“Up and at ‘em!” A far too cheerful voice suggested from the doorway of my eyrie.
“Urgh.”
I cracked a mascara and sleep encrusted eye, it was light enough to be day, which in February could mean it’s quite late and I couldn’t focus on my alarm clock.
“Come on, breakfast is nearly on the table,” Dad went on.
“’Kay,” I agreed through the fug.

You know I’m not a morning person right and the morning after a lively sixteenth birthday celebration, especially your own, was always potentially going to be a difficult one to get motivated for. I’m not sure what time we got home from the Stube – late for sure, I was clearly wasted, my dress was a crumpled mess on the floor and I still had my BH and hose on under my nightdress. A toe poke from under the quilt suggested the room was at least tepid so I quickly exited the warmth with a dash to the loo.

The massy caking my lashes suggested I hadn’t removed any war paint before hitting the z’s so once immediate needs were dealt with it was into the shower. Well it was after removing my new earrings, necklace and the bird’s nest remains of last night’s hairdo. I emerged a short while later scrubbed and refreshed, well awake anyway, there was the faint odour of cooked bacon from below which hastened my dressing and departure to the smell’s source.

“Morning, Gab!”
“Ron? What’re you doing here?”
“We’re eating in the dining room,” Mum advised,” here take this with you,” She plonked a flask of coffee in my hands, “you alright with that, Roni?”
“Sure, Jenny.”
“What are you waiting for, Gabrielle?”

Of course, if my brain had been operating on all cylinders I would’ve remembered that the Grönberg’s didn’t go back to Mettmann last night, instead pressing some of our camping gear into use in the lounge. Angela and Marcus were already at the table along with my sister, Boris, Dad, Mand and lots of breakfast. It wasn’t the expected fry up that had enticed me but rather bacon, scrambled eggs and toast as a heated addition to more usual German Frühstuck options, Ron placed her load of boiled eggs into the meleé of food.

“Well tuck in,” Mum prompted as she seated herself strategically near the bacon.

“You in a rush to get home?” Dad enquired of our house guests as we started the post breakfast clear up.
“Not particularly,” Marcus allowed, “what have you got in mind?”
“Thought we could do the Karneval at Bad Honnef.”
“Wasn’t that last month?” Goth Gurl suggested.
“It’s the last one of the season,” Mum put in. When all heads turned to her she went on, “Maria was telling me about it in the week.”
“If I’d known we could’ve costumed,” Angela noted.
“Girls?” Dad queried.
Why not, “Sure,” I agreed.
“Sounds like fun,” Mand added.
There were no dissenters so it was agreed we’d set off as soon as.

It’s not far to Bad Honnef – well to the ferry at least is barely thirty minutes by car usually—but we went via the Linz ferry which distance and crossing added a bit to that. However getting parked once we arrived was another matter, we clearly weren’t the only ones coming for the fun. Our little convoy eventually got parked at the Hoheschule from where we joined a steady stream of people heading towards the town centre.

The place was heaving, super packed like the Christmas markets in Köln busy. The route of the parade was already lined with people, many it has to be said in costume, particularly the kids. It’s a tradition that everyone is part of the event and I felt a little out of things dressed in jeans and my winter coat amongst the clowns, Supermen and fairies.

“This’ll do,” Dad suggested.

‘This’ was a spot where the crowds were a little thinner and we could watch the parade, thinner as we were near the start of the route. In the near distance the first strains of music signalled the impending start of affairs.

“‘S a bit weird having a carnival in February,” Mand noted, “aren’t they usually in the summer?”
“Ah but this is Karneval,” Ron stated.
“It’s an excuse for drinking and fun before Lent,” Boris added.
“So like Christmas without the presents?” Manda queried.
“Who said there aren’t presents, why do you think so many come?” Ron grinned.
“Eh?” Mand allowed, “and what’s with all the buckets?”
“You’ll see,” I told her.

Karneval isn’t like the summer parades at all; for starters everyone is on foot – none of the fancy motorised floats you get in the summer. Although you do get the local dance troupes and bands taking part the bulk of participants are in the Karneval clubs, each group dressed alike from pensioners to babes in arms. Of course as you might expect they collect for charity but in return…

“Hah!” I gleefully declared, “Gummi’s!”
“That’s cheating,” Ron declared.

Well I didn’t have a bucket instead I’d taken my jacket off and put it on backwards which allowed me to use the hood to collect some of the largesse being thrown at the crowd.

“Here, have some Moam™,” I flicked said sweets towards her.

It wasn’t all sweets, well mostly it was – the Haribo factory in Bonn must’ve been cleared out, but my hood also held several mini pastries, a couple of toys like you get in crackers and a small bottle of fruit Apollinaris. The others hadn’t done so bad, Manda’s pockets were bulging and complaining Minnie wasn’t short of ‘presents’ either, even the Rents were collecting, yeah it’s fun squared. Of course it wasn’t all one way, kleine geld went into the collecting buckets of clowns and myriad other characters in return.

“Looks like the last group,” Ron suggested.
A couple of smiling Polizei brought up the rear of the parade.
“That it?” Mand asked.

I quickly stuffed the contents of my hood into pockets and my backpack (a girl has to keep stuff somewhere and I’m not a fan of fancy great bags), turned my coat and dragged her into the crowd now following the parade.

“Course not,” I grinned, “come on!”
“Where’re we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Ron?”
“You don’t think it’s just a parade do you?”

Our destination was the park down by the river where a small funfair and plenty of food and drink stalls were waiting. When I saw the signs for the tram terminus it dawned on me why there were quite so many people here – you can get here from Bonn without a car so the beer stalls will do very well this afternoon!

“You girls got your phones?” Mum asked.
“Yep,” I brandished my Handy.
“See you later then, have fun.”
We didn’t need a second invite, the three of us headed into the meleé.

The crowd was good-natured, small children gripping buckets of sweet stuff, parents quaffing beer, friends screaming on the rides. I’m not big on fairground rides but I’m easily hooked on the hoopla.

“Come on, Gabs,” Mand cajoled.
“One more,” I insisted.
“You could’ve bought it with what you’ve spent.” Ron mentioned.
I tested the feel of the rubber ring, if I can just float it a bit; I launched it towards the hooks.
“Yesss!”
It had only taken ten euros worth of shots but I finally scored enough to claim my prize, an outsized pink bear.

“What do you want that for, didn’t think you were into soft toys?” Ron prodded.
“Andrea.”
“Andrea?”
“Drea, Bernie’s baby,” Mand filled in.
“’Kay, let you off, food?”
“Sure,” question is though, what?

Back in Blighty the choice would be restricted to chips, burgers, maybe hot pork sandwiches or, if you were lucky baked taters. But this is Germany and we do things differently here, waffles, crêpes, frites, wurst, schnitzel, frikadel, mushrooms, fish, Bratkartoffeln, pizza and that’s only the hot stuff – well you get the idea, you are spoilt for choice.

“Chris?”
“Oh hi, Gab,” she pushed a lock of hair out of the way.
“What are you doing here?” it was a silly question; she was stood in a trailer selling crêpes.
“It’s a few extra euros,” she allowed, “so what’ll it be?”
“Er kirsch please, you on your own?”
“Mum’s here somewhere, oh sugar, you okay if it’s a bit small, I’ve run out of batter.”
“Sure.”

I could see disaster looming, more customers joined Chris and me, well she was starting to get in a flap. I could see my snack starting to burn as Chris was distracted refilling her batter jug, this could end badly.

“Chris!”
“Oh sugar!” she flipped the charred food from the hotplate, “sorry, Gab.”
“Open the door,” I instructed.
I was inside and hanging my coat before she could argue.
“Right, I’ll sort the orders, you do the crêpes.”
“But…”

Well she didn’t get another chance to question things as I started taking orders and payment.

“Where’s Gab?” Mand asked between licks at the honey dripping from her waffle.
“Thought she said she was getting a crêpe,” Ron supplied, “can’t see her though.”

Mand followed her team mates gaze, there were quite a few punters queuing at ‘Der Mühle Crêpes’ but Gab didn’t appear to be one of them.

“Maybe she’s on the other side.”
“Or changed her mind,” Ron surmised, “best go find her I s’pose.”

“Two Nutella™ and a kirsch,” I advised my cook.

Chris is actually a dab hand at cooking crêpes despite earlier appearances and we were working well as a team. I acquired an apron at some point and was quite enjoying myself, my experience with our Weihnachtsmarkt enterprise came in useful but when your options are Nutella™, kirsch or plain and maybe a can of pop it’s not rocket science.

We had a constant queue for a while; it had just started to decrease when Eva, Chris’s mum swept into the trailer.

“Sorry I was so long, Hans wanted to sign me up for Brohl, everything okay?”
“Thanks to Gab,” Chris noted.
“Gab?” it was only then she spotted me at the counter.
“Hi, Frau Foch,” I returned to my customer, “That’s ten fifty please.”
“How?”
“She came to eat,” Chris explained, “I got in a tiz and she came to help.”
“Two plain,” I requested for the next customer.

Maddy Bell 11.07.16

 
 

“You sure she said crêpes?” Ron asked her companion.
“Positive, she was almost salivating at the prospect.”
“Well she’s not around here,” Ron noted giving the immediate surroundings another check.
“You reckon she’s alright?” Mand asked, just a hint of concern in her voice.
“It’s Gab, course she’s okay, try her Handy again,” the elder girl suggested.
Mand hit the speed dial and waited impatiently for her friend to pick up.

“What’s that?” Eva enquired.
“Dunno,” her daughter replied, “hang on it’s coming from by the door.”
Christine, Chris to pretty much everyone who knows her, poked around the cans of oil and jars of Nutella™ stored under the counter quickly locating a mobile phone which promptly stopped ringing.
“What is it?”
“Gaby’s Handy,” Chris advised her mother.
“How do you know it’s Gaby’s?”
“Well she was here not ten minutes ago and,” she held the phone up, “I recognise it, I don’t know anyone else with a phone looking like this.”

It certainly was distinctive, well the phone itself was one of those flip up things but the cover, well the rhinestones and other decorations were, er unique even if the bright pink didn’t grab your attention.

It was ten minutes, well closer to fifteen really, after Eva returned that Gab left the Der Mühle Crêpes trailer clutching a tray with not one but two of the tasty snacks on. She couldn’t see Mand or Ron, they’d walked past the trailer a few minutes ago, well she’d find them after eating her booty. A spot on a low wall beckoned, she could see the river flowing just a few metres away, she watched as a heavily laden barge forced its way upstream.

Not a bad result, free food and an offer of some occasional work. Well obviously Thesing’s get first dibs on my services, and of course Herr Sebenschuh said there might be some waitressing going but she wasn’t going to turn down another potential source of euros. Yeah, not a bad half hour’s work.

“She won’t be far away,” Mand told Ron with more conviction than she actually felt.
“Maybe if we wave a Frikadel, she can smell them out in the next town,” Ron opined.
“I’ll try her phone again.”

Gab finished her food watching the shipping pass by.
‘Guess I should find out where the others are.’
She checked her pockets, nope, backpack? ‘Shitza! Hmm, maybe I dropped it at the trailer?’

“I thought it was yours,” Chris grinned when she spotted a certain diminutive blonde approach.
“My Handy?”
“No, your walking stick, of course your Handy.”
She fished under the counter for said communication device.
“How did you know it was mine?”
“Well,” Chris started, producing it with a flourish, “it does rather stand out.”

I had to agree but let me just say it wasn’t my idea, I mean it’s not exactly me is it? No, remember when I was hospital last time? Well apparently Claudia did it for me before she, you know, passed and Nena gave it to me to cheer me up. I would’ve been well gutted if it had really been lost.

“Thanks,” I allowed taking it from her.
“It’s rung a couple of times.”
“That’ll be Mand no doubt, you’ve not seen her have you?”
“The girl with white hair?”
“Well it’s more light blonde at the moment, she’s with a tall girl, dark hair.”
“Blue coat?”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
“Heading this way now,” Chris advised from her altitude-enhanced position.
“Eh?”
“You want this?” she pushed a crêpe my way, “they changed their mind so it’ll only get thrown away.”
“Go on then,” I agreed taking the chocolate covered treat.

The girls found me tucking into the extra plate of gooey delight.
“Where’ve you been?” Mand demanded.
“I was here.” I advised around a mouthful of food.
“No you weren’t, we came past looking for you twenty minutes ago.”
“I was!”
“And why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I lost it.”
“It’s in your hand,” she pointed out.
“I just got it from Chris, I dropped it in the trailer.” I supplied.

“Why didn’t you let us know?” my ‘keeper’ pressed after I explained.
“It was a bit spur of the moment, we had people queuing for like half an hour solid.”
“No wonder we didn’t see her,” Ron observed, we didn’t look in the food stalls.”

We reconvened with parental units about four thirty, the Grönbergs departing for Mettmann and home soon after. We’d done a couple of rides, well the others rode, I watched not being the greatest fan of fairground lunch losers. I did join them on the big wheel though, not the biggest example but ‘Pluto’ still offered good views across the park and along the river towards Bonn and the rocky outcrop of Drachenfels.

“We going too?” I enquired.
“No reason to,” Mum told us, “there’s live bands on, we can get something to eat, make an evening of it.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely,” she confirmed.
“Where’re Jules and Boris?” Mand queried.
“They left a while back,” Dad advised.
“Your sister’s staying in Bonn tonight, they caught the tram up.” Mum added.

I don’t think my parents are particularly keen on my sister’s, let’s say ‘sleeping’ arrangements. It’s not so much staying at Boris’ place rather what they get up to there, trouble is she’s nearly eighteen and has only paid lip service to the rents for – well quite a while. Remember the whole Goth thing? The pierced tongue? Just the tip of the, er iceberg.

“So, we staying?” Dad prompted.
“Good for me, Mand?”
“As long as it’s not yodelling.”
“I don’t think there’s much of that on the Rhein,” Mum chortled.
“Yodel eh hey ay!” I shrilled, earning me a friendly slap from Mand.

I’d long ago consigned the costume wearing to a box marked ‘irrelevant’; the crowd mix went from largely dressed up to more normal attire as the day wore on. Families with young children disappeared, they weren’t so much replaced but the mix became older, the beer wagons doing good business, the bands more ‘adult’. We enjoyed a set by a group doing rock covers before the lure of food got the better of the Bond clan.

Despite the attractions of the various street vendors we managed to secure a table in the very busy ‘Blau Anker’ almost next to the fairground. To be honest I was glad to sit down, we’ve been either stood or walking about all afternoon and the warmth from the fire didn’t hurt either. The atmosphere was good natured, noisy and friendly, the staff constantly on the go taking orders, delivering drinks, food and even hats and coats – they were certainly earning today’s wages!

“Essen?” our waitress enquired arriving armed with Speisekarte.
“Please,” Dad confirmed.
“There may be some delay,” she told us, “it’s been a bit busy.”
“That’s fine, we aren’t in a rush.”
“Drinks?”
“Can we have a bottle of house white for now.”
“Sure,” and she was away.
She’d gone before my brain engaged, “Er what about us?”
“What?” Dad asked.
“Well don’t we get drinks?”
“Don’t you want the wine?”
“Wine? But…”
“Call it a birthday treat, you’re legal now ,” Mum put in, “Mand?”
“Fine by me,” she agreed.
Who am I to argue?

“And I’ll have the Gebratene Ente ,” Dad completed our order.
“With Pommes, rice?”
“Pommes,” Dad confirmed.

The menu was mostly pretty standard stuff with a few slightly different variations; Mum and Mand both went with Gegrillter Lachs whilst I went with Rehrücken as I’ve never had it. Like you have to try these things right?

“Back to the diet tomorrow,” Mum sighed.
“What diet?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” she grinned.
“Dad?”
“The guys at BC want to try out some different fuelling strategies.”
“And we get to be the Guinea Pigs,” I surmised.
“Not so much Guinea Pigs as test pilots.”
“Hmmph! It better not be all Soya and broccoli.”
“Well not all,” Dad replied.
“Why do we need to lose weight?”
“It’s not about losing weight kiddo, it’s fuelling your riding better,” Mum put in.
“You already started last summer when you were at Manchester,” Dad added.
“That was a diet?” Mand queried.
“Not all diets are lettuce and carrot sticks,” Mum noted taking a sip from her wine glass.
“I suppose schnitzel’s out though,” I sighed.
“Not necessarily, it’s the sauces that are the bad boys.”
Okay but Frikadel and Bratwurst, they’ll be history for sure.

The food was excellent and in reality we didn’t wait that long for it. Venison can be quite strongly flavoured but this cut, although very clearly the real McCoy was relatively mild, think a good steak. Apparently, everyone else’s food was acceptable too, conversation around the table dropping to a minimum as we ate. There wasn’t exactly a great selection for dessert so we skipped it in favour of coffee.

“Angela has left us a gateau,” Mum told me, “we can have some with our cocoa.”

Ron’s mum, as I may have mentioned before, makes like the best cakes, none of your scrape of cream between two lumps of sponge, we are talking real fruit, real cream, real, well they take no prisoners!

With the promise of cake later we enthusiastically rejoined the albeit depleted crowds out in the park. It was a real party atmosphere, a big success for the town and the Karneval clubs. We joined the music lovers in departing, just kidding, we stood through several sets, a local choir, an extreme folk group complete with Hurdy Gurdy and a couple of groups covering rock and chart numbers. Everyone joined in when ‘Red Balloon’ covered 99 Luftballoons, I think they specialise in Nena covers, I didn’t recognise some of their programme though.

It was after nine when we made our way back to the Mercedes for the journey back home.

Copyright Maddy Bell 01.05.16

 
 

“And you, Missy need to get ready for school,” Dad mentioned.
“Do I have to?”
Well it was worth a try. There was of course no getting away from today’s ‘excitement’, I might now be sixteen but that doesn’t get you out of today’s history exam, the first of many coming up in the next few weeks. It’s not like it’s unexpected, we’ve been revising for weeks but now it’s here, well I’ve got the jitters worse than before a race.

“What’s with all the makeup?” Stef asked thirty minutes later.
“Nothing,” I stated.
“You never wear more than massy to school.”
“I fancied a change.”

Perhaps I had gone a bit overboard, foundation, powder, eyeliner, shadow, lippy well you get the idea. By the time I realised what I was doing it was quicker to finish and go with it than clean it off. It was a bit at odds with how I was dressed, my usual school outfit of jeans, ankle boots and jumper, some variation of which most girls wear at Silverberg this time of year.

Yeah bit over the top, maybe I was nervous, yeah that must be it, nervous.
“So ready for this History exam?” Bridg enquired of the table.

I’m sure it’s all part of some master plan the whole exam thing, put you in unfamiliar surroundings; make it as stressful as possible. If we did them in our normal classrooms I’m sure we’d do better but here we are in the sports hall, a place I’ve visited so rarely since starting here. Herr Ansbacher told us what to expect last week but of course he’s not in the hall this morning, in fact I don’t know either of the adjudicators.

“Okay people, you have three hours for the paper, you can turn it over now, good luck.”
History part one, good luck, sheesh, I’ll need more than luck!

I checked the time, twelve thirty, half an hour left, geez I’m starving. Only two questions left though, so, ‘Explain the purpose and relevance of the Deutches Limes’, hmm, I think I’ve got that one, cheers Dad.

“Boy, I’m glad that’s over,” Con allowed.
“Anyone do question four?” Nena asked taking her usual seat.
We’d missed lunch but the canteen was open for us to eat our sandwiches.
“The one about prehistoric periods?” Pia suggested.

I burst into giggles, Steff and Brid had to stifle their own responses.

“What?” Pia queried.
“I’m sure they had them then,” I opined.
“Ga-ab!” Nena groaned.
Okay, so they’re schoolgirls humour but hey, I’m a schoolgirl, worst luck.

Around us conversation was mostly on similar lines, no not female reproductive issues, dissecting the exam of course. Well apart from Marty and his mates who were loudly discussing Bundesliga results – apparently football results are more important than exams. On the other hand, dissecting the exam paper now isn’t going to alter how we answered or the result so maybe they have the right attitude.

“So how’d it go?” Mum asked when I emerged into the house.
“Okay I guess.”
“Answer all the questions?”
“Uh huh, any tea in the pot?”
“You might squeeze a cup, you been to school like that?”
“Like what?”
“The war paint.”
“Uh huh,” I allowed as I drained the teapot into a mug.
“It’s a wonder you didn’t get sent home.”
“We are allowed.”
“So why today? You don’t usually wear makeup to school.”
“I do, just not as much.”
“So?”
“I got a bit carried away this morning.”

Jen couldn’t really believe she was having this discussion, it was only a couple of months ago her child was declaring herself male and now she’s defending her use of makeup. Given Gaby’s history it was even stranger, in the past she might don some lippy etc for some gain but this, this is pure teen girl. Does this mean she’s accepted her reality, that she’s female inside and out?

“Oh there’s a message for you on the pad.”
“Who from?”
“Eva? Can you give her a call.”
Eva? Who’s Eva?
“She leave her number?”
“On the pad, you got washing?”

My brain made the connection when the phone was answered a few minutes later.

“Der Mühle.”
That Eva! “Er Eva?”
“Speaking, Gaby?”
“Um yeah, Mum said you called?”
“Thanks for calling back, so are you still interested in working the trailer?”
“Er sure.”
“Excellent, can you pop in one afternoon and we can go through the diary.”
“Um okay, tomorrow? I can come straight from school,” I offered.
“Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow, tschuss.”
“Tschuss.”

I ended the call and sat back against the wall, I know she asked yesterday but I wasn’t expecting to hear from her this soon – if at all. Hmm, I’ll need to take my race schedule, don’t want to double book. My musing was broken by a yell up to the eyrie.

“You training today or not, Bond!”

Love you too, Mand.

It was full dress rehearsal at cheer, our first competition is on Saturday whether the girls are ready or not. In the end I resorted to bribery to get Mand to ‘officially’ join the squad, everyone else thought she was in anyway. Of course, I’m not taking part, it was never my intention to be on the squad even if a tiny part of me would really like to be – no I’m the coach, I get the plaudits or not without the sweat!

“Usual pick ups, ladies, eight here, ten past at Dernau,” Hannah concluded.

The session had been pretty good, even our less capable members had improved since Fran’s visit. Han suggested and I agreed, that we wouldn’t name the squad until we got to the venue on Saturday – we had our preferred list of course but we wanted everyone involved.

“So what do you think?” my coaching colleague asked as we collected our gear up.
“Well we might not win any prizes but there’s plenty of enthusiasm at least.”
“Maybe the other teams are no better,” Han suggested.

I hadn’t even considered that. My appraisal was based on what I’d experienced with the Foresters in England and in the States but here in Germany, well I’m not really sure where cheering is at.

Dad had our race programme on a spreadsheet, separate for each of us, I ‘borrowed’ mine and transferred it all to my own diary. The racing season seems so far away but my first event is just a fortnight away and then there’s something most weekends through to the end of May. It’s not all big races, there are some chippers, local fairs and stuff like Brohl but of course at the other end of the scale are the step up events, full international stuff.

“Help yourself to coffee, Gaby,” Eva told me when I arrived at the Der Mühle behind Christine, “we’ll sit in the bar as it’s quiet.”
“Er okay.”

I helped myself to a cup and filled it from the jug warming on the filter machine before going to join my potential employer.
“Thanks again for helping on Sunday, we used to sub let the trailer but this year we thought we’d do it ourselves, it was our first event at Honnef.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Well even Jurgen agreed that we underestimated staffing, we ideally need three to run it properly, you have your diary?”
“Er yeah, it’s pretty full with racing at weekends so I might not be that much help,” I explained opening my organiser.
Eva deflated a little, “Well let’s take a look anyhow.”

We spent about an hour comparing dates and so on, the good news was that most of the Der Mühle Crêpes trailer bookings were quite local and even mid week. I had a few definite dates I can do and a few more where it depends on race travel arrangements.

“So if you can find out about those dates and let me know as soon as.”
“I’ll try to let you know by the weekend.”
“And your friend?”
“That too,” I agreed.

“So?” Mand asked as we sorted the washing after dinner.
“It’s a flat fifty per day.”
“Is that good?”
“Not brilliant but there’ll probably be some sort of bonus on top.”
“And?”
“You’re in if you want, I said I’d let her know by Friday.”

That was my bribe for the All Stars, get Mand some part time work, it might not be as lucrative as the bakery but it’s a start. It’s not that she’s jealous of my working, well not exactly, but her allowance isn’t huge and it’s not like she knows loads of people to hang with. I know she has us, the Bond’s that is but it must be pretty lonely at times, I’ve seen her crying a time or two for no apparent reason.

“Bring it on!”
“I take it that’s a yes then?”
“When do we start?”
“Three weeks time, we’ve got a crit on Sunday but the event is all weekend so we can work Saturday at least.”
“Brill, what about the bakery? Aren’t you supposed to do Saturday afternoons?”
Bum, I knew there was something I forgot.
“I’ll see if I can swap with someone, do the early shift maybe.”

Of course it’s all very well for me to get employment, the fly in the ointment is getting parental agreement.

“Dad?”
“Yes kiddo,” he glanced up and spotting Mand went on, “ot oh, a delegation, I’m not gonna like this am I?”
“Well you know Frau Foch sort of offered me a job on Sunday?”
“I didn’t but go on, I’m listening.”
“So I went to see her this afternoon, after school that is and we sorted out some dates I can work for her.”
“Doing?”
“Making the crêpes in their trailer, it doesn’t interfere with racing, I checked my programme,” I added.
“And what is Amanda’s part in this enterprise pray?”
“She’s part of the deal.”
“I did ask,” Mand put in.
“It looks like you’ve covered all the angles,” Dad noted.
“So like can we?”
“I don’t want people thinking we make you go out to work.”
“We want to don’t we, Mand?”
“It’ll help with my German too, Mr Bond.”

At least they had asked, not that there was a great deal he could reasonably do anyway, they didn’t need parental consent and as long as it didn’t interfere with their racing…

Maddy Bell 23.07.16

 
 
“You what?”
“I said yes,” Dave repeated to his wife.
“But what about racing?”
“For once Gaby’s done her homework, no serious clashes.”
“What about unserious?”
“Okay, there might be some compromise needed once or twice from both ends.”
“And BC, what do they think, they are sponsoring Amanda to be here.”
“And they trust us to look after her physically and mentally, she’s not been coerced, she asked Gab to find her something.”
“You think this is sensible?”
“Look at it this way, they both volunteered and we’ll know what they are up to and where they are, it’s a win win situation. A bit more independence away from cycling will be good for both of them.”
“Hmmm,” Jen wasn’t 100% convinced but there was certainly some merit in knowing where they were – they had let Jules dictate the rules, which came near to disaster more than once. “Okay but we keep an eye on things.”
“Of course, luv,” Dave agreed, “of course.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t started Max’s chocolates yet.”
“I’ve been saving them.”
“Pull the other one,” Con proffered.
“Well okay, I forgot about them,” I allowed.
We were stood outside *the sports hall again, this time waiting to go inside for our first maths exam, the subject of Max’s present having surfaced after the idiot asked if I enjoyed them.

Further discussion was postponed as we were invited inside to do battle with sines, pi and calculus for several hours.

I idly chewed my pen top as all around me the sounds of fervent brainercise filled the hall. Wonder why Max was so deflated when I admitted to not opening his birthday gift? I looked over to where I could see his back just a few seats away; oh well, later I guess.

Maths is not my best subject, I’m okay but Einstein I’m not! I worked my way back through the paper to check my answers, well they all look okay.
“Two minutes!”
Thank heaven for that.

“How the hell do you do that?” Mand demanded.
“Practice?”

Sat with your lady bits on the carpet, legs akimbo isn’t the most comfortable but it’s something I could do even when I had ‘boy bits’.

“I’ve been ‘practicing’ on and off for years and I still can’t get right down.”
“Maybe I’m just more flexible, I do a lot of stretching you know.”
“I’ve helped you off the banister remember,” Mand agreed.
“Er yeah.”

So going down into the splits is one thing, getting back up’s another; your hips are sort of going all the wrong directions. I managed to free myself and picked my poms back up, “Again?”
The first floor landing is the only place inside the house with enough clear space we can use for cheer practice.
“Whatever,” Mand agreed.
“Okay, and one and two and…”

“What are you girls doing?” Dad enquired, his head appearing over the top step.
“The splits?” I suggested.
“Well it’s like a herd of elephants,” he mentioned eyeing us once again stretched across the timber floor, “remember you’re doing dinner tonight.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“And put the rug back please.”

We listened as he returned to the ground floor before bursting into laughter.
“I s’pose we’d best get changed,” I sighed once we got ourselves back under control. We might be at home, a home where wearing of Lycra is common but leotards and tights, well it’s not really cooking gear is it? Change means shower, which means it was twenty-five minutes before I started assembling the components of dinner, a very un-German Shepherd’s pie with real shepherd.

“How did the maths go today?” Mum asked between shovelling my culinary efforts into her gullet.
“Okay I guess, it’s not my strong point.”
“Which makes it doubly important to do well in.”
“Mu-um!” I complained.
“Well…”
“Er Jen,” Dad interrupted, “food?”
“Eh?” the rest of the fork load of course tipped down her front, “Bugger!”

We did at least get to finish dinner without further inquisition.

It was only when I returned to my room that I remembered Max’s chocolate box, I guess I’d best take a nosey. It was certainly posh, from one of those fancy places in Bonn or Köln where you pick out what you want at a euro a pop. I slipped the top off the box, there must be like a dozen choccies inside.

Indeed there were some fancy confections inside but the thing that caught my attention more was the envelope inscribed simply with ‘Gaby’. Well it wouldn’t be a card, he gave me that separately so what’s in the envelope? Only one way to find out, I put the box down and proceeded to open the paper folder.

Tickets! It was a pair of tickets for – I scanned the top card – Nena and support at the Lanxess – neee-at! Two tickets, I wonder who I should take? Er when is it? Phew, April the fifth, I found my diary, cool it’s a Tuesday so there’s nothing else get in the way of going, cooool! I placed the tickets safely in my jewellery box before plucking a choccy from the box and grabbing my Handy.

‘Hi Max,
Thx for chocs, v.tasty!
Gabs’

I pressed send before sprawling across my bed, Nena and at the Lanxess Arena, so okay I guess I have to go with Max but I can live with that I guess. Hmm these choccies are not half bad, not sure what was in that one but I could eat a box of them! I popped Irgendwie into my CD player and did some Nena karaoke while stuffing more chocolate.

“So?” Con queried as we followed the others along the cycle path towards Ahrweiler and another day at Silverberg Gymnasium.
“What?”
“You know what, Gaby Bond, Max’s choccies.”
“Oh them.”
“Oh them, she says, come on spill!”
“What are you two arguing about,” Pia enquired from ahead of us.
“Er nothing,” Con bluffed.
“’Kay,” Pia allowed returning to her conversation with Bridg.
“Your face,” I chuckled.
“Ga-ab!” she moaned.
“Okay, okay, he got some concert tickets.”
“Not Morgenstern?”
“No! Why would it be?”
“He’s a lad, lads like them, ergo he likes them.”

I think there was some logic in there. To be honest I’ve no idea what music he does like, oh him and the guys get it on to the rocky stuff when we party but like everyone does it doesn’t mean that’s what we listen to in private.

“Well it’s not Morgenstern.”
“Well who is it then?”
“Riding with Steff.”
“Nena!” Con squawked.
“Wassup,” said rider queried.
“Er nothing, Nen,” I called up the line.
“Cool,” Con allowed once she’d regained her erm, cool. “So like where, when?”
“5th of April at Lanxess.”
“You lucky moo.”
“Guess you’ll have to get yourself a rich boyfriend,” I teased.
“Didn’t think you had one?”
“I don’t, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“He does a very good impression for a not boyfriend,” my BF grinned.

“Gab!” Max hissed as I followed the others in from the bike sheds.
“What?”
“Did you, you know, open the chocs?”
“You know I did, I sent you a text last night.”
“Did you erm find the tickets?”
“Hmm, tickets, oh those tickets, Con’s really looking forward to it.”
“Oh.”

I turned to see his reaction, well he looked like his cat had just died, I’m not that cruel.
“Just kidding, I take it the plan was for like just us two to go?”
“You lovebirds coming?” Nena yelled back down the stairwell.
“Er yeah I mean if you want to.”
“Guess I could put up with you for a couple of hours.”
“Brill!”
“Gab, you’ll be late,” Pia supplied from above us.

“So what was all the whispering about?” Pia demanded when we assembled for lunch.
“Whispering?”
“You know talking quietly, first it was you and Con then you and Max.”
“I do know what whispering is,” I pointed out.
“And?” Steff prompted.
“We were just talking about Max’s present,” Con supplied.
“What about it,” Bridg started, “it was chocolate right?”
“Handmade,” I supplied.
“So what was so secret?” Pia pressed.
“Er, nothing really I guess, we were just um, discussing the flavours.”
“Sometimes, Bond,” Steff stated shaking her head.
“What about Max?” Nena put in.
“What about him?”
“Oooo!”
“Okay, he was just asking which ones I liked best.”
“Which is?” Brid requested.
“Er Ne…”
“…Ectarine right, Gab?” Con suggested.
“Er yeah, there was a mean er Nectarine crème.”

If they believe that they’ll believe anything – I should be so lucky.

Maddy Bell 23.07.16

 
 
“I don’t know how you managed it,” Mand mumbled.
“Managed what?”
We were stood with a couple of other members of the All Stars waiting for Hannah and the bus. Its not the greatest of mornings, about five degrees and threatening rain – I guess it could be worse; we aren’t out on the bikes!
“You know damned well.”
“Job?” I suggested.
“Hmmm.”
“Here’s the bus.”

There’s too many of us for the club minibus, we’ve got a few parents besides the squad and all our gear so we’ve got a proper coach from that lot up at Nurburg to take us. The dark green Krämer behemoth pulled up and we climbed aboard just as the first drops of rain descended.

