-year-old lad, not the most mature combination at the best of times.

My feet were still quite sore and an hour of Garde didn’t exactly help and whilst we don’t wear the uniforms for practice the boots are essential. Stamping, marching – well even if your feet don’t hurt it can be quite tiring, I felt quite wooden. It did at least take my mind off of events a few kilometres away in Adenau, I was quite glad when the torture was over; Hannah of course wanted to speak with me.

“Okay, Gaby?”
“Bit sore,” I allowed.
“You will be at cheer on Monday?”
“Course, I hadn’t planned not to come this week.”
“Your mother told me what happened, you really need to be more careful.”
“Er yes,” what the hell did Mum say to her?
“Well anyway, I’ve had confirmation, we’re in the competition.”
“Great, Mand said practice went well?”
“Not bad but it’s still a bit stiff.”
“Maybe we should swap to Garde,” I joked.
“Well not that stiff but it does need smoothing out more.”

Herr Sebenschuh dropped me off, I still hadn’t heard from Bern, mind you, half eight, they could still be eating I guess.

“You need anything, your dad and me are going shopping in Aachen tomorrow,” Mum pronounced when I sank into my usual corner of the sofa after showering.
Do I? I think I have everything for tomorrow, no hang on, “Could you get me some hose for tomorrow night?”
“What do you want?”
“Some ten D in black, shiny would be good,” I requested.
“That it?”
“Don’t push your luck Jen, you know what she’s like,” Dad suggested.
“Some biscuits?”
“I think we can do biscuits,” Mum agreed, “Manda?”
“I’m alright thanks, I’m going shopping tomorrow anyway.”
“It’s no trouble,” Mum told her.
“It’ll give me something to do.”
“We’ll be eating out tomorrow night, can’t let twinkle toes here have all the fun, eh.”
“Huh!”

There was still no word from Bern – or Mart for that matter, by the time I went to bed. Is that good or bad? I debated ringing but it was nearly eleven, not sure it would be appreciated by anyone at the farm. Text, I can send a text. That idea fell flat when I found my Handy’s battery was dead, bum, guess I’ll have to wait until the morning.

“You with me?” Mand asked.
“Eh?”
“Geez, Gab, you’ve been in dreamland all morning.”
“Right.”
“Which way?” Mand pressed.
I looked to see where we were, Linz? How did we get here? “Erm left, we can do a loop up the hill further along.”

My mind was still firmly on Bern and Mart; I hadn’t slept well or long, what happened? Is everything okay? In the end I had to send that text but there hadn’t been a reply before we set off on this ride, nor when I checked on the ferry a few minutes ago.

“Oof!”
The impact of hitting the pothole shook not just the bike but me too.
“I did warn you,” Mand stated, “You need to concentrate on riding instead of Max’s lips.”
“I wasn’t thinking of Max.”
“Well whatever it is, you need to snap out of it,” she told me.
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
She’s right of course, it’s not like there’s anything I can do anyway, apart from be a shoulder to cry on.
“Gab!” my riding partner snapped, “You’re doing it again, I said, what are you wearing tonight?”
Tonight, tonight! Dance, Max.
“The white dress with sparkles?”
“The one from New Year?”
“Uh huh, I can borrow Mum’s lace wrap, right here, what do you reckon?”
We turned into Erpel before she replied, “Hair up.”
“Right again, braids?”
“Nah, bit formal.”
“Not braids then, I’m supposed to be doing classy, you know, elegant.”
“Some sort of chignon, flip, you didn’t mention this!”

‘This’ was the climb, steep climb over the railway and up out of the Rheintal. Conversation ceased as we both concentrated on the job at hand, I have been up here a few times, it drags on for a bit after the steepest section before easing off a bit. The slightly damp tarmac made things a bit more difficult, we both had wheel spin, disconcerting to say the least, we were back in the saddle quickly after that.

“Where’re you going this afternoon?” I queried once we got back into a comfortable rhythm.
“I thought I’d go to Koblenz.”
“On your own? Do the olds know?”
“I might not’ve mentioned it, it’s hardly the end of the world, I do go to school in Bonn you know.”
“Yeah but…”
“You go on your own,” she pointed out.
“With the girls.”
“But you would go on your own?”
“Er yeah,” I allowed.
“I am older than you,” she pointed out.

Well that shut me up. I’ve got a tendency to think of Mand as my ‘little’ sister, her German isn’t great, she’s been ‘adopted’ by my friends – well you get the picture. I forget that she is nearly six months older than me and she got on in life perfectly well before she came to Germany.
We continued to climb up through the woodlands in silence for a bit, the thin sunshine dappling the tarmac, disguising the uneven surface. An elderly railcar chugged through the trees not much quicker than us, have to take a ride sometime , we bumped ever upward.

“You know where to go?”
“I have been before.”
“Okay, just checking.”
“Soz, Gab, look, I need to do more stuff on my own, I’m always tagging onto other people.”
“So where are you going?”
“Just gonna have a mooch round really, I’ve never really looked in a lot of the shops, you guys are like a whirlwind, you know where to go, what you want to look at.”
“There’re some nice shops up in the Altstadt,” I volunteered.
“See, you know that, I’ve just got dragged past.”
“We could cut this short,” I offered, “give you more time?”
“Won’t your dad blow one?”
“Only if he finds out.”
“Lets stick to the plan, there’ll be other days,” Mand decided.
My mind started ticking, hmm.
“As you’re going, Mand,” I started.
“What?”
“Could you do me a favour?”

Maddy Bell 01.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

Well we did stick to plan A taking in a couple more Westerwald climbs before returning to Linz and the ferry. Once back on ‘our’ side of the river we did however put the pedal to the metal a bit more than usual arriving home somewhat more out of breath than is usually the case.

“If you’re quick you can get the next Express,” I advised.
“What about the bikes and stuff?”
“I’ll do it, I’ve got ages,” well longer than the twenty minutes Mand has until the train!
“I’ll shower upstairs then, cheers Gab.”
I didn’t do more than change to my house shoes before following her upstairs, not to shower but to my computer.

“I printed the email so they know what the order is.”
“Twenty five euros?”
“There’s thirty in the envelope, get a drink or something with the change.”
“Sugar it’s ten past!” Mand exclaimed grabbing her coat.
“You can make it,” I told her, “its only five minutes walk.”
“Later!”

With Mand on her way I needed to shake a leg, I’ve only got twenty minutes to shower and get to work now.

I forgot that Connie was with the big Bernie trip to Bonn today so was a bit surprised to find her mum serving when I arrived.
“Er hi Mrs T, sorry I’m late, clothing malfunction.”

Why can you never find anything when you are in a rush? First it was my work trousers then a matching pair of socks – I gave up and put tights on instead but by the time I was sorted my time was up and I was five minutes late.

“We aren’t busy, once you’re ready have a look at the Gaggia, number three seems to be blocked again.”

Half an hour later I had the machine working again, “it was that main filter again, it needs replacing.”
“I’ll get Tomas to order one, so, big date tonight eh?”
“Date?”
“Connie said you’re going to the Lions dance at the Kursaal with Max?”
Well I guess it’s not exactly a secret.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a date,” I allowed as I stacked the dishwasher.
“No?”
“His Dad had a spare ticket, I’m just going to make up the numbers.”
“Hmm,” Therese gave me a funny look, “you know those tickets are a hundred euros each, I don’t think even Willie would have a spare doing nothing.”
“A hundred?” I gawped.
“Well how do you think they raise their money?”

I’d never even thought about it, Max said it was a fundraiser but I hadn’t given it any more thought. Hang on, if there was a ticket – this was planned, why you Max! I didn’t get a chance to dwell on this latest von Strechau subterfuge as we were engulfed by a group of walkers who kept us both busy for some time. We don’t generally get many this time of year but come the spring it’s a popular excursion, take the Express up to Altenahr and walk back down to Ahrweiler either through the vineyards or along the valley bottom – Thesing’s is a convenient stopping point where the two routes converge.

“Phew!” I allowed as the last of the group exited the shop.
“Could do with more groups like that,” Mrs T stated.

I think I mentioned before that we aren’t very busy on Saturday afternoons; the walkers more than doubled our takings.

“Not many walkers this time of year though,” she went on.
“The cycling groups always stop in Ahrweiler, I’ve seen them in the market place,” I noted.
“It’d be nice to tap some of those people,” Therese sighed.
I don’t know where it came from but I had some sort of brainstorm, “we could do specials, put a board on the trail, might get a few in.”
“Specials?” Therese queried.
I paused from my table clearing, “you know, coffee and cake at a special rate or soup maybe.”

As ideas go its hardly new but it might just pull a few extra punters in.

“Hmm, might be worth a try, I’ll have a talk with Tomas.”

I finished my shift and walked back home, the Rents were already home, I could see Mum in the kitchen as I walked up the path.

“Heya.”
“Hi kiddo.”
“Good day?” I queried sitting to remove my boots.
“Not bad, we had lunch at the Rathaus, Kangaroo steak.”
“Kangaroo?”
“Bit like beef but less fat.”
“Whatever,” I allowed.
“Soup and a sandwich okay?”
“Sure,”
“You seen Manda, I thought she was going into Ahrweiler?”
“Er no, not since she left, she said something about Koblenz.”
“Koblenz?”
“Maybe she missed the train back?” I suggested.
“She does know the right trains?”
“She said so.” Well in not so many words.
“Hmm, can you give her a call, see where she is?”
“’Kay.”
“Oh your hose is in a bag by the phone, hope its right.”

“Where are you?” I hissed into my Handy.
“Er Ander something.”
“Andernach?”
“Yeah that’s it, talk about nightmare, I ended up on the wrong train, I didn’t realise until the conductor came round so I had to go get off at this Cotchem place and go back to Koblenz then this train is like twenty minutes late and stopping at every gatepost.”
“Why didn’t you ring?”
“There wasn’t a signal and then I was more concerned with getting the right train.”
“You want picking up from Remagen?”
“Maybe?”
“I’ll ring you back in a bit.”

By the time I’d liased with Dad and Mand to get her home, she was to get off at Sinzig as it’s a bit closer and easier to park, it was heading towards six.

“You’d better eat this before you get ready,” Mum suggested after I brought her up to date on the de Vreen rescue.
“Ready?” oh bum, the dance. “Er yeah, don’t want to spill anything on my dress.”
“Sit down then, the hose okay?”
To be honest I hadn’t even looked.
“Er sure.”
“You could sound a bit more enthusiastic,” Mum suggested, placing a bowl of what looked like Scotch broth on the table.
“Just a bit distracted.”
“Hmm, cheese sandwich?”
“With Marmite?”
“Ga-ab!” mater complained.

The soup, not actually Scotch broth but cream of vegetable that Mum had added pearl barley to for some extra body, was quite filling and the Maasdam and Marmite sandwich was perhaps more than I wanted. Guess who won’t be eating much at the dance? Dad still wasn’t back with Mand – well to be fair he did only leave fifteen minutes ago.

A quick shower and I had forty minutes to finish getting ready, I hope Mand gets here soon, I could do with her to help with my hair! BH, knickers, where are those tights? I found the Karstadt bag and pulled the package out, Wolford? Mum! A cheap pair would’ve done – not that I’m complaining but they must’ve cost like twenty five – thirty euros.

Well dressing didn’t take long, sorting out the slap and jewellery took nearly as long but I skidded to a halt in the kitchen with ten minutes to spare.

“Whoa! Slow down kiddo!” Dad suggested.
“Running late,” I mentioned.
“I hope you are doing something with your hair,” Mum instructed.
“Er, could you give us a hand Mand?”
“She’s eating kiddo,” Dad pointed out.
“Please?” I whined.
“Go on, you got pins and stuff?”
I shook the plastic box that I keep such stuff in.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” I told Max as he escorted me down to Gloria’s Cayenne.
“Look I can explain.”
“You don’t know what I’m gonna say yet.”
“Um.”
“You knew about this before Wednesday Max!”
“Erm, might’ve,” he admitted.
I gave him a look.
“Okay, I sort of forgot to ask you, Dad mentioned it Wednesday morning.”
“Hmm, forgiven – for now,” I concluded as we reached the car.

Of course, Gloria was done up to the nines, I like to think I look pretty good and the men were pretty smart too so it was hardly surprising our party turned a head or two when we arrived at the Kursaal. I’ve been here a few times for different events but this has to rank as one of the glitziest, clearly the ladies had gone all out, there were more sequins and rhinestones than you could shake a stick at. I recalled what Max had said the other night, all the gaudiness can’t make up for lack of class.

Hark at me, I sound like a right stuck up moo, but I can sort of see what Max was on about. Yeah, Gloria was certainly dressed up, even a rock or two but it was quite restrained. By contrast, well I already mentioned the sequins; it was like an inverse representation of class.
It was actually rather amusing the way all these painted matrons deferred to our party. The von Strechau’s might have titles and some influential relatives but they’ve never stuffed it anyone’s face, just the opposite. I dare say the title opens a few doors for them but they don’t look down their noses at people.

We had to meet the organising committee of course, I knew some of these people, well at least by sight, not sure that I was recognised in return. Wilhelm and Gloria exchanged pleasantries whilst the kids, Max and me smiled and waited slightly impatiently to move on. Of course this was no Saturday night disco, at €100 a ticket you’d expect live music and the strains of said band made their way out of the main room.

“Right you two,” Gloria intoned, “no alcohol and Max, if Frau Langenheide collars you, be diplomatic please.”
“Yes mum,” he agreed.
“Right, go, mingle.”

“Who’s Frau Langenheide?” I asked as we headed toward the ‘bar’.
“You must know Frau Langenheide, bright orange hair, too much make up…”
“Er Max!”
“And more airs…”
“Ah Maximillian.”
I did try to warn him.

Maddy Bell 03.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

I’ll give him his due; he didn’t miss a beat, “Frau Langenheide, what a surprise.”
“I hoped you’d be here, I don’t think I’ve made your friends acquaintance?”
The way she said that oozed disdain, I didn’t like her already.
“I’m sorry,” Max started, “may I introduce my Verlobte, the Honourable Gabrielle Bond, daughter of the Earl of Warsop.”

The poor woman’s face. It went from bluster through shock to, well I’m not sure what.
She made an attempt at some sort of curtsey, “er very pleased to meet you your honour, is the er Earl here?”
“I’m afraid not Frau Langenheide.”
She seemed taken aback that I knew her name.
“I, erm, its nice to have met you fraulein, I should go mingle, Max.”
She made a particularly deft about turn for someone of her size and headed off across the room.

“So what exactly was that all about? Earl of Warsop?”
“The woman’s a total snob, she’s been trying to get me and Giselle together for ages.”
“Giselle?”
“Her daughter, she goes to some fancy boarding school in Luxembourg.”
“What was that Verlobte thing?”
“Um, you know, betrothed,” Max allowed.
“Max! She thinks we’re engaged!”
“Er sorry.”
“You can be such a, oooo!”
“I suppose a snog’s out of the question?”

The rest of the evening did go better, the punch wasn’t really alcoholic and I know our ability to do a passable waltz didn’t go un-noted. The food was very much posh nibbles, I’m glad I’d already eaten; I cut straight to the dessert table! We did find an empty side room but I’m not telling you about that though.

Despite not wearing my usual ten centimetre heels, I opted for something lower due to my sore feet, well by ten my tootsies were on fire and I found a seat out of the way, Max went off for more drinks. As a consequence I was a captive audience when the raffle sellers blitzed the room.

“Got you too,” Max chuckled returning with two cups of punch.
“Um yeah.”

I was still bemused, I’d got a twenty note out to buy a single strip for five but somehow I ended up with no money but a pile of tickets, that was slick.

“You get some good prizes,” Max suggested.
“Oh?” I managed, still gob struck by my purchase.
“There was some track day thing at the Ring last time, I think there some fancy make over thing at the spa as well.”
“You suggesting I need a makeover?”
“No, no, I was just saying.”
“Hmmph!”

We didn’t have to wait too long for the raffle to be drawn, well the head Lion person gave a bit of a pep talk thing first, how much ‘we’d’ raised tonight – I guess my €20 will go to some of their ‘good works’. Some people aren’t that competitive but me, well if you don’t want to win don’t take part so I was right there for the draw. It was a mixed bag of prizes donated by various group benefactors; indeed, they were quite good for the most part.

I was only two numbers away from a patio heater but none of the other tickets were anywhere close to my numbers. Max just stood next to me looking amused.

“What?”
“The look on your face, you can’t influence the draw you know?”
“I know,” I agreed slightly defensively.
‘And our last ticket.’ The master of ceremonies requested.

The young woman tasked with drawing the numbers thrust her hand into the drum. She selected a slip of paper and passed it to the MC.
‘Lucky last for someone, remember this is for a meal for two at Schloss Rech donated by Baron Wilhelm von Strechau himself,” he paused to open the ticket, “on the pink, two five three, that’s two hundred and fifty three.’
That’s close to mine I think, the second strip started at 250 so that means, “I’ve won! Here!” I waved my winning ticket in the air with delight.

“You do realise what you won?” Max asked once the excitement settled down and the dancing, slow dancing resumed.
“Dinner somewhere expensive?”
“You got that bit miss hollow legs.”
“Somewhere I know?”
“You really weren’t listening were you?”
“Not really,” I had to admit.
Max shook his head in amusement, “lets just say you could eat there anytime.”
“Not the Sebenschuh’s?”
“I’m not sure what goes on in your blonde noggin sometimes, not the Stube, think castle?”
“That schnitzel place in Nurburg?”
My dance partner face palmed himself, “Schloss Rech dumbo.”
“You’re kidding,” I let the dumbo go for now, “your Dad’s place?”
“Is there another Schloss Rech? Yes our restaurant.”