“Hi girls,” Han greeted, “you gonna sit up here Gab?”
“Er morning, I…”
“I’ll sit with Pia,” Mand decided before heading down the bus.
“Guess so,” I allowed before attempting to swing my bag up onto the rack.
“Just put it on the seat behind, no ones sitting there,” Han instructed.

Leonard, that’s the Busfahrer, set us moving as I settled into my seat. Coach travel, even buses, isn’t something I do very often, okay there’s the team minibus but that’s hardly the same as a proper coach. Everything looks so different from your elevated position and unlike even the minibus; you have room around you, its almost like flying along the road.

“So, everything okay?”
“Think so,” I replied, “you?”
“I thought I’d forgotten something, I’m so used to having a ton of stuff with the Garde.”
“Yeah, a box of poms is hardly the same,” I agreed, “so when do we erm, you know?”
“We’ll have a run through when we get there, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.

Its almost more trouble than it’s worth using the autobahn between the Ahr and Koblenz, I wasn’t surprised that Leonard elected to use the nine alongside the Rhein. Our destination, whilst addressed as Koblenz is actually at Niederwerth, a few k’s north of the town so using the river route actually makes some sense. It was a bit busy around Andernach but we pulled up along the street from the ‘Gertrude Scholl Schule’ just shy of an hour after leaving Dernau.

“Okay girls, Frau Förstbacher, can you sort out the curtain please, Gaby and I will go find out what’s happening, if you can get yourselves ready please.”

It was drizzling incessantly now, coat and brolly weather; even so we were quite damp by the time we reached the school entrance. The organisation was of course very er, German and efficient even if the level of organisation was somewhat less than I’ve experienced at the other cheer competitions I’ve been to. It didn’t take long to get us registered, longer to organise a room for warm ups etc – apparently they hadn’t thought of that although the big marquee outside gave them two competition areas.

By the time we got back to the coach Leonard was busy ignoring the cacophony further back in his bus, the rear half now transformed into a reasonably private changing room. Frau Förstbacher had clearly done this before, a curtain was strung across the bus and with the window curtains drawn it made it quite cosy, have to say, I wouldn’t’ve thought of it. Being the coach I didn’t have to change although I had brought my shoes, as much from habit as anything else.

“Ten minutes!” Hannah advised our flock – well she’s better at shouting than me.

I gathered my stuff and waited for everyone to assemble.

“Er if you follow me, we’ll go straight to our practice room, try not to get splashed on the way.”

I led the way off the bus; it was weird being the leader rather than the led. At least the rain had eased a little so whilst there were still a lot of puddles it was only a light mist descending on us. When we got to the school it was much busier than previously, more groups had arrived so there were girls, and it was 100% girls as far as I could see, everywhere.

The room we’d secured was on the first floor, a bit out of the way but that’s not a bad thing. Of course the first job was to move the furniture so we had some floor space, Han and the other adults managed to arrive after that was complete – hmm, have to practice that.

“Okay,” I started, “we’ve got, shitza, er forty minutes before our first set so lets get on.”

It was clear that even Lisse and Kristin had been practicing even if Lisse in particular was still out of step with the rest. Whilst Han and I had pretty much already picked our squad it was still gonna be difficult telling the dropped girls. On the other hand we get two goes today as we’re entered in different categories and unlike in the States they are judged separately – an idea percolated through my head.

“Han!” I beckoned my co conspirator outside.
“What’s up?”
“Which category is the most important for the Tanzklub?”
“Wouldn’t like to say, maybe the open, why?”
“Okay so if we didn’t do as well in small group it wouldn’t be a disaster?”
“Suppose not, what are you thinking Gaby?”
“How about we ‘rest’ say Pia and Nette this morning, give Kris and Lisse a shot?”
“Well you’re the coach so it’s your call.”
“So what do you think?”
“I think that’s an excellent idea Gab, everyone gets to be included, yes I like it, best go and tell them.”

“You fixed it didn’t you?” Mand accused as we all headed down for our first ‘public’ display.
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“I was always gonna be on the squad wasn’t I?”
“Only if you wanted to.”
“And if you’re little scheme had failed?”
“Well you wouldn’t have a job and we’d only have one spare today.”
“Hmm.”

Whilst we had a couple of dancers on the squad for the rest this was their first time being judged and the nerves were obvious, even Mand was clearly a bit stressed as we waited our turn.

“Okay guys, lets all calm down and relax.”
We’ll be pole axed by nerves at this rate.
“Right, eyes closed, now breath in, hold it, hold it and slowly release.”
We repeated it a couple of times, everyone was a bit calmer, some nerves are good – you can be over confident.
“Ahr All Stars?” one of the officials queried.
“Here!” I replied waving an arm, “okay girls, break a leg!”

I was quite proud watching our little squad as they prepared to start their routine, from nothing to this in like six months. When we started the Foresters it was all about having some fun with the girls, competing was never the raison d’etre as they say. The All Stars, though I hadn’t realised at first, were very much supposed to be a competitive team, the Tanzklub revolves around competition in all genres.
The music started and it was out of my hands.

‘And down!’ I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding and started clapping.

It hadn’t been perfect, let’s be realistic here, but I thought they did pretty well. Lisse was better than expected and I only spotted one misstep – not that I could watch everyone all the time. The faces were all smiles when they came off the mat, even the reluctant English girl was bubbling.

“Okay girls, back upstairs, we’ll warm down then get lunch,” Hannah instructed.
Lunch, sheesh, I hadn’t even thought about that, there’s a narna in my bag but that wasn’t going to go far.
“Lunch?”
“That’s what assistants are for,” Han chuckled, “the parents have brought a bit of a buffet, don’t worry, the club stumps up towards it.”
“Right,” I allowed as we followed the others up the stairs.
“You lived through the whole thing down there didn’t you?”
“I did?”
“I could see you counting steps,” Hannah noted.
“I was just following them.”
“It wasn’t a criticism.”
“Er right.”

“Looks like we might have a problem Gabs,” Han mentioned as I picked at my lunch.
“Ot oh, what’s up?”
“We’ve got an injury, Erika has pulled a thigh muscle.”
“Ouch, well I guess Kristin gets a second shot then.”

I guess these things happen, with all the leaping about it’s easy enough to damage yourself, one reason I gave up when I did.The food wasn’t bad – someone had been to the bakery in Mayschoß and got a tray of sandwiches to go with the Lidl Croc crisps and bottled water. Not exactly haute cuisine but I wasn’t paying.

“What’s up with Erika?” Mand enquired, “My German isn’t up to high speed babble.”
“Thigh strain so Kristin gets a second go, you okay?”
“I guess, it’s quite a buzz out there.”
“Yeah, been there, done that,” Mand joined me in completing the line, “got the t shirt.”
“Or leotard in this case,” she added.

Our second appearance was out in the marquee, which despite several patio heaters was still quite cool and loud. Yeah, the rain was still falling, the continuous drumming on the roof providing a continuous background to the action below.

“Everyone ready?”
I looked around the assembled faces, they were certainly calmer than this morning, Pia and Nette both do Garde so they weren’t fazed by the tension. We repeated the breathing exercise, I try to do it before a race, always works for me and it seemed to work for this lot too.

“Okay, make them remember the Ahr All Stars!”

The official called them out and for a second time today I started counting out the programme.

The second take of the day was neither better or worse than the first, there were errors but in different places but nothing serious – well P over balanced in the final split and had to put her hand down to prevent a domino moment! Still I thought we did quite well and having not seen any of the opposition I wasn’t about to prejudge the result.

We didn’t podium in the open category, Pia’s balance issue had clearly lost some points but even so fifth was, I thought, quite respectable. The morning’s efforts were surprisingly a bit more successful taking third spot which everyone was well chuffed with. Not winning we didn’t have to do a reprise but did allow us to see where the opposition were at.

“Well?” Hannah asked as we headed back to Leonard on the bus.
“Better than I thought, I didn’t expect top three,” I allowed, “and we were only a few points off the podium in the open too, I’d say that’s a result.”
“I’m pretty sure the committee will agree, well done girl.”

I glowed in the reflected glory but I suppose the pressure’s now on to improve on today. How much involvement I can continue to put in though, well I guess we’ll have to see and Mand’s involvement – not necessarily a breaker but has today been a one off because of our deal?

“We got a trophy for the cabinet,” I grinned waving the pot at my assistant.

Maddy Bell 26.07.16

 
 

“How’d you get on?” Mum enquired when Mand and I got in a little after six.
“We got a third,” Mand beamed, clearly her enthusiasm has been er, enthused.
“That’s pretty good, well done.”
“What’s for tea, I’m starving.”
“We could do that Chinese we didn’t have last week,” Mum suggested.
“Works for me,” I allowed, “out or in?”
“Well we’d have to fetch it anyway so I suppose we can eat in.”
“Great!” you get loads of freebies when you eat in at the Canton Schwan.
“You okay with that, Mand?” Mum asked.
“Guess so, pity they don’t do real chips though.”

It’s possibly the biggest culture shock Brits have coming to mainland Europe, the excuses for chips. Make them yourself I hear you say, well they just aren’t the same as a steaming bag of fried potato with lashings of salt and vinegar from Hygenic Fisheries. If there’s one thing I’d import to Germany it’d be a decent chip shop, frites, pommes, whatever you want to call them are okay but I’d have a real chip any day of the week!

“Best get yourselves sorted out then, and see if your sister wants to come.”
“Didn’t see the Boris mobile,” I mentioned.
“She’s on her own, I think they’ve had words,” mater advised.

It was nearly an hour later that we piled out of Dad’s Mercedes; Mum’s A Klasse is a bit small for five of us. At least the rain has abated, we’ve had to park the other end of the arcade which, whilst not far, is enough to get you wet. Mum had rung ahead for a table, not that the place was exactly packed out; anyhow we had a corner with a turntable thing for the food.

Rather than order separately we long ago worked out that the best value are the Schwan’s set meals, easy to order and enough left for a doggy bag. Dad ordered a beer but clearly last week was a one off, it was back to Sprite™ for me and Coke™ for the others – Mum’s driving home so we need her sober.

“What’re you guys doing tomorrow?” Jules asked as we waited for our food to start arriving.
“Dunno,” I shrugged.
“The girls have got training in the morning,” Dad interjected.
“Da-ad!” I complained.
“You didn’t ride today, it’s only a couple of weeks until your first race.”
“So you’ll be back what, twelve?” Jules suggested.
“‘Bout then I guess, why?”
“You lost a bet and I want to collect.”
“Bet?”
“You remember, when we were clearing out the spare room for Mand, you bet you wouldn’t wear any of your designer stuff before New Year.”
“That was ages ago.”
“And your point?” my sister queried.
“Just saying.”
“Well you lost on so many levels.”

You can say that again, now what was my forfeit, it clearly wasn’t money, she’d have claimed that long ago!

“So what does your sister owe?” Mum asked.
“She just agreed to do something, just thought we could do it tomorrow.”
“Well there’s nothing planned for the afternoon,” Dad told us.
“We can have a roast, there won’t be many opportunities with all of us for a while,” Mum suggested.
Yeah, that’s true enough, Mum’s riding in Spain next weekend and my programme, as Dad has already pointed out starts the weekend after. Now if I can only remember what I actually agreed with Jules.
“Works for me,” Jules agreed.

That was no sooner agreed than food for tonight started to arrive.

Nine thirty Sunday morning, even at this hour there’s hardly any traffic, Sundays in Germany really are, for most people, a day of family, hobbies and relaxation. The only shops open are the bakeries and paper shops and the churches seem to get a good clientele. For Mand and myself it’s a miserable, damp start to the day, yesterdays mizzle is back and even with rain jackets and overshoes it didn’t take long for us to be thoroughly wet.

It was a tempo ride; the Münstereifel circuit and we rode wordlessly up to and through Altenahr, neither of us feeling particularly chatty.

“So what was this bet then?” Mand asked eventually.
“Bet? Oh this thing with Jules.”
“Yeah, it all sounded a bit murky last night.”
“She reckoned I’d have to wear a posh frock or suit before New Year, I said I wouldn’t.”
“That was a no brainer, Gab.”
“Well how was I supposed to know about the wedding?”
“So what has Jules won then?”
“I can’t remember exactly.”
“You don’t know?”
“Well it can’t be anything too bad or I wouldn’t’ve agreed to it.”
“I guess,” she agreed.
“I mean,” I went on, “she probably wants me to wear a ball gown or something.”
“Ball gown?”
“Yeah, we got them for some fancy do when I was Weinkönigin.”
“How the other half live,” Mand allowed.
“Not given a choice,” I mumbled.

As usual we picked up the pace after Effelsberg, the dish hidden in the murk today. All thoughts of this afternoon were pushed to one side as with friendly rivalry we raced around Münstereifel and on towards Schuld and our return to the Ahrtal. I won the village sprint after Mand took a long one, last summer she wouldn’t’ve had the confidence to even try sprinting.

We eased off a bit after joining the Adenau road, there was a bit more traffic about now, mostly of the rural tractor and 4x4 nature. My thoughts drifted back to this afternoon’s dolly dress up session, I’m pretty sure that’ll be it, dress me in the frilliest most impractical thing she can find. Oh well, I’m a ma, er girl of her word, I remember making the bet even if the cost is a bit vague.

At least the wet was clearing, enough that by our return to Altenahr the roads were starting to dry off encouraging a few more burghers onto the streets. Of course that just encouraged an attack by Mand that caught me slightly on the hop resulting in a pell mell chase out through the tunnel. I nearly overcooked it on the Tanzklub corner, the back wheel had a bit of a squiggle when I hit the anchors, not wanting to risk too much on a training ride I sat up and continued at a slower velocity.

“What happened to you?” Mand demanded when I eventually caught up best part of the way to Rech.
“Had a dodgy moment on the first bend.”
“Thought you were trying to delay letting your sister play.”
“As if.”

Wonder if I can grab a sarnie before Goth Gurl gets her hands on me? I bet it’ll be that awful green thing, hang on Goth Gurl, of bum, I didn’t did I? Nah, I wouldn’t be that stupid however the more I thought about it the more likely it seemed.

Jules found me in the lounge tucking into a Brie and Pastrami sandwich, “You ready then?”
“Can I finish this?”
“Bring it with you,” she suggested.
“Okay,” I sighed.
“Enjoy yourselves,” Mand grinned.
“Oh I will,” Jules allowed.
“Give us a shout when dinner’s ready,” I requested of Mand.
“Will do.”
“Can you give me a hand, Manda,” Mum’s voice requested from the kitchen.
Yes, she’s landed with dinner duties, “Enjoy!” I suggested with a smirk.

“You got a black bra?” Jules asked as we headed upstairs.

Well there’s a question I never thought I’d have to answer.

“Don’t think so.”
“Have to use one of mine then, this is gonna be fun.”
“Nothing too weird please,” I requested.
“Mum’s already had a go at me, nothing too permanent I promise.”
Why did that not sound reassuring?

“Nice,” my tormentor stated when I stripped down to my knickers, “you’ve grown.”
“Er, I have?”
“Probably the real you filling out, nice bum!”
“It’s big?”
“Not big, just rounder, very cute.”
Not the C word!
“Well if you’ve finished ogling, can we get on with this?”

Twenty minutes later I was sat in front of my sister’s dressing table wearing a borrowed bra, one of those half-cup things that put the girls on display and a pair of ‘distressed’ fishnet tights.

Jules started playing with my hair, “You’ve got lovely hair.”
“Um thanks.”
“Not very Goth though, needs some colour.”
“You are not dyeing it! It took ages for that brown to wash out.”
“Who said anything about dye?”
“But you…”
“There are other ways,” she interrupted, “we can chalk it, just washes out afterwards.”
“Chalk? As in blackboards?”
“Well think artist, but same sort of thing.”
“Doesn’t it just brush off?”
“You set it with spray.”
“If you say so,” I sighed, “let’s get it over with.”

The look of glee in my sister’s eyes should’ve sounded a warning.

I couldn’t see what she’d done, my back was to her mirror but it took her quite a while, it felt like a full can of hairspray and a lot of pulling and tugging.

“Er, can I get a drink?”
“Water okay?”
“It’ll do,” I allowed, “how much longer is this gonna take?”
“Patience,” she dug in her bag and produced a bottle of Apollinaris – well we get it as part of the sponsorship, “there you go.”
“So do I get to see this masterpiece?” I asked before taking a slug of H2O.
“Ut uh, not till I’m finished,” she gleefully stated.
“Let’s get on with it then,” I sighed putting the bottle down, “can I borrow you’re your Ipod?”

And so five minutes later I was humming along to some of the more er mainstream tunes on my sister’s music cube. I closed my eyes and let my sister get on with her transformation; the dabbing at my chest was unexpected though.

“What’re you doing?”
“You’re too tanned, paler the better.”
“If you say so.”
“I do, now sit still.”

Maddy Bell 27.07.16

 
 
“What the heck are these?” I asked holding up the er garment.
“Knickers.”
“I can see that, I’m already wearing some,” I pointed out, “and these are a bit er old lady.”
“Fishnet sag.”
“You what?”
“Fishnet sag, you don’t want to be hitching your tights up every two minutes, they’re only control pants.”
“Whatever.”

I pulled the granny pants on, they felt like they were a size too small, they certainly weren’t going anywhere, nor were the tights.

“You’re kidding right?”
“Nope, arms up.”

With a sigh I complied allowing my dresser to wrap the corset around my waist, that’s all I need. However whilst Jules snugged it to me she didn’t pull it in as I’d expected, well that’s a relief.

“I thought you were going to pull it in tight.”
“Impractical.”
“So why am I wearing it then?”
“Shape, it emphasises your waist, you must be a size smaller than me, I’d struggle to get it this tight on me.”
“Too many takeaways!” I suggested.
“I can still tighten it,” she warned.
“Okay, okay, where’s this dress then?”

The dress certainly wasn’t what I’d expected, in fact it was a bit disappointing considering some of the stuff I know she has in her wardrobe. This was actually plain almost to the extreme, black yes but none of the lace and net I was expecting. It was even quite demure, if a garment that exposes most of your chest can be, three quarter sleeves, mid-thigh flared skirt, the only decoration a row of stitching under my boobs.
I tugged it into place, it was comfortable, surprise, but the corset certainly er emphasised my waist.

“This it?”
“Almost.”
There was a knock at the door, “Dinner’s nearly ready,” Mand called.
“’Kay,” Jules replied.
“What’s left then?”
“Put my flat boots on and I’ll find some jewellery.”

I did as bid, the boots were a bit big but at least you can walk in them okay, I didn’t fancy my chances of getting downstairs in some of Jules heels.

I was staring at my now hands, fingers and thumbs adorned with rings, black nails at each tip. An assortment of bracelets, rubber bands and bangles populated each arm, the unaccustomed weight a bit of a novelty. The choker was quite restrained by comparison even if it was closed with a padlock.

“Here, hold this in place,” she slapped a bit of paper on some exposed breast flesh before pressing it into place.
“What is it?”
“Tattoo.”
“Tattoo?” I went to pull it off only for my hand to be slapped away.
“Temporary dumbo.”

Well thinking about it it would have to be wouldn’t it?

“Stand still, I can’t get this earring in.”
“Ouch!”
“Well stand still then.”

There was a distinct tug on my lobes when she’d finished.
“They’re heavy.”
“You’ll get used to it, you can take the paper off now.”
I gently tugged the paper off my chest and peered down at my new artwork, I wasn’t impressed to see an unmissable and fairly ugly broken heart pulling at my eye.

“Last bits.”
“Good, I’m starving,” I allowed, the smell of a Sunday roast had been percolating upstairs for a good few minutes now.
Something pinched my nose, “Ow!”
“Soz, last one,” she slipped something over my bottom lip adjusting its position before squeezing it closed, “there that should stay in place, you’ll fit right in at the Black Cross.”
“Do I want to?”
“You might.”

I didn’t get a chance to check myself out in the mirror as Jules wasted no time in heading downstairs ahead of me. Oh well, in for a pfennig.

There was a deep intake of breath when I reached the dining room.
“Oh my God!” Mand exclaimed.
“Interesting look,” Dad offered whilst trying not to over react.
“I said nothing permanent,” Mum intoned.
“It washes out,” the Dark One replied defensively.
“Hmmph,” Mum opined, as she looked me over.
“Can we eat?” I asked.

It was roast lamb, oh yeah! Rosemary roast taters, carrots, sprouts and green beans, mint sauce of course and real, thick gravy – heaven. My appearance was irrelevant, at least to me, I dug in with gusto.

Around the table however my appearance was getting as much attention as the food, Jules was smiling, something was clearly fascinating Mand and whilst Dad was trying to remain neutral, Mum was clearly agitated.

“Give us a hand with the pud, Gab,” Mum requested.
“’Kay.”

“You okay with this, kiddo?” Mum asked as I stacked the plates into the dishwasher.
“Well I don’t think I’ll be joining the Dark Side but I did lose the bet.”
“And you knew what she wanted to do?”
“Well sort of, it’s only a bit of fun.”
“It was a lot of effort for a bit of fun.”
“You know Jules, all or nothing.”
“Hmm, take the dishes through.”

I nearly dropped the crockery when I saw my reflection in the hall mirror, shitza, maybe she has gone overboard. She might not’ve dyed my hair but the purply bluey greeny tones it now held were pretty intense, emphasised by the strictly plaited and coiled do on top of my head. Blue lipstick, pencil thin brows and ornate eyeliner was interesting as was the lip ring, I couldn’t for the life of me work out how she’d got the crystal on my nostril to stay put, glue I guess.

“Come on or the crumble’ll get cold,” Mum chided.
“Er right.”

It’s rhubarb and peach crumble with custard, sauce Anglais doesn’t sound right does it and to be honest the stuff the Germans serve up is but a poor imitation of the real thing!

“You should go to school like that,” Mand suggested as we shared her room to do last minute homeworky things.
“And why would I want to do that?”

It’s not like the girls won’t get to see Goth Gaby, Mand and my sister both took pictures after dinner so my current visage will go down in the annals of history.

“It would be a bit of a lark.”
“For who?”
“It’s not like you’ll get in trouble is it?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Scaredy cat!”
“I am not.”
“Well then, go schoolgirl Goth.”

Geez, she’s worse than Maddy, Maddy, now she’d’ve pushed the envelope for sure.
“No!”
“Spoilsport.”

Am I really doing this? My thoughts drifted back to last night…
I tapped on the door, “Jools!” I hissed, “Can I come in.”
“Wha, er ‘Kay.”
I slipped inside as she clicked a light on.
“What’s up?”
“You got anything I can wear to school tomorrow?”
“You’ve got loads of stuff.”
“Not Gothy.”
“You want to go to school like that?”

I hadn’t actually changed or showered yet so apart from the boots I was still doing the Dark bit.
“Er yeah.”
“I didn’t think you liked this stuff?”
“Well I don’t, exactly, but it’d be a good wind up. So do you, you know have something?”
“What’s wrong with that stuff?”
“It’s winter?”
“Whatever, hang on a mo, I need a wee now.”

I felt a right plonk to be honest, I kept the hair, the braids just about surviving the night and it was only when I cleaned off the makeup that I discovered the sparkle on my nose wasn’t stuck on. That pinch yesterday afternoon, the moo has pierced my nose and I couldn’t work out how to get it out, a gentle tug just moved the sparkle a bit, at least the lip ring just pulled off. Jules had come up with an outfit that was definitely Goth even if it wasn’t much warmer than the dress – at least there was less boob on show.

What am I wearing? Well less makeup than Jules used but still heavy on eyeliner but with black lips and the heavy Ankh earrings. The tights and granny pants are back with ratty black shorts; on top I did at least have several layers of vests, t’s with a hoody over everything. The piece de resistance were Goth Gurl’s big boots, you know the sort of thing, stack sole, lace up to the knee, big on straps and studs.

I pulled the hood up and clomped into Thesing’s.

I could feel the girl’s eyes drilling into me from across in the café as I waited for Therese to finish serving Frau Holdorf, you remember, of Fritzy ownership.

“Tut, girls these days!” my nemesis mentioned as she left.
“Sorry about that,” Therese offered, “What would you like?”
“Milchkaffee bitte.”
“Gaby?”
Some disguise eh?

“Shush!”
“Take a seat, I’ll bring it over, fraulein.”

I clumped to a table close enough to the others that I could hear their conversation, sat with my back to them and slipped the hood off.

“Wonder where Gab’s is?” Pia queried.
“She hasn’t rung, probably overslept again,” Steff suggested.
Overslept, I had to get up well early to get dressed in this lot.

“Not seen her before,” Bridg stated, “looks a right tart.”
“Shush, she’ll hear,” Nena told her.
“So what?”
“Might be one of Juliette’s friends stayed over or something,” Con suggested.
My eavesdropping was interrupted by Frau T, “Here you go, you want the usual for lunch?”
“Thanks, er please.”
“So what’s this about?” she asked, “it’s an interesting look.”
“Just experimenting.”

To be honest I’m not really sure why I’m going to school dressed like a grunge hooker.

“You want this Pflaumkuchen, Gab?” Con’s voice asked from by my ear, which caused me to almost jump out of Jules’ boots.

Maddy Bell 27.07.16

 
 
“Geez, Con, you made me jump!”
“Ha, I thought it was you,” she turned to the others, “told you so.”
“How did you know?” I queried.
“Mama.”
“Eh?”
“Well she talked to you instead of just giving you your coffee.”
“So you turned to the dark side, Gab?” Steff asked from behind me.
“It’s a long story, where’s that Pflaumkuchen?” I sighed before picking up my coffee and joining the others.

“You certainly got screwed this time, Gab,” Nena stated after I’d given the abbreviated version of Gothic Gaby.
“I’ve had worse,” my mind quickly flickered back to England and the pickles I seemed to attract, by comparison this morning is self-inflicted.
“So why this, this morning?” Pia queried.
Why indeed?
“Just thought it’d be fun,” I offered.
“You girls going to school this morning,” Frau Thesing hinted.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea, I’d pushed the Schauff around to the bakery but now I needed to ride it. I had got a scarf and gloves but my legs felt like icicles – the dress would’ve been a better bet but oh no I had to go for the stupid shorts. And the boots, at least they have a flat sole.

I started to get nervous as we approached Silverberg, for two cents I’d’ve turned for home but I now had an escort.

“Come on,” Steff chivvied.
“These boots are heavy,” I complained as I clumped along.
“Didn’t you bring anything else?” Bridg asked.
“We are talking, Gab here,” Pia put in.
“Hey!” I complained.
“Well have you?” Steff prompted.
“Erm.”
“Just pray old Boxxie doesn’t see those shorts,” Con suggested.
Crank my stress levels up why don’t you.
“Strechau alert,” Nena told us as we reached the school buildings.

“Gab with you, guys?”
“Might be,” Steff advised, “behind us somewhere.”
“Er cheers,” Max allowed.
“So what you want her for lover boy?” Bridg asked.
“Um just something about her birthday present.”
“The famous concert,” Pia inserted.
“What about it?”
He’s not cancelling is he?
“Gab?”
“We’ll leave you love birds to it,” Con promoted to the others.
“Don’t be late for registration,” Nena teased.

My posse left us leaving in their wake enough unsaid innuendo for me to blush through the pale foundation.

“So er, what’s up?” I asked unwrapping the scarf so I could take the hood off my head.
Max’s eyes were on stalks.
I unzipped the hoody, it’s warm in here, “So?”
“Um, I er, is that a tattoo?”
Tattoo? Ah tattoo, “Yeah,” I couldn’t help myself, I pulled the assorted tops to the side to expose my ‘artwork’, “got it yesterday, what do you reckon?”
“Um.”
The poor sod was now totally flummoxed.

“So what about the concert? You said there was something you had to tell me?”
“Er Mum said she’ll collect us if we can make our own way there.”
“Oh cool, we can go up on the train.”

I must have the devil in me today; I pulled his head down and landed black lips on his Baronly kissers.

“Nice of you to join us, Max,” Frau Dürst mentioned, “and Fraulein Bond?”
“Er sorry, Miss,” I offered, “bit of a clothing malfunction.”

Look he’s got very kissable lips; it was cleaning him up afterwards that made us tardy. Of course there were more than a few sniggers, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what we’d been up to.

“Well now you are both here I’ll finish the announcements.”
We both slipped into our seats, I think Max was blushing more than me, well the makeup does tone it down a bit.

“As I was saying before we were interrupted, anyone wanting to come to ‘Il Roma’ to eat before the prom need to see me before Friday. It’s not compulsory, I know some of you will have your own plans, this is for those that haven’t, okay?”
“Um, how much is it?” Marty queried.
“My treat, Herr Preiser, Erika?”
“Why’s it there, Miss?”
“I like spaghetti,” there were a few chuckles, “but mostly it’s only a couple of minutes walk to the Kursaal.”

Oh yes prom. It’s not for months yet but I guess they need to book stuff in plenty of time. Why it has to be at the Kursaal I don’t know, it’s not like the sports hall isn’t big enough, suppose we need to get dresses and stuff too – more expense.

“Can I have a word, Gaby?” Frau Dürst asked as we filed out to go to the Language Lab for our session with Herr Viessner…
“Er sure.”

She waited for the strugglers to depart and closed the door before starting.
“I have to ask, Gaby, is this the new you?”
“Um not really.”
“Not really?”
“Well it was supposed to be a bit of a lark?”
“A rather extreme lark don’t you think? Dyeing your hair is one thing but the tattoo, look, you’re an intelligent girl, you know these things have consequences. I take it you still want to go to the catering college in September?”
“Er that’s the plan,” I agreed.
“You know you have to interview to get in, well regardless of equal opportunities, you arrive looking like this it won’t go in your favour.”
“But they can’t do that.”
“They shouldn’t I agree but the fact is it will go against you, so the pretty blonde bike racer has gone?”
“Er no, not exactly, it really was supposed to be a lark, I should be back to normal tomorrow.”
“Your hair?”
“Jules says it’ll wash out, it’s only hair chalk.”
“Look, Gab, I know you might want to experiment, I don’t mean to sound like mother but I don’t want you doing anything you’ll regret later.”
“Er I’ll try not to, Miss.”
“Okay, off you go and, Gaby?”
“Yes, Miss?”
“Don’t let Frau Boxberg see you in those shorts, they do push the clothing code more than a little."

“What did Dürst want earlier,” Bridg enquired once we were settled at our usual lunch table.
“Er nothing much, so like what’re we doing for this prom thing?”
“Stop dodging the question, Gab,” P opined.
“Okay,” I sighed, “she suggested I tame the whole Goth thing down a bit.”
“Hence me loosing my jumper,” Con surmised.
“Er yeah,” I agreed.

To be sure whilst my clothing choice was very limited I had tried to tone things down a bit. The makeup was a lot subtler; it took a few minutes scrubbing to get rid of the pasty look and black lips. The hair would have to wait but I lost the earrings and Con’s boat neck sweater worked quite well as a makeshift skirt, it’s a good job she’s a bit bigger than me.

“You keeping the stud?” Steff asked.
“Stud?”
“In your nose?”
To be honest I’d forgotten about the tiny sparkle in my right nostril.

“It looks pretty cute,” Nena opined.
“Wasn’t planning on it, I thought it was stuck on, I didn’t realise it was pierced until I went to bed, any idea how you take it out?”
“Doesn’t it have a back on, like ear studs?” Pia queried.
“No, I think the moo just pushed it through but I can’t pull it out, something’s stopping it.”
“I’ve got some earrings like that, Mama has to take them out because it’s so fiddly,” Con advised us.
“Great,” I sighed, “I suppose I’ll have to get my sister to take it out.”
“Really, Gab you should keep it.”
“Mum’s gonna go ballistic, shoulda heard her when Jules got her tongue pierced.”
“Everyone has nose rings these days,” Bridg put in.
“None of you do, or anyone else I know,” I pointed out.
“There’s that girl in Hr Boltt‘s registration,” Nena offered.
“The Indian girl, don’t her parents own ‘Die Everest’, you know behind Lidl?” Pia suggested.
“She doesn’t count, all Indian girls have pierced noses.”
“Don’t,” Brid stated.
“There’s a lot more Indians and that back in England and I bet just about all of them have nose studs.”
“The men too?” Pia queried.
“No,” I rolled my eyes and sighed, “the women and girls.”

Of course back in Blighty it was all the rage a couple of years ago so it’s more common to see girls and a few lads too, sporting nasal jewellery even in Warsop. For my part, joining their number wasn’t on my bucket list and the sooner my moo of a sister takes it out the better.

“So you going to the Prom with Max,” Steff asked as we made our way back up the valley a couple of hours later.
“Why should I?”
“He’s not asked her,” Bridg suggested.
“To be fair, we are talking about Max here,” Con noted.
“Mr last minute himself,” Pia added.
“Why would I?” I asked.
“Isn’t it traditional?” Nena queried, “You know, to go as couples.”
“How should I know?”
“We gonna get fancy dresses for it?” Con queried.
“Is it formal then?” Nena requested.
“I think the boys have to wear suits,” I noted.
“Max looks good in a suit,” Pia advised.
“He does?”
“You wouldn’t know, Gab, you’re always in a lip lock with him!” Steff stated with a grin.
“Am not!” well okay, I’ll admit it happens sometimes.

Maddy Bell 29.07.16

 
 
Boy, was I glad to get home and get de-gothed. The boots have been a pain all day, I’m sure I mentioned they weigh a ton, my legs were more than a bit sore by the time I got them off. Oh and of course, they’re indelibly patterned by the fishnets – how come they need help staying up but are tight enough to do that?