It could only happen to me, it’s almost like winning something you donated yourself.

“You’re kidding,” Mand exclaimed as I concluded my compulsory debrief over hot chocolate.
“That’s precisely what I said.”
“Come on you two, bed,” Dad suggested, “its gone one.”
“Aw!”
“We need to be up and sorted fairly early tomorrow remember.”
“Yes Dad,” I agreed, at least it isn’t like when we went the cross the other week.

“So the tights were okay then?” Mum enquired as she gunned the car up the lane towards Staffel and the Preiser’s farm.
“You didn’t have to buy Wolford, cheapos woulda done.”
“Maybe but they’d probably ladder and then where would you be?”
Okay, she’s got me there, cheap hose doesn’t last that well but even so.
“Yeah well, er thanks.”
“So what did Willie say to your raffle win then?”
“They thought it was hilarious, he offered to pay for a meal somewhere else instead.”
“I take it you said yes to that?” Mum surmised.
“Nah, I’ll give the voucher to someone as a present or something.”
“Anyone in mind?”
“Maybe,” I allowed before being stunned to silence by the white-knuckle ride up the hill, Mum’s driving doesn’t improve.

“Marty’s up with the girls, they’ll be done shortly,” Erika advised, “coffee?”
“Go on,” Mum agreed.
“I’ll go and help Bern if that’s alright?”
“Sure Gaby, you know the way.”
I left the seniors to their coffee and headed up to the girls room.

“Hiya, can I come in?”
“Oh hi Gab, sure,” Bern told me, “You can take the case down if you like Mart.”
“I’ll take the case down,” he agreed, “see you downstairs.”
“Thanks,” Bern held his arm a moment; I’ve seen Mum do that with Dad, got to be good.
“So?” I enquired once Herr Preiser was out of earshot. “Everything okay I was worried when I couldn’t get through to you.”
“Well, not quite to my plan but I think things should work out even better,” she enthused.
“Don’t keep me hanging, spill!”
“So we get to the restaurant and Mart’s like all nervous and stuff.”
“He was at school,” I put in.
“Anyway we ordered our food and he beat me to it, asked me to marry him!”
“Marry him!”
“Shush, you’ll wake Drea.”
“Marry? But you aren’t sixteen yet, I thought you had to be sixteen?”
“You do but you can still get engaged.”
“What about the other stuff, Drea’s birth certificate and that?”
“He’s okay with that, once I’ve done that we can apply for the German documents. I didn’t tell him about the rest, wasn’t any point as he proposed.”
“What do his parents think?”
“Well we’ve not exactly told them.”
“Ah.”
“We will, but not just yet.”
“Lets hope it gets the Social off your back,” I opined.
“Yeah, plan A is now plan B so there’s a fall back position.”
“You gonna tell your Mum?”
“She’ll have to know about the birth certificate, we’ll tell my Rents and Stefan and Erika after my birthday. Oh nearly forgot,” she hunted through the stuff still on the bed, “Fröhes Geburtstag!”
I took the card and neatly wrapped package, “er thanks, it’s not for a couple of weeks yet.”
“Yeah but I won’t be here then.”
I gave her a full on hug, “I miss you Bern.”
“Hey don’t get me started, I’ll see you later in the year yeah? I’ll start saving so I can come in the summer, Mart said he’d help too.”
“’Kay, we should go down.”
“Yeah,” Bern agreed releasing me.

When we got the three of us downstairs Mart had already fitted the baby seat into the A Klasse and stowed the girls case and buggy in the boot.
“I’ll put Drea in the seat,” I volunteered – well I had her in my arms anyhow.

Before I could do that the Preiser’s all, Stefan had appeared whilst I was upstairs, wanted to say goodbye to the babe. I know Bern said the elder Preiser’s didn’t know about the proposed nuptials but I swear they were acting like doting grand parents down to the ‘something for later’. Mum came out to help with the car seat.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about Gaby Bond?”
“Going on, no idea,” I bluffed.
“Erika was hinting at something and that just now, I know Drea’s cute but it was like watching your Gran when you and Jules were babies.”
“Er yeah that was a bit strange,” I agreed.
Eventually we got Bern in the car and with a toot of the horn started the ride down to Dernau.

“Well she looks happier than when she came,” Jen mentioned to her husband as they watched Gaby and the Rose’s saying their farewells.
“Change in routine, makes a big difference,” Dave mused.
“I think there’s more to it, Erika was dropping hints earlier, the way they acted you’d think they were Drea’s grandparents.”
Dave raised his brows at his wife’s observation, well it wasn’t his concern, Bern wasn’t his daughter and whilst he thought well of the girl it wasn’t the Bond’s responsibility.

Maddy Bell 03.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

We got back from the airport late afternoon, I spent the journey home mulling through the whole Bernie scenario, my concern wasn’t whether Mart was being sincere but whether he or even both of them would regret making the commitment so young. I couldn’t imagine being in the same place, okay, Max and me, well we have the odd snog – I know what I’ve said before, it’s the hormones.

“How many more?” Mand enquired dropping a spud into the pan.
“Er, another couple I think,” we’d got landed with cooking dinner, nothing too complicated, pork chops, mash and veg.
“’Kay. Oh I put your thing up on your bed.”
Thing? Oh right, “cheers, thanks for fetching it.”
“What is it? The woman in the shop showed it me, didn’t understand a word she said, looks like some torture device with all those straps.”
“It’s called a Büstenheber, it’s like a push-up bra on steroids.”
Mand gave me a strange look, “it hasn’t got cups.”
“You wear your normal bra and it, you know,” I suggested hefting the girls.
She still looked doubtful, “really?”
“I’ll show you after dinner.”
“’Kay, I thought you weren’t keen on, you know emphasising your assets?”
“There are times,” I admitted.

“You hussy!” Mand exclaimed when I showed her the Büstenhebe’s effect.
“Neat eh, instant D cups!”
“So how come no one else knows about these things?”
“It’s a Kostüm thing, I guess it’s easier to just wear an underwire, I hate underwires, they dig in my ribs.”
“Yeah,” Mand agreed, “is it comfortable?”
“So far, no boob bounce.”
“Might have to borrow it sometime.”
“You got someone you want to, er, impress?”
“Might have.”
“Spill then,” I prompted.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Nothing?”
“Look he’s in my class, his dad works for some big chemical company near Köln.”
“And?”
“And nothing, we’ve been lab partners a few times.”
“If you say so.”
“Well maybe I want to like, progress things?”
“He have a name then?”
“Michael, Michael Thomas.”
“So good they named him twice!” I sang, I couldn’t help myself.
“Hey, don’t make fun!”

“What do you think?”
“I thought you were doing Dr Who?” Mand pointed out.
“I was but I don’t have anything to use.”
“So this Sara Jane, she’s like one his side kicks?”
“Back in the seventies when they had that metal dog thing.”
“Really? That is just lame.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “but she’s easy to play.”

I looked at myself in the mirror, I’d raided Mums wardrobe for a blouse and a long cardigan, she had some boots too, add a pair of jeans – et voila. Okay I need to work on the hair but I think it works.

“You not costuming?”
“Nah, I’ll just watch, it’s not really my thing.”
I guess we had sort of arm-twisted her into joining us; dressing up was a step too far.

“Come on Gab, there was more than that,” Nena pressed.
“There wasn’t!”
“Like we believe that,” Steff snorted.

Yeah, just another Monday morning. As Bern and Mart weren’t top of the agenda, word of their engagement clearly didn’t leak on Saturday, the next best thing and sure bet for entertainment was Max and me at the dance. You’d think the others never did anything, they do but my life is more entertaining than visiting relations or walking the dog.

“Gab, can I have a word?” Con’s mum requested.
“Er sure,” I agreed, “back in a mo.”

I went over to the counter where Mrs T was waiting.
“I spoke to Tomas, about what we talked about Saturday,” she clarified.
“Oh right.”
“He wants to give it a try, how do you fancy being in charge of Operation Special?”
“Me? I only do a few hours a week, what about Con?”
“Its your idea, we thought you’d like to follow it through.”
“Er right, okay.”
“Have a think about it, let us know tomorrow eh?”
“Er sure, right, okay.”

I’d forgotten about that, there’s been that much going on this weekend, what with the dance and the Rose’s departure. Not sure how much use I can be working five hours on a Saturday afternoon, I suppose I can give it some thought though.

“You coming Gab?” Pia called from the doorway.
“Er yeah, just get my coat.”

“…And the past participle? Gaby?” Herr Viessner requested turning to me.
“Er, driven?”
“So is this a perfect or imperfect verb? Martin?”
“Perfect?”
“Come on Mr Preiser, we’ve been through this before, its imperfect.”

Our English teacher looked somewhat frustrated by Marts lack of English skills. It would be easy for me to scoff; it’s my first language so I do have a head start, the boots on the other foot in Herr Praxmeier’s German classes.

“We’ll have a test on Wednesday, the examiners will expect you to know this stuff. Homework, two sides on driving please,” he concluded.

I suspect the homework was a result of Mart’s ineptitude but whatever, its not rocket science but stretching to two sides when your writing is as tiny as mine will be the issue for me. I’m sure its all got a purpose and in the long run I suppose passing tests is useful to someone although I’m not sure speaking good English will stand Mart in any better position with his horses and cows.

Our little fleet of city bikes set off back up the valley with some vim, rain has been falling on and off all day although we seem to have a window without precipitation at the moment.

“So you sorted for Sunday?” Steff enquired riding along beside me.
“Think so, Mand’s not costuming though.”
“Why not?”
“She’s not really into it.”
“Well the rest of us aren’t properly into it are we?” Steff noted.
“Not like my cousin, she even died her hair green once,” I recalled.
“That sounds hardcore,” Steff agreed.
“Her boyfriend’s into it too, like majorly.”

I thought back to the last time I went to a Con with her, that thing at Doncaster, yeah I think they are as into each other as costuming. It was a bittersweet memory; I’d always thought that it would be me getting down with Mad not some lad she met in Sheffield. There again I hadn’t really expected to be the sensible one in our relationship either – or a girl, yeah, it was Drew that was into Maddy not Gaby, not me.

“See you later Gab!” Pia called back as Steff, Con and I peeled off for Dernau.
“Yeah, later,” I agreed, my line of musing broken.

“Mum?”
“Wassup kiddo?”
“You know I’m doing Sara Jane for the Con on Sunday?”
“This thing in Koblenz?”
“Yeah, do you think you could like do my hair like she has it?”
“You got a photo?”
I passed her the print I scammed off the interweb.
“Hmm, I can probably get something like although your hair’s longer, have to find my tongs I guess.”
“Can I dye it? She does have brown hair.”
“Seems a bit excessive for one day luv, it’ll take ages to grow out again and your hairs beautiful.”
“You let Jules,” I shot back.
“I didn’t exactly get any say did I, look I’m not saying you can’t, how about one of those temporary things, they wash out after a couple of weeks.”
“Like when Claudia did it blue?”
“Er yes but without the notes to the school. Look tell you what, I’ll see what there is when go into town tomorrow eh?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
Maybe dying my locks is a bit excessive on the other hand no one could go round calling me a stupid blonde.

I demonstrated the move again, ‘and one and two and.’

The girls had actually progressed quite a lot since I’d last been to Cheer practice, we do still need to knock a few corners off, smooth it all together – the opposite to Fridays Garde sessions. I shook my booty, waved my arms and dropped into the finishing scissors, ooo, that was a bit er uncomfortable. I spun round and climbed off the floor.

“You see what I mean?” I enquired.
“Think so.”
“More flow?”
“Flow, that’s the word, yeah,” I agreed. “The pieces are separate but we need to flow between them er like a waltz.”
There were one or two raised eyebrows at that observation.
“You can waltz?” Hannah asked.
“I had a crash course when I was Weinkönigin, its quite useful sometimes,” I allowed.
“Maybe we should practice the waltz instead of all this jumping about,” Lisse suggested with some sarcasm.
“Good idea Lisse,” Hannah allowed, ignoring the barb, “but not tonight, the line dancers will be itching to get in. see you all next time.”

“I think they’ll be okay,” I offered as I gathered my notes together.
“We just need to sort out who’s going to be in the competition.”
“Yeah, there’s a couple who still don’t really get it,” I noted.
“Kristin!” we both offered, which caused a giggle or two.
“You sure we can’t get Amanda to do it? She’s better than most of the girls.”
“She says not but I’ll try to talk her round.”
“Even if its just for this time,” Hannah proposed.
“I’ve got an idea,” I proffered – an idea that may or may not work.

Maddy Bell 06.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

The rest of the week – well it was ‘just’ normal, that is to say it was uneventful, no disasters, no excitement, nothing out of the ordinary at all. I suppose that in itself is a bit weird – well for me, I seem to bounce from one thing to another, never a dull moment for Mr and Mrs Bond’s youngest child!

“Er Mrs T, I’ve got that ‘stuff’ we talked about?” I mentioned when I arrived at Thesing’s Friday morning.
“Oh good, let’s have a look then,” my employer enthused.

I pulled out the sheet of paper and handed it to her. Its nothing brilliant but really just stuff I pulled together from experience, so there’s a hikers special of hot chocolate and a slice of cake, a cyclist special of coffee and strudel and a ‘lunch’ special of soup and sandwich. The customers save a euro over the individual prices, bit like buying the ‘menu ’ in Maccy D’s. I also suggested a loyalty scheme, you know the thing, you have a card that gets stamped so after maybe five visits you get a free coffee or something.

Therese read it through, nodding as she took in each point, “the loyalty card will take a bit of organising but we can start the rest tomorrow, I’ll talk to Tomas about putting the boards out.”
“’Kay,” I allowed, a tiny frison of excitement buoying me.
“You’re coffee’s going cold,” Steff observed.
“What was that about?” Bridg queried.
“Just some stuff for the bakery,” I allowed.
“Fingers in many pies our Gab,” Pia stated.
“I prefer to eat them.”
“Huh?” Nena queried.
“Pies? Better to eat than poke digits in, hmm a nice meat and potato.”

We don’t really have much in the pie line here in Germany, not like back in blighty, meat pies, vegetable pies, fruit pies – if you can eat it you’ll get it in pastry and then there’s pasties.

“She’s off again,” Steff observed.
“Dreaming of Max no doubt,” Con added.
Hmm, Max pie…
“Was not!” I bristled.
“You had that ‘Max’ look on your face,” Brid noted.
“So if it wasn’t Max who was it?” Steff asked.
“No one, I was just thinking about pies.”
“You are just weird Gaby Bond,” Pia stated.
“Time girls!” Mrs T called over.

Joy, another day at Silverberg Gymnasium beckons.

It was of course no different to any other Friday and its similarity to the rest of the school week couldn’t be dismissed either. Sure the make up of our classes varies but you know what its like at school, the day split into chunks, highlights being morning break, lunch and the end of the day. Kids the world over know this, its not often you have classes that you actually look forward to and today isn’t amongst them.

“So which train are we getting?” I asked as I took a bite of rubbery pizza.
“It opens at ten,” Pia mentioned.
“Where is it?” Con queried.
“We get off at Löhr, its some school towards the river,” Steff told us.
I mentally calculated the journey, an hour by train and say fifteen minutes walk, we’ll have to get the eight fifteen to be there for ten otherwise we’ll miss half an hour.
“The eight fifteen?” I offered.
“Really?” Bridg complained.
“Oh come on,” Nena chivvied, “we can get a coffee in that place outside the Löhr Centre, you can change there, you don’t want to travel in that outfit do you?”
‘That’ outfit being the Princess Leia slave girl thing – exposes more than it covers!
“Erm.”
“You were going to!” Pia gushed.
“Maybe,” Brid allowed.
Even I wouldn’t’ve done that.
“That’s settled then,” Steff announced.
I bet Mand complains when I tell her later.

When I got home I headed straight up to my room, I need to check my email. While the box whirred and beeped into life I dressed for Garde, just normal dance stuff of course, not the silly uniforms although we do wear our boots. I logged into my emails and there it was, the email I was waiting for, I clicked on the link and settled myself to read it.

Hi Gaby
We are arriving on Friday night and set off home on Tuesday morning. We are staying at some place called Bruhl , is that far from you? We are in Koln Saturday, the theme park Sunday and Bonn on Monday. I’ve okayed things with Mr Wood.
Looking forward to seeing you
Fran

Brill! I’ll talk to Hannah to see how we do it.

“Mum?”
“Yes love?”
“Could we have a meat and tatty pie sometime?”
“Don’t see why not, what’s brought this on?”
“Not had one for ages.”
“You could do it for dinner tomorrow, there’s some braising steak in the freezer.”
Huh, me cooking again.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Oh I got the dye, you want to do it tonight?”
“Er maybe.”

To be honest I’m not even sure I want to do it now. I suppose it is only temporary, I’ll be back to my golden locks in a week or so, decisions, decisions. I am sort of intrigued though, what will I look like with dark hair, I can’t really imagine it, all the women in my family are blonde. Of course Jules had hers black but somehow that just seemed normal – maybe brown hair will look normal for me?

“You listening?”
“Er sorry, what?”
“I asked whether you want pizza later.”
Hmm, you can’t really call that manky slice of rubber at lunch pizza can you?
“Yes please!”
“You can pick it up on the way back, usual?”
Oh yeah, double pepperoni!

“I might be a few minutes late coming out,” I told Dad when he dropped me and P off at the Tanzklub.
“Don’t be too long, remember we’re collecting the pizzas on the way back.”
Double pepperoni!
“Be as quick as I can.”