“You should do your hair like that more often, it suits you,” Mand opined as we got started on our turbo session.
“What, all different colours?”
“The braids dumbo.”
“They’re a pain to do,” I noted.
“So what happened at school then?”
“Got some funny looks.”
“I bet.”
“Frau Dürst gave me a bit of a lecture about what I was wearing.”
“I didn’t think you had a uniform code.”
“We don’t as such but those shorts were erm, pushing the limits a bit.”
“I wish I’d seen you,” she chuckled. “What did Max think?”
“No idea, he didn’t exactly say much.”
“Right, are you two ready?” Dad asked joining us in the bike zone – you can’t call it a garage, it’s never had a car in it!

I had to wash my hair twice before it came close to being colour free and even then it still had a pinkish hint – guess I can live with that. The ‘temporary’ tattoo however was being more stubborn and refused to shift, guess I’m stuck with it until it wears off. It felt a bit weird to be in ordinary clothes after a day Gothed up but I’m sure I’ll get used to it!

Dad took us up to Cheer, collecting Pia on the way as it’s our turn for ‘Dad taxi’, I half expected no one to turn up after Saturday but everyone was in attendance. Whilst we didn’t have a competition to prepare for we still have to practice of course and I’ve no doubt the All Stars will make some non competitive appearances in the coming weeks. One thing I did notice, Mand seemed to be more into things, until the weekend she was good technically but maybe a little outside of things, now she’s very much one of the squad.

Of course everyone was on a bit of a buzz after Saturday, our success might only be a placing in a minor category but we weren’t that far away in the main event. The big thing we did learn is where the competition are, well locally at least – I can’t imagine we’ll be straying far from the north Eifel for competitions anytime soon. Han added our trophy to the Garde cabinet – well there isn’t much in there and it’s a bit premature to get our own trophy cabinet.

“Can everyone come in uniform next week please,” Han requested.
“What for?” Lisse asked.
“Photographs, Lisse, the committee are suddenly keen to publicise our existence.”
“Fame at last!” Kristin declared.
“And…” Hannah waited for the ensuing conversation to die down, “and we’ll be performing at the Brohler Kirmes in three weeks time, Saturday and Sunday so if you have any issues with that let me or Gabs know as soon as. Okay?”
There were mumbled confirmations from the now animated group of teens.
“Okay then, I’ll see most of you next week then.”

“You never said about Brohl?” I mentioned to Han as we waited for the girls to variously change, dress, collect bags.
“I only sorted it out this afternoon, why, is there a problem?”
I sighed, it’s gonna be a busy weekend, “me and Mand’ll be working and we’re racing on Sunday too.”
“Damn, well I guess it’s not the end of the world.”
“I guess you don’t actually need me there and we’ve enough to cover for Mand if need be.”
“We’ll work something out, it’s a couple of weeks yet,” Han agreed.

Maybe I’ve got too many eggs in the basket, racing, cheer coach and two part time jobs.

“Aw, I thought you’d at least have green hair or something today,” Steff suggested with a chuckle.
It was back to standard Gaby today, yesterday was maybe an error of judgement – especially those shorts, no, jeans and a woolly for me today.
“You guys ready for the exam?” Pia queried changing the subject.
“Never,” Brid allowed, I’m terrible at spelling.”
“Tell me about it,” I agreed, “there’s no rules in German.”
“Course there are,” Con put in.
“Yeah, I before e unless there’s a y in the month and the winds blowing from the south,” I submitted.
“It’s not that bad, Gab,” Nena suggested.

Okay you’ve guessed, it’s German grammar today, Herr Praxmeier has been giving us spelling tests twice a week since New Year, I still can’t spell leistungsfähigkeit , it comes out different every time I write it, I had to look it up for this. Not that I’m much better at English and I’ve been doing that a lot longer. To say I’m not looking forward to today’s exam would be putting it mildly.

My brain was in turmoil, the spellings in part one hadn’t been as bad as I had thought they’d be, I’m pretty sure I got most of them. But part two, well correcting a badly written passage wasn’t too onerous but the final short essay question… to make it worse I know its worth 25% of the marks and I can’t think what to write. The minutes ticked by, I wasted ten minutes before setting pen to paper, ‘It’s not always the big things which can change your life.’

“Urgh, I need coffee!”
“Everyone up to mine?” Pia suggested.
It had been a long exam running through lunch so we get to go home early as compensation.
“Sounds like a plan,” Con agreed.

It’s been a while since we had an Angels get together, you know out of the school day. With exams, work and holidays, our get-togethers have taken a back seat, I can’t remember the last one – I’m sure it was before Weihnachts. Our little flock of bikes headed out of the school under blue skies, the damp of the weekend having finally given way to more clement conditions.

The Sebenschuh Stube and restaurant was of course closed to the public until this evening so we had it to ourselves. We weren’t quite alone, Helmut was sat in corner with a pile of papers and Eva and Ingrid were in and out filling cruets, changing menus and so on ready for the evening. If we wanted anything we’d have to get it ourselves, guess who got Barista duties?

“Here you go,” I slid the tray of coffee onto the table.
“What did you write for the essay, Gab?” Nena enquired.
“A right load of rubbish.”
“Oh come on it can’t’ve been that bad,” Steff suggested.

Oh yes it could, I mean who comes up with these questions? ‘Write a 1000 word essay describing a life changing event and its impact. It may be biographical or fictional but must include a strong narrative.’ No help in the question at all.

Of course I’ve had my share of ‘events’, some are too personal to write about, others, well I didn’t think I could write enough about them. As for making stuff up, well I can remember reading somewhere that the best fiction is based on personal experience.

“What did you do then,” I turned the question back at the others.
“My Oma dying,” Bridg offered.
“Claudia,” Nena added. That must’ve been hard to write about.
“Come on, Gab, spill,” Con encouraged.
“It was about yesterday sort of, you know the whole Goth thing?”
“I’d never have thought of that,” Pia mentioned.
“I was getting desperate,” I admitted.
“Much better than mine,” Steff lamented.
“Which was?”
“Meeting a shy new kid at school.”
“Interesting spin, better than my dressing up.”
“How’d you get all that in a thousand words,” Con asked.
“Well I had to leave out some of the juicier bits.”
“I bet,” Pia put in with a smirk.

I sipped at my coffee, I’m sure I’ve missed something here.

“You girls eating here?” Ing enquired sometime later, well just after five.
“What’s on?” I enquired.
“Geschnetzeltes mit Spätzle unless you’re paying.”
“Suits me, beats my cooking.”
“I doubt that, Gab, we have had your cooking,” Con noted.
“And we survived,” Nena giggled.
“Six then,” Ingrid confirmed, “bout twenty minutes.”

I felt a little guilty abandoning my cooking duties at Schloss Bond tonight but not so’s I’d pass up one of my favourite meals. We were being fed quite early to get us out of the way of course, paying customers could start arriving from about six and – well we can get a bit lively so these days we are fed and evicted from the restaurant, the Stube is far enough into the cellars that we can make what noise we like without disturbing anyone. It wasn’t quite dark outside, in a few weeks it’ll be light enough to go out training in the evenings, now that’s something to look forward to.

The food was universally enjoyed, okay so it’s not exactly complicated to make but even the simplest recipe can go wrong – just ask Mand! The restaurant was open by the time we finished; the first customers were already nursing drinks as we cleared up.

“Gaby, Connie, can I borrow you for a minute?” Herr Sebenschuh requested.
“We’ll meet you in the Stube,” I told the others.
We adjourned into the other half of the restaurant and Helmut indicated we should sit.
“What’s up Mr S?” Con enquired.
“How are your exams going?”
“Going,” I sighed, “I’ll be glad when they’re over.”
“Yeah,” Con agreed.
“It was the same in my day, I’m sure you’ll do well,” Helmut mentioned, “but to business. You remember the broken coach at Christmas?”
“How could we forget,” I chuckled.
“Well it seems our efforts were well appreciated, the Reisebusse company have asked if we can cater on some of their trips across the summer and in the run up to Weihnachts.”
“Cool, that’ll be good for the restaurant,” Con noted.
“So where do we come in?” I added.
“To the point as usual, Gaby, well they want full service, Kostüm the lot.”
“You want us to do it?” Con concluded.
“I thought it only fair to give you first refusal as it’s largely on you that we’ve got this opportunity. It’ll probably be one evening every fortnight from Easter, a special meal, bit of a Heimatsnacht maybe.”
“Count me in,” Con enthused.

I guess some extra euros will come in useful and it won’t be the same chaos we had in December.

“Yeah, alright, just us two, I guess Pia will do it?”
“We might need some extra help, we’ll try the first time with just you three then we can decide, I’m sure we can find more girls, eh?”
“I can think of at least one who’d be up for it.” I agreed.
“Well keep it under your hats for now, as soon as I have dates confirmed I’ll let you know. You’d best get to the Stube, the others will be wondering what’s keeping you – and try to keep out of the reserve bottles, eh?”

As if we would, although that did sound like an invite to liberate a bottle or two of the ordinary Rech vintages.

Maddy Bell 30.07.16

 
  “You’ve been drinking,” Mand accused when plopped myself onto her bed after depositing our cocoa on her desk.
“Not much.”
“Your rents’ll go ballistic.”
“What they don’t know,” I shrugged, “look sorry ‘bout ‘bandoning you here, shoulda invited you up.”
“I was late back anyway, so what were you all celebrating?”
“German Grammar, we had four hours today.”
“Yowch.”
“And the rest.”

I blame the vino but my resolve on the matter of the new job opportunity er dissolved and I spilt some slightly embroidered beans to my companion.

“Counts me out,” she sighed.
“Why?”
“Er no Kostüm?”
“You can borrow one of mine,” I offered.
“And be constantly fretting over spilling stuff on it and let’s face it, Gab, I might get away with it on a one off but I’m bigger than you.”
“Not that much.”
“Enough that I couldn’t wear one of yours for very long.”
“Well it’s not even confirmed yet, it might not even happen.
“Yeah, so you going to bed, some of us need our beauty sleep,” she hinted.

“Good luck in Barcelona,” I offered to Mum the following afternoon.
“Thanks, wish we were flying, I’m not looking forward to best part of two days driving.”
“Better than school,” I suggested.
“Amanda, can you try to keep my daughter out of trouble?”
“I’ll try, Mrs B.”
“And you, try not to get dyed, pierced or painted anymore before I get back.”
“I’ll wait until your home then.”
“You should clean that with salt water or it won’t heal properly,” she added.
“Eh?”
“Your nose? It looks nice but it won’t if it gets infected.”

Bum! I’d forgotten all about my newest hole, Jules hasn’t been home since Monday to take it out and, well I’ve just got used to it.

“That was Jules on Sunday, I thought it was glued on.”
“I thought your sister probably had something to do with it.”
“I tried taking it out but it’s got some weird catch or something.”
“Let’s have a look.”

It’s not the ideal position to be in, head thrown back with your mother looking up your nostrils! Hope there’s no big bogie up there.

“I see,” Jenny did indeed see, there wasn’t anything preventing the stud being pulled out, no catch, no barb, no clip – the only thing keeping it in place was Gaby. “I can’t work it out, you’ll have to get your sister to do it but in the meantime, keep it clean.”
“Yes, Mum.”
Beep, beep!
“That’ll be me, I’ll ring when we get there.”

Me and Mand went out to wave the girls off, they’ve got the dubious pleasure of a 1300km ride in the team bus with George, Petra and Mike are taking the bikes in the van.

“Your mum’s right,” Mand opined, “you really should keep it clean, one of the girls had to have half her ear cut off because it went septic after she got it pierced.”
“Gross!”
“You’d look a bit weird with half a nose, come on I’ll do it now.”
“Yes, mum,” I sighed following her back indoors.

“Ah girls, thank you for coming.”

The summons to the Head’s office Thursday lunchtime was, to say the least, out of blue. At least it wasn’t just me, the rest of the Angels were with me as I nervously entered the room.

“Find yourselves somewhere to sit, glad to see you’ve consigned those shorts to a more appropriate setting, Fraulein Bond.”
Sugar, she saw those flippin’ shorts!
I know you are in the middle of your exams and that you’ll have left us by then but I have been asked by the Governors to put a proposal to your little collective, I know you aren’t all here but I need to sound you out.”
“About what, Miss?” Steff asked.
“Oh sorry, the Weihnachts Market. I’m aware that your fundraising efforts the last couple of years have been off your own backs – and fantastic they’ve been. Well the school, that is, the Governors and myself, well we’d like to sponsor your stall at this year’s market.”
“How’s that work?” Pia queried.
“Well for starters we can get a stall booked now so you can get a better position but we’d also be responsible for promoting your efforts.”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Steff started, “but what’s in it for the school? What do you want in return?”
“Ah yes, the catch, there’s always a catch isn’t there. Well we get connected with good works and, well we’d like to ‘apprentice’ a couple of students to you. Between you, you get things done, it’s not gone unnoticed by the powers that be and we’d like to tap into that ability.”
“But we do it because we want to,” I pointed out.
“And we don’t want to change that, we can help by making some things a bit easier for you, the students would be extra hands of course but we’d hope that they’d pick up some useful skills.”
“When do we need to decide about this?” Con enquired.
“Well the sooner the better of course, clearly you have things to discuss between yourselves, shall we say a couple of weeks? Easter?”
Steff took on the job of mouthpiece for the Angels, “Okay Miss, we’ll talk to everyone and let you know by Easter.”
“Excellent, I’ll get you a draft proposal, you can pick it up from Claudia in the morning. Thanks for coming ladies, and Gaby?”
“Yes, Miss?”
“The purple hair really didn’t suit you.”
“No, Miss.”

“What was that all about? I mean, really?” Pia asked as we rescued our steeds from the bike sheds.
“No idea,” Nena opined.
“What do we do?” Con queried.
“I guess we should get everyone together for a meeting,” Steff suggested.
“We’re all here,” Bridg noted.
“We should include the lads, and Anna,” I added, “they put a lot into it too.”
“You get the lads, Gab, I’ll talk to Anna.”
“When?” Con started, “and where?”
“How about mine after school, Tuesday?” I offered.
“Suits,” Bridg allowed.
“Tuesday afternoon at Gab’s then,” Steff confirmed.

I grimaced at the reflection of my chest; I thought this tattoo thing was temporary just wait until I see Jules!

“Hello! Anyone in?”
Talk of the devil.
“Up here.”
A moment later my sister’s head appeared in the doorway to my eyrie, “Heya, wasn’t sure if you were home yet, you want a cuppa?”
“I thought you said this tattoo thingy would come off?”
“It will, I use them all the time.”
“Well I’ve rubbed myself raw and it’s made no difference.”
“Weren’t you listening Sunday, I guess not, anyway it looks cute on you.”
“No it doesn’t it looks cheap.”
“Come here, you got some baby oil?”
“In the cupboard.”
“Sit,” she instructed.

It took her about sixty seconds to remove what I’d been scrubbing at for four days.

“I thought you said it would wash off.”
“Not with water, they’re supposed to stay on for up to a month unless you use the right stuff, I did tell you on Sunday.”
“And what about this?” I pointed at my nostril.
“You’ve still got that in? It does look good doesn’t it?”
“I can’t get it out.”
“What’re you talking about, let me look.”
She leant in for a look, “Looks like it’s just about healed, when we did Kirsty’s at that sleepover it went a bit manky, it took about a month for it to heal.”
“Kirsty in Warsop?”
“How many do you know? Anyhow yours is fine.”
“So it won’t come out?”
“Course it will,” she tugged and with a slight ‘pop’ it came free, “see?”
“So why couldn’t I get it out?”
“Dunno, you could put something else in if you want, I bet you’d look good with a sleeper in.”
“I do not want a ring in my nose,” I stated.
“Okay, just saying, hang on then.”

I must be losing it, before I could argue the stud was back in my nose.
“Tea?”

She’d made her escape before I could react, I’ll get you Juliette Bond!

“You got rid of the tattoo then,” Mand observed finding me in the kitchen making a sandwich before going to Garde.
“Yeah, apparently it was waterproof, you take it off with baby oil.”
“Wouldn’t’ve thought of that, keeping the stud then?”
“She was gonna put a ring in,” I huffed.
“That could look good, I’ve got some tiny gold ones if you want to try.”
“I don’t ‘want’ this.”
“So why’ve you still got it in?”
She’s got me there, “Dunno.”

We did the ‘Ring circuit Saturday morning then I was off for my last Saturday afternoon shift at the bakery, I start doing the early shift next week.

“Feels like the end of an era,” Con mentioned as we cleaned up.
“Why’s that?”
“Well you changing shifts, it seems like we’ve been doing this together for ever.”
“I’ve done early shifts before,” I pointed out.
“But you still did Sundays then.”
“Well it’s not like we won’t see each other, I’m here nearly everyday.”
“But it’s not the same as working together.”

I hadn’t given it a second thought, I’ll probably miss working with Con too, instead I’ll be with her Mum, I guess that means no slacking! If she hadn’t said it wouldn’t have bothered me but now it’s making me maudlin.

“You want a coffee?” I suggested.

Maddy Bell 30.07.16

 
 
With Mum away in Spain, Mand a terrible cook and Dad, well best kept out of the kitchen, guess who got lamped with dinner?

“So what’re we having?” Dad enquired looking up from his copy of ‘Popular Archaeology’.
“No idea,” I admitted, “spag bol?”
“Just don’t make it too spicy,” he suggested.
“’Kay,” I guess that was a hint for me to get on with dinner.

So of course when I checked for ingredients we didn’t have any mince and the only pasta in the cupboard was fusilli – there goes the spag bol. What I did find was a piece of lamb neck, hmm, maybe not a full roast like last Sunday but a proper dinner nevertheless. Now then, let’s find the rest of the stuff.

“Hmm, what’s cooking?” Mand enquired from the kitchen door a while later.
“Dinner.”
“I know that, what is it though? Roast something? Smells good whatever it is.”
“You’ll find out in a bit, can you lay the table, I’ll be dishing in about five minutes.”
“Rightyo, red or white?”
“Red or white what?”
“Dur, wine?”
“We’re not having wine.”
“Your dad might want some,” she pointed out.
“White then,” I suggested.

“Food coming!” I called out as I manoeuvred two hot plates onto a tray before adding a cover to one so I could put the third on top.
It really did smell good; the mix of mint and rosemary complimenting the aroma of slow cooked lamb.
“Lamb,” Dad, stated when I reached the table.
“Lamb Yorkshire to be precise,” I told the other diners.
“Can you fetch the gravy, Mand?”
“Coming up!”

The plates were loaded – not like Christmas dinner loaded but there wasn’t much plate left on view. Most of each plate was covered by a large slice of Yorkshire pud, not a boring traditional pud but more like a Toad in’t Hole but instead of sausages the meat was a nice chunk of the lamb. Of course you need veggies and I’d had to do what I could with the poor choice in the larder, roast taters, carrots and some white cabbage – I’m gonna have words with Mum for not getting the shopping in.

“Hmm, you could get a job cooking,” Dad stated as he mopped the last of his gravy up with a last morsel of the minted Yorkshire pud.
“I’ve got one,” I pointed out.
“I meant as a career.”
“In case the racing doesn’t pan out?”
“I didn’t say that, but you should have something to fall back on.”
“I’m going to do sports science,” Mand volunteered.
“I was thinking of hotel management,” I mentioned, “if I get my certificate I can do a course at the college in Koblenz.”

I sipped at my glass; yeah Dad seemed to be promoting wine drinking for some reason.

“Well sounds like you’ve got it all planned.”
“Not all.”
“More than your sister, she still wants to do some art thing at university, no job prospects afterwards,” Dad sighed.
“If it’s what she wants,” I observed.
“Ice cream?” Pater suggested.
Well at least I don’t have to cook that!

“So what’re we doing tomorrow?” I queried, channel hopping to find something at least part way decent on the telly.
“A crit session wouldn’t go amiss,” Dad told us, “we could go up to Roni’s, get you all up to speed for next week.”
“’Kay,” I allowed, visions of Angela’s delectable baking passing across my mind.
“I’ll give her a bell to confirm then.”

He’d had it planned all along of course.

To be honest, a round trip of three hours for about an hour’s riding is a bit disproportionate but Angela will feed us afterwards and I’m sure Dad will have stuff to sort out with Angela and Marcus so it’s not as bad as it seems.

“You girls ready?” called up from the garage.
“Coming!” I shouted down in reply.
“Don’t you think you’re going a bit overboard?” Mand mentioned as she followed me down.
“Why?”
“It’s only training, with Roni.”
“Your point?”
“You are such a girl!”
“Am not!” I retorted.

Apparently my neatly braided locks upset Miss de Vreen, dunno why. Outside Dad had the car running, our best race bikes on the roof, yes; we finally get to ride them! After chucking our bags in the boot Mand took her usual seat in the back, I claimed shotgun, I might not have to navigate but I like riding up front. The forecast was at least dry – mind you it could be completely different up at Mettmann, once we were buckled up Dad set us in motion.

“Coffee?” Angela enquired.
“Please.”
“Get yourselves ready first,” Dad suggested.
“Whatever,” I sighed.
“Come on, Gab,” Ron encouraged leading the way up to her room.

“Like your nose stud.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, catching sight of the sparkly chip I’ve been ignoring for a week.
“I nearly got mine done once,” she told us, “I bought some jewels and stuff but when Frannie got hers done it looked daft so I didn’t do it.”
“Jules did it last Sunday, oh you missed Goth Gab!” Mand enthused.
“Goth Gab?” Ron queried.
“I lost a bet,” I allowed.
“Then she went to school looking a total Goth on Monday, I’ve got pics on my phone.”
“How’d you get pics?”
“I have my sources.”
“Bridg,” I surmised.
“Might be,” she allowed.
“When we get back,” Ron suggested, “best get the bike bit out of the way.”

It’s not the first time Ron and me have done this but it is Mand’s, well here in Germany. You might remember when I joined Mum and the seniors in that car park up at the ‘Ring, well this is the same sort of thing but around the Aldi car park just up the road from the Grönberg’s place. The three of us slowly rode up whilst Dad and Angela made the journey by Mercedes to join us.

Back in the UK there are lots of crits, it’s the mainstay of junior racing, over here we get more ‘proper’, on road racing which need different skills. The course next weekend in Brohl is really short and tight and Dad devised a circuit around the empty car park that incorporated similar twists and turns.

“Happy?”
“I guess so,” I allowed when he’d finished outlining the session. High speed, sprint every ten laps, take it in turns to go for a lap – you get the idea then a free for all ten laps to finish the session.
“Okay then ten minutes warm up, session starts on my whistle.”

We might’ve been riding our new training bikes for a few weeks now but these beasts, our carbon fibre race bikes feel completely different. Not in riding position, Dad’s got all our bikes dialled in the same for fit, no it’s how they ride. They accelerate quicker, react quicker and, well they’re lighter too so they are bound to feel different.

I delighted in the ride; using the warm up to get the feel of the brakes, check out the gears and how it corners. The others were maybe a little less thorough but hey, that’s what today’s session is about.

Peeeeeep! We’re on.

This type of racing is faster than longer circuits or road events and Ron turned up the juice almost immediately. We were soon strung behind her, sprint, brake, sprint, barely a hundred metres the longest straight on our improvised circuit. Dad’s whistle sounded for a sprint next lap, nine laps already?

I lost count of the laps and sprints, it turned into a blur of attacks and chases, in a real race we’ll ride as a team but today it’s every girl for herself.

“Last ten!” Dad shouted as I eased past the others to take another, the sixth I think, sprint.
Thank the Gods, the others were looking ragged, I felt ragged but it’s nearly over.
“No easing off,” Dad yelled across the lot, “it’ll be full gas to the line next week.”

Yeah, but I’m knackered now. Sugar!

Ron sliced past, out braking me and gaining five metres in the process, bum. I chased after her; Mand’s ragged breathing matching my effort to close the gap. Ron really was giving it everything, her winter of regular track sessions having clearly given her some extra zip. It’s not been practical for Mand and me to join her – even if I hadn’t been out of action for eight weeks.

Every time I thought I’d made contact she yo-yoed away again, eventually though she started to tire, well tire more and we were all three together before Dad blew the whistle for last lap. Mand tried her luck out of turn two but at the hairpin overshot allowing me and Ron through. We matched each other, pedal stroke for pedal stroke, my foe had the inside line leaving me everything to do.

I was out of the saddle halfway through the last turn, deliberately going wide to make it harder for her to take my wheel. There was a video that I saw last year, some Russian with an unpronounceable name, Abiporov or something, well he did it once, it worked for him and it’s gonna work for me. I clicked up a sprocket and let rip.

“Yesss!” I crowed as I passed Dad and Angela, job done.

“So what’re we doing next week?” Ron enquired.
I finished my mouthful of strudel before replying; see I am trying to be more ladylike, “doing?”
“Well, team look, helpless,” she suggested.
“You think we can get away with that stuff now?” I mentioned, “Our pictures have been in the press a bit.”
“What’re you on about?” Mand asked.
“Well we er used our feminine wiles a bit last year, you know.”
“Er no,” Mand admitted.
“Well Gab does quite a good vapid blonde, oh remember when you had your ‘period,’ Gabs?”
Vapid! Cheeky moo.
“It worked then but I doubt it would again,” I pointed out.
“Isn’t that cheating?” Mand proposed.
“I like to call it gamesmanship.” I supplied before digging back into my strudel.
“We should do the twins thing,” Ron suggested.
“There’s three of us,” Mand interjected.
“Okay, clever, triplets.”
“We could just race,” I put in.
“Naaah!” We all three chorused before collapsing in hysterics.

Maddy Bell 13.08.16

 
 

“What are you three plotting?” Angela enquired when she stuck her head around the door a bit later on.
“Er nothing,” Ron offered as Mand and I tried to stifle our giggles.
“Hmm, well dinner’ll be about ten minutes if you ladies want to join us.”
“Kay, Mum,” Ron allowed, “we’ll be down.”

We had of course utilised the Grönberg’s bathroom so we were fit for polite company, taking it in turns to use the shower. Whilst the Grönberg’s place is nice, it’s about half the size of Bond Acres and only boasts the one bathroom. It’s not pokey, far from it but I guess the idea of ensuite wasn’t popular when it was built.

I’ve mentioned Angela’s baking skills more than once but she’s no slouch cooking other stuff either and the enticing aroma of Biersuppe greeted us when we joined the adults at the table. I hope the disappointment didn’t show when I saw the small bowl at each place setting, the soup is good but you need a good serving for a meal. Oh well, I can grab a sandwich when we get home.

“You alright, Gab?” Ron asked as she mopped her dish.
“Yeah fine, just thinking.”
“Can you give me a hand, Roni,” Angela requested as she gathered the empty dishes, ”oh, Marcus, can you get the rest of the cutlery out, I knew I’d forgotten something.”

My ears pricked up, more cutlery equals more food!

Angela must’ve had everything prepared, even on the stove before we arrived, either that or she’s a miracle worker – hmm could be the latter I guess. Between them, Ron and Angela brought in boiled spuds, green beans, broad beans, Rotkohl and the focus of the meal, a steaming bowl of Königsberger Kloß, that’s meatballs in a white sauce. Now we’re talking – or rather we’re not as we’re eating, oh boy, this is good stuff!

If you’ve never had it, well you really should try it. The meatballs were poultry rather than red meat, their size variation hinted at home made, well what good German hausfrau would consider anything else? It wasn’t quite the traditional combination of vegetables but steaming red cabbage and the beans and capers in the sauce and potato’s just so – well I was in ecstasy.

“Somebody’s enjoying dinner,” Mand suggested with a smirk.
“Eh?”
“You keep sighing after every mouthful,” Ron supplied with a chuckle.
“You’d think she didn’t get fed at home,” Dad added.
“I do have to cook it,” I complained.”
“And grateful we are,” Mand allowed.
“Well it’s either me or beans on toast,” I pointed out.
“I might manage scrambled egg.”
“I guess it’s me then,” I sighed.
“Nothing wrong with being a good cook, Gaby,” Marcus proffered.
“And there is one big advantage,” Angela added, “no washing up!”

“I’ll meet you at Remagen ,” Dad confirmed as we settled into our seats for the drive home, “and thanks for dinner.”
“My pleasure,” Angela told us, “we don’t entertain very often and I enjoy seeing people enjoying their food.”

The colour started to rise in my cheeks, I had made a bit of a prat of myself with the meatballs earlier.

“See you, Ron,” Mand called out.
“Later guys!”

Beep, beep… beep, beep.

“Bond?” I told the caller as we headed towards Köln on the autobahn a few minutes later.
“Heya, kiddo.”
“Mum!” I exclaimed, “it’s Mum,” I told the others.
“We guessed,” Dad told me.
“So how’d you get on?”
“Erika got third,” she told me.
“What about you?”
“It’s a big trophy for the winner of the Vuelta a Bilbao.”
“But where did you come?” I pressed.
“Half a wheel in front of Vos.”
“Mu-um!”
“Well Marianne was the other podium.”
“You won! Why didn’t you say?”
“I thought I just did?”
“I guess I need to add this Volta a bow to my list.”
“Vuelta a Bilbao, what list?”
“That’s it, list of races you’ve won that I need to win sometime.”
“Well that’s one way of planning a career,” she chuckled.
“It’s something to aim for,” I proposed.
“It’s a fairly short list.”
“Keeps getting longer,” I put in.
“Where are you?”
“Er,” I peered into the darkness outside to get a clue; the lights of the Bayer works are something of a clue, “on the motorway at Leverkusen, been to Ron’s.”
“Okay, if you see Jules tell her to call me please, she’s not picking up.”
“Will do, when do you get back?”
“Not until after Easter, we’re just outside Barcelona tonight, we drive over to Turin tomorrow it’s the Strade Bianchi on Saturday then there’s some event at Firenze on Sunday.”
“George is sure keeping you guys busy.”
“He does pay us,” she pointed out.
“Getting his pound of flesh,” I allowed.
“Well I can’t talk all night, say hi to your dad, I’ll ring him tomorrow, oh and don’t forget Jules.”
“I won’t, bye!”
“Bye, kiddo.”
“Good result?” Dad enquired as I pushed my Handy back into my bag.
“First and third, Erika got bottom step.”
“Brill,” Mand enthused.
“She’ll ring you tomorrow,” I told pater.

There was no sign of my sister when we got home, a note stuck to the coffee maker confirmed she had been home but was now back at Boris’. I sent her an SMS while I waited for our coffee to brew, my Handy trilled almost immediately.

“What’s up?”
“Mum’s after you,” I advised.
“She there now?” there was a hint of panic in her voice for some reason.
“No, Barca, you haven’t been answering your phone all day.”
“I left here this morning, so what’s she want me for?”
“Didn’t say, what’ve you been up to?”
“Nothing,” she offered cautiously – it’s Jules, she’s always up to something.
“You staying there all week?”
“Might do,” she allowed, “I ‘spose I’d best ring her then.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Laters.”

It was more exam misery next day and I was glad to get home after a mega session of English – at least I should walk the second half on Wednesday, even I can do English Oral!

“Gab?”

Skin, out of, jump – rearrange and you’ll see what I did.

“Geez, Jules, you scared me out of my skin. Thought you were staying at Boris’?”
“Er change of plan.”
“Mand with you?”
“In her room I think.”
“I’ll make her a brew then, you want a cup?” I enquired as I filled the kettle.
“Er sure.”
“So what’s up? Mum grounded you or something?”
“Something like that, look, Gab, I’m sorry okay.”

Well that was out of the blue.

“Sorry? What for?”
“Last Sunday, I got a bit carried away, Mum said I should apologise.”
“I did agree to it.”
“Yeah but I had to take it too far didn’t I?”
“You did?”
“You don’t make it easy do you, look sorry I pierced your nose.”
“You coulda said that on the phone,” I pointed out.
“No I couldn’t, Mum said I had to look you in the eye when I said it.”
“’Kay,” I allowed.
“You want me to take it out?”
“I’ve er got quite attached to it actually.”
“You’re gonna keep it?”
“Yeah, I reckon, it’s not like your tongue, I mean I think it looks rather cool actually.”
“Great.”
“You can go back to Boris now,” I suggested.
“No I can’t, you were right just now, I’m grounded, no overnights in Bonn until Mum gets home next week.”
“Bum.”
“What now?”
“Ron and her mum are coming Saturday .”

“You sure?” Dad asked Mand as he drove us up to Cheer.
“Positive,” Mand stated, “it’s only one night and she does shower.”
“I could get them in the Anker,” he suggested.
“It’s fine, we’re only sleeping, there’s plenty of room if I put the big chair on the landing.”
“If you’re sure,” Dad persisted.
“I am,” she confirmed again.

“So why’s Jules not staying in Bonn this week, not fallen out with lover boy again?”
“Not as I know, no Mum grounded her.” I advised Manda as we waited for Hannah to arrive.
“What for this time?” Pia asked.
“Last weekend,” I started, “well specifically my nose.”
“Your nose?” Mand queried, “oh the stud,” she added as the penny dropped.
“Which I see is still there,” Pia noted.
“Well it’s done now,” I observed.
“Doesn’t mean you have to keep it though, does it?” Mand pointed out.
“I um, kinda like it,” I admitted, “I mean I wouldn’t’ve gone and got it done myself but yeah, I’m cool with it.”
“And it makes her look even cuter,” Pia stage whispered to Mand.
Not the C word!

Maddy Bell 15.08.16

 
 
Of course today, that’s Tuesday if you haven’t been keeping up, is when everyone comes to Schloss Bond for the meeting about the Weihnachtsmarkt in like nine months time. But that’s after a geography paper and bike training, such an exciting life I lead.

“Urgh, that was horrible,” Bridg exclaimed as we gathered outside of the sports hall.
“You sure it’s not Teutonic plates?” Nena proposed.
“I told you before, it’s tectonic,” I managed not to sigh.
“It’s only one letter,” she mentioned.
“And with your writing,” Con snuck in, that got a pout in reply.
“We set for later?” Steff asked.
“All interested parties informed,” I declared.
“She meant the catering,” Con suggested.
“Might find some paprika chips.”
“Not Paprika!” Nena declared.