Garde is good for body discipline, a lot of what we do on Fridays is stretching and control. That means a lot of time doing stuff slowly to train our muscles, stuff that most dancers would recognise just slower. Ballet its not but I enjoy doing it on a Friday, getting trussed and painted up for a show or competition – well, whilst I have done it, I don’t get the buzz.

“Well done girls,” Hannah told us.
“Good session Gabs,” Margot mentioned, exposing rather a lot of Margot as she pulled her leotard open to cool down.
“Er yeah,” I agreed trying to drag my eyes from her chest. “Han, can we talk?”
“Office?”
“I’ll just get dressed.”

“I can certainly get the bus,” Hannah agreed, “uniform and poms?”
“Yep, give them the full show.”
“We’ll pitch it as a dry run for the competition.”
“Cool, I’ll let Fran know and get the exact address. I need to run, we’ve got pizza to collect.”
“See you Monday.”
“Tschuss!”

“Mmmm, that smells good,” Pia noted when I got back in the car with the pizza order.
“Oh yeah,” I agreed. I sorted through the pile of boxes before pulling one free and passing back to her, “one Hawaii for moddom.”
I’m not the only one who enjoys the delights of the pizzeria.
“Bring it on!” Pia stated as she lifted the lid of her box to sniff at the contents.

It’s no distance from Mayschoß to the Sebenschuh Stube in Rech and no more to complete our journey. It was no surprise to find Jules and Boris in residence when we got there; there was another Hawaii for Jules and a Mexican Hot for Boris in the stack of boxes. Looks like it’s going to be a busy house this weekend.

“We doing your hair?” Mum suggested as we cleared up after the pizza feast.
“Erm, guess so,” I allowed although I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure.
We finished up and I followed Mum up to her ensuite – it’s bigger than mine, which is hardly more than the shower cubicle! I’m sure that a lot of you have done this stuff; I’m not one though so I was quite happy that Mum was in charge of the technical stuff. Mum started the process, I closed my eyes, there’s no turning back.

“Its very dark,” I mentioned forty minutes later.
“Its still wet, it’ll be lighter when its dry,” Mum told me.
I looked at the person in the mirror, I barely recognised her. So okay, it’s my face, my eyes but the hair made me look really quite different, not the me I’m accustomed to.

“Whoa Gabs,” Mand exclaimed when I joined her for breakfast next morning.
“Yeah I know,” I allowed.
“Its not as bad as my bleach job I guess.”
“It washes out,” I mentioned, I’ll be back to normal in a week.”
“You hope,” she scoffed.
“Mum got it, she said it should be gone in like six washes.”
“You might want to stay dark,” she observed.
“Maybe.”
“Fed up of being the dumb blonde sis?” Jules opined joining us.
“Its for the Con tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t you get a wig?”
Why indeed?
“Er they cost money?”
“So does hair dye,” she pointed out.
“Not as much and Mum bought it anyhow.”
“Come on Gab,” Mand encouraged, “we’ve got seventy kilometres to do before lunch.”

I rolled my eyes, yeah out in the cold again. I picked up my glasses and followed Manda down into the coolness of the garage.
“So where we going today?” Manda queried.
Good question, where are we going today?

Maddy Bell 07.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

We settled on the Bad Münstereifel circuit we did a few weeks ago, nothing too desperate hill wise, it gets the miles in without taking too much out of the tank. It was cold but not so much that there was ice anywhere; in fact I even left my woolly hat at home opting instead for a ski band under my helmet. The sky was a universal grey, depressing but at the same comforting, it didn’t look like there’d be any rain while we were out.
It was on the climb up into Altenahr that something flapped past my eyes, I automatically batted it away.

“What you up to?” Mand demanded.
“Something hanging.” I swiped at the offending item again.
“You daft moo, it's your braids,” she guffawed.

At this point I should point out that I usually have my hair in a single braid when I’m riding but for some reason this morning I put it into two.

“It doesn’t usually do this.”
“I bet you just don’t notice it,” Mand proposed.
“Maybe,” I agreed plucking at the offending rope of hair.

After all those weeks before Christmas where I was off the bike today is perhaps the first time I’ve really felt ‘bike’ fit. My feet are still a bit sore from the frostbite episode but my hands, thankfully seem okay now. The difference I guess is that Mand has progressed while I’ve been working my way back, she might not be at 100% Bond level but she’s currently at 75% Bond which is where I am.

The net result is that we’re fairly evenly matched; at least on rides like this morning, today we are trading pedal stroke for pedal stroke. Erika Preiser tooted when she crossed us at Kreuzberg, we managed a wave in return – surprisingly we don’t really see that many people we know on these rides. Well we don’t see many other cyclists out there and we know there are quite a few living hereabouts.

We tapped up to Effelsburg at a steady pace; I hesitated slightly when Mand started sprinting for the sign, which let her take it by a wheel.

“Gotcha!” she gasped as we returned to a steadier pace.
“I was distracted,” I claimed waggling a braid at her.
“That’s clutching at straws, I beat you fair and square.”
“Hmmph!”

That was the only sprint Mand took but where last year I would’ve had several lengths over de Vreen, today it’s been a lot closer. This whole girl thing has cost me more than I thought, my chances of being picked for the ‘open’ category by BC will be slim if I can’t get that zip back. We got back home, cold but not exhausted, four sprints to one in my favour, it should’ve been five nil.

“Your hair doesn’t look so harsh now,” Mum mentioned as I made a sandwich before going to work.
“Um?”
“Did any colour wash out when you showered?”
“No idea wasn’t looking.”
“Well it looks a lot more natural, best have a play, see if we can make it more Sara Jane later eh?”
“I guess.”
“Er can you get the meat out for dinner?” I requested having just remembered I was cooking again later.
“I will, you leaving any of that Branston in the jar?”
Oops, I’d spooned rather a lot onto my cheese and tomato.
“Er soz.”

When I got to Thesing’s the first thing I noticed was the board outside advertising the specials, not that inside was any busier than usual.

“Any takers,” I enquired taking my coat off.
“A couple earlier on,” Therese advised.
“Won’t happen straight off I guess.”
“Tomas put boards on the Radweg and where you cross to the Bahnhof.”
“There’s still not a lot of people about I guess, I’m sure they’ll come though.”
“I’ll leave you two to it, if you get a rush you know where I am,” she grinned.

It was looking like a regular Saturday afternoon, a couple of order collections and Frau Haan stopped off for a coffee with her shopping.
“We coulda been at the pool with the others,” Con moped.
“Yeah,” I agreed. I might not be a great swimmer but you don’t go to swim anyway do you?
“Like your hair,” my BF noted.
“Cheers,” Mum put it into a braided bun before I came out so it was less distracting. “You set for tomorrow?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t like there was much to do, I had everything except the cloak and mask already.”

Before I could reply our attention was pulled to the front of the shop, outside there must’ve been almost twenty cyclists.

“Sugar!” I allowed.
“I’ll get Mum,” Con mumbled.

We usually only serve at the counter but clearly that wasn’t going to work very well with this lot. I remember back in England it could be a nightmare getting everyone’s order in, inevitably some would still be waiting for food or drinks while others were done. Table service was the only way to speed the process up, so after getting the ‘RadKlub Endspurt Leverkusen 02’ inside and seated, I found an order pad and started taking their orders.

The ‘specials’ might’ve brought them in but that doesn’t mean their orders were restricted to those items. Seems we caught them on the way to Remagen where they were getting the train back home after a ride around the Hohe Eifel, after a day in the saddle, the promise of coffee and cake was just too tempting. The cake cabinet was looking very diminished and Therese had to zap more soup to satisfy demand.

I don’t really look like me at the moment and realistically there wasn’t any reason for these guys, and they were all male, to recognise me. It was a little strange being on the outside of the conversations about bikes and riders prowess. Kind of fun too, eavesdropping on their ‘wisdom’ on carbon, the latest pedals, whether Italians make better parts than the Japanese.

“Well, that was nice,” Therese allowed as we started the clear up.
“There’re some cafes back in England that are busy like that all the time, cycling clubs head for them, there’s one where you nearly always had to queue to get in.” I mentioned.
“If we had a couple of groups it would help,” Mrs T noted.
“Maybe this is the start?” I suggested.
“As long as they don’t all turn up together,” Con stated.

Now that I could agree with, its hard work brewing all that coffee one cup at a time, the positive was the tip we got, twenty euros – anything they had saved we’d got anyway. We get a flat rate of pay in Thesing’s, you don’t get many tips or very much in a bakery, €20 is more than joins the jar most months. It was quite satisfying that there had been some return on day one of ‘my’ scheme, how it will go in the future who knows.

“…And it was like a real cyclist café.” I enthused as I browned the meat for our pie.
“We used to go to one at Hever, if you were knackered you could get a train back to Croydon.”
“Croydon? I thought you rode for Catford?” I mentioned swishing the meat around the pan.
“I do, well did but we live at Addington which is like as far as Ahrweiler is from Croydon, well you know what I mean. So these want chopping into cubes?”
“Well smallish bits, you know, about two centimetres.”
“’Kay,” Mand returned her attention to the taters.

We could get six portions out of the big pie dish, a big enamel thing made in Sheffield especially for the cities signature dish (1) . Traditionally you have mushy peas but this is Germany so the best we could manage was a couple of tins of processed Erbsen. What we do have is that most prized of condiments in the North Midlands, Henderson’s Relish.

“Dig in,” I enthused once everyone was seated.

The Bond’s are no strangers to meat and tatty but Manda and Boris were more circumspect. I’ll give Boris his due; taking his lead from Jules he ladled some mint sauce onto his peas and a shake of the brown elixir over his pie. Mand wasn’t quite sure what to make of all that and just went for salt and pepper.

The thing is, its already quite peppery so adding more, well maybe a bit much, but Hendo’s, well it lifts the flavour.

“Come on Mand, even Boris has got Hendo’s on his dinner,” I chivvied.
“He’s probably got a stronger stomach than me.”
“Its not strong,” Mum offered.
“I thought it was like soy sauce, it looks like soy sauce.” Mand suggested.
“Nothing like,” I opined.
“Just try a little bit,” Jules suggested.
“Its really okay,” Boris added.
“Go on then.”
I leant over and shook a few drops onto her pie. “Give that a go.”
We all watched her tentatively stab some newly flavoured potato and take a bite.
“Well?”
“Its okay I guess,” she allowed.

I hadn’t been left to do the whole meal, Mum had made a rice pudding, which I know Boris likes, well who doesn’t like homemade rice pud. Even so I don’t think he gets the jam thing as he had a dollop of all three on the table in his dish. For me, well I prefer it naked!

“We’ll be late!”
“No you wont,” Mum told me again, “there, done.”

She’d been fussing for fifteen minutes with her curling tongs and I now sported a hairdo that resembled the Sara Jane look in my picture.
“Hold still and close your eyes.”

I’m sure she used half a can of hair lacquer on my head, my hair was going nowhere!

“You got everything?”
“Yes Mum.”
“Well enjoy yourselves – and take care, Manda?”
“We will.”
“Right, off with you, don’t want to miss the Express.”
I just said…urgh!

“Morning girls, early start,” Myleen mentioned.
“We’re going to Koblenz, there’s a convention thing we’re going to,” Steff told our favourite conductor.
“Wondered what all the hair was about.” I wasn’t the only one sporting a dubious hairstyle. “You not joining in Amanda?”
“Not my thing, I get to hold their handbags.”

Mand’s German was a bit stilted but Myleen seemed to understand okay, I guess their paths cross quite regularly on her commute to school.

“Might be safest looking at this lot, you dyed your hair Gaby?”
“Its only temporary,” I quickly blurted.
“It looks very nice, suits you.”
“Um thanks.”
“Have a good time then ladies, oh, there might be some delays coming back up, they’re replacing some signals down at Remagen.”
“Thanks Myleen, at least we know,” Pia told her.
“I’d best check some more tickets, have fun.”

She left us to make the most of the warm carriage for another twenty minutes before we have to get cold on Remagen’s windswept platforms.

(1) Check out ‘Gaby’s Comfort Food’ available through Lulu and Kindle for full recipes for Meat & Potato pie and Rice Pudding.

Maddy Bell 07.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

We strode into the hall, Princess Leia, Batgirl, Wonder Woman, Sara Jane, Sheeana and Chapel and all heads turned our way.
Well okay, it wasn’t quite like that, we got a few looks, letch looks at Brid in particular, but Wonder Woman Nena wasn’t short of appraising looks either. Of course we were now in a world where pretty much anything goes, I felt somewhat under dressed or is that overdressed.

“Flippin’ ‘eck,” Mand offered as we surveyed the converted school hall.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “from the four corners of the universe they came.”

A quick scan around suggested it might be busy later, there were already a good number of Jedi, Trekkies and so in evidence and more were piling in behind us. Someone had put some thought into this, sales stands lined three walls behind what I can best describe as space ship fascias and I could see the photo area through in a smaller hall was also decked out with scenery.

There’s a few things that seem to come up in science fiction that any character will fit into to. Clearly some sort of space ship always works but the other good standby is some sort of desert scenario – refuge to heroes, base for baddies, it works either way. And here we’ll soon have a room full of both.

Now just to reiterate, we are not geeks, we just like dressing up from time to time – okay I’ll admit to my manga collection but really that’s as far as it goes.

“We need to register for the competition,” Steff mentioned.
“Competition?” Mand asked.
“You don’t think I’m dressed in a papier maché bikini for my health do you?” Brid noted.
“There’s a costume competition this afternoon Mand,” Con advised our mufti member.
“Right, now I get it,” Mand grinned, “why didn’t you say before, so what do we do now?”

So after registering for the competition we split up to explore the Con, obviously it’s not just the sales stands. There were rooms where you could watch various different Sci-Fi series, the obvious Star Trek but enough other options to satisfy everyone, original Batman, Spiderman, Battlestar Galactica – you get the idea. Compared to some of these things I’ve been to it was a bit light on ‘panels’, there was a discussion about Star Trek technology in one room but that was all.

Mand and I mooched around the stalls – of course I’ve seen this stuff before but it was an eye opener for my companion.

“People buy this stuff?”
“Course,” I agreed, “some of the figures sell for hundreds.”

The stall we were at specialises in Star Wars stuff, you could buy anything from full Storm Trooper armour through film stills to fan fiction comics.

“Whatever turns you on.”
“Er yeah.”

It was a bit strange for me, usually you get stopped every few yards for photos but I guess Sara Jane is a bit mundane, off the spectrum so by the time we convened for some lunch I’d only had my picture taken once.

“Lost count,” Nena told us as we compared notes.
“Every Storm Trooper wants a picture with Leia,” Brid grinned.

A quick look around revealed enough white clad individuals for a battalion. Not that I’m jealous or anything but maybe I shoulda gone for something more obvious than Dr Who’s assistant from before I was born.

The competition, as usual, was peer voted, Con’s Batgirl got a prize but the rest of us failed to get enough votes to win anything. But its not about the winning, its the taking part right? As if.

We did pay for a group photo, well its nice to have some souvenir of the day. I didn’t actually buy anything else, its not that stuff didn’t catch my eye but do I really need a Star Trek communicator? Pia was toting a bag of purchases, a t-shirt and a framed still from the first Star Wars film.

“Ready?” Con enquired when Bridg rejoined us more suitably dressed for the outdoors.
“Maccy D’s?” Steff suggested.

There was no way we’d catch the next train, it goes in like five minutes.

“Lets go,” I enthused, I need cheering up and a milkshake sounds good.

Outside it had been raining, the good news was that it wasn’t now as we headed towards Löhr Straße. The bright lights of the Golden Arch’s welcomed us, the staff bemused by the arrival of assorted Super Heroes and other con refugees.

“So you go to these often?” Mand asked as we settled into a booth with a tray of fries, burgers and drinks.
“A couple of times a year,” Steff mentioned before biting into her cheeseburger.
“There’s one at Phantasialand later in the year,” Con supplied.
“And we did a big one in Köln,” Pia added.
“They’re much more general though,” Nena offered, “there are loads more things you can costume.”
“You gonna come next time?” Steff asked.
“Might do,” Mand allowed.

We caught the northbound Rhein Express; it was dark when we arrived at Remagen to be greeted by the news that the Express wasn’t running. Myleen had mentioned there might be delays but no train was a real bummer.

“There’s a replacement bus,” Pia told us having read the whole sign, “or I can get Dad to collect us.”

If we’d known before we could’ve arranged something but the prospect of waiting maybe half an hour or more didn’t appeal to anyone.

“Bus!” we chorused.

“So was it worth it?” Mum enquired an hour later as the pair of us sipped at mugs of hot chocolate.
“It was okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Connie got a prize,” Mand supplied.
“I think this woulda worked better in Manchester, Dr Who isn’t that popular here,” I suggested.
“Well I think you look very good,” Mum stated.

“Come here,” Steff instructed when I joined her in our usual corner of Thesing’s next morning.
“What?”
“Your brows, they look weird with the brown hair.”
“What do you mean weird?”
“They need some extra colour.”
“Er okay.”

I succumbed to my friend’s ministrations; well I don’t want to draw too much attention to my currently brown tresses do I? By the time the others were all at the table I was apparently presentable, leastways no one mentioned anything.

“So er, how did it go yesterday?” I asked Therese as I put my coat back on.
“We had a few walkers and another group of Radfahrer,” she smiled.
“Not as many as Saturday?”
“No, not so many, just one table, I think they were sheltering from the rain really.”
“Even so,” I opined.
“Yes, whatever brought them they are still customers.”

And so another week of school got underway.