To be honest it was Mand last night that reminded me that catering would be required for this evening. Drinks are no problem – Dad went to the Trinkt Markt last week but food, that’s another matter. It’ll have to be a trip to the Edeka this afternoon.

“Er don’t have dinner, I’ll do something hot.”
That’ll kill two birds, Dad and Jules can have the same.

“The girls will be here about six,” I told Dad as I delivered his tea.
“Girls?”
“Con, Steff and that oh and Max and his mates too.”
“Should I ask?”
“She’s being perverse again,” my sister put in.
“Am not, I’m sure I said last week.”
“Remind me,” Dad suggested.
“The Weihnachtsmarkt?”
“Ah, right.”
Clearly he’s forgotten – or maybe I didn’t tell him?
“So this, er gathering, how long and where?”
“I’m doing food so I thought we’d use the dining room?”
“Hmm, I’ll pull the shutters out.”

Oh right, he’ll be wanting to watch his cop show; I forgot that’s on tonight.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Mand offered back in the kitchen.
“It’s nearly all done, you could dig out plates and cutlery,” I suggested.
“Good job there’s no veggies.”
“Hmm?” I allowed as I strained the peas, I know they’re not mushy but this is Dernau not Barnsley.
“Veggies, you know, don’t eat meat.”
“There’s peas and gravy.”
“Yeah, nice thick beefy Bisto!”
“So who’s a veggie?” I queried tipping the drained peas into a serving bowl, “There a big spoon in there?”
Mand rummaged in the drawer a moment before passing me a serving spoon, “No one’s a veggie, I was just saying, you know, with the meat pie.”
“Meat and potato,” I corrected.
Mand sighed, “You want that taking through?”
“I’ll keep them in the oven until everyone’s here.”

My statement was prophetic as the doorbell announced the first arrivals.

“You eat that all the time in England?” Mart queried as the post food clean up began.
“It’s a bit of a regional delicacy.”
“Yeah, I’d never had it until Gab dished it up once,” Mand put in.
“Not sure about the Munz on the Erbsen,” Nena offered.
“Dad had it on his English menu,” Max mentioned, “not as good as Gab’s of course,” he added.
“Good job Jules can’t hear you,” I suggested.
“Yes she can,” a voice from the ether stated, “but Gabs is the pie queen.”

I turned crimson, everyone else burst into laughter.

“Can we get on?” I humphed.

“So,” Steff started once everyone had settled down with drinks, “why are we here?”
“To check out Gab’s trophy collection?” Ralf suggested.
“Ralf!” Bridg censured.
“Just saying.”
“As I was saying,” Steff pressed on, “Frau Boxberg made a proposal to us about the Weihnachtsmarkt stall.”
“That’s months away,” Freddy opined.
“We do know,” Con told him.
“So anyway, she’d like the school to be more involved, sort of sponsor the stall,” Steff stated for the benefits of those not fully in the loop.
“But we won’t even be at Silverberg by then,” Marty noted.
“That’s where the catch is,” Pia stated.
Steff took over again, “The catch as P calls it is that in return for support from the school we mentor a couple of kids who’ll help on the stall.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Anna allowed, “how will these apprentices be picked?”
“Not sure,” I put in, “Boxxie was a bit vague about that.”
“So what do you all think?” Steff asked.

“Still not sure about these ‘apprentices’,” Bridg mentioned, “there’s enough of us here to do it.”
“At the moment,” Anna noted, “what happens if say Manda isn’t here, or Max or even you? We might need some extra hands, especially if things are as busy as last time.”

Valid points indeed, it’s amazing where maturity will get you.

“Vote then,” Steff proposed, “for.”

In the final count it was ten to one, Anna abstained and Bridg, well anything to be different.

Decision made, meeting ended it was time to break things up. Phone calls were made; mofa’s kicked into life, fahrrad creaking away. Soon it was just Anna left waiting for Gloria to pick her up.

“So how’s it going?”
“Exams,” I stated.
“They’re not so bad.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re not sitting them.”
“I did them last year remember,” she pointed out.
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
“What’s happening with you and Max?”
“Happening?”
“Oh come on, Gab, you’d have to be blind to miss you two making eyes.”
“We weren’t, were we?”
“Uh huh. So?”
“We’re just friends,” I promoted.
“With benefits?”
“Eh?”
“More than just hanging out?” she suggested.
“He is a good kisser.”
“Ha, you hussy, Gaby Bond!”
“That’s all it is, just the occasional snog.”
“So he’s not taking you to Köln next week?”
“Er, it’s a birthday present.” I defended.

Beep beep!

“That’ll be Mum, look thanks for the food, it was er, interesting, see you soon.”
“Er yeah, er bye.”
“Tschuss!”

Sleep was a long time coming, tired I might be but could I descend into the land of nod? I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts drifting repeatedly to my conversation with Anna, friends with benefits, what does that really mean?

Brrrrrrrrnnnnnnggggggg! Brrrrrrrrnnnnnnggggggg!
My eyes snapped open, alarm clock, I never sleep to the alarm. My arm slapped out and caught the button just as it started to repeat. I sagged back into my pillows – hang on, alarm clock? Shitza! I nearly took a prat fall as my feet tangled in the duvet in my rush to get up and to it – less haste, more speed, girl.

“Late this morning,” Dad suggested when I reached the kitchen.
“Couldn’t sleep.” I allowed pouring myself a cup of lukewarm tea.
He cocked an eyebrow, “Any symptoms?”
“Neh, it was probably something I ate.”
“You cooked it.”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
“Hmm,” Dave decided not to pursue it, if it was anything more serious than insomnia she’d say soon enough.
“Oh bum!”
“What now?”
“English Oral, I’m supposed to be at school early!”
‘Kids!’ Dave mused, “Get your stuff, I’ll take you, I’m in the office today anyway.”
“Thank you, Daddy!” the little blonde gave him a quick hug before going on the treasure hunt that always signifies imminent departure for school.

“Where were you?” Con enquired as they waited outside the language lab.
“Overslept, couldn’t sleep last night, bum, did anyone get my lunch?”
“Tomato, mozzarella on brown – in my bag.”
“Cheers, Con,” I gave her a hug.
“Fraulein Bond, put Fraulein Thesing down,” Herr Viessner instructed, “You’re next up.”

Of course I am, it’s strictly alphabetical.

“Glück,” Con offered.
“And you,” I told her as I collected my stuff.

“Urgh, that was terrible,” Pia announced joining the rest of us in our form room – well nearly all of us.
“Con?” I enquired.
“Just gone in.”
“You’re good at English,” Nena told Miss Sebenschuh.
“I was so nervous.”

Hmm, maybe that’s why I couldn’t sleep?

“What about, you Gab, you shoulda walked it,” Nena suggested.

In theory.

Maddy Bell 18.08.16

 
 

“Gab, Gab!”
I stopped and looked around for the voice’s owner, “Oh hi, Chris, wassup?”
“Thought I’d missed you,” she advised crossing the last few metres to where I waited.
“Well here I am.”
“Mum wanted me to check that you’re still okay for the weekend.”
“If she still wants us.”
“Most definitely, we’re expecting to be well busy.”
“Let us know where and when.”
“I’ll get Mum to ring you later.”
“’Kay, damn, the others have gone on, catch you later.”
“Laters,” Chris replied as I heaved the Schauff into motion.

“What happened to you?” Nena asked when I caught the others up at the start of the cycle path where they were waiting for me.
“Stuff for the weekend.”
“Weekend?” Bridg queried.
“Brohl Kirmes,” I supplied, “me and Mand are working on the Foch’s waffle stand.”
“Had to be a food stall,” Steff grinned as we resumed our journey.
“What about the All Stars?” Pia enquired.
“I’m sure Mand can slip out for that, you don’t need me there.”
“Hey, we could go down for the day,” Con suggested.
“It’s on all weekend,” Pia supplied, “we’re there both days.”
“We can see how good Gab is at making waffles,” Nena opined.
“So what did Boxxie say?” I requested.

Now the days are a bit longer we can actually get out for a ride rather than be stuck on the turbo’s in the cellar. We’d been going for forty minutes; we were just joining the Rhein cycle path at Remagen when my Handy started demanding attention.

I fished it out of my pocket and flipped it open, “Bond.”
“Gaby? It’s Eva Foch.”
“Oh hi, Chris said you’d ring.”

Mand had already eased off so we rolled along the smooth path barely turning the pedals.

“Saturday, can you be at Der Mühle for nine?”

Sugar, I’m supposed to be at the bakery until twelve.

“Gaby, you still there?”
“Er sorry, I’m sure Mand can, I don’t finish at the bakery until twelve though.”
“Saturday,” I mouthed at Mand.
“Well we can probably cope, it shouldn’t be too busy until later, what time can you get to Brohl?”
“One?” I suggested – have to try and wangle a lift.
“Okay, your friend, she knows where to come?”
“Er yeah, um where will you be in Brohl?”
“Burgstraße, at the far end of the square.”

Great, make it easy to get to why don’t you.

“I’m sure I’ll find you. Do we need to bring anything?”
“Just yourselves, I’ve got shirts and aprons for you.”
“’Kay.”
“Well I’ll see you both on Saturday then.”
“Nine at Der Mühle,” I confirmed, “tschuss.”
“Tschuss.”

“That sounded complicated,” Mand suggested as I stowed my communicator back in a pocket.
“Not really, you need to be at the Foch’s place for nine, I’ll come down when I finish at Thesing’s.”
“On my own?”
“You know Christina.”
“Barely,” she allowed with a hint of doubt in her voice.
“You’ll be fine, come on, we need to get back before dark.”

“Daddy?”
“Hmm?” Dave moved his attention from the spaghetti to his youngest child across the table.
“You know Saturday?”
Here it comes, “What about it?”
“Could you like take me down to Brohl when I finish at the bakery?”
“And why would I do that?”
“I need to get there to work on the waffle stall with Mand.”
“Dad,” Jules complained, “Mainz? You promised!”

Indeed he had, and it was already going to be a push to get back to collect the Grönberg’s.

“Sorry kiddo, Mainz was arranged a while ago, you’ll have to make other arrangements.”
“What’s so important about Mainz,” Gaby demanded, clearly miffed by the refusal.
“It’s an open day at the university,” Juliette stated, “Some of us actually consider our future.”
“Girls! Desist!” Dave demanded, this pair can descend into full warfare in seconds. “Gabrielle, you’ll have to arrange something else, you should’ve thought about this before now, you’ve been told about making all these commitments before.”

The youngest Bond contemplated saying more but instead stormed out, leaving food on her plate – almost unheard of.

Bum, bum, bum! What am I gonna do now? Grrr! It wouldn’t be so bad but Dad’s right, I really hadn’t thought it through, I suppose I’ll have to ride down, what a pain.

“Gabs, you alright?”
Mand poked her head around the door.
“Guess so, time of the month,” I proposed in jest.
“Thought so, I’m due too.”
Sugar! I scrambled to find my diary, a quick scrabble through the pages confirmed it – bum!
“That’s all I need.”
“I read somewhere that women living together usually have the same time, like some cosmic alignment thing.”
“Oh joy, so instead of just one mad woman we get four,” I opined.
“Look on the positive side, the rest of the month is PMT free.”

I’d prefer it if the whole month was like before. Before, ha that’s a laugh; the Docs reckon I started my suppressed puberty when I was about twelve or thirteen. Certainly all that passing out, low blood iron business two, three years ago were symptomatic of my true gender. In hindsight it’s pretty obvious but back then I was certain that I was a boy and boys don’t have periods.

“Your dad’s a bit p’ed with you,” Mand added.
“I guess I should do the washing up.”
“In the washer.”

Well at least that’s one thing.

The rest of the week was less eventful, well more exams of course but nothing to disturb the peace of my life. What I hadn’t managed to do is improve on the transport arrangements for Saturday, well it has gone from the Schauff to my training bike but it’s still a bike. The alternatives, trains or bus, just won’t get me there quick enough, what could’ve been well under thirty minutes in the car will be every minute of the hour I’ve given myself.

“Morning, Gab,” Therese greeted as she let me into the bakery all of five minutes before the six thirty opening time.
“Morning,” I sighed.
“The Gaggia’s warming, I think Tomas has the first brötchen ready, if you can bring them through.”
“Sure.”

And so my five-hour plus shift was started. Of course, you can’t live in a small community like Dernau without at least recognising most of the people walking in the shop. But of course, creatures of habit that we are, it’s a different set of people coming in, some for breakfast bread and pastries, others for breakfast itself – the cake won’t come out until late morning when the early social visitors start to arrive.

It’s steady work, yeah there are busy times but there isn’t a lot of queuing. As usual I slipped into the barista persona and by extension I ended up looking after the café customers while Therese concentrated on the walk ins. I hardly noticed the time going round, not like some afternoon shifts with Con, we were keeping ahead of things but not to the point of being clear of stuff to do.

“See ya!” I called as I pretty much ran out of the bakery gripping my half eaten lunch in one hand, bag in the other.

I’m not a runner, but you know that, by the time I got home I was quite winded. I know I could’ve saved time by taking my transport to the bakery but, well let’s just say I didn’t want to leave it there raising questions I didn’t want to answer. And anyway, I didn’t want to ride down to Brohl in my Thesing’s uniform.

A quick swap, skirt for shorts, shirt for vest top, pull my denim jacket on, grab some headgear and push my steed outside. It took me a couple of attempts but the Mofa finally coughed into life and with a jerk I set off on my journey. Of course it’s not the same as a pedal bike, it only has one gear for starters and the brakes are not what I’m used to either.

However, by the time I reached the main road I’d just about got it under control. It might not be a great deal, if any faster than me on the Pinarello but I’m not getting hot and sweaty or running out of energy. It’s the best of both worlds, all the advantages of an engine but the flexibility to use the short cuts that are open to bikes.

I know I shouldn’t be doing it but like who’s gonna know? No one checks you have a licence and I can always claim to be Jules, it’s not like she’d know is it? Maybe I should apply for my own licence anyhow, I can see this being quite useful.

I was soon putting through Sinzig, I could get used to this! It’s still ten kilometres to Brohl, I should just about make it, whilst it’s restricted to 25kph on some of the downhill’s to Sinzig I topped 30kph. I turned off of the main drag onto the old road into Brohl however I didn’t get to my destination before being stopped by a road block manned by Polizei.

“Whoa, whoa Fraulein, where are you off to?”
“Er Burgstraße, down by the square?”
“The roads are all closed,”
“Sugar, is there a way around?”
“Sorry, it’s all shut down for the Kirmes.”
“Can I get to the school?”
He thought about it for a moment, “Okay, no further though and watch out for people on the street.”
“Thanks.”

He opened the barrier and I revved my transport forward.

At least the school was closer to the centre, not where I wanted to be but better than out at the roadblock. I dodged a few walkers and despite the warning from the police officer I contemplated going further. A couple of white hats fifty metres further on halted that idea so I pulled to the curb outside the school and closed things down.

I jog walked towards the village centre, the church clock started to chime one o’clock as I made my way through the crowds of festival goers. Eventually I spotted the ‘Der Mühle Crêpes’, a reasonable queue snaking away from the window.
“Sorry, I had to walk from the school,” I told everyone stepping into the trailer.
“Well you’re here now,” Eva allowed, “you can help Amanda to start, they’ve been queued like this all morning.”
Looks like it’s going to be a busy afternoon.

Maddy Bell 19.08.16

 
 

At first of course we were constantly getting in each others way but we soon organised ourselves, Mand taking orders and cash, Chris on the griddle and me dressing them – oh and Eva ensuring there was batter and so on to satisfy the orders. We were not on the square but from our slight vantage point above the heads of the crowds you could see the various activities going on. I think Mand had forgotten the All Stars exhibition, when I spotted the girls lining up, it was too late anyhow – and they were still queuing for crepes!

It was after three before I got to finish my lunch, the customers drawn to the foot races and so on taking place on the loop we’d be racing on tomorrow afternoon.

“You three okay for a bit, I need to get to the warehouse before it closes or we won’t have enough batter for tomorrow.”
“We’ll manage, Mum,” Chris replied, “I think we can spare you.”
“How very gracious,” Eva allowed, “I’ll call when I get back, one of you can pop out to help bring stuff to the trailer.
“’Kay.”

With that ‘Der Mühle Crêpes’ was once again without adult supervision.

“Thought the queue was never going to end,” Mand allowed before taking a tug on her bottle of water.
“It wasn’t this hectic last time, eh Gab?”
“Well it was fairly busy.”
“There were only two of us though,” Chris pointed out.
“So how’d you get here, Gab? Er nine euro please,” that last to the chap who’d just ordered a couple of basic crepes and a can of cola.
“Er, I rode down, had to leave it by the school.”
“You made good time,” Chris opined, “’Manda said you weren’t finishing at the bakery until twelve.”
“Well it is mostly flat or downhill.”
“Still, it would’ve taken me a lot longer than an hour,” she stated.

Mand gave me an odd look, I’d arrived without any bike gear and anyhow there’s no way I’d leave the Pinarello unattended. That meant I’d used the Schauff and there is no way I could do the twenty or so kilometres in an hour on that – unless I truly was Wonder Woman.

“You should be fit enough for tomorrow,” de Vreen suggested.
“There you go,” I passed the crepes across to the waiting punter, “coke wasn’t it?”
“Please.”
I passed the can over before replying to Mand, “I should be okay, I’ll take it easy going home.”
Not sure but I think Mand had scented a rat.

I hadn’t given much thought to how long we’d be open until my phone beeped with a text.

‘When u hm?’

It was only then that I checked the time, six thirty, shitza!

“Um Frau Foch?”
“I told you, Gaby, it’s Eva.”
“Right er, Eva, when do we close up, Dad’s just asking.”
“Eight unless it’s died before, should have you home for nine.”
“’Kay.”

I tabbed a quick reply to Dad and was surprised to get another almost immediately.

‘Stay ther, will pick u up, go strt to dinner’

I know, he doesn’t really do text speak, but hey, that means we’re eating out!

“You’re popular,” Chris noted.
“Dad again, he’ll pick me and Mand up, looks like we’re eating out.”
“Missing the chef,” Mand chuckled.
“I’m sure Angela would’ve cooked something,” I opined.
“Your sister?” Chris queried.
“Nah, Roni’s mum, they’re staying at ours tonight.”
“Roni rides for Apollinaris,” Mand filled in.
“Oh right.”

I know it’s not exactly technical German but I’ve just realised that Mand has been managing to take orders and stuff in German all day – she really is picking stuff up quicker now.

To be honest, by the time we started cleaning down I wasn’t the only one looking a bit the worse for wear – I started at the bakery over thirteen hours ago! A major payday but bleh! I’m kernackered. The clock was striking eight as Eva locked the door behind us.

“So I’ll pick you up at ten, enjoy your evening,” Eva advised as we reached the parking area out near the Bahnhof.
“I’m sure we will,” I allowed, “that looks like Dad a bit further along.”
“See you in the morning,” Chris told us.
“Tschuss!”

“Thought it was you,” Dad mentioned as I pulled a door open.
“Yep, it’s us,” I agreed, “hi Ron, Ang.”
“Evening, Gabs,” Roni offered, “you look tired, Mand.”
“Long day,” she agreed.
“So where’re we eating?” I enquired.
“We’ve got a table at that place near the Linz ferry.”
“The Brauhaus, in the park?”
“Well it won’t be the snack bar will it,” Mand opined.
“We’re not getting caught the wrong side of the river tonight, that place on the corner before you get to the slip,” Dad told us.

We were already going through Bad Breisig, progress thwarted by the fifty limit.

“Where’s Jules?” Mand queried.
“Didn’t want to come,” Dad advised.

The Rheinhotel Arte, to give it its full name, was pretty busy when we got there, two coach loads of Dutch tourists apparently in residence – well I guess it is Easter, start of grockle season. We had to park along by the ferry slipway, as the car park was full of bus.

“You two wearing those shirts all night,” Dad mentioned as we decanted the Merc.

Oops, polo shirts emblazoned with ‘Der Mühle Crêpes’ in large letters across the bust are not a fashion statement I want to be associated with – well not outside of the trailer. A quick striptease – not intended but you try taking one layer off without the rest trying to follow, well I was glad of my jacket, it was maybe a little cool for just a bra and vest. Mand meanwhile had swapped hers for the T in her bag so we sort of looked semi presentable.

Dad led us inside; I hope he booked a table.The headwaiter, maitre d or whatever greeted us when we reached the restaurant entrance.

“Abend.”
“Abend, we have a booking, table for five, Bond?” Dad offered.
The guy checked his diary, a little sceptically if you ask me before breaking into a grin.
“Ah yes, Herr Bond, is the terrace okay?”
“Girls? Dad enquired.
“Sure,” Mand allowed.
“Fine, Dave,” Angela agreed.
“It is a bit of a bear garden in there,” I added, indeed the restaurant, with its contingent of tourists trying to talk over each other wouldn’t be a relaxing place to eat.
“Terrace it is then,” Dad allowed.
“This way then please,” our host led us back outside and to the terrace which meant crossing the road to the riverside.

“You look ready to drop off,” Ron suggested as we waited for our drinks to arrive.
“Long day, I started in the bakery at six thirty this morning.”
“Sooner you than me,” she mentioned.
“Think of all the money, Gabs,” Mand interjected, “mind you, it has been a bit full on today.”
“Definitely,” I agreed.
“What are you girls eating?” Angela asked.

Well of course discussing the menu and making a choice isn’t a two-minute job, one thing's for sure, neither Mand nor myself wanted anything remotely pancake like! Being on the river there was a lot of fish on the menu, I fancied Lachs or even the Forelle but last time I had fish before a race I was ill. Leberknödel is usually a safe bet, the Gemüseplatte and Pommes ensured a ‘balanced’ meal. I won’t go into detail with the full order but the Lachs featured heavily as did frites.

The terrace was pleasant enough; a hedge restricted the view towards the hotel but a double terrace offered views across the river to the lights of Linz. By now it was almost full on dark and our table was lit by the strings of light bulbs overhead. I just hope it doesn’t rain.

If there’s one thing when you eat out in Germany it’s consistency, it’s rare to get anything on your plate that’s not first class and it will taste pretty much the same wherever you are. That might sound boring but I find it reassuring, after all there are plenty of regional specialities if you want variety but Wiener Schnitzel is always, well Wiener Schnitzel. Hmm thinking about it, there is an exception in the ‘national’ cuisine and that’s Gulaschsuppe – it’s usually similar but can vary hugely.

By the time we got home the only thing is wanted to do was go to bed, I headed up to my eyrie leaving Ron and Mand rabbiting like fish wives.

“All your kit in the car?” Dad queried.
“Yup,” I confirmed.

It had been a fraught morning, the race isn’t until this afternoon so any other time this conversation would be hours away but of course Mand and me are creping again today so it’s all moved up. Then there was the Mofa. Of course I had planned to ride it home last night but then Dad took us out to eat and I’m not supposed to be using it, well I sort of forgot about it.

Well that was until the key dropped out of my jacket pocket this morning. Panic set in; 1) is it still where I parked it and 2) if it is, how do I get it home without landing myself in it?

“Gaby! Earth to Gaby! Eva’s here,” Mand advised.
I snapped back to the present, “Coming!”

Of course I missed setting up the trailer yesterday, it certainly wouldn’t be as involved today, turn the griddle on, get the first batch of batter ready, cash up, open up. Eva is one of those drivers that has you hanging on for dear life, not because of speed but every turn is over emphasised, junction approaches are just a little too fast, overtakes paint skimming. Officially the Kirmes opens at eleven but we had the shutter up fifteen minutes early, hopefully it won’t be as manic today.

It looked like it was going to be a nice day again, wet, cobble infested crits are not my favourite, I’ve had offs several times in the past and I don’t want to start the season on the deck. Being Sunday things wouldn’t really get going until after twelve.

“Er Eva, is it alright if I pop to the ladies?”
“Sure, Gaby, you know where they are, in the Rathaus?”
“Uh huh, shan’t be long.”

I slipped my jacket on and headed off. I didn’t really want the lav just yet but I needed to check that my ride home was still there! It didn’t take long to get to the school, so where’s Jules Mofa? Panic! I’d left it at the curb but it wasn’t there, bum! Sugar! What now?

“Fraulein?”
“Hello?”
An old chap carrying a dachshund, waved at me, “You are looking for a motorrad?”
“Er yeah, I left it here yesterday, it’s not even mine.”
“The street team, they had the street sweeper along earlier, I think they moved it.”
So not stolen as such, “Any idea where?”
“Sorry, maybe the Polizei will know,” he indicated a couple of green clad officers where I’d seen them yesterday.
“Right, well thanks anyway.”

Now what do I do? With a heavy heart I started walking towards the officers, I hadn’t gone ten metres though before I spotted ‘my’ Mofa parked against a wall on the footway. Yes! I must’ve walked straight past it, well I thought it was further up the street where I left it.

I checked it over, nothing missing, a check under the seat revealed the helmet, phew. I thought I’d best check it would start, a couple of attempts were required before the 2 stroke kicked into life – well that’s okay then. I looked at the dials, speed, revs, fuel – fuel; the little arrow thing was hovering on the edge of the red – shitza!

Maddy Bell 20.08.16

 
 

“Sorry I was so long, I got lost,” I apologised when I returned to the trailer.

It wasn’t actually a lie, after saying I was going to the loos I had to do so and – well I took a wrong turn in the Rathaus on the way out and ended up exiting on the opposite side of the building. Thoughts of Mofa’s and getting said machine home undetected were put on temporary hold quite quickly, you wouldn’t think people would want crepes so flippin’ early but within minutes of me returning we had a queue. I guess we got a drop on the other food stalls, some of which wouldn’t have stuff ready for ages yet.

Things did calm down a bit after a while as Kirmes goers were distracted by other stuff, marching bands, assorted dance troops, street entertainers and so on.

“Gaby?” Eva gained my attention.
“Er yeah.”
“Can you go with Chris to the car, you can each manage a jar of fruit.”
“Sure, where’s Chris?” I asked missing her in the trailer for the first time.
“Dur, she already left day dream,” Mand advised.
“If you hurry you can catch her, she was going to the toiletten on the way,” Eva instructed.
“Okay,” I allowed, hanging my apron on the door on my way out.

I actually spotted my quarry going into the Rathaus so I made my way to the entrance to wait for her.
Brrrng, brrrrng…..brrrng, brrrrng.

Who the heck’s ringing me? “Bond.”
“Okay what’ve you done with it?” the Dark One yelled down the phone at me.
“I put it back in your bra drawer.”
“Bra drawer, what are you on about?” she snapped.
“Your studded bra, I put it in there Friday.” Don’t ask okay.
“I’m not looking for a flippin’ bra, where’s my scooter?” she raged.

Bum, sugar, flip, did I mention bum? What to do? Fib, say I don’t know anything – nah, that’s gonna get out of hand fast, I guess I have to come clean.

“I um borrowed it?”
“You borrowed it!” Goth Girl exploded.
“I was running late and you haven’t used it for ages.”
“I can’t believe you took it. Where is it now? Does Dad know?”
“No he doesn’t,” I admitted.
“You are in so much trouble, Gaby Bond! So where is it, I know you went wherever in a car this morning.”
“Um here in Brohl?” I offered.
“Brohl! How do I get to Boris’s now?”
“Train?” I squeaked.

There was a pause back in Dernau,”right I’m coming to fetch it, where are you?”
“Eva’s trailer, well until Dad gets here.”
“He left half an hour ago,” she advised.
“I’ll give the keys to Chris.”
“The girl from the Muhle?”
“Uh huh.”
“Right, I’m on my way.”
“You gonna tell Dad?”
“I ought to.”
“Please, I’ll owe you,” I begged my sister.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Er Jules?”
“What now?”
“It’s nearly out of petrol.”
“Shitza! You are gonna owe me big time for this, Gabrielle Bond!”

When my sister gets to full names I really am in trouble, “Look I’ll leave some money with Chris.”
“Hmmpf!”

I closed my Handy just as Chris emerged from the Rathaus.

“Max?” she enquired seeing the phone in my hand.
“As if,” I spluttered, “my sister, I picked up her Mofa keys by mistake this morning, she’s coming down to fetch them.”
“She must be desperate to go somewhere.”
“Boris, her boyfriend.” I supplied.
“So why’re you here?”
“Your mum sent me to help with the fruit.”
“Gott, you’d think I couldn’t carry anything, I dropped one tray, one tray I ask you.”

“When are you two disappearing?” Eva enquired as the clock struck twelve, “There’s people on bikes riding around now.”
“Dad’s gonna ring when it’s time,” I told her.
Of course my phone started to ring at that precise moment.
“Dad?”
“Time, kiddo.”
“Er right, we’ll be over soon as.”
Mand was already hanging up her apron as I shut the call off.
“Well good luck, girls,” Eva offered.
“Danke,” Mand mentioned.
“Er yeah, thanks,” I added, “oh nearly forgot, Chris, in case Jules comes whilst I’m racing,” I told her passing the keys and a twenty euro note over.

“Thought you’d retired or something,” Ron joked when I climbed aboard my bike fifteen minutes later.
“Something,” Mand opined, “she’s been in dream world half the morning.”

I shrugged and started pedalling, we’re warming up on the turbo’s as we don’t get much circuit time today. I ramped up my effort, will Jules tell Dad? I’m in so much lumber if she does, mind you if she doesn’t I’m gonna owe her for like forever, six of one, half a dozen of the other.

They don’t usually make much fuss before the start of these Kermesse races but of course, I might live in the next valley but having a Weltmeisterin taking part is news even here. It’s a bummer I don’t get to wear the hoops but they’re reserved for time trials, I suppose the rings on my cuffs will have to suffice.

“And all the way from the Ahrtal, the Junger Weltmeisterin, Gaby Bondt!” the MC enthusiastically announced.
There was a bit of a cheer as I stepped forward and waved, forcing a smile onto my lips, I’m sure I heard Con’s voice, maybe the girls really have come down to watch.

I was the last to be introduced so we were almost immediately called to the line. I looked over to Mand on my left and Ron beyond her, both looking happy and confident. Unlike me, the mofa thing aside I felt a right bag of nerves, dunno why, maybe it’s having people I know here to watch, or otherwise it’s because it’s the first race of the season, pressure enough.

CRACK!
And we’re off.

The introductions have a significant downside, a little blonde on a bike would be soon forgotten by my fellow competitors but they’ve just had it thrown in their faces that I’m, at least supposed to be, a cut above. I might not have anything to prove but suddenly there’s best part of sixty teenage boys who do and I’m the target. The first lap was really a shambles, it was like a ridiculous game of follow the leader, no one wanted to do anything in case I did, grrr!

I caught Mand’s attention and gave her a signal, this stalemate can’t go on for another forty laps. Today certainly wasn’t gonna be mine but maybe we can rescue something from it. We hadn’t really attained race speed but I slowed even further with my shadows as we started lap two, I even waved when I spotted the girls lining the barriers at turn one.

“’Kin ‘ell!” the shout went up.

From gooning around behind me suddenly the more attentive riders were out of the saddle giving chase to a fast disappearing duo of Apollinaris jerseys. I was suddenly old news and simply followed where others led in the pursuit, it’s not like I’m gonna actively chase the girls down. Then it hit me, Weltmeisterin, girls, this is technically my first outing as me Gaby as opposed to me Drew, the signing sheet said Gabrielle, the MC introduced Gabrielle, Drew really has gone.

Of course, once broken of their worship of my rear wheel, the rest of the field actually started to race. Ron and Mand didn’t survive out front for long before being reeled in, well it was a particularly long shot. Anyhow things started to become more predictable, attack, breakaway, reel in and repeat, me and the others holding our own, some of these lads are twice my size so it was easy enough to hide in the peloton.

Ron did get herself in one of these escapes, five lads giving it everything alongside her but of course it was doomed and they returned to the bunch after six laps. Mand was hanging onto the back of the main group still, even if we had shed half our number. It’s the first race of the season for nearly everyone not just us and there were a couple tumbles, nothing too serious but clearly the result of rusty skills.

I took a swig from my bidon as Ron slipped alongside.
“Looks like a gallop,” Ron stated.
“Hmm,” I agreed re-stowing the bottle, “any ideas?”
“We could block so someone could go for a long one?”
Well it was a sort of plan.
“Two to go.”

She nodded her understanding just in time as another chancer had everyone chasing again a moment later.

The laps ticked by and as the finale approached an escape pairing were holding a small, maybe twenty second lead over the rest of us.
“Still going?” Ron enquired in low tones.
“If you’re up to it.”
“Last corner, two laps.”
Hmm, two laps, long shot indeed.

I maintained a front six position as we circled the Rathaus again, three to go and again. Both Ron and Mand were in close attendance, I think Mand has got her second breath, she’s looking quite fresh. The escapees were still dangling ahead of us but no one seems keen to bring them back, well that’s about to change.

The others rotated to the front, Ron managing to time things to coincide with our ‘plan’. I played it cool sat behind Mand, doing my best to not give anything away, then we were at the last corner of the lap, an almost hairpin at the top end of the Marktplatz. Mand led us in, drifting slightly wide, wide enough that by under braking I slid through on her inside.

Innocuous enough if I’d left it there but of course that’s not gonna happen is it? I’d barely scrubbed enough speed to make it around the corner, ending up quite wide, well in the right hand gutter, a beginner’s error. Well not really, it took me out of direct line of sight as I started a seated acceleration, no point in drawing attention to myself by standing up.

The line was crossed and the chase was on. I switched into time trial mode and the gap to the leaders started to reduce, hopefully my backup squad have caused enough delay to throw off the chase. There wasn’t much choice but to slice the next corner, if they’d missed me before there was no chance they’d miss the sky blue missile this time.

Ding, ding, ding.
It had taken me a full lap and then some to be within touching distance of the leaders who, it has to be said were giving their all. Sit in or go through? By the screeching crowd I’m guessing the chasers are not far behind, decision made. They knew I was coming, there had been several glances back around the lap, it was no surprise then when I made contact – except I didn’t.

They looked about in surprise but I was already past having taken that right hand gutter again. There was a clatter of gears and expletives behind me, it’s all or nothing now, no second chances. Lapped riders were pulled a while back so the circuit was clear for me to use the whole road – even if said road was narrow and cobbled in places.

Maddy Bell 01.10.16

 
 

Don’t look behind! Mum’s mantra played through my mind, it was tempting, very tempting but I remained strong. The crowd were erm, on their feet, well you know what I mean, the MC was going berserk, last corner. I nearly overcooked it, literally brushing the barrier with my shoulder as I catapulted out of the tight turn, less than two hundred to go.

There wasn’t any extra in the tank, enough but no more, even so I was out of the saddle sprinting for all my worth. Then it was all over, I was surrounded by riders, riders going faster than me, well I’d given it my best shot. I rolled along for a bit before a hand, two made contact with my bum, blue jerseys to either side of me.

“Well?” Mand demanded.
“Got…huh…me…huh…on…huh…line,” I got out.
“Bum,” Ron stated.

The crowd on the back of the course didn’t know the result yet so I, we got cheered as we toddled around the lap.

“Gaby!”
I spotted Steph and co and veered across towards them.
“That was awesome!” Con enthused.
“Not brilliant,” I suggested.
“Winning isn’t good enough for her ladyship,” Bridg suggested.
“I didn’t win.”
“How do you work that one out,” Steff queried, “doesn’t the first across the line win?”
“But I wasn’t.”
“Everyone else seems to thinks so,” Mand put in as I found myself under a barrage of congratulatory comments and back slaps.
Won? But I can’t have.
“Catch you later, need to change and stuff.”
“Way to go, champ!” Con offered as a last shot.

“Where’ve you been?” Dad enquired when we reached where he and Angela were waiting.
“Stopped to talk to the girls, they’re under the misapprehension I won.”
“Well it was close, I’ll give you that,” Dad stated, “but they’ve given it to you.”
“Really? But the others passed me.”
“After the line, I’ve seen the photo; you got it by a tyre.”
“Result!” I yelled punching my arm in the air.

The prize presentation delayed my return to crepes r us, Mand had gone straight back after changing and a quick splash in the ladies.

“Congratulations!” Eva offered when I stepped into the trailer.
“Er thanks, sorry I’ve been so long, they wanted photos and stuff,” I explained.
“You want a crepe?” Chris enquired.
“Wouldn’t say no.”
“I said,” Mand mentioned between mouthfuls of her own.
“Well the races end in a few minutes, we’ll probably be busy then,” Eva told us.

Indeed, the inaudible MC was enthusing over the senior men’s race that followed ours. Yeah, back to reality, it must be nice being a pro like Mum, no other jobs to get in the way, just train and race. I suppose that could be me but my income would drop to just my allowance, not exactly a fortune, the bakery and now this provides for the luxuries in life.

“Your sister picked up her keys,” Chris advised as we started the clean up several hours later.
“I thought she must have, she’d’ve been on the phone again otherwise.”
“She seems okay.”
“Sometimes,” I allowed.

Bum, she’s got me over a barrel, I’m toast whatever she decides to do, still, best not dwell on it.

It was nearly ten when Eva dropped us off at Schloss Bond, no signs of life, Dad would be on his way back from Mettmann I guess and the Dark One’s at Boris’ tonight. Well at least that’s some reprieve, I live for another day. We each headed to our rooms, after a shower I got in bed and checked my Handy for messages, various congrats from the Angels and one from Mum too but one stuck out, it simply read ‘not forgotten’.

“You alright, Gaby?” Frau Thesing asked as I collected a cup of coffee before joining the gang, “you look a bit peaky.”
“Er yeah, bit tired after yesterday.”

Tired yes but mostly it was worry. Jules cryptic message had played across my dreams – well when I finally got to sleep after stressing until the early hours. What will she do or say? I know it was wrong to borrow the damn thing without asking, just put me out of my misery Jules.

“Con told us, well done by the way.”
“Er thanks.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.” She mentioned.
“Things on my mind,” I offered.

She gave me one of those looks, you know, mums do it all the time; they think they know what’s going on, obviously from experience. Well in this case Frau Thesing didn’t have a clue.

“Gab!” Con yelled over breaking the impasse.

“That was awesome yesterday, Gab,” Con enthused.
“Lucky,” I admitted.
“You should’ve seen her P; it was like watching a rocket.”
Pia had missed my moment of glory as she was with the All Stars.
“One that fizzles out too soon,” I put in.
“Timed to perfection,” Stef suggested.
“Not you too,” I groaned.
“I never thought bike racing was so exciting,” Bridg added.
“It’s not always.”
“And beating all the boys, they must’ve been p’d,” Nena mentioned.
“They get used to it,” I allowed with the semblance of a grin.
“Girls!”

The call from Con’s mum attracted our attention and the clock she was pointing to, urgh, school.

“And she smashed them,” Con concluded. Max had sat patiently through her story telling as we waited for Frau Dürst.
“Hardly smashed,” I opined feeling the colour rising in my face, “where’s Mart? He’s usually here by now.”
“Maybe his Mofa broke down,” Max offered.

Mofa, just what I need, to be reminded of the cause of my insomnia. I’d had to use more makeup this morning to cover the circles under my eyes, far more than usual, I felt like a right slapper. Our form teacher arrived then which effectively ended the conversation as she started taking attendance almost immediately.

Marty hadn’t arrived late, in fact hadn’t reached Silverberg at all, I guess he’s got man flu or something. It’s not like it’s any of my business, I mean if he wants to skip school, it’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything is it. He’d never manage to skip school after all; his gran’d make sure of that!

“You girls want a ride?” Dad enquired as we started clearing the table.
“Please, Herr Siebenschuh’s not about tonight.”
“You want this?” Mand enquired as she waved a plate with one piece of garlic bread left on it around.
“Nah,” in truth I’m not a great fan but Dad likes it and we’ve just had lasagne so it’s almost compulsory at Chez Bond.

Mand retrieved the bread and added the plate to the pile before devouring her prize.

“I guess that means a stop at Rech on the way up?”
“I’ll let P know,” well I’d just about promised earlier so I just needed to confirm with her.

I might ‘officially’ be the All Stars coach but that doesn’t stop me getting on the floor and joining in with the sessions. I needed something to distract me from Mofa doom, I’m gonna be grounded for ever, this might be my last session. The Tanzklub committee had been impressed by our meagre success the other week and, according to Hannah, were keen for the group to do more PA’s and competitions.

The music stopped and everyone finished almost together.
“And relax,” Hannah told us.

I let out the breath I’d been holding, a trickle of sweat rolling down my back as I spun about to stand up.

“You should be on the squad,” Lisse observed as we collected our towels.
“As if!”
“She’s right,” Han noted when I sat beside her to dry off, my leotard distinctly clammy – luvverly.
“’S’not gonna happen.”
“More’s the pity.”
“I haven’t got the time.”
“You know the girls think very highly of you?”
I raised my brows.
“They do, you’ve taken them from nowhere to a cohesive team in what, six months.”
“Not just me, you’ve done at least as much,” I observed.
“Oh I’ve been here but you’re the one who’s pushed things, got your friend to help, practised the moves, no Gab, it’s your squad 100%.”
Well that’s told me.

There was no sign of Marty at school next morning; perhaps it’s more serious than I thought. He is a friend, I should text him or something but I was still more concerned over what my sister’s going to do. She’s home tonight so I suppose I’ll find out soon enough, one way or another I just want to know.

It was a fine afternoon so pretty much as soon as Mand got home we set off for our training ride.

“What’s up?” Mand enquired as we headed up through the Altenahr tunnel.
“Nothing.”
“Oh don’t give me that, Gaby Bond, you’ve not been yourself since Sunday, you didn’t even make a big deal of winning.”
I tried to sound nonchalant, “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Oh come on, Gab, I’ve seen you after winning before remember, you always make a thing of it.”

We had to single out to negotiate the afternoon traffic and parked cars through the town and the climb up towards Kalenborn prevented continuation of the interrogation. I must admit that I pressed the pace a little more than necessary as we climbed, keeping Mand panting rather than talking. Of course it didn’t stop my mind wanting to hash and rehash my imminent fate.

Which way will Jules go? She was really ticked off on Sunday, I’m glad I wasn’t there when she collected the damn Mofa. She’s bound to tell Dad, I’m gonna be in real trouble, it’s the end of life as I know it. It was crashing through a pothole that brought me back to the present.

“Gab!”
“Sugar!” I exclaimed as my rear tyre deflated seconds after the front.

“That was a long ride,” Dad noted as we arrived back in the bike cave.
“Not really, double puncture,” I allowed.
“Someone wanged a pothole,” Mand mentioned.
“It happens,” Dad stated.

Mand gave me a look, yeah it happens but we both know that particular hole, I shouldn’t’ve hit it. The lawnmower whine of an approaching Mofa got my attention but it went straight past and disappeared into the distance.

“Gab, Gab?”
“Ay?”
“Shower,” Mand prompted.

Maddy Bell 03.10.16

 
 

U ok?
G
I pressed send; I finally got my mind off my own doom in the shower. Surprisingly my phone beeped before I’d finished dressing with a reply.
Fine c u 2mor
Mart
If I survive that long.

“Ah there you are,” Goth Gurl observed, “maybe we can eat now?”
“You didn’t have to wait,” I pointed out taking my own seat at the table.

It’s not like it was exactly cordon bleu tonight, even Dad can manage sausage, egg and wedges. – Especially when the wedges are frozen.

“There you go,” Dad placed a plate of food in front of me, “everyone alright?”
“Fine!” Mand supplied diving into her food.
“Gab?”
“Er sure.” I gave my sister a quick glance. She looked for all the world like there was nothing up; well I guess she does hold all the cards.

“When’s Mum back?” Jules asked as we finished eating.
“They should get back tomorrow,” Dad told us, “she’ll be home for a couple of weeks I think.”
“Cool,” the Dark One allowed.
“Aren’t they doing the classics?” Mand enquired.
“Yeah but Jen’s not riding them all, think she does Roubaix and the Fleche.”
“That must be so cool, even my parents have heard of Paris Roubaix.”
“The women and juniors ride the day before the men on a shorter course,” Dad advised.

The Classics, I used to dream of riding them, heroics across the cobbles, flying up the Kemmelberg, sprinting on the Roubaix track to win the prize of a real cobble. Okay it sounds a bit wet, but only the best get to raise that prize in victory and now, now at best I’ll get to ride a watered down version. That’s if I survive tonight.

“Can we talk, Dad?” Jules requested, she glanced at me, “in private.”
“Sure, the office, okay?”
“I’ll bring the coffee,” she offered.
So this is it, I’m doomed.

“Ooh, I like that,” Mand stated a while later.

We’d settled in front of the telly, some inane quiz playing to itself as de Vreen flicked through Stern leaving me to my thoughts. Jules and Dad were still in the office, ominous indeed.

“Eh?”
The magazine was thrust in my direction, “In the middle.”
She’s looking at dresses again, “The red?”
“No next to her.”

Stern as you might recall is one of those celebrity mags, mind you even I’ve been in it a couple of times. I didn’t recognise the women in the picture, some fancy pants event in Munich or Berlin or some such; the dress in question showed more than it covered.

“Bit revealing,” I opined.
“Think that’s the idea, Gabs.”
“You wouldn’t get me in that.”
“Well I like it, have to get a belly ring though.”
“What the hell for?”
“Dur, to show off.”
“Why not get a tattoo while you’re at it.”
“Now you’re being silly.”

Eventually the office door opened and my sister emerged with the coffee mugs, Dad following her out.

“Alright, kiddo?”
“Er yeah, I guess.”

Sugar, he’s waiting until Mum gets home before passing sentence.

“Think I’ll go up,” I announced.
“Bit early, kiddo,” Dad mentioned.
“Feeling a bit off,” well a lot off actually.

I lay on my bed in the dark, sleep the last thing on my mind. If Mum gets in on the punishment I really am toast, Dad I can sometimes manoeuvre a bit but Mum, no chance. I’d lost track of time as I fretted about stuff I no longer had control of, the sound of Mand and Jules talking below indicated it was late though.

I rapped quietly on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Me,” I whispered back before easing the door open, “can I come in?”
“Looks like you already are,” Jules noted.
I slipped in and pulled the door closed behind me.

“So what do I owe for this honour?”
“You told him?”
“Told who?”
“You know damn well, Jules, Dad, about the Mofa.”
“Shush! You want everyone to hear? And no I didn’t.”
“You didn’t? Cool, so what was the office thing about? I mean that’s great and all.”
“Don’t thank me too soon; I’m still cheesed with you.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Well you can stop worrying – for now, I’m not gonna say anything but you owe me – big time”
“Just name it,” I offered.
“Oh you don’t get out of it that easily, you’ll know when you can repay the debt.”

Damn.
“Er okay,” I allowed.
“In the meantime you have to shave your head.”
“Shave my head!” I squealed.
“Just kidding, the look on your face, sis!” she chuckled.
“So what was the meeting for?”
“Oh that, I wanted his opinion on universities, I’ve had a few offers.”
“Er great.”
“Oh, and I suggested you might want a scooter.”
“You what?”
“Well you can’t slink off to Max on mine all the time.”
“I don’t,” I protested.
“Ah but you might want to soon.”

Well I can’t deny that it had crossed my mind at least once.
“What did he say?”
“He’d think about it.”
“Er well thanks, for you know.”
“You are my little sister, now sod off, I need my beauty sleep.”
“Er right, nite.”
“Turn the light off on your way out.”

I wasn’t sure what I felt. On one hand elation, I no longer had the axe of parental sanction hanging over me. The other side of the coin was that I now owe Jules big time, and I mean BIG time. I guess she isn’t so bad as a sister even if I’ve been at the wrong end of some of her pranks over the years.

We had the last of our exams on Thursday, Marty was back at school, Mum was home, my black mood was gone, things were looking sweet.

“Max asked you yet?” Nena queried.
“Asked me what?”
“Gaby Bond, sometimes!”
Pia joined in with an exasperated sigh, “Prom?”
“What about it?”
“Has he asked you to go yet?” Stef put in.
“Why would he?”
“You, he, couple?” Pia opined.
“He’s not…”
“A couple,” Con finished, “old record, Gab.”
“Well we’re not.”
“If you say so, you got a dress picked?”

To be honest I hadn’t given it any thought, I’m sure there’s something in my wardrobe.

“Not really.”
“I was looking on the internet the other night,” Bridg stated, “Some of those Americans have no style.”
“Says Miss Vogue,” Nena giggled.

Bridg isn’t exactly known for her classy dressing.

“Well even I wouldn’t wear stuff that revealing and in animal print.”
“That’d be Gab,” Steff suggested.
“Hey!”

Yeah life is as normal as it gets.

The thought was in my head now, what am I going to wear to Prom – and why hasn’t Max asked me to go? Is he taking someone else?

“Gabs!”
“How’d you know it’s me?”
“Your number’s in my Handy?”
Dumkopf! “Oh right.”
“So to what do I owe this honour?” Max enquired, “Not that I’m against you calling.”
“Prom.”
“Prom?”
“We are going?”
“Guess so, it’s weeks away isn’t it?”
“A few,” I agreed.
“So what about it, why the call?”
“You need to ask me.”
“I do?”
“You do,” I stated.
“’kay.”
“Eh?”
“Geez, Gaby will you go to the Prom with me?”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
“Make your mind up, you just said I had to ask you.”
“Never said I’d accept.”
“Sometimes, Gaby Bond.”
“Okay, okay, yes I’ll go with you – but it’s not a date.”
“Whatever,” he sighed.
“Right, bye.”
“Bye.”

“Who was that, Max?”
“Gaby Gran, seems I’ve invited her to the prom dance thing.”

Maddy Bell 03.10.16

 
 

That’s that sorted, at least the girls will shut up about it now, huh, putty in my hands. I finished getting ready for bed and was soon snuggled under the duvet, then it hit me, what I’d just done. So okay technically Max asked me but only after I told him to, what the heck was I thinking.

Sugar, Max’ll think I like him, I’ll never hear the end of it from the girls and I suppose I’ll have to get a dress for it too – check that, I’m sure I can wear something from my closet. Hmm, I suppose I could just tell Max I’ve changed my mind, I’m sure he wouldn’t be bothered. Oh bum!

Friday, another week almost over, at least the weekend shouldn’t be as stressful; we’ve got a race on Sunday but no crepe work.

“Come on day dream, school,” Mum suggested taking the empty mug from my hand.
“Do I have to?”
“Yes you do young lady, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“I’ve got a headache.”
“And I’ve got a bone in my leg, scoot.”
Well it was worth a try.

“You got a race this week Gabs?” Nena enquired as we rolled down the cycle track towards Ahrweiler.
“Sunday.”
“Super Bond rides again!” Pia announced
“I was lucky last week.”
“Says she,” Con added.
“I won by like two centimetres,” I pointed out, “that’s luck in my book.”
“So where is this race then?” Steff enquired.

Where indeed, Dad did say but I wasn’t really listening.

“I think its Trier direction somewhere.”
“So did Ralf ask you Bridg?” Con changed the subject.
“Uh huh.”
“He took his time,” Pia noted.
“He is a boy,” Bridg pointed out, “talking of which, has Max asked yet Gab?”
Sugar, no getting out of it now.
“Last night,” I told them.
“You sly moo, you never said you’d seen him,” Con accused.
“I didn’t, he rang,” well it’s only a little technical fib.
“So we just need to fix up you Con,” Steff stated.
“I can get a date on my own.”
“And look how that turned out last time,” Pia mentioned.
Yeah, that hadn’t ended well; I guess Heini can’t help having two left feet.
“What about Freddy?” Nena suggested.
“You are kidding,” Con spluttered.

I had an idea, someone who’d be acceptable to my BF and hasn’t, I’m sure, got a date for prom.

“Leave it to me.”

Well that got me a few looks, I’m not exactly a boy/man chaser am I?

found my quarry in the expected location, a corner of the yard kicking a ball round with some of his mates.
“Mart.”
He finished his move before acknowledging my presence, “Gab, what’s up?”
“I um need your help, well not me exactly, look, are you going to the prom?”

He left the melee to some cat calling and joined me by the bike store gates.

“Wasn’t gonna bother.”
“So you’ve not got a date then?”
“You need a date?”
“No not me, Max is taking me.”
“Not Bridg, tell me it’s not Bridg.”
“What’s wrong with Bridg?”
“Let’s just say we don’t exactly see eye to eye over Bernie.”

That I didn’t know, hmm thinking about it she was a bit cool towards Bern when she was here.

“No it’s not Bridg, Con.”
“Con?”
I shrugged, “no one’s asked her and I’m sure Bern wouldn’t be upset or anything.”
He didn’t answer straight away, instead turning to watch his mates kicking the ball about. “Okay, but you owe me.”
Join the queue.
“Great, can you ask her yourself?”
“I guess so, anything else?”
“Nah, you’re a good mate Mart.”
“I know,” he agreed.
On impulse I pulled him down to my level and planted one on his cheek, “thanks Marty Preiser.”
I made good my escape to the sounds of Mart getting ribbed by his mates.

“Where’d you go?” Con enquired as I slipped back into my seat.
“Finding you a date,” I smirked.
“It better not be Johannes Schmidt.”
“Ew!” the rest of us chorused.

Look, every school has them, the misfits, kids excluded by their peers because they smell or they’re fat or wear glasses or whatever. Johannes Schmidt is currently Silverberg’s unclean, there’s no getting away from it, he stinks, warm day and there’s an exclusion zone.

“What do you think I am, nope, got you a hunk,” I grinned.
“Who is it then,” Con demanded.
“Yeah, who’ve you conned Gabs?” Pia prompted.
“Very funny P,” Con stated, “come on Gabs who is it?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, you can thank me later.”

“So come on then Gabs, who is it?” Pia asked as we waited for her dad to take us up to the Tanzklub for Garde.
“Not telling.”
“Meanie.”
“Con’ll tell you soon enough.”
“So did you have to ask Max?”
“No!”
“You did!” P crowed.
“I might’ve prompted him a bit.”
“I knew it; they can be so dim sometimes.”
“I suppose Matti just came and asked you.”
“I might have hinted a bit,” she admitted.
“You ready girls?”
“Yes Dad,” P allowed.
“Come on then, not got all night.”

“I thought the race was near Trier?” I queried as I watched Dad checking over our bikes in the bike cave.
“Don’t know where you got that from.”

Well I’d got the direction right, well sort of, the race is at some place called Tholey an hour past Trier on the autobahn.

“So Roni’s coming later?”
“Yup,” he agreed, clicking through the sprockets one way then back again. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I swapped to mornings remember? I guess I should go and change.”
“Before you do, I had a chat with your sister the other day.”
“Uh huh.”
“She suggested you might want a Mofa?”
I shrugged, “it’d be handy sometimes I guess.”
“I’ve talked with your mother, she’s not exactly keen.”
“She never is,” I sighed.
“That’s not fair Gaby and you know it, anyway we’ve come to a compromise.”
“Don’t tell me, one of those electric bike things.”
“Let me finish kiddo, you can have a Mofa but,”
There’s always a but.
“But you have to pass your test first.”
“No one else has to,” I complained.
“Well that’s the deal, take it or leave it, pass the test we’ll sort you out a scooter, no pass no scooter.”
I guess it’s not an outright no.
“’kay,” I allowed.

“You’re kidding?” Ron exclaimed.
“Straight up.”
“You’re incorrigible Gaby Bond.”
“What she says,” Mand agreed.

I’d been recounting the whole prom date thing, Con had rung earlier, Mart had done the deed, in person no less – why she called me I’ve no idea, I mean I set it up.

“Do you have a prom Manda?” Ron asked.
“Nah, there’s not that many kids and a lot aren’t around for long.”
“I ‘spose someone like Jules is quite rare,” I suggested.
“Yeah,” Mand confirmed, “I think there’s like two lads and one girl in my form that’ve been there more than a year, everyone else is there short term.”
“That must be well strange.” Ron observed.
“So what’re you gonna wear Gabs?”
“No idea, there’ll be something in the wardrobe.”
“You’ve got to get a prom dress,” Mand stated.
“Why? There’s nothing wrong with what I have.”
“She’s right,” Ron agreed, “it’s part of the prom experience getting a new dress.”
“In case you guys haven’t noticed, dresses aren’t my thing.”
“Says she with a wardrobe full of designer stuff.”
“It’s not full and it’s not like I asked for any of it.”
“Technicality,” Mand smirked.
I rolled my eyes, I’m not gonna win this am I?

Moonbeams slanted across the room escaping the barrier of the rooflights blind. Having woken with an urgent desire I now couldn’t get back to sleep, it’s an early start today for the drive south, I really could do with the shut eye. But sleep wasn’t coming, my mind a swirl with thoughts not of the race but of the prom.

Except it wasn’t the prom but some fancy do, my friends all appearing as toffs in elegant frocks with, dare I say it, handsome escorts. I was of course on Max’s arm but the shocking thing was that I was dressed in something from last season and worst of all it was the same dress the hostess was wearing. What a faux pas, why didn’t I get a new dress?

I rattled through the hangers in my closet, nope, not red, too revealing, I wore that? And all the while in the background Gerta repeating, ‘I’ve got your dress Gaby, come for a fitting.’ I must’ve dropped off at some point as I was awoken by the incessant ringing of my alarm, five thirty, urgh.

Maddy Bell 04.10.16

 
 

Mart joined the back of the queue for passport control, a little bewildered and surprised still that he was here, here being Manchester Airport in England. It was all a bit cloak and dagger of course, from Bernie’s phone call to being here was less than a week. He’d agreed to Bern’s plan the other week so he could hardly renege on that but he’d never envisioned travelling to England to make good on the promise.

He hated lying to his parents; they thought he was travelling to Berlin to check out the university with Jorge who’d agreed to be his alibi. And checking out universities was the cover story here too; he’d be staying with the Rose family. So he’d meet the in-laws in person -although that wasn’t going to be revealed to them.

The queue shuffled forward slowly, he recalled Gab complaining of the long queues here when she came to England last year, he thought she’d been exaggerating but clearly not. Eventually it was his turn, he presented his ID card and moments later he was through and in the arrivals hall. Now then, bahnhof, Bern said it was across a bridge of some sort.

“Daddy’ll be here soon,” Bern told her daughter who in turn smiled and gurgled as babies do.

Platform one of Sheffield’s Midland Station wasn’t the warmest of places but she wanted to be sure of spotting Marty. Her Dad had stayed in the car with his paper, he’d agreed to be the taxi but that didn’t include freezing to death on the station. The arrivals board ticked over to ‘due’ and Bern spotted the trains lights as it emerged from the tunnel that all through which all trains from the west and south approached.

The train squealed to a halt and a veritable tide of people swarmed off towards the exit.

“Mart!”

The young German looked about for the source of the call.

“Mart, uber hier!”

He was even more perplexed at the German call. Then he spotted his girl, girls, Andrea being in her mother’s arms.

“Bernie.”
“Liebe!”
They embraced for a long moment.
“Come on, Dad’s waiting in the car.”

Drea was returned to the warmth of her pushchair and Bern directed her beau into the ticket hall and out into Sheffield. Mart tried to take everything in, he wasn’t well travelled, yeah he’d been to Berlin with the school and the Preiser’s had taken a few foreign holidays, driving down to Italy a couple of times and flying to Majorca several times. But really this was his first time in a foreign city, one that had black cabs like they have in London, Polizei with those strange helmets and everyone speaking English that he couldn’t understand for the speed and content.

Bern took them past the taxis and into a multi-storey car park, a lift up several levels and they approached the rear of some sort of estate car.

“Dad!” Bern rapped on the rear window.

The passenger door opened, no Mart corrected himself, the driver’s door and Herr Rose climbed out.

“’bout time,” he came to the back of the car.
“Dad, this is Mart, Mart, my Dad.”
“Nice to meet you Herr Rose.”
“And you lad, good English,” he took the hand Mart offered and pumped it warmly, “let’s get loaded and out of here eh, that all your luggage?”

The drive from Sheffield to Warsop, Bern had explained it was either two trains or two buses or a combination of the two taking at least two hours for the thirty five kilometres between the two had Marty fascinated. The train ride from the airport had been different to his imagination, several long tunnels, beautiful scenery and the strange almost rural suburbs of Sheffield. But now they were climbing through tiny close built houses, wide roads, three section trams, double deck buses and traffic lights in profusion.

Jack Rose concentrated on his driving; he hated cities and Sheffield in particular, those flippin’ trams. And the route they direct you to get out to Worksop. Over the ring road and along the old A57, over the tram tracks and into the rolling countryside.

“So Bern tells me you’ve not been to England before.”
“No this is my first visit.”
“Bit of a mixed bag, not so pretty round here of course but out in the Peaks or up in Yorkshire, can’t beat it.”
“Dad!”
“Was just saying.”

Dads, daughters and boyfriends – it’s always awkward and the conversation, such as it was, soon dried up.

The road spent most its time going up or down, then, after one particularly straight climb they turned off and through a village of modern houses mixed with much older honey coloured buildings. Across a junction and suddenly they were in a much less dramatic landscape of wide gently rolling arable land dotted with woodland. Through another village of tiny terraces and newer brick and back out into the Nottinghamshire countryside.

It was, to Marty, almost alien to eyes used to the Eifel’s vineyards, meandering valleys and volcanic peaks. The sheer variety of agriculture, of housing was mesmerising. They turned onto another wide main road, the road sign suggested they were headed towards ‘Mansfield’, a name he vaguely recognised from listening in on Gaby and Bernie talking. They crested a hill and the road headed down once more.

“Here we are, Meden Vale,” Jack Rose announced, “soon be home.”

Indeed, it was barely five more minutes before they were climbing from the car on the Rose’s drive.

“It’s not exactly the Eiffel is it?” Bern mentioned slipping her arm through the crook of Marty’s.
“It’s different, yes.”
“There used to be coal mines all around here, none left now though.”

Mart wasn’t sure what to answer, here he was hundreds of kilometres from home, maybe on a fool’s errand, the pair of them walking slowly through the bungalows and seventies builds that link Warsop with Meden.

“I was thinking,” Bern went on, “that I might come to Germany in the summer?”
“For another holiday?”
“To stay.”
“With Drea? Where will you live?”
“I haven’t worked that out, what do you think?”
“What about your parents? Have you told them?”
“Not yet, what about you though?”
“Well of course I’d like you nearer but is it the right thing? This place, it’s different to home but it’s not a bad place, it’s your home.”
“Is it? Okay I live here but I don’t feel welcome here – or safe. That scumbag’ll be out of prison soon and he’ll want retribution, he’ll make trouble, I know it.”
“You have friends here.”
“I have friends in Germany, better friends.”
“But how will you live?”
“I’ll get a job, I’m not useless.”
“And Drea?” Mart posed.
“I’ll think of something.”

Mart was taken aback by this latest statement of Bern’s plans. He loved her, really he did, why else would he be here now but this, well he’d never thought that far ahead.

“You’re serious about this?”
“Of course I’m serious, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Your mother is okay having Drea now?”
“It’s Saturday night, it’s not like they do anything other than watch telly.”
It wasn’t really an answer but he had to accept it at face value.
“Gab used to live just up here, that one with the green garage, Helen lives there now.”
He looked dutifully where she indicated and chuckled to himself, if Gab knew he was here.

There actually was an open day at Nottingham University on the Sunday, as it was the cover story Bern had managed to make it into a family trip. Once at Nottingham the grandparents took Drea shopping in the centre whilst Bern and Mart headed for the Uni.

“So what are you going to do?” Bernie queried as they followed the group of parents and offspring through the main library.
“Biology if I get the grades at college.”
“I wanted to do history but I mucked that up didn’t I?”
“You could still do it at college.”
“Maybe sometime, making a life for Drea comes before me.”
“You have to think of yourself too.”

The tour lasted a couple of hours ending with snacks in the refectory, for Bern it had been something of an eye opener, the fact there was a crèche changed her thoughts on further education a little. Neither of them had a great deal of money to spare so the sightseeing was restricted to free stuff finishing up in the Castle Gardens. It had been a good day, the University a necessary side show and they were happy when they re-joined the rest of the family to head back to Warsop.

They stopped for dinner on the way back, maybe a bit early but the two teens hadn’t eaten and they were, neither of them about to turn down a free meal. The whole carvery concept seemed a bit odd to Marty, not that it stopped him enjoying what was effectively his first English roast dinner.

“You eat this every week?”
“Some people do,” Bern noted, “we usually have something lighter.”

They spoke in German, mostly from habit, Cheryl and Jack oblivious as they
were entertaining their granddaughter.

“What if I was to come here to study, would you stay here then?”
“Maybe, but that’s years away.”
“Not even two,” Mart pointed out.
“It’s an option I guess.”

“So I’ll pick you up later,” Cheryl told them.
“Thank you Mrs Rose.
“Well enjoy your day.”
“We will, later mum.”

It was only a ten minute walk to the centre and the bus ‘station’, Marty getting his first look at downtown Warsop in the daylight. Ahrweiler it wasn’t, in fact it reminded him more of Koln’s less well to do suburbs than anything. They joined the group at the bus stop, waiting just a couple of minutes for a new looking double deck bus to arrive. They were soon on board, Mart slightly disappointed that they had to sit downstairs with the pram.

Worksop, when they arrived about forty minutes later, was much more like the country towns in the Eifel, not the same of course but similar in content to say Mayen. Bern directed her pram pushing boyfriend to the registry office; she’d researched everything and was armed with a pile of papers hidden in the pram from her mother. She’d previously been to the Mansfield office but there was no reason to return there, well worst case scenario they could go down there but that would be a pain.

For his part, Marty was more than a little apprehensive, officialdom is something to be cautious of and this was foreign, English officialdom. They found the right place and took a ticket and prepared to wait their turn. In the end it wasn’t long, about thirty minutes before they were summoned.

“…and you are the father young man?”
“Er yes sir, you know how these things are.”
“Indeed,” the registrar looked up briefly from the paperwork,”well everything seems to be in order Miss Rose, so the child, Andrea Mary Preiser born...uh huh, mother Bernadette Alice Rose, father Martin Dieter Preiser. Right, that’s all correct, cancel the old certificate,” he rubber stamped the original document, “there we are, all done.”
He passed the new certificate over to Bernie, “thank you.”
“Yes thank you sir,” Mart added offering a hand which was duly taken and shaken.
“And good luck with the wedding.”
“Thank you,” Bern allowed.
That had been part of the story, not actually needed but she had been flashing her ‘engagement’ ring at any opportunity, it wasn’t difficult to get the hint of impending nuptials – even if they were only implied.

“Thanks Marty,” Bern threw herself around his neck once they were outside and gave him a significant kissing.
“What do you want to do now?”
“We told your parents we were going to Sheffield,” Mart pointed out.
“Well come on then, and don’t forget your daughter daddy!”

Mart looked down through the clouds; he hadn’t got a clue of the geography below but somewhere down there was his girlfriend and daughter. Daughter, with a stroke of a pen he’d become a parent – the virgin birth he chuckled to himself, they might’ve been sort of a couple for nearly a year now but they’d never got beyond a snog and grope. The cloud blocked his view of the ground and he settled down for the flight home.

Maddy Bell 04.10.16

 
 

I wasn’t the only one bleary eyed at the kitchen table, let’s face it, no one should be awake at this hour of the day, especially on a Sunday. Tea didn’t help a great deal and although Angela had done us all scrambled egg and frikadel, normally stuff I relish for frühstuck, it was a struggle to finish my plate. Urgh, I need sleep.

We loaded up and by quarter to seven were on our way, I managed to nab a window spot and by the time we got to the valley road had made a nest. I thought we’d be going straight down to the autobahn but instead we headed up into the Eifel, I guess Dad knows where he’s going. There was limited conversation, the radio making more noise than the passengers, the hum of the engine lulling me towards sleep.