“Everyone okay with that?” Hannah asked.
There were no naysayers so she went on, “right, collect your uniforms from the office and I’ll see you all next week.”

Our practice had gone pretty well, even if there was still a lot of stiffness we were at least together in the moves. I’m looking forward to showing Fran what I’ve accomplished, her help has been invaluable and I doubt we’ll ever get another opportunity to show her in purpose. Well that and just seeing my funky ex-teacher again, she was there when I needed her in Virginia and when Gaby started appearing instead of Drew.

“And your Mum’ll take you and Amanda?” Hannah confirmed as we debriefed in the clubs office.
“Yep, she was a teacher before so she knows Fran, give them a chance to catch up.”
“At the same school?”
“Yeah,” I told her, “she even taught me and Jules sometimes.”
“Tough!”
“Tell me about it.”
“You coming Gab?” Mand called from outside.
“Moment!” I replied, “see you on Friday I guess.”
“Uh huh,” Han agreed, “oh don’t forget these.”
“Yeah, best not.”

I took the bag with a spare uniform in it, not for me but for Mand, how I get her into it next Monday remains to be seen.

“Sprint, sprint!” Dad encouraged, “come on the lines coming up!”
We were both giving our all, the noise intense, the perspiration flying as we headed for the imaginary line
“Aa-and easy!” our taskmaster told us.
I sat up, for now momentum still turning my legs, Mand beside me draped over her bars.
“Well done girls, ten minute cool down.”
I managed a nod of confirmation, “’Kay.”

He headed off upstairs leaving the pair of us to gently steam and drip in the garage.
“Doesn’t, gasp, get any, gasp, easier,” Mand managed sitting up and grabbing her towel.
“No,” I wheezed.
“Do you think the others, gasp, do this?”
“Ron an’ that?”
“Yeah.”
I took a swig from my bidon, “Dad gives them a programme, he’s got it all on the computer.”
“So they do these sessions?”
“Supposed to, it’s supposed to be scientific.”
“Whatever that means,” Mand opined.
Yeah, whatever that means.
“You heard from any of the others?”
“Not for a bit,” I admitted.
“Aren’t we supposed to have some presentation soon?”
“Yeah, I think the others are coming for that.”

“Remember it’s the team presentation this weekend so don’t go organising anything eh?” Dad mentioned when we got back upstairs.
“This week?”
“Sunday, I did tell you.”
“So the others coming?” Mand asked.
“They’ll be here Saturday so we can get you all kitted out ready for Sunday.”
“’Kay,” I allowed.
Kitted out, hey that means the new bikes!
“We get the bikes?”
“You get the bikes,” Dad confirmed.
“Brill!”

Maddy Bell 08.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“It’s not washing out very quick,” I mentioned, pulling a lock of my hair into view for inspection.
“You sure it washes out?” Nena queried.
“Mum said so, it’s only supposed to last like six washes.”
“What’s the panic? You look cute as a brunette,” Steff opined, “specially like you had it Sunday.”

Grrr – the C word! I. AM. NOT. CUTE!

“I just said, it’s the team presentation at the weekend.”
“What’s your hair got to do with that?” Bridget asked.
“Photo’s?” I prompted.
“What about them?” Pia enquired.
“Ooooooo!” They just don’t get it!
“Come on,” Con suggested, “we’ll be late.”

Several hours later I collapsed in front of my computer, what a day. German grammar, another geography test, I got put through the mill by Herr Ansbacher in my tutor session and then, well my nose started bleeding half way through training. Not a day I want to savour. The machine eventually burbled into life and hit the browser button.

An icon flashed up – woo, I’ve got mail. I clicked the link and it opened.

Hi Gab
It’s done, Mart is officially Drea’s Dad! We went to the big office in Nottingham, they never batted an eye. So now I can get the other forms sent off, hopefully that’ll get the cow from SS off our backs – she’s been four times since I got back.
Mart says you changed your hair, send us a pic?
Ciao
B & D

She doesn’t let the grass grow does she? I still can’t believe her and Mart are engaged even if no one else knows yet, I’ve said before, I can’t imagine making that sort of commitment like ever. Urgh, weddings and babies let alone making babies, it’s bad enough that I have the equipment, natural? Not for me it’s not.

I quickly put together a reply – without a picture, this hair is doing my head in now, what was I thinking?

“You could always dye it,” Mand suggested as I inspected my locks yet again for signs of blondness.
“But I don’t want it brown.”
“Who said anything about brown,” she waggled a clump of her own hair at me, although not her natural shade it’s not the albino white it was in Switzerland.
“So I dye my blonde hair er blonde?”
“It wouldn’t be brown,” she pointed out.
“I guess,” I allowed.
“Don’t know why you’re so worked up with it.”
“Team photos?”
“And?”
“If my hair’s brown I won’t look like me.”
“Why, you wearing a mask too?”
“Don’t be daft, you know what I mean.”
“It’ll still be you.”

She just doesn’t get it, hmm; maybe dyeing it blonde’s not such a bad idea.

“See you on Sunday, Gab,” Max called over as I collected my stuff when Friday’s classes ended.

The week since Wednesday, well the two days have been less stressful. I got 83% in the German test which was better than Con did and my hair, well it’s still not back to normal but it’s a lot lighter than it was.

“Sunday?”
“Your team thing.”
“Why would I see you at that?”
He rolled his eyes, “It’s at my place.”
“It is?”
“We’re doing food and stuff, they’re putting up a festzelt today. So I’ll see you then?”
“Er yeah, er Sunday.”

“How comes the presentation is at Max’s? You never said,” I asked Dad when I found him in the garage later.
“Didn’t I? We thought it would have a bit more character than the Kursaal, Apollinaris have stumped up for Willie to cater – should be quite a do.”
“’Kay,” I allowed, “So what’re you up to?”
“Clearing some space, we need somewhere to put your new bikes.”

I surveyed the rack of machines, two of Mand’s, four of mine and two of Mum’s. It doesn’t sound much but there’s the tandem, three mountain bikes, two of Mum’s old race bikes, another of mine plus Jules’ and Dad’s in the store room along with a bunch of wheels and other stuff. Oh yeah, my Schauff is stood in a corner too next to the little used Gazelle the Rents got for Mand to use. Whichever way you look at it, that’s a lot of bikes.

“There’s not room for six,” I pointed out.
“Six?”
“Well two bikes each, you said we get a race bike and a training bike.”
“You do but we’ll keep the race bikes down at the bottling plant so it’s only three. If we put some of these next door we’ll have plenty of room, I’ll get them down if you can wheel them through I’ll hang them later, I suppose you’re looking for a lift?”
“Er Mum said she’d take me, so yeah a lift would be good.”
“Her driving’s not that bad,” he suggested.
“You kidding? I think she learnt from Michael Schumacher.”
Dad chuckled, “Come on then, let’s get these moved and I’ll take you up.”

“It’ll be good to see the others,” Mand noted as we started the climb out of Ahrweiler.
“Uh huh,” I agreed concentrating on my pedal stroke.
We’d agreed on a reverse direction of the circuit we did the other week around Engel, you remember, we kicked those weekenders’ butts on the climb.
“Not seen Josh since the Worlds.”
“Not seen the others since Kassel,” I noted.
“That sounds so weird,” Mand opined, “this time last year I’d never been anywhere foreign other than Spain, I hadn’t even heard of Kassel and here we are riding around Germany like it’s normal.”
“Well it is.”
“No it’s not, the kids at school, well they live here but they aren’t charging all round the country.”
“I guess not,” I allowed. My friends don’t either, “I suppose we do have a strange life.”
“Not that I’m complaining,” Mand put in.

A kick in the gradient halted conversation, our energies diverted to moving upward towards Ramersbach. My thoughts were turned inward; I can’t remember a time when we, the Bonds, weren’t haring all around the place. Probably when Jules and me were little but certainly since I was at junior school we’ve been going to races, firstly for Mum then I joined in almost as soon as I could.

“Wonder what the bikes are gonna be like?” Mand mused once we’d crested the climb.
“New,” I suggested.
“Duh! You know what I mean.”
“Bit like the Bianchi’s we had in Japan I guess.”
“I suppose, hope they aren’t pink.”
“Can you imagine Josh riding a pink bike?” I giggled.
“Or pink jerseys,” Mand added.
“You don’t think they’ll change the strip do you?” I hadn’t even thought of that, I’ve become quite attached to the cream and blue.
“Shouldn’t think so, everyone knows it.”

The biggest problem going this way around the circuit is the number of left turns, okay it’s not a ride breaker but can be a bit annoying. In fact there was so much traffic at the first Engeln turn that we kept going to the second where the view up the road was better. It also meant we avoided that crappy road surface on the climb; the main road is at least half decent.

Going this way round it’s theoretically downhill from here to Singen, there are a few little blips but not much. On the other hand, apart from the first couple of K there isn’t much gradient and today, dry and bright as it is, we have a headwind to contend with. Nothing like a fight into something you can’t see to focus your energies.

Of course the good thing with that is that the last few kilometres back home should have a tailwind. We resorted to a rotation to keep up a decent pace, suffice to say we were quite warm come the bottom of the Brohltal. A bit of local knowledge avoided the main junction but we still ended up having to stop to get onto the main road north.

“Do you think they’re here yet?” Mand asked as we turned onto the Singen road a few kilometres further on.
“Dunno, I reckon so.”
“They driving?”
“Dunno, it’s quite a way to Gret’s place from here, it’d take a whole day, I think we’re closer to London.”
“I forget how big Germany is,” Mand admitted.
“Yeah,” I agreed.

The promised tailwind never really gave a comparable degree of assistance to the hindrance we’d incurred. We passed the Apollinaris yard, we both strained to see our team mates – futile of course, even if they were there they’d be inside. A few minutes more and we were home.

“Dad said can you go down to Apollinaris, Mand,” Jules told us when we got upstairs.
“Now?”
“Soon as I guess.”
“Could’ve stopped on the way up,” I opined.
“Think he wants her clean not smelly,” my sister suggested.
“How do I get there then?” Mand queried.
“I’ll give you a lift,” Jules suggested, she still has the Mofa even if it doesn’t get much use.
“Er okay, cheers.”
“I’d best get ready for work,” I sighed, hey maybe I can ‘borrow’ it after my birthday, be ace for getting up to the Tanzklub!

“What’re you so fed up about?” Con asked an hour or so later.
“Everyone else is down at Apollinaris getting their new kit.”
“But you are getting some?”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Well what’s the problem then?”
“Well…” to be honest, none, it’s just, well you know.
“And won’t yours have the stripes on too?”
“Only my skinsuit.”
“But it’s special yeah? The others will be jealous of you.”
Will they? Is that true; do they even like me? I’m sure Ron does – and Josh but the others.
“Course they’re not.”
“Just saying.”
“We’re friends.”
“Doesn’t mean they can’t be jealous,” she pointed out.

Maybe she has a point.

Maddy Bell 10.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“I’m not a flippin’ taxi service!” Jules complained.
I couldn’t hear the other end of the call but a moment later my sister replied, “Alright then, bye,” she ended the call, “get your coat on, squirt, looks like I’m your transport of choice.”

I know I was thinking of asking if I could get a Mofa permit but riding pillion isn’t my favourite thing. Not that a Mofa with two passengers can actually get much more than a walking pace. Whatever, I coated and grabbed my bag, locking the house up before joining my sister on the whiny machine.

On a bike it’s maybe twenty, twenty-five minutes, the Mofa complained the distance in about five minutes less.
“Heya,” Mand greeted as we pulled up.
“Hi,”

I fiddled with the helmets chinstrap.

“Come on, Gab,” Jules chivvied.
“Yeah, yeah,” I got the catch to release, “got it.”
I passed the helm to Mand and grabbed my bag from the seat.
“They’re in the team room,” Mand advised as she pulled the head protection on.
“’Kay, see you later.”
“Ciao!”

I headed toward the office, the drone of the Mofa punctuating Mand and Jules’ departure. Inside the shed seemed very quiet, no one about but I could hear voices in the office so I headed that way.

I knocked on the door before poking my head around the jamb, “Er hi, I’m here.” well duh!
“Ah, Gaby gut,” George mentioned, “gentlemen, this is our other Weltmeisterin, Gaby Bond, Gaby this is Herr Bugno from Pinarello and Herr Aru from Campagnolo.”
Cool! “Er hi,” I grinned.
“Nice to meet you, Miss,” Herr Aru said, offering a hand.
“Bon giorno,” Herr Bugno added.
I shook hands with the snappily dressed pair.
“They’re waiting for you in the team room,” George prompted.
“Er yes, on my way, nice to meet you,” I directed the latter to the visitors, “tschuss!”

I went around to the team room where I found Dad and Mike going through a pile of shiny new bikes.

“Wow!”
“Hi, kiddo.”
“Hi, Gaby,” Mike concurred.
“These our bikes?”
“Some of them.”
My eyes goggled.
“Kit tonight – bikes tomorrow,” Dad instructed.
“Aw!”
“Go, they want to get done so we can go eat.”
“’Kay,” I sighed.

“There you are,” Mum observed when I went through into the team room.
“Where is everyone? I thought Josh and the girls would be here.”
“Petra’s taken them to the hotel, you’ll see them later at dinner.”

I became aware of another couple of people in the room, a room with a couple of clothing rails with jerseys and stuff hanging.

“These are Lorna and Francesca from Sintani,” Mum offered.
“Er hi.”
“Bon giorno,” Francesca smiled back, “so please to trya these.”

Thees, I mean this, was a skinsuit, white with the rainbow bands that I get to wear for time trials this year, wow, I mean WOW! I dropped my coat and bag on a chair and took the garment, this is so cool!

I couldn’t work out how to put the Lycra speed suit at first, they’ve always had a front zip before but this didn’t. Instead it had short zips along each shoulder, which meant it was like sliding into a sausage skin. You want a skin suit to be close fitting, but this takes things to a new level, it fits where it touches and it touches everywhere.

“On the seat please,” Lorna, requested.
I climbed onto the suggested chair with a bit of help from Mum.

The Sintani women, plucked and smoothed, checked and discussed the garment and me inside.
“Theesa Reggiseno, isa the same for riding?” Lorna enquired.
“Er?”
“For the bust, Reggiseno um,” Lorna looked perplexed.
“Bra?” Mum suggested.
“Ah yes, bra, isa these the bra you-a race with?”
“No, no,” I offered, “sports bra?”
“Ah si,” Francesca nodded, “remove these Reggiseno please.”

Oh-kay!
A couple of minutes later I was bra less, the girls squidged by the firm material, I really did feel like a sausage now, it felt like I was naked. Well apart from the seat pad, there was no way for the smallest pimple to hide. It seemed to meet with the approval of the Sintani team so I was sent back to the changing room with bib shorts and a road jersey.

I couldn’t resist admiring myself in the mirror before I stripped the suit off, I felt a stirring, like when I snog Max, er right, less of that Gabrielle Bond! I changed kit, my BH back in place; road jerseys have a close fit but not tight like the skinsuit. I returned to the team room for a repeat of the checking.

Of course, you don’t need to try every garment on, all the jerseys will have the same fit, shorts and so on, we were quickly done and I redressed in my civvies while Mum and the Sintani people cleared up.

“Right then, young lady, let’s get you home and changed, we need to get a move on, the restaurant’s booked for seven.
I checked my watch, flip, it’s gone six now!

We got to the restaurant about ten past seven, we being the Bond clan plus Mand; it wasn’t me who made us late, Dad!

“Gab!”
“Hi, Josh!”

Of course everyone was here, riders, parents, offspring, partners and of course the sponsors representatives. It was a bit of a bear garden, a party atmosphere, everyone talking, relaxed and happy. Yeah I had a dress on but neither I nor anyone else was done up to the nines – tonight is all about bonding.

The ‘El Greco’, as the name suggests is a Greek restaurant and we had it to ourselves. Just as well, Team Apollinaris can party hard; I must’ve got through about five glasses – of Sprite™! Of course there was lots of catching up to do, Josh and Tali’s love life, Gret’s success at the Leipzig track league.

“So what about you, Gab, man in your life?” Tali asked before digging into her kebab.
“Me, get off, not likely!”
Mand, sitting opposite me, raised an eyebrow.
“I can’t believe that,” Gret stated, “you done something to your hair?”
“Had it brown for a Cosplay, it’s washing out now thankfully.”
“Looks okay,” Gret allowed.

I thought the hard colour had all gone, oh well.

“So what do you think of the kit,” Tali asked.
“Certainly nicer than last year’s,” Ron stated.
“Not sure about those shorts like,” Josh mentioned.
“Yeah,” Mand agreed.
“What’s wrong with them?” I queried.
“Gab, they’re a bit, you know?” Gret suggested.

Just to explain, the design of the shorts sort of emphasise, not intentionally, the er crotch area. It’s all in the mind really, the shorts are mostly sky blue but Sintani have put in a black ‘modesty’ panel, well you can guess where.

“Gonna take some getting used to,” Ron put in.
“I thought it would stay the same,” Gret observed.

So did I, the senior squad keep the cream but the juniors will now be in the light blue Apollinaris has adopted for its new flavoured waters. It looks quite nice but like Ron said, it’s gonna take a while to get used to.

“The skinsuits are a bit tight,” Mand opined.
“I needed help getting it on like,” Josh told us.
“You only have to ask,” Tali teased.
“You seen the bikes?” I queried.
“Aye, reet bobby dazzlers man,” Josh stated.
“Not sure I’m on with the Campagnolo,” Gret mentioned, “I’ve only ever had Shimano gears.”
“They’re easy to use,” Mand informed the table, “we had them in Japan.”

Which moved the conversation in another direction altogether.