A change of engine tone stirred me from my slumber.
A cracked an eye, “Where are we?”
“Just past Trier,” Dad replied, “toilet stop.”
“Hmmm.”

Other bodies started to stir as we headed into the rest area, Dad pulling up almost outside of the toilet block. I was pretty much on auto pilot, I hadn’t needed the loo before but of course mere mention of the availability triggered the wee reflex. It’s not a service area so the toilet facilities are less salubrious and fewer and somehow I found myself last in line – it’s the little things about being a boy that I miss most.

The sun was out but there was a bit of a chill on the back of a stiff breeze, a breeze that might affect the race if it’s still about later. Ron relinquished the single cubicle and I thankfully slipped inside, it was so much easier for Drew. Of course everyone else was back in the car by the time I emerged; I barely had my seatbelt on before Dad had us on our way.

“How much further, Mr B?” Mand enquired as we rejoined the One.
“About forty five minutes,” Dad offered, “a few K off junction one three eight.”
“Anyone want Streusel?” Angela offered.
Oo, food, “Please.”
Angela passed a plastic food box back, “Try not to get crumbs everywhere,” Dad requested.

It’s Streusel, its all crumbs!

The road wasn’t exactly busy and we made good time, Dad might not be a lead foot like Mum but a clear road with no speed limit, well who wouldn’t be tempted to go a bit heavy on the pedal? The hills through which the motorway winds aren’t that different to back home although not quite as pointy, lots of trees of course – typical central Germany really. Off the motorway it was just a couple of minutes to the HQ, not in Tholey but next door in Theley – talk about confusing.

It’s not some fancy league race today any more than last Sunday, so whilst it’s an open road event there are none of the bells and whistles. HQ is at the sports ground so there will at least be showers afterwards but none of the screechy PA systems and only a bit of local advertising material at the start finish area. Angela gave Dad a hand with the bikes whilst the riders of Team Apollinaris headed for signing and the changing rooms.

“You alright’, Gab?” Ron enquired as we started changing.
“Just a bit tired.”
“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were on,” Mand opined.
Thanks, Dr de Vreen.
“Now you mention it, Mand,” Ron added, “she does look a bit pale.”
“Guys?”
“Probably the early start, I don’t feel that great myself,” Mand offered.

She looks pretty chipper to me.

“We’ll see you up at the start,” Dad told us.
“’kay,” I agreed as I clipped in to follow the others out of the car park.

We weren’t going directly to the start; Dad had found a short circuit for us to use to get there, a chance for a bit of a warm up so instead of following the other riders directly out and up the climb we set off back the way we arrived.

“We got a plan today?” Mand asked as we followed the lane away from Theley.
“Not really,” I shrugged, “see how it goes I guess.”
“I thought your dad always had a plan.”
“He probably has,” I allowed.
“There’s nothing riding on this,” Ron put in, “we use these for race training really.”
“It’d be a major race back home,” de Vreen observed.
“I reckon we check out the circuit and riders for the first lap then decide on a strategy.”
“Sounds okay,” Ron agreed.

It’s a good job it’s not an important event, I really am feeling off.

“So you’ve got five laps, apparently the big climb’s at the end of the lap, about two K with a short ten per cent ramp towards the top,” Dad advised as we divested ourselves of trackies and tights.

Dunno where he gets his information but it’s usually spot on.

“No service today, Angela’s going to stay here with a pair of wheels, she’ll do the feed too, I’ll be the other side of the course, we’ll be in contact so try to get to one of us if you have a problem. You’ve all got your canisters?”

We don’t normally carry more than a bit of food but Dad had given each of us one of those sealant things today, I wondered why. The starter called out for us to form up for the start, time to get down to it I guess.

“Good ride, girls,” Angela told us, yeah that still rankles.

Today’s field is quite small by German standards, looks to be about fifty riders, no other girls but otherwise a mixed bag, no one I immediately recognise but there again we don’t get to the Saarland very often so hardly a surprise. It might not be a big event but after the usual commisaires safety talk it was the Burgermeisterin who waved the flag and set us on our way. The local Polizei held the traffic for us to join the main road for a short neutral zone before hostilities could begin after the descent to the HQ.

The three of us had started together but as the green flag started racing in earnest we had split, not intentionally but as the speed went up we had to get into the line to avoid getting tailed. These local level events quite often follow the same pattern, the riders all know each other, the roads and a handful of better riders dictate everything. Today didn’t look any different, for now it was a case of making the first cut and keeping out of trouble.

It was hardly a surprise when a glance back at the first turn revealed some sizeable gaps in the string behind, Ron was just ahead, Mand several wheels behind. As we dropped, not steeply, the speed stayed quite high with very little movement, I’m guessing just a couple of riders were forcing the pace. We sped into a village, the few locals about taking scant notice of the race passing through.

Dad was parked just beyond the exit chicane, good to know where he’ll be. Squealing brakes warned of a dodgy corner that turned into a pair of ninety degree turns, useful later perhaps. The pace didn’t return to the forty K we’d been doing but settled to a more comfortable thirty five ish allowing those still in contact to condense into a more solid peloton – at least for a bit. Through the next village and we reached turn two, by my reckoning we’re about 2/3rds of the way through the lap, we must start climbing soon.

“Bond, I thought it was you.”
The speaker was Michael Desgrange, the Belgian lad, last time we met was at that cross race.
“Oh hi, didn’t recognise you in that strip.”
“Changed teams, yours has changed too.”
“New sponsors,” I allowed in turn, “didn’t expect to see you down here?”
“It’s not far from home. It was either this or go up to Leuven.”

Our conversation was cut short by the first of a series of ‘attacks’, the second cut was about to be instigated. We climbed at high tempo for a short way then the pace eased over the summit as we reached another village. At the next village the road started climbing a bit more seriously, this must be the ‘big’ climb of the circuit back up to Tholey.

We climbed steadily if not quickly now, a glance around revealed a decimated peloton, my teamies were here but the fodder were gone, spread no doubt over a couple of k’s of the circuit. Michael was of course riding comfortably just ahead but whilst I was holding station there was little more in the legs. Ahead the road tilted further up, a slight right hand kink hiding the summit from view, thankfully no one tried any heroics and whilst even Mand passed me I was still in contact when the road levelled off.

“Up, up, up!”
“Hang in, girl.”
“Go Apollinaris!” Angela cheered.

I managed a grimace as I passed, today isn’t going to be fun.

“You alright, Gab?” Mand enquired as we freewheeled into lap two.
“Not brilliant,” I admitted.
“You do look a bit peaky.”
“Cheers, I’ll be okay, keep an eye on Michael.”
“Michael?”
“The Belgian, in the yellow and blue behind Ron.”
“’Kay,” she agreed.

There wasn’t any organisation even now. The main bunch was down to maybe twenty riders, okay exactly twenty, sitting last wheel you can count these things accurately. I wasn’t feeling good at all, I could hold on at the constant pace but if it crept up I was close to snapping the elastic – damn, need to move up a bit.

Easier said than done, it didn’t happen until those double bends, I managed to out brake a couple of riders to put me closer to mid bunch. I saw Ron talking to Michael before looking around; spotting me she dipped her head, signal for some impending action. As we started climbing after turn two someone turned up the screws and in sight of the summit I lost my wheel and several cursing youths variously sprinted and crawled past, sugar.

I grabbed some deep breaths over the top and gave it everything to regain the bunch, a feat I managed just before we started the big climb. That broken elastic was prophetic though, when the lad I was sat behind lost contact I had nothing left to go round him. It’s fair to say I was struggling to even stay with him and on the 10% ramp my legs buckled completely.

Somehow I got to the top and started chasing for all my worth. I seemed to be holding them, maybe gaining a little but as it flattened towards the village where Dad’s stationed the gap opened despite my efforts. Gaby Bond doesn’t give up, I kept at it but pedal stroke by pedal stroke the peloton continued to pull away.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Dad enquired as I reached him.
“Feeling a bit off.”
“Stopping?”
“Nah I’ll keep going.”

Dave watched his daughter ride up the road; she wasn’t looking very good at all. He pulled his phone out and dialled Angela’s number.

“Hi Dave.”
“Hi Ang, Gaby’s off the back, tell Ron and Mand to ride their own race.”
“I thought she’d get back on, she came through just off the back.”
“It was over a minute here, stop her if she looks bad will you, you know what she’s like, feed this time.”
“Yep, all ready, and I’ll keep an eye for Gabs.”
“Cheers.”

I wasn’t going slow – just not race pace. I made it up the first short climb then time trialled down towards the main climb. I must’ve made some headway; I could see the bunch ahead on the climb as I joined it. But of course it wasn’t real, they had slowed on the hill as did I, I really was struggling by the top.

“You okay?” Angela asked as I took my musette.
“Yeah.”
“You can stop,” she called after me.
I waved back, no way am I stopping.

It wasn’t happening though; even going downhill I was struggling to hold thirty kph. I knew it wasn’t bonk, I’ve been eating and drinking, I learnt that lesson long ago, no this is something else. When I had to stop at turn one to throw up the decision was made for me.

Several back markers passed me as I pretty much just went through the motions on the way down to where Dad was waiting. I rolled to a halt next to the Mercedes and promptly threw up, my race well and truly over.

Maddy Bell © 13.10.16

 
 

“Must be something I ate,” I suggested as we sat in the car waiting for the race to come through again.
“Possibly,” Dad sort of agreed, “you should’ve stopped sooner if you were being sick.”
“I wasn’t sick until just up the road.”
“Hmmm. Here they come.”

Dad climbed out to shout encouragement; I stayed in my seat feeling sorry for myself.

The others were already in the changing rooms by the time I finally got there, still feeling decidedly sorry for myself.

“What happened to you?” Mand asked.
“You don’t look great,” Ron added.
“I don’t feel great either, who won?”
“Your Belgischer as you predicted,” Ron told me.
“I need a shower,” I noted as I pulled my now grubby socks off.

I grabbed my towel and headed for the facilities, maybe I’ll feel better after a shower.

“Sugar!”
“What’s up,” Mand asked following me into the showers, “oh.”

Oh indeed, the seat in my shorts was stained, no not there, what do you think I am, seems Mand was on the mark earlier.

“You got any pads?”
“Probably.”

All I need, I thought the pills were supposed to stop this, If there’s one thing I really hate about being a girl it’s this stuff. I showered and cleaned myself up, I might be sort of used to my revised anatomy now but some things just seem wrong.

“Everything alright?” Angela asked when we reached the car.
“Looks like it’s my period.”
“Poor you, let’s get you home.”

I settled into my corner and tried to get comfortable, drifting off to the other occupants of the car discussing the race.

“You guys coming in?” Angela’s voice broke my slumber.
“Best not,” Dad replied, “I should get Gab home.”
“Okay, we’ll see you next week.”
“I’ll call you later,” Dad’s voice advised.

There was a bit of door opening and closing, muffled voices and a slight jolt as we departed Mettmann after the briefest of stops. Back home I left Mand with the washing and went straight to bed, it’d better be better in the morning; I’ve not leaked much more which has to be good.

“Hmm, somethings not right,” Mum stated next morning, “doctor’s for you, young lady.”

I was feeling a lot better, not 100% but I’ve not been sick again – I’ve not eaten either mind.

“Doctor’s? Really?”
“Really, we need to find out what’s the matter; you don’t want this every month.”
“Guess not,” I agreed.
“Well get yourself ready, I’ll drop you at school afterwards.”
“School?”
“School,” she confirmed.
Oh well, guess I’d best ring Con let her know.

I thought we’d go to the Frauenklinik at Remagen but instead we headed to Dr Martin’s surgery here in Dernau. The German system is quite different to back in England, if you go to Dr Martin it’s her you’ll see, there might be UK style health centres in the cities I guess but not here. Mum had rung ahead; it was a quiet morning apparently so we only waited a couple of minutes before being sent through.

“Frau Bond, Gaby, what can I do for you?”

Mum explained on my behalf with me confirming what she said.

“And you’ve been taking your iron?”
“Uh huh.”
“You’re on Mercilon™?”
“Something like that,” I agreed sort of recognising the name.

After more questions and checking my blood pressure the Doc came to a decision.

“Well we’d best do some bloods, we do need to get to the bottom of this,” she scribbled something on a pad and passed it to me, “pop into Fritzi with that and make an appointment for Wednesday, we should have some answers by then.”
“Should I take anything now?”
“Nothing different to usual, we’ll assess things Wednesday.”

I went round to see Fritzi whilst Mum went to sort out the paperwork at reception and make the appointment for me.
“Heya.”
“Oh hi, Gaby, what can I do for you today?”
“Blood,” I allowed giving her the Doctor’s slip.
“Hmm,” she read the scrawl, how comes all doctors are so bad at writing? “Right, sit yourself down and roll up a sleeve.”

It’s not the first time I’ve had blood taken, or even the first here so I sort of know the score.

Of course you don’t know Fritzi do you? She certainly isn’t what I was expecting first time I met her; for starters she’s got tattoos, not little girly things but like her arms are fully inked. Combined with her piercings and currently cerise hair she looks more like, well not like a nurse anyhow. She’s quite pretty but I’m not sure I like the tattoos, all skulls and stuff, but each to their own.

She drew two vials of blood and in no time she was finished.

“There we go, should have the results Mittwoch.”
“I’m back here then.”
“Oh, like the nose, suits you.”
Well duh, it is my nose, the one I was born with, “Er thanks.”
“I bet you’d look even cuter with a ring in,” she opined.
Oh she means my nose stud! I do not want to look cuter, “Er yeah.”
“Seriously you should try it, drives the boys crazy.”
As if I need that, “Er thanks, I’d best go, Mum’s waiting, tschuss.”
“Tschussie.”
I made good my escape and found Mum in reception.
“All done?”
“Er yeah.”
“You’ll have to come on your own Wednesday, I could only get you in at three,” she advised as we left the building, “you okay with that?”
I suppose I’ll have to be, might get Con or Steff to come with, “I guess.”

It was mid-morning when I finally got to school, for some reason we had to go via Lidl®, so I had to check in with Claudia in the office.

“Hi Gaby, you missed registration.”
“Er yeah, doctors.”
“Okay,” she handed me the late folder, we have to fill it in and sign in if we’re late – even if we have a note.

I filled the slip out and passed it back.

“Everything okay?”
“Women’s problems,” I allowed.
“Nothing serious I hope?”
“Don’t think so, I was a bit ill at the race yesterday so Mum dragged me to the Doc ‘just in case’. I’d best get to class I suppose.”

I picked up my bag and headed off to join my History class.

“That Gaby?” Sylvie Boxberg enquired entering the office.
“Yes boss, been to the doctors,” Claudia advised the school’’s Head.
“Hope it’s nothing serious, poor kids been through enough the last few months.”
“She’s a tough nut and has good friends.”
Sylvie sighed, “Doesn’t make it easier though, I just hope she doesn’t pop, she has irons in so many fires.”
“You know she’s seeing young von Strechau?”
“Yes, at least he’s pretty level headed. Have you got last week’s absence register?”
Claudia pulled the folder out, “Not many last week – young Preiser missed Monday and Tuesday.”
“Unusual,” Sylvie observed, “can you bring some coffee when the Burgermeister arrives, please.”
“Talk of the devil,” said official could be seen on the CCTV at the front entrance with his deputy.

“Everything okay?” Con enquired in a whisper.
“Bit off colour,” I supplied.

We might still have classes but this side of the exams it’s more of a discussion group, Herr Ansbacher gives a short presentation then we get to discuss it. Today it’s the impact unification has had on the country.

“We thought you’d crashed or something,” Pia told me when we settled under the apple trees for an al fresco lunch.
“Nothing so dramatic,” I mentioned as I puzzled over the best angle of attack on my sandwich.
“So?” Nena pressed.
“Er monthly issues.”

I’m really not comfortable discussing this stuff.

“Thought you were on the pill?” Bridg rather loudly opined.
“You don’t have to tell everyone.”
“Er sorry, you are though aren’t you, I’m sure you told us a bit back.”
“Something about your racing,” Steff added.
“Well it’s not so I can have sex.”
“That’s just a bonus,” Con giggled.
“Con,” I complained.
“Just kidding, I’m sure Max hates the idea too.”
“And how would I know?” I queried having totally missed the irony in her voice.
“We looking for dresses this afternoon?” Pia suggested.
“Sounds like a plan,” Steff allowed.
“I’ve got training.”
“Not if you’re sick,” Nena pointed out.
Well I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a miss this once, “’Kay, not that I need one.”

“Heard from Bern this week?” I enquired as I joined Mart in doing the chairs on desks thing.
“Er yeah,” he told me hesitatingly.
“So?”
“Er they’re all fine; we were at Nottingham and Sheffield.”
“We?”
“She, her and Drea.”

Hmmm, Mart’s not generally that vague, he definitely said we first, guess I should speak to Bern sometime, wonder what she was in Sheffield for? I haven’t even emailed for a couple of weeks, I’ll ring before we go to cheer.

Maddy Bell © 14.10.16

 
 

“So where to?” I asked as we set off for the town centre.
“There’s that place on Niederhut,” Nena suggested.
“They do have some nice stuff,” Steff agreed.

We set off, a school of girls on clunky roadster bikes, for the short ride into the town centre. Yeah Mum was adamant that I was riding home so my Schauff travelled to school in the back of her A Klasse – it just goes in with the seats down. Anyhoo, the six of us toiled our way into the Altstadt and soon scooted to a halt outside of Lehman’s Womenswear.

The window display didn’t look too promising to be honest, I don’t think teen prom princesses are their usual clientele. I think even Mum would be less than impressed with the range of sensible skirts, blouses and foundation wear on show. The only hint of something more suitable was a pair of ‘evening’ dresses although they looked more Gran than Gaby.

“Doesn’t look very promising,” Pia voiced what I was thinking.
“Well where else then?” Con queried.
It might only be a small town but we do have “Orsay!”

We collapsed in a round of giggles – well it seemed funny to us. There wasn’t much point riding, Orsay is just around the corner on Ahrhutstrasse after all. The short walk soon had us parking our steeds in front of the glass frontage and in short order we trooped inside.
To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for, I’ll know when I find it I guess. Let’s get one thing straight, Orsay isn’t renowned for its formal wear, think every day and party so it would be a bit hit and miss at best but at least affordable. It’s easy to get side tracked, I spotted some cool lacy shorts, ten euros, wonder if they have my size?

“I thought we were looking for prom outfits,” Bridg pointed out when we convened outside thirty minutes later.
“We are,” Steff confirmed.
“They’re cool,” I defended, yeah, yeah I bought the shorts.
“I quite liked that dress with the sequins,” Pia told us.
“I thought that red one was alright,” Con put in.
“The scarlet woman,” I opined.
“You see anything, Gabs,” Con asked, “apart from cute shorts?”
“Not really, I suppose that one with the side split’s a contender.”
“Didn’t think you were into flaunting your assets like that,” Bridg mentioned.
“It wasn’t too bad.”
“Coffee?” Steff suggested.
“Have to be quick, I’m cooking tonight.”
“Bakhaus then,” Nena decided for us.

It was decided that a proper shopping trip was needed on Saturday, might have to get the frock in Orsay if I can’t get the morning off. The others set off but when I tried to follow I realised I had a flat, damn. Guess I’ll have to catch the Express, a moment later Con reappeared.

“What’s up?”
“Flat tyre, I’ll have to catch the Zug.”
“You want company?”
I checked my watch, “Nah, it’s ages until the next one, no point everyone getting home late.”
“’Kay, see you in the morning?”
“Yeah – oh I need to pick up a Rye, can you put one away and I’ll stop off when I get there.”
“Sure, see you in a bit then.”
“Tschussie.”

Con disappeared and with a sigh I set off pushing twenty kilos of bike in the general direction of the town station. As I told Con, there’s hardly a rush, I’ve just missed one and it’s twenty five minutes until the next one. A poster in the tourist info window caught my eye so I decided to take a squint inside.

“Ah Gaby, did you get my message?”
I was caught by surprise, Gerta was the last person I expected to find in here.
“Er hi, Gerta, message?”
“I left a message with your mother earlier, your prom dress is ready,” she informed me.
“Prom dress?”
“Young Maximillian is taking you to the Promenade?”
“Er yeah , I mean yes.”
“So you need a dress, which is at the shop, come you can take it today.”

I was helpless to refuse, I followed her back out and found myself following her across to Auf der Rausch and Eloise Couture.

“You’re late,” Mand stated when I finally got home.
“We um went shopping from school,” I advised.
“Con said you had a puncture or something.”
“Um yeah, had to get the train back, you’ve seen Con?”
“She caught me on the way back from training, I’ve got the bread.”
Bum, I forgot all about that.
“Er thanks.”
“What’s in the bag?”

The bag, the one with Eloise Couture emblazoned all over it, no disguising where it came from or where I’ve been. Gerta and Dotty had me trying on the new frock not once but three times as apparently I’ve put on some weight in the er derrier department so Dotty had to make some adjustments. How they knew I was going to prom, that I needed a dress for it, goodness only knows.

“Er, prom dress? Rosti okay for tea?”
“Um sure, you bought a new dress?”
Well less bought, more given.
“Er yeah.”
“Well let’s see then,” she demanded.
“After Cheer, can you get the eggs.”

I think the Swiss call it Bauernstuck or something, basically it’s Rosti with chopped bacon topped with a fried egg, anyway that’s what we had for tea. It was straight off to Cheer then.

“Oh that woman from the dress shop called,” Dad advised as we waited for Pia to appear, “something about promenade?”
“She caught me in town, all sorted.”
“Not another frock?”
“It’s for prom.”
“You’ve got a cupboard full,” he sighed.
“It’s not full.”

Well Mand lost it then, Pia climbed in next to the hysterical blonde.

“What’s going on?”
“T…tell you in a bit,” Mand managed.

Dad let out an exasperated sigh and set off towards the Tanzklub.

“Wow.” Mand allowed.
“Is that all you can say, wow?” we were up in my eyrie, I’m not going public just yet.
“What do you want me to say? Turn round.”

I did as instructed, slowly so as not to fall off my heels, the 12cm heels of course.

“Did I mention, wow?” Mand queried, “Max’s eyes’ll pop out of their sockets.”
“Not sure that’s quite the idea.”
“So go on, how much?”
“Sevnundrud,” I muttered.
“Seven hundred!” she shrieked.
“Shush!”
“Geez, Gab, talk about high maintenance,” she stated.
“It wasn’t my idea.”
“I bet it wasn’t.”
“Gerta got it in for me, I could hardly say no could I?”
“I’d like the opportunity.”
“You know you can borrow stuff.”
“Yeah, not quite the same.”

The dress? Well I can’t say it’s what I would’ve picked but it does look sensational, floor length, pale pink silk with a fitted bodice encrusted with tiny Swarovski crystals. There are more on the nude sleeves so it looks like they are stuck to my shoulders and arms. It’s probably, no it’s definitely a bit overboard for a school prom but this is one frock that will earn its keep.

“Best take it off, gi’s a hand with the buttons.”

All that money and you don’t even get a zip, nope there’re about twenty tiny buttons up the back, which of course I can barely reach.

“Turn round then, geez even the buttons are crystal.”
No wonder it cost so much.

At least Tuesday was less eventful, Dad sorted the puncture, I got to tell the Angels about the frock, well Pia knew of it already so I could hardly not. Which of course upped the stakes for the others, a party dress from Orsay would no longer cut the mustard.
“It wasn’t my idea,” I told them as we pedalled to school.

“We’ve heard that before,” Nena noted.
“Honest, I was gonna get that dress in Orsay.”
“Dunno how you afford that place,” Bridg mentioned.
“I can’t,” I pointed out. I hadn’t told them just how much it was, I didn’t dare.
“Well your parents then.”

I don’t think it’s them footing the bill, I’ve got my suspicions but it’s not my rents.

“Oh dad was muttering about English pies last night,” Con told me, changing the subject somewhat.
“Oh?”
“I think he’s been trying to make some, he might collar you to help.”
“Right,” I allowed, “what’s he made?”
“No idea, he said they dried out too much.”

Hmm, maybe I can make some dosh baking pies.

“You’d best have a suit or something, Strechau,” Con instructed when she collared Max in class.
“Course I have, er what for?”
“Prom stupid, Gabs has got the dress so you better not show her up.”
“Con!”
“He needs to know, Gab, boys always cock stuff up, oh and no trainers.”

Max looked helplessly to me, all I could do was shrug.

“Suit and shoes,” Max noted.
“And tell the others too,” Con went on.
“I’ll tell them,” he agreed.

“Whats got into her?” Max asked when Con left us.
“No idea,” I admitted.
“I’m guessing your dress is er, expensive?”
“Mega.”
“I should make an effort then.”
“You’d better or I won’t speak to you again.”
“Promises, promises!”
“Why you!” I shrieked chasing him along the corridor past my bemused classmates.

Maddy Bell © 15.10.16

 

 

So Wednesday was, well Wednesday, nothing special, no exams, the classes instead concentrating on non examined stuff, Frau Dürst for example gave us income tax 101 as the ‘mericans would have it. Not exactly thrilling but it’s stuff worth knowing I guess, not that I’m likely to need to pay any for a while. And so it went on.

“You still want me to come to the Doc’s?” Con asked over lunch.
“If you don’t mind, I’m not good with this girl stuff.”
“Who is?”
“Hope it’s nothing serious,” Pia opined.
“Don’t get her worried P,” Steff inserted, “it’s probably just a heavy period.”
“That’s reassuring – not,” I mentioned.

The few cycles I’ve had to endure in all their glory have been bad enough, the thought that they could be longer and messier…and anyway I’m not supposed to have them, I’m on the pill!

“Can we change the subject?”
“Aww, just when it was getting interesting,” Nena giggled.
“You getting a fancy hairdo to go with this mystery designer prom dress, Gab?” Bridg queried.
“Hadn’t given it any thought,” I admitted.
“Oh we should so do that!” Con enthused.
“Not sure Erika’s up to fancy, ‘ Steff observed.
“I think her idea of fancy is getting the curling tongs out,” Nena agreed.
“We should go to Kӧln or Bonn, one of those salons on Schuhstraβe maybe,” Con suggested.
“Have you seen how much they charge?” Pia put in, “Don’t know about you guys but I’ve not got fifty euros for a haircut.”
“What about that new place in Neuenahr?” I posited.
“What new place?” Con enquired.
“On Hauptstraβe where you turn for the Rathaus.”
“That place with the face on the window?” Nen queried.
“Think so.”
“For someone who claims to not go to the Friseur you seem to be in the know,” Brid supplied.
“I’ve not been,” I defended, “I just saw it the other week.”
“She says,” Brid scoffed.
Like when have I had time, let alone desire to go to the hairdressers, I’m definitely a braids or scrunchy girl!
“It was only a suggestion.”
“I’ll ask mum to check their prices,” Steff supplied, “she’ll be in town tomorrow anyway.”
“Cool,” Con allowed.

To be honest I’m not sure about this, I can get Mand to do something for free after all, she’s pretty good with hair. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get the ends trimmed, I certainly don’t want something like Goth Girl got last year or heaven forbid, curls. Nope, I’m quite happy with my mop as it is.

“Hi, Gaby, here for your results?” Fritzi asked seeing me and Con in the waiting area a couple of hours later.
“Er yeah,” I agreed, trying not to stare – difficult with all her holes and artwork.
“Glück, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Thanks.”

With that the nurse disappeared through a door.

“I can’t believe she has all those tattoos,” Con whispered.
“Each to their own,” I shrugged.
“You know she was the Weinkӧnigen a couple of years before you?”
“Really, with all the tats and stuff?”
“Nah, she got them after, went to university and came back, well different.”
“I quite like her hair, the colour anyway,” I admitted.
“Different at least, I wonder what else she has pierced?”

Before that train of conversation could continue the receptionist called over, “You can go in now, Gaby.”
“Thanks, can Con come with me?”
“I’m sure that’ll be fine.”
We gathered our stuff and made our way to Dr Martin’s office.

“Right, young lady,” the doc started once we were settled, “how have you been since Monday?”
“Okay I guess, a bit tired.”
“Any further discharge, bloating, faintness?”

See, this is what I don’t like, talking about bodily functions.

“Um, a few spots but not since yesterday morning, nothing else really.” I admitted.
“Okay, that’s fine,” she shuffled through the paperwork before going on, “your bloods are generally okay, iron’s a bit low but we can sort that easily.”
“I had iron tablets before, you know, my op.”
“I think we’ll have you back on them, at least short term.”
“So why did I have a period? I thought the pill was supposed to stop them.”
“Well my best guess is that the Mercilon™ doesn’t agree with you, let’s try you on Gedarel™, the stronger 30/150’s.”

It all sounded double Dutch to me so I just nodded as the doc made some more notes.

“I want to see you again in four weeks unless you have any issues beforehand, come to see me straight away if you do.”
“Issues?”
“Some women can experience side effects.”
“Like?”
“Don’t panic, it’s quite rare but some women suffer with hives and bloating, I don’t think you will but I have to warn you.”
“’Kay,” I allowed cautiously.
She finished scribbling, “Here you go, get this filled, have you started the new cycle yet?”
“I finished today.”
“Good, don’t take any more of the Mercilon™ go straight onto the Gedarel™.”
“Uh huh.”

“You coming back for coffee?” Con queried as we unlocked our bikes a few minutes later.
“Go on then, I'll get these filled and meet you there.”
“Right, see you in a bit.”

Con set off one way, the pharmacy is a slight detour two minutes from the surgery which is where I headed for my new medication.

“You’d think they’d have them in stock,” I moaned slumping into a chair at the Thesing’s dining table.
“They can’t keep everything, Gab,” Con suggested, “it’s only tomorrow.”
“I guess, so you still fancy that red dress in Orsay?”
“Think so, you coming to Bonn Saturday?” she asked joining me with the coffee and two slices of strawberry torte.
“Don’t think so, supposed to be racing up near Hamburg on Sunday.”
“Well I suppose you have already got your dress,” she pointed out.
“There is that, what I want to know is how Gerta knew about the prom, and that I was going with Max.”
“The Prom’s hardly a secret,” Con observed.
“I guess not but someone must’ve told her about Max.”
“Perhaps she just guessed?”
“Really?”
“Well you went to those weddings with him.”
“Bit of a leap, no someone told her.”
“Stop moaning and eat your cake.”

I was just getting more coffee when Herr Thesing came into the apartment, “Ah, Gaby, Therese said you were here.”
“Hi, Mr T.”
“Can I have a word?”
“’Kay, you want coffee?”
“No thanks,” he pulled out a chair and joined us at the table, “I suppose Connie told you about the Pastete?”
“Er she might’ve mentioned something.”
“I'll leave you to it,” Con told us, barely stifling a laugh.

Thanks a million, friend!

“I admit it, Gaby, they were a disaster, I thought they’d be simple.”
“It’s easy to get it wrong,” I agreed.
“I was wondering, would you be interested in that project we talked about before?”
“The weekly special?”
“The same, I know you can cook the pies, unlike me.”
“I guess, so like what were you thinking?”

It was a simple enough scheme, there would be a different pie of some sort each week and I'd do pie 101 with Herr Thesing. The pies will be available for takeaway of course but also feature on the ‘lunch’ menu alongside the more standard fare. I get paid for my time, not a lot if Mr T cracks pie making but I get 10 cents per sold pie, not exactly lucrative but it’s a start.

“Friday afternoon then.”
“I'll drop the ingredient list off tomorrow.”
“Fine, I'll leave you and my daughter to it then, thanks, Gaby.”
“No problem.”
“Connie! she’s all yours,” he called out as he set off back to the shop.

“Look out, Gab!”

I jerked back to the present just in time to bunny hop the pot hole I was just about to hit.

“Geez, you need to concentrate, girl,” Mand mentioned.
“Er yeah, was miles away.”

Miles away indeed, well not riding up to Adenau at least. No it was pies on my mind, we agreed on a basic meat pie to start with but let’s face it, the options are without bound. Chicken, steak and kidney, Hygenic Fisheries do a curry pie, well you get the idea, you can put almost anything in a pie or pasty, hey maybe I can invent some German pies?

The lighter nights do mean that we don’t have to rush out before dinner, we can get a good hour in without lights already, another couple of weeks and we’ll get around the Műnstereifel circuit no trouble.

“You ridden this Hamburg race before?” my companion asked.
“Last year,” I agreed.

Yeah that ended well – not! I certainly don’t want a repeat of that.

“So what’s it like?”
“Pretty flat, there was quite a bit of wind last year, I'm guessing it’s on the same circuit.”
“Your dad said it’s just one loop.”
“Uh huh, up towards Kiel then around and back to Hamburg.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad and we’ll all be riding.”
“Josh is back?”
“You really weren’t listening last night were you?”

Maddy Bell © 17.10.16

 

 

“I'll be late this afternoon,” I advised Dad as I collected my stuff Friday morning.

Thursday was, well just another Thursday, a bit damp in the afternoon but as the Angels spent the afternoon after school at Pia’s doing what we do. Yeah, drinking coffee, eating cake, talking – the normal stuff girls do around here on wet spring afternoons. Of course we had to divert on the way to pick up my Gedarel™, the pharmacist promising to get some in for stock – I'll probably be using it for the foreseeable future after all.

Friday didn’t have much better promise weather wise and school was likely to be more make work stuff – deep joy.

“What’re you up to?”
“Making pies.”
“Pies?” he lifted a brow.
“Yeah, Herr Thesing’s gonna start selling pies as a sort of experiment but he’s useless at pastry.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“Well pie pastry, he tried the other day and they were inedible.”
“So, Gabrielle Bond, master baker is going to show him how?”
“Er yeah, I get paid,” I pointed out, I'm not telling him about the commission.
“In pies?”
“As if!” I scoffed, “euros I hope.”
“So what sort of pies are you making, here your hoods inside,” he eased it out of my jacket for me.
“Just steak today, it’s pretty basic to start with, might get fancier later.”
“I suppose I'll have to sort dinner.”
“Pretty please?”
“On with you.”

“See you later, Gab,” P called out when Con and I turned off into Dernau after another enthralling day at Silverberg Gymnasium.
“Laters!” I called back.
“So what exactly are you and Dad making?” Con enquired as we waited to cross into the village.
“Pies?”
“That I know, what sort, dumbo?”
“Just a basic meat.”
“Boring, I thought you’d do one of your potato and meat ones, they are excellent.”
“Not bad though I say it myself,” I agreed, “not sure I want to give away my secrets for that.”
“Oh well, guess I'll have to invite myself for dinner again then,” she sighed.
Actually I could fancy one myself, “I'll do one next week.”
“Cool!” my BF enthused as we drew up at her home.

“That would do it,” I told Mr T an hour later, “your pastry’s too heavy.”
“You’re the expert,” he chuckled.
“Plenty of practice,” I suggested.

I'm sure plenty of people make better pastry than me but I never get any complaints, well not these days at least. Of course there’s pastry and pastry, what works for a Danish isn’t suitable for a fruit pie and similar distinctions work for savouries.

Back in Warsop everyone had to do a year of ‘Home Economics’, stupid name as it was nothing to do with money but cooking and basic maintenance and repairs – sewing buttons, wiring plugs etc. we had to bake cakes, make pies, stuff like that so we were taught how to make appropriate pastry’s – I never gave it a thought before.

In the end it was easier to demonstrate than explain, Herr Thesing isn’t stupid of course, just a bit set in his ways. I soon had a tray of pies ready for the oven, Therese having cooked the meat earlier, it only took a few minutes to make the gravy – a bit thicker than you’d put on the plate. The foil ‘tins’ weren’t ideal being intended for quiches, something we might have to address in future but they’d do for now.
We loaded them into one of the ovens, it’s a waiting game now.

“Therese, come try this,” Tomas enthused half an hour later.

The pies had, thankfully turned out brilliantly, maybe a little dark but quite acceptable. we’d turned one out to sample, Mr T surprised by the firmness but impressed in the eating. I think we’re onto a winner. Mrs T came through from the shop.

“What do you want, Tomas?”
“You have to try this, love.”
“Anything for a quiet life,” she allowed before taking the offered morsel. “Hmm, different, this the Pastete Con’s been on about, Gaby?”
“Er no, that's meat and tater, I thought we’d start with something simpler.”
“Tomas mentioned other fillings?”
“Well you can put pretty much anything in, but simple works best.”
“And there’ll be a different filling each week?”
“That’s the idea,” I agreed, “mix things up so people don’t get bored.”
“What do you reckon, Therese?” Tomas asked.
“It’s worth a go if Gaby’s up for it?”
“I'm good, maybe we could get people to vote for their favourite which we could feature as a bonus or something.”
“Let’s not start running just yet,” Therese noted, “let’s trial them for, what, eight weeks then see where we are?”

I guess from an almost throwaway idea to actually selling pies is a start, just need to get someone to buy them.

“What's for tea?” I demanded when I got home.

The lack of cooking odours was ominous.

“We’ve had a sandwich,” Dad called back from the living room, “there's some Bierwurst in the fridge.”

Great, I should’ve snaffled a pie, it’s not like there’s a chippy to hit after Garde even.

“You going to your dance thing?” pater enquired into the silence.
“Er yeah.”
“I'll pick you up, I'll order pizza.”
“Mum’ll go barmy,” I opined going through to the lounge having tossed my dripping coat into the utility room.
“Your mother isn’t here, what she doesn’t see won’t hurt her.”
“Hmm, where’s Mand?”
“Homework I think, you making a cuppa?”

We did a slow high step rotating star, it’s one of the Alle Stern Garde’s party pieces and requires a lot of concentration to do right. Full member of the squad I might not be but I find the discipline required something I enjoy. I suppose the cheering has a similar element, looser but you have to work tightly with the other girls the same – cycling though, well road racing is pretty much free form.

“Knees up, ‘Solde,” Hannah demanded, “and left wheel to finish.”

Duh, we know that coach, it’s not like the routine ever changes. The music came to its conclusion and we assumed the finish position.

“Hold it, hold it...and end.”
“Phew!” I allowed shaking my hands to relieve the slight cramp from gripping the ‘rifle’ I've been swinging about for ten minutes.
“Did you hear, Gab,” Margot started, “we’re getting new uniforms.”
“What’s wrong with the current ones?”

What's right, I mean they are hardly fashion items are they?

“Franny reckons they’re changing the colour.”
“Okay ladies,” Margot clapped to get our attention as we stowed our props and started dressing to depart, “I have some news for you, I know there are some rumours circulating about new uniforms, yes we are, the committee think that too many Garde wear similar so want us to stand out more.”
“Stand out more?” Franny asked as we gathered to listen, “Different hats or something?”
“Pretty much the lot, we won’t be wearing so much white.”

That got some attention, the uniforms are after all predominantly white with gold braid liberally attached.

“Do we get a say?” Solde queried.
“Fraid not, they’ve already ordered them, I argued against it but they insisted.”
“Against what?” Margot questioned.
“I suggested light blue,” Hannah advised.
“Hannah!” Solde scolded.
“Pink, well it’s more rose really.”
“Pink!” Margot squealed, nearly deafening me.

Now don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with pink, I actually don’t mind wearing it but for a Gardetanz troupe, well it’s more than a bit out there.

“It’s not all this pink is it?” Maria prompted.
“Heaven forbid! No even the committee aren’t that daft,” Hannah stated, “No hats, jackets and skirts, we keep the white boots and unterrock.”
“Thank heaven,” Pia allowed, “I'm not sure I could wear everything pink.”
“Well that's the news,” Hannah told us, “see you next week, Solde, can you give me a hand clearing up?”

“You coming for pizza?” I asked Pia as we sheltered in the doorway, Dad’s a bit late and it’s teeming down.
“Ooh yes please. So what do you think about the new uniforms?”
“It’ll be different I guess, not that I'll be wearing one.”
“You are on the team.”
“Yeah and I did like one competition last year, I don’t have the time, Hannah knows.”
“What does Hannah know,” said individual enquired coming out behind us with Solde to lock up.
“Why I can’t do more Gardetanz.”
“I do but it won’t stop me trying. You girls need a lift, I'm dropping Solde off.”
“Dad’s picking us up, think he’s got lost.”
“Okay then, I'll see you both on Monday, tschuss.”
“Tschuss!” Solde added before scampering after the coach towards her car.
“Bye.”
“Tschussie!”

Right on cue our big Mercedes swung around the circle, stopping opposite where we waited.

“Mum’ll fetch me later,” Pia told us finishing her call.
“You want that slice?” I asked Dad.
“You’ll look like a pizza,” Mand suggested.
“Pepperoni,” P added.
“All yours, I'm done,” Dad allowed.
“Cheers.”
“I'm glad I haven’t got to wear it, I hate pink,” Mand picked up the conversation again.
“It’s not all pink,” Pia repeated.
“Even so.”
“I thought you liked my prom dress? That's pink,” I pointed out.
“Not bright pink though, it’s quite subtle,” she advised.
“You never said, Gab,” Pia complained, “let’s see?”

And so after clearing up the debris of our pizza feasting the three of us headed for my eyrie for some frock appreciation. (A cheap frill?)

Maddy Bell © 18.10.16

 

 
“Got everything? Shoes, gloves, head?”
“Da-ad, I'm not a little kid,” I complained.
“No you’re a young woman with a memory like a sieve.”
“Yeah well,” I mumbled.
“So have you got everything?” he pressed.
I checked off on my fingers, gloves, shoes, helmet, wash kit, “Just need to get my meds!”

The weather was still grey and wet, it looks like we’re gonna have a miserable drive north, six hours of autobahns, well less if you don’t count stops.

“Come on,” Dad chivvied, “I told the Grönberg’s we’d be there for two.”
“Whatever.”

One plus, we’ve got the bus this weekend so it’ll be more comfortable than scrunched in the car. It also means we’ll have the easy up at the race, the turbo’s are in the back so we can warm up in the dry at least. I commandeered the rear seat, it’s the biggest even if I do have to share it with suitcases and kit bags. The church bells rang for one o’clock as we passed Thesing’s, hope the pies do better this afternoon.

“What’re you up to?”

I'd wedged myself facing backwards, sat on the bags, reading the new Pratchett, Going Postal came out last year but I've only just got a copy. I was so engrossed I hadn’t noticed Mand was just behind my head.

“Nothing.”
Ron snorted from across the bus.
“Mand?” I demanded.
“Just playing.”
I jerked my head around, sending my hair swinging round, hang on, I didn’t put it in braids.
“Looks cute,” Ron suggested.
Something felt off, I felt my head, “Mand,” I complained, yeah she’d braided my Barnet into two antennae on top of my head.
“Well I couldn’t get to it all.”
“Take it out, please?”
“Let me do it properly,” she offered.

I don’t suppose I'll get any peace if I don’t and when Ron chimed in with ‘I'll help’ I was doomed.

“We’re stopping at the next services,” Dad called back to us.
“’Kay,” Ron replied for us.
“Good job this nail varnish dries quickly,” Mand offered as she finished my thumbnail.

I know, but it’s a long drive and I had to give up reading with that pair playing with my hair, hair which has now been braided to within an inch of its life. I've not seen it but it feels like they’ve done some elaborate pretzel or something on top, it feels weird with nothing on my neck. So after hair, nails were the logical next step in play with Gaby according to the others – anything for a quiet life.

The board suggested we were at Dammer Berge services which gave me no real clue as to where we are, I've not exactly been keeping an eye on the road signs. The services didn’t give any further clues, the countryside around pretty featureless, the only good thing being a cessation of heavenly liquid bounty. Dad pulled the bus up as close as he could to the road house and we piled out, pulling various jackets and fleeces on to combat the breeze that had replaced the damp.

“So where are we?”
“North of Osnabruck,” Dad advised.
“I thought we were going up past Hannover?”
“There's roadworks,” Angela offered, “I heard it on the radio earlier.”
“We eating here?” Ron enquired as we headed inside.
“I'm starving,” I agreed.
“Angela?” Dad queried.
“Fine by me, I doubt we’ll eat till quite late when we get there.”
“Okay then, I'll see you ladies in the restaurant.”

“I look like something out of the Ring ,” I observed when I checked myself in the mirror after doing the essentials.

It certainly was a thorough job, hardly a hair had been missed, the resulting braids then arranged in an elaborate nest on the back of my head.

“The pocket Brünnhilde,” Ron suggested with a chuckle.
“Cheers ‘friend’.”
“What’s this Ring thing?” Mand asked.
“A very long opera,” Angela put in over her shoulder.
“Like an adult fairytale, full of Gods and heroes,” Ron supplied.
“So who’s this Brünnhilde character then?”
“She’s like the top Valkyrie or something,” I added as we headed back upstairs, “it’s well complicated.”
“So how does Gabrielle Bond know all this?” Mand demanded.
“We had to do it in German Lit.”
“And I thought Dickens was bad.”
“You have to go see any of it?” Ron enquired.
“I managed to miss that delight.”

“I've ordered for everyone,” Dad announced, “Schweinerkotelett okay?”
Well a bit late now but it could’ve been worse.
“What’s that?” Mand whispered.
“Pork chops.”
“I thought it was something like that, not had a chop since I came over.
“Don’t get too excited, they’re usually tiny and coated in breadcrumbs,” I advised.
“So how are Englisher kotelett?” Ron asked having overheard our conversation.
“Much bigger and no breadcrumbs.”
“How can they be bigger?”
“They just are.”

The food arrived and we concentrated on our late lunch for a bit, interrupted only when Dad’s phone chirped.

“Bond...hi Dieter, everything okay...late lunch...er, let’s see, about six, six thirty...yeah that's a good idea...right...okay, we’ll see you soon.”
“Everything okay?” Angela queried.
“Yeah fine, they're at the hotel, they’ll book us in the restaurant for dinner.”
“It’s not the same place is it?” I asked, suddenly feeling a bit of a panic attack coming on.
“No kiddo, you’re alright, we’ve got a place not far from the airport this time.”
“Right,” I allowed before taking a slug of my Sprite®.

“What was that all about?” Mand enquired once we were back on the bus.
“All what?”
“The hotel, you went right pale.”
“She had a nasty turn last year,” Ron supplied.
“Nasty?”
“I ended up in the Krankenhaus,” I allowed.
“Right,” she still hadn’t joined the dots.
“I'll explain later, so you doing my toes or what?”

The weather continued to improve as we closed the distance between us and Hamburg, even a bit of sunshine making its presence felt. I still find it a bit weird, the lack of traffic on the German autobahns, yeah you sometimes get it heavy around Kӧln and Düsseldorf – no doubt other cities too but out of the urban areas there’s hardly anything. Not like say the M1 back in England, three lanes solid from dawn till dusk seven days a week from London all the way to Leeds.

So anyway, no traffic means no hold-ups which means we were threading our way through Hamburg towards our hotel by five thirty. Hamburg is big with a capital B and once you lose the motorway it all looks the same, one missed turn could send you miles from where you want to be with no real land marks to look for. Our one saving grace is that the airport is well signposted, if we get there we can find the hotel.

Somewhere the time just evaporated, it was almost twenty past six when Dad pulled us to a halt outside of the Langernhorner Hof.
“Finally,” I sighed.
“I need a wee,” Mand supplied.

A familiar figure appeared at the door and hurried over to the bus.

“Welcome to Hamburg!”
“Hi, Dieter,” Dad replied.
“Bad traffic?”
“I think we caught everyone heading home from shopping.”
“That happens, come on, girls, let’s get you inside.”

It didn’t take long to get us checked in, the Grönberg’s sharing one room, me and Mand another, Dad was with Josh.

“Okay, guys,” Dad started as we headed for the lifts, “tables booked for seven thirty, Dieter said the others are in the lounge if you come down before.”
By the time we reached our room Mand was jiggling like a three year old, “Toilet, toilet!”
I got the door open and was promptly barged out of the way.
“Ah!”
Well someone's happy. I dragged the bags into the room and took the chance to bag the bed with the best view of the telly which I flicked on out of habit.
“See you’ve bagged the best bed,” Mand stated.
“They’re both the same.”
“You okay if I shower first?”
“Be my guest.”
She grabbed her wash bag and the shower was soon running

‘...and the weather, Maria.’
“Thank you, Peter, well it’s looking like another mixed day...’

I sort of tuned out exactly what the weathergirl was saying, concentrating instead on the graphics. Looking at the map we might get around dry but only just, the wet front is coming down from the north, it’ll be chasing us all the way back to Hamburg tomorrow afternoon. Well I suppose it’s the same for everyone, I just hope it’s not like Roskilde.

The shower cut off and Mand appeared dressed in a towel, “All yours.”
“Er cheers,” I found my own wash bag and headed to the bathroom.

I was getting into the shower cubicle when I remembered my hair, sugar.

“Mand?”
“What's up?”
“You got a shower cap?”
“Shower cap?” she queried opening the door.
“It’ll take ages to undo this lot.”
“Oh right, hang on.”

We don’t ‘dress’ for dinner on these trips but wearing something at least a bit smart is, according to Mum, good form. After all other diners don’t really want to share their meal with a bunch of scruffy, rowdy bike riders. I know it might sound snobbish but I kind of agree, it’s become standard for everyone to make some effort towards smart and when we have the team off bike uniform there’s no excuse.

We both picked our way through the tables to where the others were.
“Ooh, sexy!” Tali opined somewhat sarcastically.
“It’s hardly Versace is it?” Gret added.
“It’s not that bad,” I countered, “they could've gone for Kostüm.”
“True,” Gret conceded.
“Well ah thinks yous all look fair bonny,” Josh advised from behind Tali.
“Think yourself lucky you don’t have to wear it,” Mand opined.

I suppose the dresses are a bit seventies air hostess, that's a bit unfair but when we’re all wearing them – well you get the idea. Pale blue, just above the knee and quite fitted, give me jeans and a T any day but at least we got to choose our own footwear.

“Come on you lot, table’s ready,” Dad instructed.

Maddy Bell © 18.10.16

 

 
“So what’s with the braids, Gab?” Tali enquired once we were settled at the table.
“This pair,” I motioned to my hairdressers, “were bored on the way up.”
“Makes you look like some Bavarian princess,” Gret sniggered.
“Deep joy.”
“Don’t take any notice, you look cute,” Tali mentioned.
“Help me, Josh.”
“Ahm, staying oot of it man.”
“Thanks,” I mumped.
“You back for good?” I asked the Tynesider.
“For the Spring session at least, I thought this was in like June last year?”
“They had to move it, “Tali advised,” there’s a big sailing thing in the summer at Kiel.”
“How’d you know?” Ron queried.
“Dad’s on the regional legislature.”
“Never knew that,” I allowed.
“It’s not a secret.”
“We going for a repeat of last year?” Gret asked.
“The race I guess, not of everything else though,” I replied.
“Oh sorry, Gab, I forgot about all that,” Gret told me.
“’S alright, it’s all under the bridge now.”
“What is?” Mand asked.
Bum.
“Er Gab had some er, health issues after last year,” Ron supplied.
“’Kay,” she allowed.
“Later,” I offered.
“Here comes the food,” Josh enthused, which thankfully changed the subject.

“So,” Dad concluded, “the weather looks like a repeat of last year, dry to start, rain later. Everyone okay with the plan?”
After devouring plates of pasta and strudel to follow we’d reconvened in the lounge for the team talk.
“What if things don’t work out?” Josh queried.
“Ron’s road captain, she’ll be calling the shots.”
“Fine.”
“Eight o’clock here in reception, we’ll be back for showers and dinner after so you can leave your bags in your rooms. Try to get a good night’s sleep, eh?”
Yeah, that's gonna happen, Dad!

In the end the Apollinaris gossip club broke up about ten thirty and we split off to our rooms.

“Am I going to find out about last year?” Mand enquired as she started to undo the nest of braids on my head.
“Ow! Do you have to pull it?”
“Soz, so?” she pressed.
“Okay,” I allowed, “so after the race...”

“So BC knew about your er issues before the training camp?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “it wasn’t exactly a surprise for them when I, that is Gaby, turned up in a dress at Bern.”
“Not them maybe, the rest of us were though.”
“Me too!”
“So you reckon tomorrow will go to plan?”
I shrugged as I reached for more gummi bears, “it’s a Jungere League race, anything could happen.”
“I s’pose.”

Unlike last year when we already had the titles sewn up just about here, this year it’s the first race of the series. The good thing about this is that the introductions were much shorter although I was still introduced as last year’s series winner. It was warm enough for shorts but only the hardy had bare arms at the start line.

“Okay," Dad started, “everyone ready?” we all agreed with nods and grunts, “Have a good ride and take care.”

He collected our trackies before leaving us to our final pre race prep, fiddling with shoes, adjusting glasses, helmets, making sure gears are set. The MC had been running a constant stream of who knows what but a commissaire’s whistle got our attention. The rider briefing was thankfully um, brief – it’s not like we haven’t heard it all before is it?

The PA system broke into life again and after a short speech from the local politico who’d fallen for starting the race, the gun sounded and we were waved away. We got away fairly cleanly – a chorus of snaps and clicks as a hundred shoes engaged with a hundred pedals to take us on our way. As usual there was a neutral zone, not the biggest today, the green flag waved from the lead car after just a kilometre but thankfully there were no start gate heroes this morning.

If you remember from last year we start out heading for Lubeck through the lightly rolling Holstein countryside, maybe everyone had seen the same forecast so although we rolled along at a reasonable thirty kph, no one seemed keen to make the first move. The wind was strong enough to make the windward side of the peloton less comfortable, never a good sign, and the bunch as a result was constantly moving. Of course it did give me a chance to check out the opposition, some new faces of course, plenty of familiar ones and some not here as they’ve moved up to the senior ranks.

Plan A for us is simple, stay in contention until the finish – well that's simplistic of course, it does involve some effort on the team’s part and the first part of the puzzle is due to start soon. The patches of blue above us became smaller as wave after wave of grey cloud scudding across the heavens.

“Gab!” Ron hissed, “Time.”

Already? I looked about, sure enough we were dropping into Lubeck, I recognised the spires and towers amongst the jumble of buildings ahead of us.

“’Kay,” I agreed taking a slug from my bidon.

I moved forward amongst the almost intact horde in preparation.

There wasn’t long to wait, we swung through a roundabout and there in front was the Holsten Tor currently swathed in scaffolding. I scanned the bunch for the others, briefly catching the eye of Paul Innerthausen. He obviously saw something in my face, when Tali and Mand attacked up the hill he never batted an eye.

Unlike the majority of the race. Yeah, as predicted, almost as one they were out of the saddle in pursuit of the two blue clad girlies. I did no more than hold station but behind me even this short acceleration was peeling bodies from the peloton.

Of course, my teamies weren’t making a serious attempt to get away, it’s far too early to be successful, no it was all about shaking out some of the chaff. By the time we exited the old town through the Burgtor the girls were back in the bunch, mission accomplished.

The long straight approach to the Traveműnder tunnel, the scene of my initial escape last year stretched ahead, maybe it was memories of last year or just the wide road but it proved too tempting for several riders.

The same thing had happened last year and just like then we covered the move, this time with Ron and Gret. It hurt to watch the twenty or so riders make ground on the peloton but Dad had been adamant, cover but don’t pursue. Worst case scenario, we’d hopefully have two riders up front, if things go as expected, as planned, we’ll all be there for the kill.

“Frustrating, man,” Josh noted.
“No kidding, we’re not the only ones waiting mind,” I nodded towards Paul.
“Aye, could be useful like.”
“Lost a few through Lubeck.”
“Not enough, could do with a bit more pace.”

A quick glance around confirmed his appraisal, I reckon we were only about a dozen light, if we don’t speed up there's a chance some of them will get back on.

“Out of the tunnel?”
“I'll warn t’girls.”
Dad said not to chase, nothing about upping the pace.

The break didn’t have a huge gap, maybe twenty seconds as we went through the toll booths – just enough for them to be lost from sight as the road dipped into the tunnel. Although it’s well lit, it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, even so I couldn’t make much sense of the flashing lights and shapes ahead of us. Everyone seemed content to keep the status quo as we passed under the Trave.

Josh moved up to the front, I followed discretely, a couple of bikes between us so as not to cause too much excitement. As we returned to daylight and the road started to climb, Josh turned up the juice just enough to maintain rather than increase our speed. We turned out onto the feeder road, as the grade decreased so our speed started to increase.

I guess a few of our companions thought we were going for it so when we rejoined the Traveműnde old road they started a rotation. Whilst we weren’t actually trying to chase the leaders some assistance in the pace setting was appreciated, we’ll need our energy later on for sure. The gap had reduced a little by the time we reached Traveműnde but our arrival coincided with the wet – not heavy but wet nonetheless.

It didn’t take long for the road to be wet over, damn could’ve done without this. We ploughed on and after negotiating the sea front and town hit the climb away from the coast. It’s neither long nor particularly steep but with Josh driving things it proved more significant than you’d guess.

A quick glance under my arm as we reached the top revealed a bunch blown to bits, riders strung out behind in desperate attempts to hang on. The break in turn was only about two hundred ahead of us, question is, do we press on or ease back. It was quite breezy this close to the coast and that made the decision for us, safety in numbers a better scheme than forcing the split.

“Josh!”
He turned at my call and I slashed across my neck, nodding in understanding he backed off. The rain, now it had soaked us, ceased as quickly as it arrived, maybe we’ll dry off a bit if we’re lucky. I checked for the girls as a second peloton coalesced from the strung out field, Tali was firmly ensconced, Mand less comfortably at the tail end.

The next kilometres, tracking the coast, were hard, the wind slowing us despite the stronger riders initiating a rotation. I must admit that I missed a few turns, the other girls likewise showing enough willing to not be complained at but preserving resources. Other girls, that still stings but there’s no denying that I am one of their number even if my head still thinks otherwise.

“You alright?” I asked Mand after dropping back.
“Just about, this is brutal.”
“Yeah, I don’t think it’s far to the feed station now.”
“Good.”
“Wind should get behind us after Kiel.”
“If I get that far,” she panted.
“You will,” I encouraged, “just sit in for a bit.”

The break had regained some ground along the coast, I guess they’ve got less dead wood on board but I was still surprised when the board Sonja Luchow held out before the feed indicated a minute thirty. I really wanted to be up there but that wasn’t the plan and for once we were going to stick to the plan. Our group was still pretty big, about fifty riders but that meant we’d lost quite a few in the last twenty or so kilometres.

Tali collected our musettes as we passed through Eutin and the whole peloton temporarily called a truce for lunch. Yeah, lunch, we’ve been riding for over two hours, well nearly three, it’ll be after twelve when we get to Kiel. The wind was less strong here inland but it was almost in our faces as we headed across to Plőn which kept our speed low.

The first sign of anything amiss ahead came on the undulating road after the town, first one then another of the break came back to us in quick succession and were shot out of the back. Neither were in Apollinaris strip but it was the first sign of a chink in our plan A. it seemed to encourage our group, the pace started to pick up a bit, a rested Josh taking several long turns across the Holstein countryside.

Another shower wet us as we approached the outskirts of Kiel, the sprint on the waterfront of no consequence to us no one seemed keen to make a solo move – yet. The wind buffeted us around the waterfront then we swung up into the city centre to start the long run for home. I checked my teammates, Josh looked fine, Mand was doing okay but the next bit of Plan A will probably do for her, Tali, well she looks comfortable for now.

Josh glanced over, I gave a quick nod, the game is on.

Maddy Bell © 20.10.16

 

 
Don’t run away with the idea that Apollinaris are the only ones with an agenda, far from it, no it’s just that the more experienced riders often prefer to watch us than make their own moves. Today though I think we’d confused them a bit and several were getting antsy, the last time check we had was almost three minutes and now we were on the inbound every kilometre of delay reduced the chance of recovery. Something had to give but we were ready, there were still too many in our group for comfort after all.

It was Innerthausen who snapped, attacking hard over a rise, quickly followed by three other lads and Tali. Just what we’d expected, not the who but the what. Josh and I faked a pursuit but in reality we were blocking any further reaction, I mean, why would we chase Tali?

Of course team tactics and the junior peloton don’t really go hand in hand, everyone wants to win even at the expense of team mates chances – we, through BC and our team structure, are the exception. Innerthausen and co made fairly rapid gains, for Dad’s plan to work we needed them a decent distance ahead and the tail wind would help with that. Once they were clear I left Josh patrolling the front of the ‘pursuit’ and found Manda.

“Ready for your big appearance?”
“Nope but I'll give it a shot, Tali got away?”
“Yup, follow me up when you’re ready.”
“See you at the finish.”

Back on Josh’s wheel it was a waiting game, I glanced behind looking for our support.
“Sugar.”
“What’s up, man?”
“Behind.”
Josh looked back over his shoulder, “Shite, best cape up.”

Yeah we were prepared today, we all had our race capes with us, no need to drop back to Dad to fetch them. Why did we need them? Well, driven by the wind you could see a wall of rain approaching from the rear, rapidly.

The art of caping up on the move is something fraught with danger, find some smoothish straight road, retrieve said cape, sit up and fight your way into the garment. Oh, and don’t fall off. We’d no sooner accomplished the feat than the wet hit the bunch – big style.

Prepared as we were, Josh hit the gas with me in close attendance, the peloton at least temporarily distracted by the rain lashing down. I tucked in close to get maximum shelter, my mate going full gas with a bit of a tailwind wouldn’t be easy to regain if I lost contact! You can only keep up the effort for so long and we still had a way to go, a quick under arm glance was enough to confirm we’d made good our escape.

“Done,” I gasped.
Josh turned for his own assessment before easing back a notch which allowed me through. Not that with my size I'm a lot of shelter to the Toon but it’s the thought that counts. Ahead of us Tali’s group were in a rotation but Josh’s effort had already reduced the distance to our stepping stone significantly, we just need to keep chipping away at their advantage now.

We started our own rotation as we dodged the puddles, although it was coming down hard at least it wasn’t quite as bad as Roskilde last year. The biggest issue with so much wet is not being able to see the holes in the road, it’s safest to avoid the collections of wet – a puncture or off now would end the game. My mind wandered a little, mentally imagining those graphics you see on the telly with the race position, we’d be group three amongst the ‘pursuants’ and ahead of the peloton at what, three, four minutes behind the leaders?

It would be of no interest to us but the second and final hot spot sprint was approaching, in Neumunster, the town just a few kilometres away but hidden by the wet. How are Roni and Gret doing? we’ve not passed any more escapees so they must still be up there. Our immediate concern though was the quartet with Tali and Innerthausen now tantalisingly close.

The plan is to take the briefest of rests on contact before starting the chase forward but you know what plans are. We were seen well before we reached them which caused them to slow a little, enough for us to join as we passed through the sprint point. I say join, we ended up going straight through gaining unwanted company as they flicked onto my wheel.
Oh well, adjust the plan a bit.

We were numerically strong at least, three of six wearing Apollinaris blue. The others had a choice, let us do all the work or join in, we had riders up ahead so the former could lose their chance at the front of the race, why would we do all the work to weaken our position? The situation wasn’t lost on Innerthausen who quickly fell in, the others following suit on the next rotation, Tali riding back stop for now.

The course was now switching about more and on one of these squiggles we got our first glance of the flashing lights of the lead car since Lubeck. There was still a significant gap, the neutral service behind them would only drop back when we got to thirty seconds. Wet and tired as we were, it lifted everyone's spirits.

“They going to make it, Dave?” Dieter asked the driver, peering through a windscreen being lashed by rain.
“I think so, gap’s about two minutes.”
The Apollinaris bus had been called up after Neumunster so they were just a few metres behind Gab and co.
Dave’s phone chirped, he answered on hands free,” Angela, you at Langenhorn?”
“Hi, Dave, how’s it going?”
“Wet, but to plan, Ron’s still in the front group, how’s it there?”
“Just started to rain a few minutes ago, we’ve got the tent up with a little help,” she chuckled, “how long do you think?”
“An hour maybe at this pace.”
“Okay, see you shortly.”
“Tschuss.”
Dave ended the call just in time to see Gab’s hand go up.

Sugar, not again. I pulled out of the rotation and stuck my hand up for service before banging the brakes on. Dieter was with me, wheels in hand as I stopped.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he deftly made the exchange of my front wheel.
“Yeah.”
“Raining at the finish.”
“Cheers.”

I hadn’t even dismounted, he gave me a push long enough to get my feet clipped in again and the drama was over. Well not quite, I still had to get back on but Tali had seen me pull up, both her and Josh were waiting to pace me back. Of course Innerthausen had spotted a chance and done one. Instead of a working group of six we were now spread more thinly along the road, not good at all.

It didn’t take long to get back to the others but the escapee was still going hammer and tongs ahead of us. Josh gave me a look, I shook my head, let him wear himself out, after all I'm pretty sure he’s not strong enough to go straight through the leaders. Our remaining companions rejoined us in a rotation but it was clear that Tali was now feeling the pace, to be honest, so was I.
The rain seemed to be easing a bit, certainly it was brighter when I glanced behind. There was more urgency now, we’re running out of road*, any reaction ahead of us could scupper things for us. Can we close the gap in time? I hope so.

“I thought they’d be here by now,” a breathless Gret gasped.
“Me too,” Ron agreed, “guess we need to think about ourselves now.”

The group they were in had worked surprisingly well together, not usual in Jungere events at all. There were several handy riders amongst them, too many really but they all seemed content to wait for the gallop, at least for now. Neither of the girls would last long if they attacked so it was a waiting game and everything crossed that the others would come up in time, at least the rain was easing.

“That's me,” Tali gasped.
We’d been going at almost full gas since my puncture so it wasn’t a great surprise.
“’Kay, see you at the finish.”
She sat up, one second she was there, the next we were four. Innerthausen had maintained a two hundred metre advantage over us, he must be well and truly on the rivet. The good news was that the leaders were mostly in sight now and the rain was down to a bit of wind blown fret, we still had plenty of wet on the road of course.

A plane passing quite low overhead suggested we were quite near the airport and with it the finish, this is gonna be close. Josh turned the screws a little more, we were all on the limit and at a disadvantage if it comes to a sprint. But we need to make contact first.

The neutral service dropped back, we were within thirty seconds but seriously running out of road now, in fact we had just passed the ‘five to go’ board. I signalled to Josh as we passed in the rotation, he gave the slightest nod in understanding. To be fair to them, our companions were giving as good as us, smelling success, we were tired but the leaders would be too.

At two kilometres we were close enough to pick out jerseys, Innerthausen was in touching distance, he’d have a chance to rest but he’s put out a lot in his solo effort. Josh eased slightly, we needed to get our breath too, I'm not sure the others noticed our slight subterfuge. The distance continued to close, I was banking on such a large group mucking around before the sprint and at the kilo flag they rapidly slowed.

The distance between us shrunk rapidly then, we kept the pressure on and Josh took us past at full gas. Our arrival had been clearly a bit more unexpected than we could’ve hoped, the other pair had hesitated leaving just me and Josh to go clear. I could hear some reaction, can I do it?

Josh blew big style as we barrelled towards the finish banner, pulling off to the right leaving me a clear but unprotected run in. I thrashed the pedals round, nose on the bars, bum in the air, come on, come on. The red fog was descending as quickly as my approach to the line, with a last effort I threw the bike forward.

Was it enough? I was too far gone to take in my surroundings as I freewheeled to a halt, quickly surrounded by the rest of those finishing.
“Good ride, Gab,” Ron mentioned stopping beside me.
“You girls okay?” Sonja asked, draping us both with towels.
“Did?” I managed to gasp out.
“Not sure,” she admitted.
Gret and Josh joined us as we huddled, Angela soon joining us.
“Photo,” she told us.