So there we were, shivering a bit on the makeshift stage in the courtyard of Schloss Rech, the seniors lined up on one side, juniors the other. The reason for the shivering was largely what we were wearing, no not the new bike strip but for the initial announcement our new posh off bike outfits. Tell me about it, both teams have the same, a simple knee length sheath dress with matching heels in our respective team colours – well Josh has a smart navy suit.

If they’ve gone to this expense I’m guessing they are expecting to get some wear out of them, more off bike stuff for the sponsors I guess. The audience was primarily journalists, everyone from Gertie Schmidt and her cameraman from Rhein Abend to a guy from Cycling Weekly who’d arrived with Dave Brailsford. No one was holding back on this.

Dad was gonna act as MC, he was just sorting his notes when there was a bit of a shuffle further along the line.

“Scuse me, hi, Mand.”

I looked past Tali; we are arranged height wise, me the shortest in the middle of the stage to Josh at the edge. The newcomer was in a suit, I sort of recognise the voice, nah, can’t be.

“Cav?”
“‘S me, hi, Gaby.”
“What’re you doing here?” I hissed.
“Joining my new team.”
“You’re riding for Apollinaris?”
“Yup,” he grinned back from his spot next to Amanda.
Urgh, why me?

We posed as demure and prettily as any group of adolescent cyclists – well that’s maybe doing us a disservice, but models we are not. Dad got the show on the road, the lighting was dimmed and a video started up on the wall behind us. Of course we couldn’t see it, we were facing the wrong way, I’ll get it off Dad later for a look-see.

“You moving out here then Mark?” I queried in a whisper across Tali.
“Nah, I’ll commute most of the time.”
“Shush!” Mand suggested.
Well I guess we can talk later.

The film went on for several minutes; my feet were already getting sore from being stood in the not entirely comfortable 10cm heels.

“Welcome to you all,” Dad started, “thank you all for travelling to our little presentation for the revamped, 2006 Apollinaris road cycling team. Welcome too to our team supporters, Lak, Deutsche Post, Ahrtal Mercedes, Sintani, Campagnolo and Pinarello.
In a moment we’ll introduce you to the 2006 roster but first I’d like to introduce Dave Brailsford of British Cycling, Dave?”

Maddy Bell 11.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
Thankfully Director Brailsford was quite brief, not that I was exactly listening – I was having a knicker issue so was doing my best not to squirm. After that Dad named and called each of us forward to exit the stage, apparently we’d have a one on one type thing later on. Kat had been drafted in to assist, directing us into the schloss where we’d change into riding kit.
“Looking good, Bond!” Mark called out catching up to me.
“Hmm.”
“Quite some place, eh?”
“I guess.”
“Oh come on, Drew, Gaby whatever, you weren’t like this in the summer.”
You hadn’t just joined my team in the summer.
“So why’ve you joined Apollinaris?”
“Your dad asked, seemed like a good idea.”
Dad!

By now we were inside the building proper, apparently we were using the dining room to change, somewhere I’ve visited on more than one occasion. It’s not that big a place and we were soon at the door.

“Where’re you going?” I asked Cav as he went to go inside, “Don’t think so!”
“Why?”
“Changing, women?”
“And?” he grinned.
“Grrr,” I spotted Max and called him to join us, “Max!”
“Wassup liebchen?”
“There somewhere he can change?” I pointed at my new teammate.
“Yeah, I just took your tall friend, the one who talks funny, Josh is it?”
“Cheers,” I turned back to Mark; “Max’ll take you to where your stuff is.”
“Spoilsport, right then, Maxxie, lead on!”
Gott, he’s incorrigible!

“Come on, Gaby, we haven’t got all day,” Mum who was already changed prompted when I slipped into the room.
“Just getting Mark sorted out.”
“Dress off, leave your hose on,” she instructed.

Was I glad to lose the shoes, they might look nice but my feet are killing me. I hid in a corner to change; I’m still a bit self-conscious, embarrassed by my body – and seeing other girls. I know we’ve all got the same bits but I didn’t want them and I was a boy, well not actually but you know what I mean, and boys aren’t supposed to share the changing room with girls. It took a few minutes to do the clothing swap; I slipped on my trainers then we all headed back towards the marquee.

Josh and Mark were chatting when we reached the back of the tent.
“What took youse?” Josh asked.
“Nothing, we didn’t just chuck everything in a pile,” Mand mentioned.
The pair exchanged guilty looks – typical boys.
“So, Max your boyfriend then, Gaby?” Mark suggested.
“No! Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Well he called you ‘liebchen’.”
“You know German?”
“I’ve been learning.”
Hmmph, “He’s at my school, doesn’t make him my boyfriend.”
“There were some photos in the room we used,” Mark went on, “looked like a wedding or something, you two looked quite cosy.”
“I ah, we er,”
“Stage please,” Kat called out, at least temporarily saving me from more interrogation.

Whilst we’d all been getting changed our team sponsors had been giving short presentations, the last of which was a joint effort by our bike suppliers so that as we took our places on the stage we joined one of the senior teams cream and blue Dogma’s. We might not have the Record parts on the junior bikes but I actually prefer the reversed colour scheme we’ll be riding.

“And so we return to the riders,” Dad told the assembled press.

It was all quite slick, each of us was called forward before a thirty second video of that riders exploits ran. Dad then did a short Q&A with each of us, you know the sort of thing, ambitions for the season, what we thought of the new kit. Of course the three World Champions, yeah three, now Mark has joined us—had longer films and longer interviews – it was mostly done in English as a common language for the assembled press.

Mum drew the short straw of being last up, as she returned to the line up Dad once again addressed the audience, “So, that’s the introductions over, our host, Baron von Strechau has got food waiting in the restaurant, all the riders will of course be available for interview this afternoon. If you need anything please ask, thank you all once again for coming.”

There was some polite applause before chairs started to be scraped, cameras readied and we were allowed off the stage.

“Anyone know where there’s a toilet?” Ron enquired.
“Er yeah, back in house, third door on the right,” I supplied without a thought.
“Not the boyfriend then?” Cav opined.”
“He’s not!”
“Oh come on, pictures in the lounge and you know where the toilet is.”
“Our Rents are friends alright, we visit sometimes.”
“Didn’t see your mum or dad in the pictures.”
“That’s parents for you,” I tried to joke.
“So if this Max isn’t your boyfriend, you fancy going out sometime?”
“Mark! No!”
“Thought you’d say that, can’t blame a guy for trying though, you really are a fox.”
“Fox?”
“I mean you looked good on those posters in Switzerland but that dress this morning, smokin’!”
“What about the others?” I started, “Hang on, posters?”
“The race posters, they were everywhere remember?”
“You knew it was me?” oops I’ve just admitted it.
“Well not at first, Geth said she looked a bit like you and Sal confirmed it when we were at that Meigen place, you know with the waterfall and stuff.”
Just wait until I see Sal, waterfall? “Meiringen you mean?”
“That’s it, there were a bunch of the posters ‘round there.”
“You knew then?”
“Er yeah,” he allowed.
“And no one said anything?”
“What was there to say?”
“But?”
“Look, Drew, I mean, Gaby, we already thought you were gay, I mean you always hung out with the girls – even in Italy but like you’re a brill rider, what difference if you like boys. So when Sal said it was you on the posters it was hardly a big leap for you to be a girl.”
“But in Bern, that dinner…”
“Everyone knew it was you,” he advised.
“Sugar.”
“What are you two talking about?” Mand queried joining us.
“Er nothing really.”
“Switzerland,” Mark told her.
“Ah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.
“We thought you’d tell us when you were ready,” she admitted.
“We gonna get some food before it all goes?” Ron suggested returning to our corner from her visit, “Your boyfriend certainly has a nice place, Gab.”
“Knew it!” Cav crowed, “Josh owes me ten euros.”
Ooooooo!

We spent the afternoon variously posing for photos, answering questions and hitting Wilhelm’s buffet. I know it’s winter but you can have a warm buffet, which is what was on offer, you know, mini schnitzels, hot Rotkohl, potatoes – that sort of thing. It seemed like I got two mouthfuls of food to each photo session, Mark and I were in quite high demand compared to the others – well I guess we are both sporting rainbow jerseys.

“Gab, this is Mike Jones from the Comic ,” Mum mentioned as I finished off some sort of sticky pastry.
“Hi, Gaby, nice to meet you.”
“Er hi.”
“I’ll leave you to it, I promised Günther from Radsport a few words,” Mum told us before heading off.
I stifled a yawn, “Sorry it’s been a long day.”
“Let’s sit down, I left home at three this morning, too.”
We found a couple of chairs and made ourselves comfortable.

“And what do you think about Mark joining Apollinaris?”
“Er, well I only really found out this morning,” I admitted.
“So you didn’t know?”
“Er well it had been mentioned,” I fudged.
“So how do you think things will work in the team? You’ve been the star of the junior team for the last two years.”
“Well we’ve got two new riders, we’ll have more presence in some events, everyone has a role to play.”
“Mark is quite the sprinter, you’ve come off worst in several encounters,” Jones pointed out.
“We haven’t talked about it yet, we’ll probably be targeting different events, Mark’s a sprinter, I like to think I’ve got a wider talent.”
“So you don’t think there’s any potential conflict in the team?”
“I hope not, we’ve worked together before, just look at the World’s and Switzerland.”
“And this season, you said earlier you hoped to defend your time trial title in September but what about the road title, will you ride the open event again or target the girl’s title.”
“That’s a long way off, BC will have the say on that but I’d like to ride the open.”
“And beyond that, follow in Mum’s wheel tracks?”
“I don’t want to follow, I want to ride the Tour, I want to do the Olympics, it’s not a contest with Mum but I do want to be proud of what I do.”
“You say you want to ride the Tour?”
“Well I always dreamt of that, it’s not open now but who knows the future.”
“Indeed, who knows,” his tone seemed a bit dismissive. “Thanks for talking with me.”
“Er sure, safe journey home.”
“Cheers.”
I left him sorting his notes out – jerk!

“So, Mark, you going home today?”
“Yeah, back to Manchester with that Comic guy and the Boss then I get a stupid flight back to the island in the morning.”
“Tough, glad I only live down the road.”
“So I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other this year.”
“I guess – two sprinters are better than one!”

Maddy Bell 13.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

The UK bound trio departed almost as soon as Mark had changed into civvies, the Luchow’s weren’t far behind, their flight to Berlin was however from Bonn rather than Dusseldorf so they had less distance to do. Tali had come down with Josh and his Uncle Joe, they were driving back north, the Grönberg’s of course had an hour or so’s drive home. What a day!

Those of us left after the fliers departure gathered in the restaurant where Willie and his team fed us with a simple but filling meal of stuffed turkey breasts, potatoes in a creamy sauce and veggies.

“Some day, huh?” Ron offered.
“Did youse know Mark was coming, man?” Josh asked.
“Wish I had,” I lamented.
“Bit of a turn up like,” Josh noted.
“Pretty cool though,” Mand opined.
“More work for the rest of us, specially you, Joshy,” Tali put in.
“Aye, there is that, you eating that, Gab?”
“Er,” I looked at my plate, there was a bit of turkey and a few vegetables left, “er sure, all yours.”
“Geez, there must be something wrong with her!” Mand stated, “She never leaves anything.”
“You guys, okay?” Dad asked coming over to our table.
“Fine thanks, Herr Bond,” Roni allowed.
“Aye, Mr B,” Josh added.
“How long have you known about Mark,” I demanded.
“We’ve been talking for several weeks.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We only agreed things this week,” he told us.
“So you knew he was coming today, you coulda said.”
“Today wasn’t certain kiddo and I’ve been a bit busy the last few days.”
“Bit of a coup, eh, Mr Bond,” Mand suggested.
“We think so,” Dad agreed, “it’s another string to the team’s bow.”
Yeah, a string that sidelines me.

“You ready, Roni?” Angela called over a few minutes later.
“Yes, Mama,” she called back, “looks like we’re off, good to see you guys.”
“Aye, you too like, reckon we’ll be off soon too.”
“I’ll speak to you about thingy,” Mand mentioned.
“Yeah sure,” Roni agreed.
“What’s thingy?” I enquired.
“Oh just some school thing we were talking about earlier,” Mand told me.

We bade our farewells and sure enough the others were called for departure moments later.

“What a day!” Mand stated as she dropped into a chair.
“Yeah,” I agreed slumping onto the sofa, “eventful.”
“You all right? You know with Mark and that?”
“Not my decision.”
“But it’s better to be on the same team yeah, at least you’ll both get your chances.”
“I guess.”

I suppose I am being a bit selfish, I do see the logic from the team’s point of view but it doesn’t do my chances of winning any favours does it. So okay I’m a better climber than Cav but in junior races, well it’s quite marginal, pretty much if he makes it to the last couple of K he’ll be the teams preferred sprinter. Yeah wins for the team but less for me personally, hmmph!

“You two, alright?” Mum asked, “You want cocoa?”
“Ooo, yes please,” Mand quickly replied.
“Mum, did you know about Cav?”
“Cav?”
“Mark,” I affirmed, “Cav’s his nickname, you know, from Cavendish.”
“Catchy, your father and George had mentioned the possibility of him joining.”
“I won’t get a look in if there’s a sprint,” I moaned.
“But it won’t always be a sprint and anyway there’s the rainbow curse.”
“Rainbow curse?” Mand queried.
“You not heard of it? Winning while wearing the rainbow can be er quite elusive.”
“How come,” Mand pressed.
“Dunno,” Mum allowed, “might be because everyone else rides against you, probably some insecurities with the wearer too.”
“But you won before when you were champion,” I pointed out.
“True, but I lost a few that I might have got too, have to see if I can do better this year, eh? Cocoa.”

Mum disappeared back to the kitchen leaving the two of us lolling about once more.
“It’s probably not the same for your jersey.”
“Eh?”
“Well you only wear it for trials don’t you?”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
“So it shouldn’t work the same because you only really race against yourself.”
I think that makes sense.
“I guess.”
“It could work to your benefit in the sprints too.”
“How so?”
“Well if everyone’s marking Cav they won’t be covering you.”
Do you know I think she has something there, I guess every cloud has a silver lining.
“So Mark will pull their sting, I’m starting to like it,” I allowed.

“Come on, Mand, for me?”
“What’s wrong with my usual stuff?”

We’d been batting the subject about for fifteen minutes already; I really should’ve done it earlier.

“Everyone else is wearing the uniforms,” I pointed out for the fifth time.
“But I’m not on the team.”
“Neither am I but I’m wearing one, go on.”
“Are you nearly ready?” Mum demanded, “I take it you know where we are going?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Good, downstairs in five minutes if you want to eat.”
“Yes, Mum.” I looked at Mand, please?”

“I feel a right twit in this,” Mand opined as she played with the pleats of her skirt.
“You look fine.”
“I didn’t say that was an issue,” she pointed out.
“Coats,” Mum ordered.
“We’re in the car,” I complained.
The look she returned was enough for me to grab our coats from the cupboard.

If you aren’t up on the geography, Brühl is a bit north of Bonn, using the motorway it’s about three quarters of an hour from home. With Mum driving, well we were pulling up on the street outside the Hotel Orchidee forty minutes after we set off.

“Jenny!”
“Hi, Fran, long time no see,” Mum greeted her ex colleague.
“Gaby and I’m guessing this is Amanda?”
We exchanged a quick hug, “Er, Mand this is Fran.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“And you too,” Fran mentioned, “come on in I’ve got coffee for us.”

We let Fran lead the way to the breakfast room that was apparently going to act as an impromptu dance studio.

“So where are the kids?” Mum enquired.
“Don and Jean have taken them swimming, some place in Bonn.”
“Handy.” Mum allowed as she poured herself a cup of caffeine.
The door swung open behind us, “She should be okay, Fran, too much Haribo.”
“Ally?”
“Gab!”
“I forgot to tell you, Gab, Alison was drafted in as a teaching assistant on Thursday, Gemma managed to break her ankle.”
“And I was in the right place,” Al told us, “hi, Mrs B.”
“Hi, Alison, how’s your mum?”
“Fine thanks.”

Hannah and the others arrived about fifteen minutes later and although catching up with Fran – and Ali was great, we were here for a reason, Vis a cheering masterclass with my former art teacher.

The small audience clapped as the girls finished and I counted out the last hold before dropping my hand for them to relax.
“Much, much better,” Fran smiled, “er wunderbar.”
Of course there was always gonna be a language thing, I spent the evening translating and demonstrating to my German team.
“Coffee, Gab?”
“Cheers, Mand.”
“So what do you think?” I asked Fran once Mand was out of earshot.
“I’d put Amanda in, the tall one Lisa?”
“Lisse.”
“She’s a bit knees and elbows, she’s throwing the rest out but I think the others are not too bad.”
“Probably better than when we started,” I suggested.”
“You guys weren’t that bad.”

“So how is everyone?” I asked Al as I sipped my coffee.
“You know, Helen’s still doing her Guides, Mad is like she always was.”
“You still see Em?”
She winced at that.
“Sorry, sore point I guess.”
“It’s alright, we broke up before Christmas, she’s gone back to Wales – again.”
“Soz.”
“Her loss.”
“You seen Bern at all?”
“Not really,” she admitted.
“She came over the other week, her and Drea.”
“On her own?”
“Uh huh, she wanted to show Drea off to her boyfriend.”
“I thought he was in prison?”
“Not that scumbag. Mart, they met when she was over last year.”
“Right, I probably should go see her.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate it, I think she’s pretty lonely from what she said.”
Al looked a bit embarrassed.
“Gab? Time.” Mum called over.
“It’s been good seeing you, Gab.”
“You too, pity you aren’t here longer.”
We hugged and she left quickly before the waterworks started.

“Let me know how you get on,” Fran requested as I got into the car, Hannah and the minibus having already departed.
“Will do, thanks for tonight, I know Hannah was dead chuffed.”
“Well I hope it helps, now take care, I’ll see you next time you’re in Warsop,” she leant into the window, “good to see you again, Jen, I’ll let Geoff know what you suggested.”
“Okay,” Mum agreed.
“Bye, Amanda.”
“Er bye.”
Mum put the car in gear and we with a quick wave, set off home.

Maddy Bell 13.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“Alison was your friend in England?” Mand suggested as we headed back to the autobahn.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “me, Mad, Al, Bernie and Rhod, we were in the same class from juniors.”
“They used to do everything together,” Mum added.
“You’re like a friend magnet,” Mand proposed.
“Eh?”
“Well, you make friends easily, you’re like everyone’s best friend five minutes after meeting them.”
“Don’t be daft,” I scoffed.
“So how long did it take you to be part of the Angels?”
“Er.”
“She’s right, Gab,” Mum put in, “I bet it was less than a fortnight.”
“And at BC last summer, you were everyone’s best mate on day one.”
“Not everyone, I don’t think Redding likes me,” I suggested.
“I think I’ve got like two friends back in Croydon and they’re not the same sort as you have, I walked to school with Mary cos she lives two doors away and I suppose Jackie is my best friend since the infants.”
“You must have more friends than that.”
“Not proper friends, a bunch of us would do the shops and stuff but not like you and the girls here, it was mostly hanging round the town watching the lads.”
“But you’ve got friends now,” I pointed out.
“I guess. You on the other hand have a talent for it.”
We were already on the spur down to Ahrweiler, I’ve said before that Mum drives, er fast.

“Morning!” I called out as I entered the bakery next day.
The rest of the gang were already there, as usual the nearest is last!
There were a few guilty looks, what’s going on?
“What’s up?” I queried slipping my coat off.
“Er hi, Gab, P was just telling us about last night,” Steff told me.
“Right,” I agreed, “it’s a bit weird seeing people from England like that.”
“Like visiting distant relations,” Pia suggested.
“I s’pose. Anyone want more coffee?”
I’m sure there’s more to it than that, the guilty looks for one, hmmm.

When I got home Dad was setting up our bikes on the turbo’s.
“Wotcha, spud.”
“Hi.”
“Look, about Mark,” he started.
“It’s okay, I was just surprised.”
“I did know on Friday,” he admitted, “George wanted to surprise the press.”
“It’s okay, honest.”

“It’s good for the team and he won’t be here all the time.”
“Er no,” I agreed, “we not using the new bikes?”
“I thought you could use the old bikes on the trainers, keep the new ones for the road.”
“So we’ve got ‘best’ training bikes,” I grinned.
“Lots of people have a turbo bike, it’s not a very bike friendly activity, all that sweat and damp.” He pointed out.
“I’d best go and change.”
“Not your new kit,” he instructed.
Well if we have bikes dedicated why not clothing, “Er sure.”

“So what’s the verdict?” Hannah enquired.
She’d left me to get Fran’s comments last night so I’d rung tonight to report back.
“She was quite impressed,” I started, “I think they responded to her comments better than me.”
“Don’t take it to heart, Gab, it happens with Garde too if we get someone else in for a session.”
“Well she thinks we’ll be okay for the competition.”
“What about, you know, what we talked about?”
“Depends on convincing Mand really, Lisse is the black spot, in Fran’s words, she’s all ‘knees and elbows’.”
I could almost hear her nodding in agreement, “So we need to work on Amanda, I don’t think Lisse will be an issue.”
“It took me an hour to get her in the uniform last night,” I mentioned.
“Maybe we use more subtle means, yes?”
“Like?”
“Hmm, leave it with me, we’ll talk Friday.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
I ended the call, I wouldn’t put money on convincing Mand, she’s been adamant she only comes for fitness.

“I’ll follow you round in case there’re any issues,” Dad informed us as we prepared for our Saturday morning ride.
“Issues?”
“Everything’s new, there’s bound to be some adjustments to make.”
Yeah, this is our first session on the Pinarello training bikes and in our new strip.
“Can we do the Ring?”
“I suppose so but be careful on that descent, Manda?”
“Yes, Mr B.”
“We don’t want to break anything on the first outing, eh?”
“No, Dad,” I agreed. Well I don’t like breaking bikes but well it happens sometimes, racing’s like that.

It was one of those mornings where the weather isn’t sure what to do, look out the window and it looks fine but outside, well it was a fine drizzle, great. Me and Mand set off ahead of Dad, we were past Rech before a toot alerted us to his presence behind us.

In theory there shouldn’t be any difference apart from the shifters between the new bikes and the old, everything has been set up the same after all. In practice every bike has its own characteristics, maybe a little twitchier, slower or faster acceleration, even comfort, what the magazines call compliance, on rough surfaces. Not only that but previously we were each on different bikes, now they are essentially identical machines which means neither of us has any mechanical advantage.

With the constant drizzle we were soon quite damp despite, well partly because of our waterproofs – never fun. There’s something about riding a new bike, you don’t want it to get dirty, and it’s always better than the old one, always faster, always lighter. Of course in reality those latter points are often in our heads rather than real and you can’t keep a bike pristine if you use it.

“These gears are a bit clunky,” Mand noted as we climbed through the tunnel into Altenahr.
“I wouldn’t say that, firm though,” I opined.

We carefully negotiated the parked cars and Saturday morning traffic through the town; we’d lost our following car before we reached the bridge. Once across the level crossing we picked up the pace a bit, the wider road encouraging a rotation. The pace eased a bit after the Münstereifel turn, the start of several kilometres steady climb.

It’s been a while since I’ve, we’ve ridden this way, in fact not the full circuit for a long time – we got a lift home after Mand’s flying lesson. You forget, not the route but the severity of the gradient, the sharpness of the turns, the way the nature of the road changes out of Adenau and inside the circuit. The twists and turns above Quiddelbach had us out of the saddle to keep the pace up and thankfully the dampness eased to merely damp roads.

I’m not sure when it started but as we approached the top the chattering of my gears took a downward turn when my chain slipped, almost putting me on the deck.

“Whoa!”
“Sugar!” I agreed as I tried to get my shoe re-engaged.
“What’s up?” Dad called from the car, pulling alongside us.
“Gears slipped.”
“There’s a pull in on the top road, can you get there?”
“Should be able to.”

“That should do it,” Dad stated, “Cable stretch, yours okay, Mand?”
“It’s a bit jiggly.”
“Let’s have a look then.”
Dad had brought a workstand; he quickly swapped our bikes over and started checking Mand’s machine.
“So much for new bikes,” Mand sighed.
“It’s only adjustment,” I pointed out, “it’s the same with any new bike.”
“I guess, I’ve never had a brand new bike before,”
“We had the Bianchi’s in Japan,” I pointed out.
“But that was only a loan, this one is mine long term.”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“There we go, I’ll do a full check this afternoon,” Dad advised passing Mand her bike.

I guess we were both a little wary when we set off again; we’d turned off the main drag past the circuit before either of us felt inclined to test the bikes again. The Hohe Acht climb had us going at it and then we were on the ten kilometres plus drop towards Ahrbruck. I know we agreed to take it carefully but, well what’s the fun of going down on the brakes.

The road hasn’t improved over the winter, it’s still narrow, bumpy, pot holed and twisty but that’s part of the excitement. Slinging myself low over the bars into an aero tuck, the bike sped up and I’m sure left the tarmac out of the next dip. I was aware of Mand in close attendance, she’s certainly more confident these days; it wasn’t surprising that she came alongside at one point.

Not much traffic uses the road thankfully; we only had to slow to cross one farmer’s pickup on the way down. I did drop the speed as we came into the village and this time Mand did likewise, just as well really – the new brake blocks still needed a bit of bedding in.

“No visiting the farm today,” I joked as we passed the field Mand landed in.
“Bit damp for lying on the grass anyhow,” she replied.

We’d dropped Dad on our wild descent but he rejoined us on the couple of kilometres to Ahrbruck. The surface isn’t any better but the road from here is at least wider and less steep down to the Ahrbruck junction. Once on the main road we turned up the screws for our usual bash back down the valley to Dernau.

Well okay, we were more careful through Altenahr of course but once past the shopping area it was every man, er girl, for themselves. The tunnel spat us into the gorge and I almost overshot the Tanzklub corner, Mand getting the drop and twenty metres on me. We were into Mayschoß before I caught back up to her and if truth be told that was partly because of a slow car holding her up.

I took over the lead; experience says that it’s easier to go from the front than try to get around someone for the Dernau sprint. Head down, full gas I twitched the bike around drains and without thinking bunny hopped that annoying trench across the road as you go into Rech. Then it was my turn to be slowed by the traffic, a car was waiting to turn into the village and oncoming traffic left nowhere to go.

The back wheel locked and started to squiggle on the damp tarmac, we might’ve only been doing forty-five K but when your contact with the road is about four square centimetres it makes for interesting times. Just when I was certain I was gonna hit the car it moved and I was able to slip past. I must’ve distanced Mand a little beforehand as she barrelled straight past me as I tried to get my gear rolling again.

She was away and there was no point in giving chase, the sign was too close so I sat up and dropped into a lower gear to finish the ride. My pulse was racing from the adrenalin rush of the near miss; I hope Dad didn’t see it. Up ahead Mand had taken the sprint uncontested, I’ll get you next time de Vreen!

“Good ride?” Mum asked.
“Er not bad,” I allowed.
“How’re your bikes?”
“Fast,” Mand supplied.
Mum just grinned, the new bike effect.

Maddy Bell 14.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“When’s your birthday?” Steff asked Friday lunchtime.
“You know when, a week on Sunday.”
“Really?” Nena exclaimed, “I thought it was weeks away.”
“So you doing anything for it?”
“Mum usually does a big dinner or we’ll go out.”
“Must remember to get a card,” Bridg put in.
“When do you get back from England?” Con enquired.
“Tuesday I think, I’ll ring when I know.”

The last week has been a lot calmer, it’s after half term that it starts getting busier, in fact as things go I’d call it quiet. No dramas at cheer, only a couple of mocks and homework now consists of revision, revision and more revision.

“You packed, Gaby?” Mum demanded when I got home from Garde.
“Almost,” I allowed.
“We won’t have time in the morning to play about, tonight please.”
“Yes, Mum,” I sighed.

Of course I’ve known about this weekend for ages, pre season testing in Manchester for me, Mand and Mum (they seem to have taken more interest in Mum again after her Roskilde medal). Not sure we’ll see anyone else, it’s much easier to organise for the guys living in the UK, it’s just us three who are an issue, not sure about Josh though, he never said anything at the presentation. So anyway, we’re flying over tomorrow, staying at Gran’s then we’ve got stuff at the velodrome Sunday and Monday then it’s home.

“And don’t forget your skinsuit,” she called after my retreating back.
“No, Mum.” At least we aren’t taking bikes.

“Anyone want coffee,” I asked.

We’d got to the airport well early; everything was going well until the board flashed up a delay on our flight. No reason but expected departure was now an hour later.

“See if you can get some food,” Mum asked slipping me a twenty.
“I’ll come too,” Mand offered.
“Won’t be long.”

We set off down the concourse, I saw a snack bar place a few gates along from where we’d camped, at least we didn’t have to go back through passport control.

“We got held up for six hours coming back from Tenerife once,” Mand supplied.
“I hate airports, queue to check in, security, passports, to get on the plane, nightmare.”
“S’pose so, oh look, another queue.”

Well it wasn’t a big queue at the food outlet; we joined the line and settled to wait our turn.

“Coffee and er cheese and ham,” I supplied passing Mum a cup and bag.
“Cheers, do I get any change?”
Skinflint! “In my pocket.”

I put my stuff down and fished the coins out of my pocket.

“How much?” she exclaimed.
“It is an airport,” I pointed out, I must admit eighteen euros for three coffees and three sandwiches is a bit rich. “Gran picking us up?”
“No, we’ll hire a car in Manchester, gives us more flexibility.”

Mand was busy with her book and Ipod music thing and Mum returned to her magazine, I checked the time, 12.05.

12.49, I sighed as I waited for the departure board to cycle through, “Hey, our flight’s been called!”
“‘Bout time,” Mum grumbled.
“Mand!” I shook her leg.
“What?” she asked pulling an ear bud free to hear.
“Time.”

A grey day in Dusseldorf translated a couple of hours later to a typical wet and miserable afternoon in Manchester. The flight was a bit bumpy coming in to Manchester; we seemed to get a bit sideways on the runway as the pilot slammed us onto the tarmac. I was well glad to get off the plane but then it’s the warren of corridors and stairs that take you to passport control, we got through there quick enough but then had to wait for the case we were sharing.

think when they designed Manchester airport they tried to make it as difficult as possible to use. We eventually located the car hire and an hour after landing finally got to our transport.

“Bit excessive,” I noted.
“They didn’t have an Astra left so we got upgraded.”

The upgrade was a Ford Kuga, a huge sort of four by four people carrier thing; I suppose it’s a bit like Gloria’s Cayenne but less luxury.

“Come on, we still have to get to your Gran’s,” Mum went on.

In theory the motorways are the quickest route but instead Mum took us on the A roads through Wilmslow, Holmes Chapel and Middlewich.

“Give your Gran a call, Gab, we’ll be about fifteen minutes,” Mum suggested.
“’Kay,” I got out my Handy and hit the speed dial.
After a couple of rings it was answered, “Peters.”
“Hi, Gran.”
“Gaby, you landed love?”
“Yeah, Mum says we’ll be about fifteen minutes.”
“I’d best go home and put the kettle on then, I’m just round at Gwen’s, we went to Chester this morning, no point taking two cars*. See you in a few minutes, bye love.”
“Bye, Gran.”
“Sounded complicated,” Mum observed as I re-stowed my phone in my Handtasche.
“Not really, she’ll have the kettle on.”
“I’m parched,” a voice mentioned from the rear seat.

“Egg and chips okay for tea?” Gran enquired as we reconvened after unpacking.
“Please,” I enthused.
“Fine, Mum,” Mum agreed.
“Amanda?”
“Er sure, any chance of scrambled instead of fried though?”
“I’m sure we can manage that, in fact I might join you. We can go to the Taj Mahal tomorrow, you’ll need a feed after being at the track all day.”

Cool, a proper Indian! You struggle to get anything beyond chicken madras at home.

The chips were real homemade things; I stuck with fried eggs and enjoyed every greasy mouthful. It’s not the sort of thing we have at home in Germany, it just doesn’t fit into our supposedly healthy menu, it’s not that we never have ‘pommes’ or even eggs but just not in the same meal. It doesn’t hurt occasionally and it certainly brings a smile to your face – as well as egg yolk!
As you know German TV is quite dire most of the time, there are a few passable programmes but mostly, well we don’t bother with it. It was therefore quite a novelty to watch some Saturday night TV UK style, even if it wasn’t great viewing. Dancing on Ice was okay I guess then we ended up watching the Winter Olympics coverage.

“I wonder if Jess made the team?” Mand and I dueted.

Of course that had us both in hysterics.

“Who’s Jess?” Gran asked.
“Jessica Simmonds, she’s a figure skater, they were training at Lilleshall last year when we were there,” Mand supplied.
“I’ve known her a few years, from when we used to go skating in Sheffield,” I added, “she helped me stand up.”
“Not seen any skating,” Gran noted, “There’s a guide in the rack Jen.”

Well apparently we’ve missed the figure skating stuff, it was last weekend, GB hadn’t scored any medals, I’ll have to email her to see how she is. If I remember, I’m terrible with stuff like that, hmm maybe I can just text her? Yeah, I’ll do that later. By the ten thirty news I was yawning, we have to be at the track for ten in the morning so we decided to call it a night.

“Okay, ladies,” Steve called out, “that’ll do.”

Mum was doing other stuff but Mand and me have spent the last hour or so being put through our paces on the track. We’ve not been alone out there; anyone can tip up, pay their dosh and ride on the Sunday morning session, just because we are with BC doesn’t give us any priority. We rolled down to the infield and dismounted.

“Well done, girls, bit rusty.”
“Not, huh, been on, huh, track since, huh, summer,” I gasped out.
“Put the bikes in the rack, then we’ll meet in room two, okay.”
“’Kay,” Mand agreed.

Steve went ahead leaving us to change footwear and collect our gear, my rainbow hooped skinsuit had certainly got a few looks, maybe recognition, apparently our team launch was in this week’s Comic. Have to try to get a copy to take home.

“That was pretty intense,” Mand noted as she towelled down.
“My legs are killing,” I admitted, “I suppose we have that VO² thing later.”
“Yeah,” Mand agreed.

Well apparently our turn on the exhaustion test would be Monday morning, the remainder of our Sunday was taken with giving samples and static testing of one sort or another. No one bit was particularly hard but the cumulative effect was tiring.

“Okay, guys, see you in the morning,” Steve told us about three thirty.
“Er yeah, is it just the VO² thing tomorrow?” I asked.
“That and Chris’ll go through the results with you, have a chat about this year’s programme and so on.”
“’Kay, see you tomorrow.”

We waited in reception for Mum to finish up; it was after four when we left to go back to Grans’.

“Table for four,” Gran requested.
“This way please, ladies,” the waiter requested.

The Taj Mahal was everything an Indian restaurant should be, poorly lit, flock wallpaper with an annoying soundtrack of tinkly bells in the background. We were escorted to a table in the window and seated before being handed the impressive menu cards – yeah, a real Indian.

“Nothing too hot now, Gaby, we don’t want any bad stomachs,” Mum instructed.
“And we’ve got the torture session in the morning,” Mand noted.
“Spoilsports.”
“Drinks, ladies please?” our waiter requested.

They had a set meal option which we agreed to go for, you get a variety of stuff to share, we had beef madras, chicken korma, lamb tikka and Gob Aloo with the trimmings of course, bhajis, Naan and samosas with the main course, popadoms with the chutneys and stuff and somehow we squeezed in sorbets before the coffee. And not a sign of a vindaloo worst luck.

“I’m well stuffed,” I sighed stretching out to ease my stomach.
“I can’t move,” Mand offered from opposite me.
“You did have two bhajis,” Mum pointed out.
“Couldn’t waste it,” I groaned.

I certainly didn’t feel like physical exercise would be possible anytime in the next week, it was a struggle to walk to the car. By the time we got back to Gran’s the feeling of exploding had reduced to mild heartburn and a need to visit the bathroom – urgently!

Maddy Bell 14.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

Sweating on the Line

Gran came with us on Monday morning; we’re going into Manchester once we’re done with BC.
“Told you not to go mad,” Mum told me.
“I didn’t,” I groaned.
“Many!” Mand observed.

The traffic crept along – the joys of commuting I guess, on the other hand we were making progress, when we crossed the M6 it resembled a car park, three solid lanes going nowhere. It was an earlier start today, we were supposed to be at the Velodrome for nine, with the traffic we arrived at ten past. We signed in, Gran got a pass for the stands and I headed for the loos!

I was still feeling a bit green when we got to the testing lab, I was only too happy for Mand to go through the torture session first. It takes nearly as long to get all wired up as the actual session, not sure what it tells them really, you get a sheet with loads of figures and some fancy graphs but what it means? I waited next door, there was a pile of cycling magazines, so I was soon lost reading about David Millar’s return to the peloton after his drugs suspension, the numpty.

“Gaby?”
“Eh?”
“Your turn,” Marcus told me.

With a sigh I followed him into the lab where Pauline, the other technician was finishing Mand’s extraction from the technology.

An hour later I was sat in a room with Chris Toynbee and Caro.
“So how’s it going?” Chris asked.
“Er okay I guess, might’ve been better without the er hospital visits.”
“Yes your dad told us about all that, but since you got back in the saddle?”
“The forms coming I guess.”
He shuffled his printouts, “Your figures are a bit down on last time but you’re still outperforming everyone else, so nothing to worry about there. Apparently you’ve grown a bit.”
“I have?”
“162cm ”
“A whole centimetre,” I allowed.
“Well almost two actually,” he stated.
“Don’t think I’ll ever be a six foot Amazon, will I?” I sighed.
Caro chuckled, “How tall is your sister?”
“Same as Mum, five sixish?”
“Well you might catch up,” Chris opined with a glance at Caro.
Yeah and Chris Hoy will win the Tour.
“Let’s talk programme, Caro?”

I left the meeting taller and befuddled and headed up to the stands to find Gran and Manda. I spotted them halfway along the main straight, I couldn’t see Mum but there were quite a few riders on the boards so I might’ve missed her.

“Heya.”
“Done?” Gran queried.
“Yeah,” I agreed dropping into a seat.
“Your Mum’s just finished, she’ll come find us when she’s changed.”
“They’re practising for the team pursuit,” Mand mentioned from beyond Gran.

I guess if I was a trackie the pursuit is where I’d concentrate, it’s like intense time trialling unlike track sprinting which is quite different to riding a hundred K then dashing for the line. The track was cleared and we watched as the guys were lined up below us to start, there wasn’t anyone for them to chase so this was pure time trial.
CRACK!

They were on their way. When you see it on the telly it’s quite exciting, are they up, down, the cheering – it’s quite a spectacle. In an empty velodrome with no opposition, well it’s not quite the same although watching the changes, the skill that involves to get it right, is exciting in a way.

It wasn’t silent around the track, the coaching staff were shouting instructions and a few of the temporarily displaced riders joined in the encouragement. These guys are the crème de la crème and you could tell. Another bang ended the effort and before the pursuiters were off the boards other riders were back circling the track.

“Okay?” Mum asked joining us a few minutes later.
“The men’s pursuiters just did a 3.59,” I told her.
“They’ll need to go faster than that at the worlds if they are to podium.”
“Are we ready for some shopping?” Gran enquired.
“As long as there’s coffee,” I suggested.
“You and your coffee,” Mand chuckled.

I’m not the biggest shopping fan but shopping with Mum and Gran brings things down to a new level of distress. I mean M&S isn’t exactly style central and Debenhams…

“Why don’t you two go where you want, we’ll meet in the food court at,” Mum checked her watch, “three?”
“’Kay,” I agreed.
“Right,” Mand allowed.
“See you later then.”

We trailed around the shops, I did pick up a copy of the Comic in Menzies but nothing else caught my eye – or Mand’s. The fashions are different to back home, seems the prostitute look does it in Manchester, as everything was tight, short and lurid. The department stores are at best poor imitations of Kaufhaus and so on, the Wolford section in Bonn is bigger than the total hosiery area in John Lewis!
It was raining now so we abandoned a walk outside of the Arndale and headed back to the food court.

“The shops are crap here, aren’t they?” Mand stated.
“A bit,” I agreed.

A quick glance from where we were sat revealed nothing but national chains in their look-alike stores. Go to Nottingham, Liverpool, Bristol and they’ll look the same, have the same stock, the streets just carbon copies of each other. Okay so you’ll find a bit of that back in Germany but you get different stuff in the shops and different shops.

Back at Gran’s and she insisted on washing our cycling kit, well not just our kit of course, a load of underwear etc went through the machine too. With a nine thirty flight in the morning it would have to be an early night so Gran was feeding us at home tonight.

“I’ve not had a stew like that for an age,” Mum declared.

Well neither had I, I don’t know what she puts in her stews but Gran’s are always – better. It might be the suet dumplings, or the meat or the gravy but whatever it is they are the best.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Gran grinned, “Rhubarb crumble anyone?”
“Me, me, me!”
“Really, Gab!” Mum admonished.
“Leave her alone, Jen, she’s a growing girl.”
“Two centimetres,” Mand mumbled, I think I might’ve mentioned it several times this afternoon.
“I’ll start the custard,” Gran told us.

“You’d best have these?” Gran told me passing a package and envelope to me, “Happy birthday, love.”
I took the offered goods, “Thanks, Gran,” I enthused.
“That’s alright, love, you didn’t think I’d forget did you?”
“‘Course not, can I open it?”
“Mum?” mater asked.
“Well I won’t see you at the weekend will I?”

At a guess the parcel was clothing of some sort given it was soft and very bendy; I set to carefully undoing the wrapping. The slightly cheesy ‘you are sixteen’ outer layer revealed a second covering of pink tissue paper, this didn’t come from Marks! I opened the tissue to find – well I’m not sure.

“Let’s see then?” Mand demanded.
Whatever it is it’s silk and black and gorgeous. I lifted it out and held it out.
“Your mother sent me your sizes,” Gran mentioned.

It was a dress – well I guess I am a girl, a posh dress of the Eloise Couture type but whilst not High Street fashion, it reeked style that a bandeau tube of gold Lycra will never have. I held it up in front of me.

“It’s lovely, Mum.”
“Thanks Gran, not sure when I’ll wear it though.” I leant over and gave her a hug.
“Oh I think you’ll find places and I’m sure there’s at least one of your friends who’ll enjoy seeing you in it.”
“Gran!”
“Don’t go all coy on me, young lady, I’m not that old, nor am I blind.”
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
“Not that record again,” Manda mumbled.
“Ah so you know who I mean then,” Gran grinned.
“You tricked me!”
“You not opening your card kiddo?” Mum suggested.
“Forgot about that, where is it?”
“Here,” Mand waggled the envelope.

Of course there was the expected card but inside something completely unexpected. I read the slip of paper again.

“Is this real?”
“100%,” Gran confirmed.
“But it’s for a thousand pounds.” I announced.
“Cool!” Mand opined.
“Your sister got the same, can’t I treat my granddaughters?” Gran told me.
“She never said,” I noted.
“She didn’t want to make you jealous, kiddo,” Mum told me.
“So I can spend it on anything?”
“That’s up to you love, I hope you don’t just fritter it away but yes, I make no demands, use it for things that make you happy,” Gran stated.
“You can get that Metallica tattoo, Gab!” Mand offered.
“Ma-and!”
“I think your Mum might have something to say about that,” Gran noted.
“She was only joking, Gran, it’s Abba,” I chortled.

“Ring me when you get home,” Gran instructed her daughter.
“Course, Mum.”
They parted and I took Mum’s place in a hug.
“And you, take care of yourself love, enjoy your birthday, eh?”
“I will, thanks for the presents, Gran,”
“You’re welcome, love.”
She released me from the hug and I dabbed at the forming tears.
“Come here, Mand,” Gran pulled her into an equally fierce embrace, “look after yourself and keep an eye on Gaby, eh?”
“I will, Mrs P,”
“We need to move, Mum, come on, girls.”

We got into the Kuga and with damp eyes all round we pulled out of the drive and turned towards the airport.

Maddy Bell 15.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

Downtime

 
 
You’ve flown right? So you know that the hour and a half flight is book ended by at least the same again each end and go the wrong direction there’ll be time differences too. We finally got home, after leaving Gran’s before seven o’clock, not much before three. I wasn’t the only one sagging when we made it into Schloss Bond.

“No Dad,” I mentioned – well duh, the car was missing.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Mand suggested.
“At least there’s not piles of washing,” Mum noted, “go hang your dress up Gab or it’ll be fit for nothing.”
“Yes Mum.”

The sub plot there is it’s inside the big case that little ol’ me now has to lug upstairs, grrr!

“You were a long time,” Mand opined when I padded back into the kitchen.
“Thought I’d grab a shower while I was there,” I mentioned as I finished the second damp braid.

Of course a shower means a change of clothes and I’d put on my short denim dungarees over thick tights and a roll neck jumper – both warm and comfy.

“How do you do it?” Mand asked plonking a mug of tea in front of me.
“Do what?”
“Look so damn cute all the time, no one else stands a chance.”
“I am not…”
“Give over Gab, if you could bottle it you’d make a fortune,” Mand stated.
“Hmmph!”
“If I’d put that stuff on I’d just be a girl in dungarees, you, well you radiate cute.”
There’s no point in arguing, I’ve had this discussion many times with different people, I’ve never won yet.
“I’m going round to Cons, coming?”
“Aren’t we supposed to go on the turbo’s?”
“We can do that later.”
“You can do what later?” Mum enquired appearing at the kitchen door.
“Training?”
“I suppose it won’t hurt, I suppose you are going to the bakery?”
“Er yeah.”
“See if you can pick up some bread then, your Dad’s emptied the bin.”
“Okay,” I sighed, guess who gets stuffed again?

“Go on up Gaby,” Therese told me waving towards the apartment door.
In the end Mand decided homework was more important than cake so I’d come round on my own.
“Er could you put me a Bauernbrot to the side, Dad’s eaten a two whole loaves over the weekend.”
“No problem, I’ll put it on the order shelf.”
“Thanks.”

“Con?” I called out as I climbed the stairs, “only me!”
“Kitchen!” the reply came back.
I made my way up the last few steps and round to the Thesing’s kitchen.
“Heya,”
“Hi yourself,” Con offered, “coffee’s on, so, good trip?”
“Not bad,” I allowed hanging my jacket up and losing my boots, “ooo is that what I think it is?”
“Only if you think its lemon torte.”
“Yum!” I enthused.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, there is always cake at Con’s, well it is a bakery and coffee and cake is almost a national sport. And when we talk cake we aren’t looking at a slice of Madeira, no, German cake is cream and fruit and chocolate and huge portions. Its no wonder everyone does it whenever they can, with friends, out shopping, after a bike ride.

“You’re kidding?”
“Nope, straight up,” I reiterated.
“So that’s what, eleven hundred euro?”
“I think the exchange is a euro to eighty pence, so that’s,” I tried to run the math in my head.
“Twelve hundred,” my more analytical friend supplied as I tied my head in knots, “and you can spend it on anything?”
“Yep.”
“Wow, wish I got presents like that. So what’re you gonna buy?”
“Dunno, might just put it in my savings account.”
“Boring, Gaby Bond! She gave it you to spend so spend,” Con advised.
“I might spend a bit I suppose.”

To be honest I hadn’t given it a lot of thought, its still less than twenty-four hours since my windfall.

Con came down to the shop to see me off, “so back to mine after for dinner.”
“It will be the Yorkshire Pudding?” she asked again.
“Yes, there’ll be Yorkshire,” I confirmed, “see you in the morning.”
“Yep, tschussie!”
“Tschuss!”
I was at the door before Therese called me back, “don’t forget your bread Gabrielle.”
“Mama!” Con admonished.
I hate it when someone uses my full name; it usually means trouble after all. Oooo!
“Yeah, I’d best not forget that or there’s no frühstuck!”

“You get the bread?” Mum called out when I returned home.
Phew, that was close; I would’ve got a right earful if I’d come home without it.

“So you having a party?” Steff asked when the subject of my impending anniversary came up.
“Dad said he’ll take us out to eat but no party,” I sighed.

I’d really like a party, not the big public sort but you know, snacks, games and stuff with family and friends. I’m not a big party girl, but like I’m sixteen for heavens sake, well I will be on the 25th.

“We’ll have to go for cake,” Bridg suggested.
“Great idea,” Nena agreed, “we can go to Poppel’s !”
“We can go Saturday,” Steff mentioned.
“I’m working,” I sighed.
“What about Friday?” Nena asked.
“I’m going to my Oma’s” Con told us.
“And I’ve got my annual at the Frauenklinik,” Steff added.
“Can’t you get Saturday off?” Pia queried in turn.
“Possibly.”
“I’ll talk to mama,” Con offered.
“Set then, we can get the Express up,” Mand put forward.
“Should we ask Max?” Nena proposed.
“No, lets keep it to us girls,” Steff stated.

Well it’s not a party as such but at least its time with my friends.

“Come on, the other trains in,” Pia mentioned as the Rhein Express rolled to a halt in Andernach.

Where are we going? Well Mand hasn’t been to Mayen so that’s where we’re headed. We piled off the train and down the stairs to the other platform where the weird new railcar was waiting. I say weird; it’s not red but silver and looks like a huge girder construction, certainly nothing like the Ahrtal Express.

We slipped onto the train, by the time we’d found seats the train was pulling away from Gleis Drei. Obviously the Ahrtal Express runs up the valley, the Vulcan Express follows the Brohltal away from the Rhein but the Mayen train doesn’t take a valley route but instead twists and turns across the rolling hills. It’s not a place we come to often, mainly because its either three trains or a train and two buses to get to.
“Next stop is us,” Steff noted as we pulled away from Mayen Ost station just shy of thirty minutes after leaving Andernach.

“At least its still dry,” I observed.
“But for how long?” Nen asked.

I’ve got very mixed memories of Mayen, coming that day when I met Claudia for the first time, the fun we had – even ending up with blue hair was a good memory. But of course that’s tempered by her passing away last October, the grief will probably never go away. I’m sure, I know that Claud would want us to remember the fun times so I tucked the hurt away and followed the others out of the station.

“You seen the church Mand?”
“Where?”
“You can see the spire behind Deichmann’s,” Brid advised pointing.
“It looks a bit weird.”
“Mayen’s famous for it Mand,” Steff offered, “the twisty spire.”
“Like that one in England,” Mand suggested.
“Gab told us of that before, Chess something,” Con added.
“Chesterfield,” I supplied.

Being half term there were a few teens about the kindergartens don’t break the same so we had to dodge a couple of crocodiles of pre-schoolers. We visited the usual chains, Orsay, Pimkie and so on but the real attraction are the independent stores. Places like the ‘alternative’ store on the ring and the assortment of boutiques and shoe shops on Marktplatz.

“What do you reckon?” I asked posing in front of the mirror.
“They look comfortable,” Pia offered.
“How much?” Nena enquired.
“Er thirty five,” Mand advised the gallery after checking the box.
I hadn’t exactly been looking for new boots but Hartmann’s, one of those independents, was offering 20% off - and I do need some.
“So that’s what, twenty eight,” Con worked out, "you should get them Gab."

Twenty-eight euros, they are comfortable and my old ones are looking pretty ratty. I checked the mirror again; I’ve seen a few kids wearing this style although the gang seem to favour something with a more girly style and higher heel than the modest four centimetres on these. They will work with a lot of stuff; did I mention they were comfortable?

“So where now?” Steff queried when we emerged from Hartmann’s.
“Lunch?” I suggested hopefully.
Someone else’s stomach rumbled loudly, “lunch!” we all chorused which caused some mirth.

Mayen doesn’t have the big department stores and who wants Maccy D’s all the time so we ended up in one of those sort of workmen’s cafés that specialize in traditional German snack food, you know the stuff, frikadel, wurst, maybe Gulasch soup but most important, frites! With seven of us we pretty much filled all the seating, mostly counter stools, Brid and Steff claimed the only table. I always feel a bit naughty coming into these places, you get good portions, often they are cheap too and lets face it, you know the quality is okay or they’d never last a week out.

I sighed contentedly as I bit into another chip laden with mayo and curry sauce , friends all around, new boots, birthday on Saturday, plate of currywurst, chips and mayo in front of me – what’s not to like?

Maddy Bell 16.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

Whispers

 
 
“You like Yorkshire?” Mum enquired of my BF.
“We don’t have anything like it,” she stated before pushing more batter pudding into her chops.

I was in charge of Wednesday dinner so it didn’t take much to transform the menu from plain old lamb chops to a more ‘Yorkshire’ offering by serving everything in king size Yorkshire puds. The rest of the Bond household didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow, Dad got out his bottle of ‘Henderson’s’ Yorkshire relish – the finishing touch. Con was in seventh heaven though; I suppose I’ll have to show her how to make them sometime.

Thursday arrived as miserable as miserable gets. I know yesterday wasn’t brilliant but the sudden arrival of sleet showers I’d missed on last nights weather forecast. I had been going to suggest a ride to Mand and Mum but instead it ended up as a morning of revision before joining the supermarket run into Ahrweiler.

“So you looking forward to Saturday Gab?” Maria enquired – we dropped in for coffee and toilets after Lidl.
“Saturday?”
“The party?”

Party? Oh Mum must’ve told her about going to Poppel’s with the girls.

“Not really a party but I guess it’ll be okay.”
I sensed something going on behind me.
“It was nice of the girls to organise it eh Gab?” Mum stated slowly.
“Er yeah.”
“So what do you think of the new bikes?” Maria enquired abruptly changing the subject.
“Brill,” I enthused, “I don’t think Manda’s quite as enthused, she’s always used mid range Shimano before.”
“I’m sure she’ll adapt,” Maria offered.
“Well at least she’ll get a chance to practice before the racing starts, not like when I arrived at Apollinaris,” Mum offered, “it was straight into a race on day one, I had to work out the Shimano shifters during the race.”
“You still came third,” Maria noted.
“Yeah, talk about dropped in the deep end,” Mum agreed.
We didn’t stay long, Mum claiming a need to do some washing.

The weather still wasn’t great when Saturday, my Birthday arrived; well the sleet had relented to cold with the odd snow flurry. That meant the road training was abandoned and replaced by a turbo session but I’ve not told you about the morning have I? Well…

“Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Gaby,
Happy birthday to you!”

I was sort of expecting a round of ‘Happy birthday’s’ when I came down but not a full on choral greeting. My sister and Boris arrived yesterday to bolster the numbers and unusually the table was set for breakfast – we usually just grab our own.

“Happy Birthday kiddo,” Dad added unnecessarily as I eyed the spread.
“Er thanks.”
“Sit down Gab, your cards are on the table,” Mum instructed.

With breakfast starting around me I started on the pile of cards, a bigger pile than I was expecting to be honest. The first few were from those around the table but the rest on the table had arrived by mail, several with UK postmarks and a couple with German. The latter turned out to be from Sophia and Greta, the former from Helen, Ally and Fran – guess you find out who your friends are by the arrival or not of birthday greetings.

“Egg?” Mum offered.
We never have eggs at breakfast – well not boiled at any rate.
“So what’s it feel like to be sixteen eh sis?”
“The same as fifteen I guess.”
“Any presents?” I asked hopefully as I buttered a slice of toast. I’m not mercenary but like I’m sixteen!
“Presents after breakfast,” Dad announced.
Well at least that’s confirmation there are some.

The pile was a bit disappointing, I remember Jules 16th, she had a great big pile of stuff, by comparison well I had more last year. Boris got me some model cars, which was cool, there was a set of fancy underwear from Jules, Mand added a token for my bracelet and of course I already had the dress from Gran. I thought I might get a couple of prezzies from the rents but instead there was a single box package which looked like shoes, turned out to be shoes, a new pair of race shoes with those dial things.

I did my best to hide my disappointment, going up to my lair to lick my metaphoric wounds.

I sniffled into my pillow; your sixteenth birthday should be better than this shouldn’t it? I mean, the presents are really the issue but I’m not even having a party to celebrate. There are some notable gaps in the cards, nothing from Roni, Bernie or Mad – not even Max can be bothered and I know he knows its today.

It’s easy to wallow in self-pity, even easier when you were expecting something and it doesn’t happen. I considered cancelling this afternoon’s trip up to Altenahr but at least the girls were making an effort to celebrate unlike my own family, no at least it’ll get me out, particularly as I’m not working. The damp pillow was turned over and I miserably leaked into the other side.

“You alright Gab?” Mand called up my stairs.
“Er yeah, be ready in a minute.”
“Your Dad said we should stay in and do a turbo session instead, it’s snowing outside.”
“’Kay, I’ll be down in a bit then.”

Given the weather I dressed for warmth over style but I did put my Mayen boots on to give them a road test.
“See you later then,” I mentioned as I zipped up my coat.
“What time are you back?” Dad asked.
“Not late,” I suggested, “its only coffee and cake.”
“Be careful, it’s not very nice out there.”
“We will,” Mand offered in return.
“Enjoy yourselves.”

Steff and Con were waiting for us when we got to Thesing’s.
“Happy birthday Gab!” they chorused.
“Thanks.”
“P’s getting a lift up with her Dad,” Con advised us.
Yeah, no one even offered us a lift. We set straight off for the station arriving with no more than a minute to spare, talk about cutting it fine. No Myleen today, the conductor instead being a miserable bloke with a slight squint, talk about creepy. The Express rattled its way up the valley; Brid and Nena joined us at Mayschoß and a couple of minutes later we were getting off at Altenahr.
“Heya guys, Fröhes Geburtstag Gab!” Pia told me.
“Cheers P.”
“Come on, looks like its going to snow again,” Nena suggested.

It’s not far from the station to Poppel’s, about ten minutes tops, but far enough for us to start getting cold and the white stuff to start falling, we ran the last bit to get out of the weather. Its February, it’s snowing, Poppel’s wasn’t busy. We got custodianship of a booth and we soon had our vitals ordered, coats hung and settled in.

“So what did you get?” Brid asked.
“Not a lot,” I admitted, “new bike shoes from the rents, frilly undies from Jules.”
“That it?” Pia queried.
“Well Mand got me a new charm,” I added.
“I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in these then,” Steff mentioned before passing me two small fancy carrier bags.
“We put together,” Con told me.
“There’s cards too,” Brid submitted as I took the gifts.
“Thanks guys.”
“Come on Gab, open them,” Steff encouraged.

Thanks indeed, one bag had a very nice necklace and earring set, Swarovski crystal, I remember looking at them in Bonn a few weeks ago.
“All I need is somewhere to go now!”
“Open the other one,” Con prompted.
“Okay, give me chance.”
I poked my nose into the bag then tipped out the contents.
“Well?” Mand asked.
“Cool!”
It really was cool, a boxed set of the first three Star Wars films and a framed still of the current Dr Who, David Tennant. Gifted and carded we settled down to the important task of drinking coffee and eating cake, well chocolate actually in respect of it being my birthday.

“Shush,” I heard when I returned to the café after visiting the ablutions.
“Heya.”
“So like you going out for dinner tonight?” Brid asked.
“Don’t think so, Dad didn’t mention anything earlier,” I sighed.
“Hope my olds do something for mine,” Steff mentioned.
“Its only a birthday,” I suggested.
“Your sixteenth though.” Con observed.
“Maybe they’re waiting until your eighteenth?” Pia suggested.
Yeah, maybe that’s it, a big eighteenth party. Mind you that doesn’t explain the lack of interest from everyone else.

We got back home a bit after four, Jules and Boris were nowhere to be seen and Dad was watching something on the telly, unusual but not unheard of.
“Good time?”
“Er yeah, I guess.”
Was that a wink from Dad? Maybe I need glasses.
“I’ll er see you in a bit,” Mand told us.
“’Kay.”
“The girls get you anything nice?” well at least he acknowledged it’s my birthday.
“Some dvd’s and a necklace.”
“Well let’s see then.”
I got my presents out and passed them over.
“Swarovski, very nice.”
“Not that I’ve got anywhere to wear it,” I lamented, “Where’s Mum?”
“She said something about seeing Maria.”
“We were only there Thursday.”
“You know your mother.”
“So what’re we doing for tea?”

The phone, or rather Dads mobile, chose that moment to ring.
“Bond, oh hi love….”
I couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation but this end was a bit weird.
“Yeah with me…five thirty, no make it quarter to six…I think so…not the foggiest,” he glanced over to me as he listened, “yeah…are you sure?…I’ll ask her,” he covered the handset, “you want your mother to bring Chinese?”
Geez, what a birthday meal, takeaway Chinese from the Canton Schwan in Bad Neuenahr, great.
“Suppose so.”
“She says yes,” Dad told my waiting mother, “…well I suppose so…yeah okay, see you there.”
He ended the call before again turning his attention to me.
“Your mother says as its your birthday we’ll eat at the restaurant.”
Wowee.
“’Kay.”
“Well what’re you waiting for, you can wear the frock your Gran bought you and your new necklace.”
“Bit much for the Chinese, no one else’ll be dressed up.”
“I suppose I can put a suit on, I’m sure Mand’ll put on a bit of glitz,” he suggested.
Whatever. “As long as it’s not the brown suit.”
His brown suit is terrible.
“No brown suit,” he agreed.
What the heck, if you can’t dress up on your birthday when can you?

Maddy Bell 16.06.16

 

Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

“Give us a hand Mand,” I requested from outside her door.
“What’s up?”
“I can’t reach the zip?”
“Gis a sec…okay I’m decent.”
I pushed the door open to find Manda in her skimpies.
“I can wait,” I offered.
“You’re here now,” she pointed out.
“’Kay, I can’t quite reach the zip,” I repeated.
“Well let’s see then.”
I turned and in moments she had the zip snugged into place.
“There you go.”
“You don’t think this is a bit much to go to the Chinese?” I asked plucking at my dress.
“If it was just a normal meal maybe but it’s your birthday, Gabs, your sixteenth, I think that deserves a bit of dressing up don’t you?”
“Mum doesn’t think so.”
“It’s been a busy week.”
“Even so and the Chinese, it’s hardly haute cuisine is it?”
Mand was now struggling with her own zip, “Er could you?”
“Oh sorry,” hers was a side zip and had got jammed on a thread. I fiddled it free and pulled it up for her, “there.”
“Cheers, well I like Chinese.”
“So do I but I like pizza and curry and chips too, why’d she pick Chinese?”
“You’ll have to ask your mum that.”
“Yeah I guess, so, hair up or down?” I asked posing in her mirror.
“Up, definitely up, you can wear your new earrings.”
“Good idea.”
“You putting some slap on?” Mand hinted.
“Oh yeah, see you in a mo.”

I padded back to my eyrie to complete my preparations.

“Nice.” Mand noted when I returned to her room.
“Tell the truth, Mand, it’s a mess.”
“Well it might need a bit of tidying,” she agreed, “sit.”

Look, I’ll allow that I’m female to the last XX but I seem to be missing the hairdressing chromosome. Oh I can do a simple braid, even use hair grips but anything more complex – well I have a go and you get the general idea but perfection it’s not. Mand on the other hand, well she waggles her fingers and voila, Sylv would be proud.

“There we go.”
I looked in the mirror, it was what I did but missing the errant locks and the lopsided look.
“Why can’t I do it?”
“We all have our skills, you can cook, I can’t boil water.”
“Bit of an exaggeration,” I suggested.
“Hmm, hang on a mo.” She dug around in one of her drawers, “aha, here we go!”
She added something to my hair do.
“What do you reckon?”

My reflection was subtly different; she’d added a sparkly tiara style thing.
“You sure?”
“Trust me,” Mand advised.
“It’s not a bit much?”
“If you look like a princess, you’ll feel like one.”
“Do I want to?”
“Oh come on, Gabs, it’s your birthday, you’re entitled.”
“Hmm,” I suppose I can live with it.
“Are you two ready yet?” Dad yelled up the stairs.
“Coming.”
I grabbed my shoes and led the way down to the ground floor.

“You sure this isn’t too much?” I asked again.
“Gaby it’s fine, now come on, the others will be, I mean your mother will be waiting.” Dad told me.

I certainly feel like a bit of a dog’s dinner, the new dress from Gran, my best Wolford hose, heels topped out with my new Swarovski necklace and earrings. I might not be getting a party but that doesn’t stop me dressing up, it’s not the same but I guess a family dinner is okay. Even if it is at the local Chinese.

“I thought we were going to the Canton Schwan,” I mentioned as Dad set off in the wrong direction from the house.
“I’ve got an errand to run on the way.”
He didn’t sound particularly sure; one minute he’s chasing me out to the car, the next he’s making us even later with his ‘errand’.
“Here?” I queried when he pulled into the Sebenschuh’s car park.
“I need to deliver something.”
“Deliver? What?”
“Er this,” he grabbed an envelope off the dash, “you girls gonna come in and see Pia for a minute, you can show her your dress.”
“Nah, I’ll wait here.”
“Oh come on, Gab, its freezing out here.”
Well no denying that I guess.
“All right,” I agreed.

“They got a do on?” I wondered out loud, “Seems to be a lot of cars.”
“Doesn’t look very busy inside,” Mand observed as we walked towards the restaurant entrance.
We followed Dad inside to find Ingrid manning the bar.
“I’ve got that thing for your dad, Ingrid,” Dad stated.
“He’s in the Stube with Mama and P, you know the way.”
“Cheers.”
With Dad leading the way we headed into the bowels of the Sebenschuh winery.

“Helmut?” Dad called out.
“In here, Dave.”
What was that about, Ingrid said they were in the Stube. Which was in darkness, huh? I heard some scuffling, was that a rat?

The lights flashed on and simultaneously there was a chorus of HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Well actually it was Fröhes Geburtstag! Being as we are in German and almost everyone filling the weinstube is German. I’ve been had, how do you react; well I turned on the waterworks.

“Hey what’s up, kiddo?” Mum came and hugged me.
“Said, sniff, no party, Chinese.”
“If you want Chinese we can fetch some.”
“Not. How?”
“Let’s just say there are a lot of people who think a lot of you, now dry those eyes, Missy, time to party, eh?”

How they kept it secret I can’t guess, I mean Con’s here and she couldn’t keep a secret to save herself. Having regained my composure the assembled throng moved in. To tell the truth it was a bit overwhelming, all these people here for me, some I barely know, others have travelled a distance to be here – for me.

You don’t really want a list of who had come; well I’m not sure I could make a complete one anyhow. Ron and her parents were here and so, much to my amazement were Sophia and the Duke and Duchess. A quick look round was a bit of a who’s who of my life, my homeroom teacher, nearly everyone from Apollinaris here in the Ahrtal, Hannah and even Myleen from the Express!

“Hey, Gaby, Fröhes Geburtstag!” Soph beamed at me.
“What are you doing here?”
“Celebrating your birthday, silly.”
“But how, why?”
“Fewer questions, girl, here,” she presented me with a gift bag.
Now presents, hmm, this could be good.
“What is it?”
“Well open it and find out.”
I peeked inside, “Soph!” I tipped the contents into my hand and opened the box. The contents looked like the pearl drops she insisted I wear when she put me in the fifth Duchess, Theresia Amalia’s dress at New Year. “They’re not?”
“Not? Oh no, no,” Soph grinned, “your face, no they are replicas but they are real pearls.”
“I can’t take them.”
“Yes you can, it’s your birthday, you’re my friend, I don’t have many.”
“But…”
“But nothing.”
“Thank you, Soph,” I gave her a long hard hug, “thank you.”

There was food and drink of course; it’s not a party without those essentials is it? At sixteen I’m really a bit old for the jelly and ice cream but there it was next to other birthday essentials like mini sausage rolls, cheese on sticks, tiny meat paste sandwiches and I’m assured, genuine Walkers™ cheese and onion crisps! On the other hand there was also some more mature party food, vol au vents, Danish style open sandwiches – even a fondue!

It was rather ironic that it was the adults going for the kid’s stuff and visa versa although the line was drawn at the drinks. As guest of honour I did manage to snag a white wine but only one – well you know what I’m like with alcohol.

There were more presents, Ron gave me a model truck and Max demanded a kiss in return for his box of expensive chocolates. Mart gave me a seemingly huge parcel.

“It’s really from Bernie although I did chip in.”
“Thanks, what is it?” I asked pulling a plain box out of the now shredded wrapping paper.
“Here,” Mart opened the top to reveal the contents.
“A frying pan?”
“You like cooking right, Bern reckons it’s like a professional chefs one.”
I took it out to inspect, for a bit of kitchenware it was a thing of beauty, nicely balanced, copper bottomed and well shaped to avoid sticking.
“I’ll have to do a fry up now!”
“Not tonight, young lady,” Mum told me.”
“Thanks, Mart,” I reached up to give him a peck on the cheek, “and thanks for caring for Bern,” I whispered.
“Er my pleasure, Gab.”

We had music, not that there was a lot of dancing – it was hardly formal or a disco although I did manage a smooch with Max before Dad commandeered me. In fact it was mostly the older guests who cut a rug on the tiny dance floor, the younger group more intent on checking out my presents and exchanging tales of Gaby Bond. It was of course the first time the locals had met Sophia and they’ve only met Roni briefly before although Ron and Soph have met, down in Stuttgart.

Of course no birthday party is complete without a cake and clearly Herr Thesing had gone to town on this example. It was certainly big, several layers of sponge separated by cream, the unusual thing was that each layer was different, lemon, strawberry, coffee and chocolate! Candles were lit and lights dimmed.
“Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Gaby,
Happy birthday to you!”
Everyone sang out after which I blew out the candles, not quite in one but I only missed two first time.
“Hip hip - hooray!
“Hip hip - hooray!
“Hip hip - hooray!”
I was in great danger of losing it, after a shaky start this morning it’s turned into my best birthday ever.

Maddy Bell 21.06.16