“And in first place, our clear winner for a second year, riding for Team Apollinaris, Gabrielle Bond!” The MC announced.

I guess that's me, I pumped my arm, oh yeah! I climbed up the podium exchanging a hug with Roni and a handshake with the lad who took second. Oh yeah, the photo wasn’t for me, I finished a length clear, no it was the other places that needed sorting out, Ron in the thick of the melee had just edged onto the podium by a tyre. Manda and Tali came in together with the main bunch almost ten minutes behind but certainly not last.

I closed my eyes, tilted my head back and let the hot water play over me. So good, I'd had a brief moment of panic when I got into the cubicle remembering last year but hearing Mand in the room reassured me somewhat. I know I won last week but this is the big time, my first big road win for quite a while and I was bouncing.

“Mand?”
“Wassup?” she queried turning off her hair drier and coming into the bathroom.
“Could you do my hair for me?”
“Wash it?”
“Dur, no, you know put it in braids.”
She shrugged through the glass panel, “Guess so.”
“Cheers, Mand.”

I dunno why but I wanted, no needed, to look my best for dinner, well late lunch maybe.

“What cha all gussied up for, man?” Josh asked when Mand and I arrived – once more in our team frocks.
“Frightened of being shown up?” Mand proposed.
“You both look very nice,” Isabela, Tali’s mum told us.
“Um thanks,” I allowed feeling a trifle silly as everyone else except Mand was dressed casually.
Perhaps I had gone a bit overboard, hair up, full slap and heels, the same heels I hadn’t worn last night as being too much. Mand hadn’t gone quite as far but was still looking like hot totty.
“Are you pair sitting down or what,” Tali demanded, “I'm starving!”

The moment was broken, my stomach rumbled, yeah, food.

Maddy Bell © 21.10.16

 

 

“Come on you two.” Dad encouraged as Mand and I emerged from the lift.

Apart from feeling like a pair of right prawns, the team dresses were not exactly ideal for travelling so we’d finished dinner and headed straight up to change into more appropriate garb. Capri’s and a baggy top were certainly better for sprawling in the bus, the make-up had to stay as we didn’t have time to clean up properly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
“The others are outside.”

“See you in two weeks then,” Gret confirmed through the bus doorway.
“Best bring a brolly,” I suggested.
“And a posh frock,” Ron added.
“Ha de ha.”
“Time girls,” Dad instructed.

There was a final exchange of farewells before Roni slammed the side door shut. Everyone else would be home well before us, it’ll be close to midnight before we get home no doubt given it’d turned six now. At least we were fed, Wienerschnitzel with Spätzle and a side of Bohnensalat – filled a hole anyway.

We waved as we set off to start the long journey south.

“I'll ring in the week,” Dad told the Grönberg’s as we climbed back into the bus at Mettmann.

We’d had a clear run down, only stopping for toilets between Osnabruck and Münster – Dad deciding to return on the ‘1’ as it was so clear on the way up. But even Dad needs a break sometimes so we’d taken up Angela’s offer of coffee and a sandwich. It delayed us by best part of an hour but at least Dad was awake for the last stint back to the Ahrtal.

“You look knackered,” Pia offered.
I yawned, “Long day yesterday.”
“Hamburg wasn’t it?” Steff queried.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “up to Kiel and back, it lobbed it down for half the race.”
“So did you win?” Con queried as I started to sip my coffee.
“Might’ve,” I smirked from behind my cup.
“Gaby, Gaby!” Bridg started chanting.
“Girls!” Frau Thesing called out.
“Oops!” Bridg allowed.
“Oh I nearly forgot, we’re booked in for Friday,” Steff advised.
“Friday? Booked in?”
“The hair salon?” Con mentioned.
“You’ve not forgotten already, Bond?” Nena snuck in.
I racked my brain for a moment, Friday, hair – ahhh, Prom.
“Course not, just didn’t realise you were booking us in.”
“Mum’s treat,” Steff advised.
Well I guess that's one thing less to worry about.

“Aah – choo!”
“Gesundheit.”
“Er thanks.”
“You alright?” Max asked as I wiped my nose.
“Bit of a head cold from yesterday.”
“How’d you get on?”
“She won,” Con interrupted.
“Thank you, blabbermouth!”
“My pleasure,” she smirked.
“That's good then,” Max allowed, “about Friday.”
“You aren’t dipping out on me?”
“Don’t be so daft, I'd never hear the end of it.”
“If you lived,” Con interrupted again.
“Con!”
“Okay, just saying.”
“So, Friday?” I prompted.
“Er yeah, we’ll pick you up at half six?”
“She’ll be ready,” Con agreed for me.
“Um, thanks,” I added.
“Oh I'm supposed to ask what colour your dress is,” Max mentioned with a bit of embarrassment.
“Pale pink, why’d you want to know?”
“Friday.”

“So what did Maxxie want?” Nena queried as we congregated to eat our lunches.
“Arranging transport,” Con butted in again, what’s got into her today.
“So you all got your dresses?”
“Yeah,” Steff confirmed.
“So you get that red one, Con?”
“Scarlet woman,” Pia chuckled.

There was a bit of tongue poking before the conversation moved onto other subjects. I let the conversation wash around me and mused on Friday’s prom, date – check, dress – check, hair – check, transport – check. I think that's everything, we’ve got a meal at the Spa where the dance is before hand, I'm not as ditzy as Con over it but I guess it is quite exciting in a weird sort of way.

“Gab!”
“Eh?”
“How are you gonna have your hair?” Steff repeated.
How indeed? “Er haven’t given it much thought.”
“You’ve got to have it up with that dress, Gab,” Pia advised.
“Er yeah, probably,” I think I mentioned before that I'm not good with hair.
“I've got some books you can borrow,” Nena offered, “I'll bring them tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”

I thought you just went to the salon and they did their stuff, picking out a style is new to me.

“How do you feel about Paris Roubaix?” Dad asked as I attacked the taters with the masher.
“Like cobbles and stuff? Bit brutal.”
“How’d you fancy riding it, the junior one that is?”
“Really?”
“I had Chris on the phone earlier, he’s got dispensation for you to ride – if you’re up for it.”
I stopped massacring the helpless vegetables, “Dispensation?”
“You’re on a girls licence now, entries are usually only open to lads.”
“That’s not fair!”
“I don’t make the rules,” he observed, “so, interested?”
“Yeah! When is it?”
“Ah, that's the thing.”
“Go on.”
“Next Saturday.”
“Saturday? That’s not much notice.”
“You’ll have to miss the prom, the starts in St Quentin so we’ll have to go Friday night.”
“It doesn’t start in Paris?”
“No, the juniors only do about 160km, so what do you think?”

What do I think? A chance to ride one of the real classics or go to the prom?

“Can I think about it?”
“Okay but I need to let Chris know in the morning so he can get the paperwork sorted out.”

I somehow managed to finish the job in hand, that is making the cottage pie for our tea, anyhow I got it in the oven and headed up to my eyrie.

“I've been looking on the internet,” I addressed Dad as I served the food.
“Oh?”
“It’s only four hundred kilometres to this Saint Quentin place, couldn’t we go Saturday morning?”
“Only four hundred, you do realise how long that’ll take?”
“Four hours?”
“We’d have to leave at silly o’clock,”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “I get up early for work anyhow.”
“So what’s so important about this dance thing that you’re hesitating over riding a huge race?”
“It’s the Prom, like there isn’t another one.”
“She has got that dress already,” Mand put in taking her plate from me.
“What dress?” Dad asked.
“My prom dress, it cost a fortune, Dad.”
“Do I want to hear how much?”
“Um no,” I admitted.
He sighed, “I'll talk to Chris, I'm presuming that it’s a yes then?”
“Thank you, Daddy!” I hugged him all a jigger.
“Things I do, you want to come to watch then, Manda?” Dad offered.
“It’s not a good spectator event is it, think I'll pass thanks.”
“You’re probably right,” he agreed.

“So you’re going to this race thing Saturday morning?” Con asked over our pre school coffee.
“Uh huh, we’ll leave quite early, we have to be at this Saint Quentin place for like nine o’clock.”
“Sooner you than me” Pia allowed.
“You won’t be here Saturday, Gaby?” Frau Thesing enquired having overheard our conversation.
“Er no, sorry, I only found out about it yesterday afternoon.”
“I suppose I can find someone to cover.”
“I could ask Mand, she’s not coming to France.”
“The jobs hers if she wants it, but I need to know quickly.”
“I'll message her now.”
“Okay.”
“So this race is a big deal then?” Steff enquired.
“Not many, it’s like one of the Classics.”

They just don’t understand.

I tapped out the message to de Vreen;
U want wrk Sat am @ Thesings?
Gab

Then hit send.
I was a bit surprised when I got an almost immediate reply:

ok, M

well that’s that sorted at least.

I wasn’t quite sure what to be excited about, the dance or the race. I wonder who else will be riding? Geth? Jamie? Mark? Daz? Or some other lads, I bet Josh would do well at it but Dad never mentioned him riding. And I've got that NRW time trial thing on Sunday too – well I might dip out of that although I would get to wear the rainbow stripes. More questions.

Maddy Bell © 21.10.16

 

 
I'm not sure where the week went to, the weekend seemed to speed towards me, I joined Mand for a session on our time trial bikes on Wednesday afternoon, it felt really weird after not riding it for so long. We don’t normally do much on Thursdays but Dad took us down to the ferry where there was a long stretch of cobbles that we could practice over. I know Mand’s not riding but it was a help to have her there as we bounced over the blocks – back and forth – my arms were like jelly after half an hour but Dad kept us at it for another thirty minutes.

Of course at school, for us nearly leavers, the only subject of conversation was the Prom, who’s going with whom, what they are wearing ad nauseum.

Friday arrived all too quickly, we were getting out of school early, at lunchtime, me and the girls going directly to ‘Kopf’ to get our hair sorted. Pia’s Dad’s been seconded as taxi driver afterwards to get us to our homes to get dressed for the evening. Everyone was ready to pop!

To be honest I hadn’t settled on a style, nothing in Nena’s books grabbed me so I'd donned the dress, took a picture in the mirror and printed it out – if they see the dress I'm sure they’ll come up with something suitable. I checked my bag, yep picture there, not bad colour either, it’s a miracle I remembered as Dad insisted I have everything for Saturday packed before I came out this morning.

“Come on, Gab, times a wasting!” Steff chivvied.
“I'm coming.”

I hurried to join the others, apparently Mr S is bringing his trailer to put the bikes in, it’s like a huge puzzle getting us lot organised! The girls don’t usually get beyond a slow meander but our heavy roadsters were getting some abuse today to get across to Bad Neuenahr. Bikes parked we piled inside.

“So, Gaby is it? What are we doing for you?”
“Er yeah, Gaby, er not sure.”
“Any ideas?” my stylist, Vilma prodded as she assessed my locks.
“I've got a picture of my dress?” I told her as I fished in my bag.
“Good start,” she allowed, accepting the printout.
“I want it to match the dress, it has to match,” I stipulated.
She studied the picture for a bit before saying anything further, “I think we can manage that, hmm, in fact I think that might work out rather well, I'll just give it a quick tidy up then we’ll get started.”
“I don’t want it shorter.”
“Don’t worry, I'm just going to even the ends out a bit, take some of the weight out so it hangs better.”
“’Kay.”

“Right, let’s see if you’re dry, then we can put it up,” Vilma told me as the drier span down.

I never knew that professionals put so many different shampoos and conditioners on, I use a blob of each and it comes out okay. These guys, well it was put stuff on, leave it for a bit rinse, put something else on, another rinse – well I bet Vilma did that four times before I was put under the drier. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention at Sylv’s place!

“Excellent,” she announced after checking my hair was thoroughly dry, I guess now it’s the real hairdressing bit.

Of course the others were each getting their barnets sorted whilst this was going on but now they were just waiting for me. I couldn’t really see any of them, I couldn’t even see me as Vilma was blocking the mirror most of the time. I was getting a little tetchy by the time she stepped back.

“There we go, I think with that dress you’re going to be a hit, I hope your boyfriend appreciates how much effort you’ve put into tonight.”

I stared at the mirror, wow, Mand does a fair job but this is, well like a work of art. Vilma had managed to get some small rhinestones into the mix, which could’ve looked tacky but they were few in number and just set the whole do off. The lights made my hair look lighter than normal, I've noticed that in some changing rooms, but yeah, looking good Gabs!

“I just told her to make it match my dress,” I told the others as we headed out of town in the wheezing minibus.
“It certainly does that,” Pia agreed.

No one looked like their normal selves, each of us having very not teen styles. Of all of us Steff had been most daring, getting her hair cut into what I guess you might call a Cleopatra, you know, straight fringe and straight across the bottom, maybe a couple of inches shorter than it started – oh and dyed black. Bit too much for me, look how long that ‘temporary’ stuff I used the other week lasted!

I ran into the house, I'm on a tight schedule here.
“I'm home!”
“Lounge,” Dad’s voice offered.
“Can’t stop, Max is picking me up at half six,” I replied losing my shoes before hurrying up stairs.

“Gi’s a hand, Mand,” I called down the stairs.
“Whatever,” she agreed from her room.
“I can’t reach the buttons,” I told her, “can you do them for me?”
“Yes mila – whoa! Gee-zus, Gab!”
“Looking good eh? Just wait until my make-up’s done.”
“You’re certainly gonna turn heads.”
“That's the idea,” I agreed.
“Well you’re braver than me, it’s a perfect match for the dress, I'll say that.”
“Yeah, I think Vilma got it spot on, the sparkles are just right too.”
“Er yeah,” Mand agreed, “sparkles.”
“Buttons?” I prompted.
“Oh right, yeah, buttons.”

“Your mother said I have to take some photos,” Dad advised as I carefully made my way downstairs gripping the banister.
“Er okay, let me get my shoes on first though.”
He was still fiddling with his camera, “I think that's it.”
“Hurry up, Max’ll be here in a minute.”
“What the hell have you done to your hair?” he exclaimed, I know it’s good but really, Dad.
“Cool eh? I just told her that I wanted it to match the dress et voilà!”
“Et voilà,” he repeated.
“Photo’s?” I prompted.
“Right,” he agreed. Of course past experience with the other two women in the family kept him from spreading his council, sometimes though Gab, sometimes.

“Your taxi’s here,” Mand noted as I slipped my shawl around my shoulders.
“Okay, where’s my bag?”
“In your hand, yup, braver than me,” she repeated her earlier statement for some reason.
“See you tomorrow?”
“I guess, have a good ride tomorrow.”
“I'll give it my best shot.”
“Have fun, kiddo,” Dad added coming through to see me off.

“Wow, Gabs you look brill,” Max advised as he escorted me to Gloria’s Cayenne.
“Why thank you, you don’t look half bad yourself.”

I'd kind of hoped he’d go for his Landeskostum, a suit is so boring and he does look kinda handsome in it – not everyone's taste I know, we can’t all be the same. I needed help getting into the Porsche, long frocks and cars really don’t go – and I had to avoid damaging my hair do too.

“You look very nice,” Gloria, that is Max’s mum told me as I got settled.
“Er thanks, just hope I don’t spill anything on this dress, it’s silk.”
“I'm sure you’ll be fine, strapped in?”
“Yep.”

She engaged drive and we were soon heading towards the Kursaal.

The Kursaal was, of course, manic in a typically organised German way. Cars were queuing to disgorge their cargo’s, parent taxis, hire cars and even a stretch limo, we waited in line, seems we’re getting the whole nine yards.

“Oh nearly forgot,” Max started, “this is for you.”
He passed me a plastic tube, “Er thanks, what is it?”
“It’s a cor something.”
“Corsage, Gaby, you wear it on your wrist.” Gloria instructed.
I slipped what appeared to be a small floral arrangement from the tube, “Er how does it, you know?”
“Let’s have a look,” Gloria suggested turning in her seat, “left or right?”
“Er left?”

I presented arm and flowers which she soon had secured to my wrist.
“There we go, oops.”
We pulled forward and Max assisted me down from the car.
“Have fun!” Gloria offered.
“We will,” Max opined.

I said it was the whole nine yards – we entered on a red carpet, a photographer snapping each couple once we were inside. Then we were directed to one of the function rooms where the meal would be served.

“Not your usual school meal,” Max stated.
“I can see Con over there.”
“Right.”

We had table places which were allocated quite randomly, I think to avoid cliques sitting together. Somehow we’d ended up with Con and Marty, Chris Foch and her boyfriend Dan filling the other two seats.

“Heya,” I offered, “finally got inside.”
“Yeah, there was a right queue when we got here,” Con agreed.
“Hi, Chris, Dan.”
“Hi, Gabs, you’re brave,” Chris supplied.
“Not really, it’s got a net top and sleeves,” I pinched a bit of the almost invisible material, “see?”
“I wasn’t meaning that, your hair.”
“I just told Vilma to do it to match the dress. I think it looks pretty good, can you see the sparkles?”
“Um, Gab,” Con interrupted, “I don’t think she means the style do you?”
“I mean don’t get me wrong, Gab, it suits you and it must’ve taken bottle to do it.”
“Eh? It’s only a few rhinestones.”
“Um, Gab,” Max whispered, “I think they mean the colour?”
“Yeah,” Chris agreed, “you’re certainly brave dying it pink.”
“Pink? What are you on about, it’s not pink.”
“Wanna bet?” Con mentioned.
“Course it’s not, it’s just the light.”
“It’s definitely pink, Gab,” Marty put in.
“It can’t be! Con, toilets!”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” I demanded. There was of course no doubt my hair was most certainly pink, almost an exact match for my dress. No wonder I'd had some funny looks at home and when I arrived here.

“We thought you knew, you did keep telling us you told the girl to match to your dress – it’s pretty close.”
“But, but...” I wanted to cry, to run home, to get rid of this, this candyfloss coloured hair.
“Gab you look brill, just a bit more er pink than usual,” she almost giggled.
I couldn’t help myself, “I suppose it does make a statement.”
“I bet it just washes out.”
Somehow I doubted that, “Probably.”
“We’ll go and get it fixed on Monday,” Con enthused.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Come on, they’ll be serving the starters by now.”

Of course we’d missed lunch having gone directly to the hairdressers, I was starving!

Maddy Bell © 21.10.16

 

 
“Good drive over?” Chris enquired as we helped ourselves to the mediocre coffee.
“Not much traffic about at silly o'clock in the morning,” Dad supplied, “someone slept most of the way.”
“A girl needs her beauty sleep,” I countered.
“Hmm,” Chris raised a finger as he reached behind him and retrieved a bag, “team kit.”
“Er thanks, is there somewhere I can change?”
“You’d best use my room, here,” he passed me the key card, “114, end of the corridor opposite.”
“Thanks, keys?” I demanded of pater.

Dave waited until his daughter was out of earshot, “We’re grateful for the opportunity Chris but what’s the real reason for today?”
“Straight up?”
“Works best,” Dave agreed.
Chris continued in a lower tones, “You’ve seen the lads we’ve got, don’t get me wrong, they’re a good bunch but with a couple of exceptions.”
“Mark and Josh?” Dave suggested.
“The same, well the rest are still not at this level, oh we’ve got a couple coming through but they’re not ready yet. Dre, sorry Gaby has proven form over the distance and at this level, it’d be nice not to be a laughing stock at Roubaix for a change.”
“So who is riding?”
“Mark’s here although it’s not his thing, Josh of course, his uncle brought him down yesterday.”
“Joe’s here?”
“Staying somewhere in Cambrai I think he said.”
“Who else?”
“Jamie and Gethin, we’ve got five seats.”
“Well at least they know each other.”
Chris checked his watch, “Well, best get this show on the road.”

Gab adjusted her bibs, why can’t they make some that don’t squeeze your boobs, it can’t be that difficult. The jersey was short sleeved but the matching arm warmers were in the bag so she pulled them on first. It was only as she checked her appearance in the mirror that she noticed the rainbow bands around the sleeves, cool.

She put her stuff in her case and left Chris’s room, the door wouldn’t shut so she turned to give it a harder pull.

“Oof!”
A body slammed into her, knocking her off her feet.
“Hey schaut es euch!”
“Er sorry, mademoiselle, like.”
“Dumkopf!”
“Gab?”
“Ja, Josh? what’re you doing here?”
“Racing?”
“Well gi’s a hand you great lummox.”

“So, any questions?” Chris enquired as he concluded the briefing in the team bus parked on a street in central St Quentin.

He’d laid it on the line for them, it was going to be brutal if it stays dry, apocalyptic if it rains and then there were the cobbles. As far as plans went, getting to the first cobbles in the front group was it, after that, well it was pretty much everyone for themselves. No one had anything to say so he concluded.

“I won’t tickle anyone's ego today, just getting to the finish will be a result, there are riders out there who train on these types of roads, that’ve ridden this before that won’t make it today. It’s no disgrace not to finish, it’s all a learning process. Right, go out there and show ‘em what you’re made of.”

“So what’s with the hair, man?” Josh asked as we waited for the introductions, Mark after all has his Rainbow jersey on so he’ll be called and I'm sure there are some others they’ll want to mention.
“Er, hairdressing malfunction for last night.”
“Last night?”
“Prom? I told you guys last week,” I pointed out.
“Gab, shush!” Jamie suggested as the MC started his spiel.

I'd been surprised by all the infrastructure for a junior race but of course it’s the main event tomorrow, the Hell of the North proper. The chatter was of course in French but even I could recognise ‘Champion du Monde’ but ‘Contre la montre’ was beyond my schoolgirl French.

“That's you, Gab,” Gethin mentioned with a nudge.
“Really?”
“Yes, go on!”

I stepped forward and waved to the crowd, small though it was receiving some cheers and claps for my effort.

“Et enfin le junior Champion du Monde, Mark Cavendish!”

The pocket rocket grabbed my hand before I could escape and raised it as he took his plaudits, what could I do but smile prettily. “We’ll show these Frogs how it’s done, Bond,” he suggested.

There was the usual pre start rider chat then with some enthusiasm, Monseur le Mayor waved us away for 160km of Northern France’s best roads.

The large field was made up mostly of national teams, I think I saw Desgrange earlier but there were also some ‘club’ teams making up the numbers – I don’t mean that nastily, just that they aren’t on the national teams. We threaded out of town under the neutral flag, having Mark – and apparently me here, had gained Team GB a front row start so at least we were starting in the right place! We cleared the town and the green flag replaced the red – game on!

If any rider or team had much of a plan they hid it well for the first dozen kilometres of almost straight road. We were in a sizeable peloton across the full width of the fully closed road, motorcycle outriders, flashing lights the lot but cruising at about twenty five kph. In fact we were almost an hour in before there was a hint of action.

Riders attacked, the peloton reacted and repeat. The roads were mostly wide and straight, with today's light winds, no one was going to get far. Another hour and more had passed, a little over sixty kilometres under the tyres before a turn changed everything.

From wide and straight roads we were squeezed onto narrow and twisty lanes and there was an almost immediate selection. As usual Josh was my wheel man, Cav in close attendance behind and we forced our way forward. it was full gas and brutal – we haven’t even seen any cobbles yet, we were in the front group, we’d made the cut.

There wasn’t any organisation, no proper rotation, riders taking pulls on the front as they felt able. That did at least mean that I, and to a lesser extent, Mark, could hide from the effort although Josh took several long pulls. The first cobbled section was quite tame, even so it had us strung out in a long ribbon across the gently rolling fields.

Gaps opened, it only needs a slight hesitation and you lose the wheel, by the end of those first 1500m the forty plus front group was broken into three. The leaders, which included Josh had maybe ten seconds, group two contained me and Mark, the third group perhaps the same again behind. Things now started to get a bit more organised, it’s serious now and there was an informal truce on the tarmac between the cobbles.

It was impossible to keep track of where we were, my computer giving nothing more than a clue. There wasn’t much movement between the groups on the tarmac, no it was on the cobbles where that happened. It was the third sector where I managed to bridge across to Josh but lost Mark on the way.

The feed came up soon after, on the first decent bit of road for about twenty kilometres. Our group was a healthy ten rider strength, maybe we can go the distance?

“You again,” a familiar voice stated.
“Me again,” I agreed.
“Bit different to the Saarland,” Michael suggested.
“No kidding.”
“Be careful on the next pavé, there are some big holes.”
“Cheers.”
“Can’t have my favourite Rennraderin crashing out,” he returned with a wink.

What was that about? Does he fancy me or something?

Michael wasn’t wrong about sector four, the cobbles were huge, gaps between them gargantuan, there wasn’t even any respite in the edges.

“Shiiiit!”

It happened so fast I could do nothing other than hope the landing was soft. It wasn’t me that made the error but some Dutch lad who’s wheel I was tracking, when he went down all I could do was ride into him resulting in an unscheduled flight.

“Oof!”

I landed on the verge thankfully, winded but apparently otherwise undamaged. I got up and retrieved my bike from the ditch, a quick check, bum, front wheels had it. I quickly dropped it and held it up for service, of course the damage was done, the second group went through before the service bike arrived with a wheel, I'd lost a good minute. I got going again, managing to hook onto a three man group just before we cleared the sector.

“You okay, Gab?” Jamie asked.
“Had an off, mashed the front wheel, you seen Mark?”
“He’s a couple of groups back with Geth, Josh?”
“Front group where I was.”
“We’d better get back there then, lassie!” he suggested.

And so started a frenetic chase, chasing down single riders, small groups, there was no let up. Sometimes it was just the two of us taking turns at pace setting, occasionally another dusty body joined us for a bit. Our progress was however pretty steady and by sector seven we were by my reckoning riding top ten, Michael and Josh both still ahead of us somewhere.

“’Bout forty k left,” I gasped to Jamie.
“Best crack on then,” he grinned back.
The damned Scot’s enjoying this.
“Whatever.”

It really was becoming a war of attrition, over the next sector of pavé we passed two retired riders, one with a broken bike, the other looked like a collar bone. The famous Arenberg Forest was next, the crowds were out to watch the carnage even if it is only a bunch of Jungere racing. Speed is your friend on cobbles but also your enemy, Jamie accelerated into the killing ground, yours truly as close behind as I deemed safe.

There was an off ahead of us, we had to pick our way past, I couldn’t see who, my glasses being covered in shite and everyone looking the same in dust grimed kit. The crowds cheered us through, it was with some relief that I took a swig from by bidon when we reached tarmac again. Our session by the Rhein had been quite tame by today's standards but at least it prepared me for the jelly arms.

Jamie really seemed to be in his element, seemingly relishing the cobbles, powering smoothly over them, unnervingly picking the smoothest line and avoiding the chasms. To be honest I was pretty much just hanging onto his wheel, had been for a bit now, if I lose contact that’ll be me done. There were cars and motorcycles ahead, we must be coming up to the leaders.

The last sector was only bad due to its length, two kilometres of city street quality setts that nevertheless shook us to bits. We cleared it and I blew. Jamie slowed for me to get back on but my legs were numb.

“I'm done, go get ‘em for me.”
“You can sit in, lass,” he offered.
“No I can’t, go, shoo.”
“Here,” he passed me a full bidon, “you need it more than me, see you in Roubaix!”

It hurt, oh boy did it hurt to see Jamie quite rapidly disappear up the road. I was feeling a bit sore from my off, that's not an excuse just a statement of fact, best I can do now is get to the finish. I took a swig from the fresh bottle and coaxed a bit more speed from my abused body.
I was more than a bit surprised when a few minutes later two riders caught me, one of them being Desgrange.

“You again!”
“I could say the same,” I opined.
“Who’s ahead,” I queried.
“You were,” he advised, “guess it’s us now.”

We’re in the lead? Hmm, he doesn’t know Jamie’s up the road and I'm not about to tell him.
“Guess so.”

I checked out the other rider, he looked how I felt, his legs going round on automatic, by his jersey I think he’s Polish but I could be wrong. We traded riding point, with any luck we can hold off anyone else coming from behind, the presence of a service bike behind us was, to say the least, some comfort. The road tracked back and forth across the fields but eventually what I presumed to be Roubaix appeared on our horizon.

The Pole lost his fight with fatigue three K out and I could tell my companion fancied his chances of victory when we reach the velodrome. To be honest, I fancied his chances except I knew that we’ll be fighting for second not the victory. He was clearly stronger than me at this point, it was taking all my energy just to hold his wheel.

We were in the city now, flat fields replaced by boulevards and apartments. And then we were directed off the road and through a wide gateway, up a ramp and then we were on the track. The gathered crowd gave a roar of approval and I decided Michael would have to fight for his ‘victory’.

You could tell he was a roadie through and through, he went straight for the bottom of the track. Not the fastest place to be at this point, I stayed higher, it’s not a steep track so holding it fairly high wasn’t too difficult. We circled the track, I dropped down giving it all I'd got left as we headed for the line – I got alongside him but he just edged me.

I pretty much steered to the track centre and fell off next to a grinning Jamie.

Maddy Bell © 22.10.16

 

 
“You knew,” Michael accused as we waited our turns to wee into a pot.
“I knew Jamie was ahead, yeah,” I allowed, “but until you said I thought there were more up the road.”
He didn’t look like he believed me.
“Honest, Mike.”
“Desgrange,” an official called out before the discussion could go any further.

We were still begrimed when we climbed the podium – oh our faces were newly clean but I was well icky – I know it sounds girly but the grime was caked in every orifice. The crowd was quite vocal, I waved enthusiastically when I stepped up – hey, can’t hurt building a fan base right? Jamie – well he couldn’t stop grinning and when he raised his cobble you could almost feel the joy radiating from the Scot.

With two of us on the podium, Team GB were certainly the talking point of the day but it wasn’t all a fairytale. Poor old Josh, arguably the strongest of our team came in twenty minutes down, bruised, battered and on a neutral service bike that was a bit small for him, that crash in the Arenberg Forest had bent a wheel and wrecked his rear mech. Geth and Mark, well they were even further back in the auto bus, finishing only just before the presentation.

I did eventually get a shower, they weren’t exactly set up for a solitary girl riding so I had to wait until one of the shower rooms could be closed to the lads – talk about embarrassing. Pity we didn’t still have the camper.

“So you two eating with us?” Chris asked as we headed to the car park.
“Best not,” Dad told him, “it’s a fair drive home and this one’s racing tomorrow.”
“But I'm starving now Daddy,” I pleaded, turning on the charm much to Chris’s obvious amusement.
“You’ll have to eat sometime Dave, and this is on BC.”
I did some eyelash batting, “Please?”
“It didn’t work for your sister,” Dad offered.
“But I'm way better at it,” I pointed out.
“Thanks, Chris, looks like you’re paying.”

We weren’t eating in Roubaix, or even France, our little convoy instead making its way to Tournai across the border in Belgium. Apparently Chris has used Le Grand Jacques on previous trips so had booked a table earlier. I don’t think anyone had eaten much, back up or riders, no one needed a second invite to head inside.

It’s not the biggest place so we were on two tables, riders on one, adults the other and our table at least got a bit raucous. We did get wine – watered to within an inch of extinction but Jamie at least was still running high on adrenalin. The food was good, basic stuff, braised meat of some sort with the usual vegetable accompaniment after some sort of thin soup.

“So what’s with the hair, man?” Josh enquired.
“Yeah it’s a bit left field, even for you,” Cav added.
“It was a misunderstanding at the salon.”
“Salon? She’s going all girly on us,” Cav guffawed.
“Er here,” I mentioned, “I am a girl.” worst luck.
“Why pink?” Geth queried.
“Long story short, it was our Prom last night, so we went to get our hair done, I told ‘em to match my dress and they took it literally right, it’s so not staying this colour,” I insisted.
“Well ah think she looks bonny,” Jamie mentioned.

Is he coming on to me, buttering me up?

“It’s back to normal on Monday,” I insisted.

“So Caro will bring the girls over on the Friday?” Dave asked.
“Yeah, late flight out of Brum, I've booked them into a place a few miles from the airport.”
“Okay, I'll ring Caro and sort out meeting up Saturday, might not be until after lunch.”
“No problem, they can get a leg stretch before you get there. So what’s tomorrow?”
“Local TT league, Apollinaris are sponsoring the thing so George wants the girls at it, as many as possible.”
“A chance for the lass to flash the stripes eh?” Joe observed.

It was heading towards seven thirty when we emerged from the restaurant, Saturday evening in Tournai promising to be only slightly more fun filled than Dernau – even the railway station opposite quiet. BC and the Waugh's were staying back in St Quentin tonight so they can watch some of tomorrow’s men's race over those same cobbles.

“See you next week, Josh.”
“Aye, man,” he agreed.
“Where’re you guys racing?” Mark enquired.
“Down in Baden, the Schwarzwalder Jungere Grand Prix.”
“The whaty?”
“It’s round the Black Forest, man,” Josh supplied.
“Don’t eat too much cake!” Geth instructed.
“Best go, Dad’s tapping his foot.”

“You okay doing that, Joe?” Dad queried of Josh’s uncle.
“It’s only a gear mech, reckon I've changed a few of them over the years like.”

My bike up on the roof was now sans a rear mech, Dad having removed it for Josh to use.

“Thanks anyway, it’s a job less next weekend.”
“I'll give the lass’s bike a check over too before we come down.”
“Cheers, Joe, ah here she is.”

“Everything okay, kiddo?” Dad asked.

It only took five minutes for us to get onto the east bound motorway towards Liege and home.

“Tired,” I admitted with a yawn, “it was good to see the guys.”
“They treat you okay?”
“I took a hit over this,” I waggled one of my messy braids, “why shouldn’t they?”
“Teenage lads can be a bit immature.”
“No kidding,” I agreed.
“If anyone says or acts inappropriately you need to tell us.”

What does that mean exactly? Hmm, should I tell about Jamie’s advances, or am I reading too much into his looks?

“I will.”

We got home a little before eleven, Mand had already gone to bed so after putting the washing on I took another shower and hit the sack myself.

“You look terrible.”
“Thanks for that endorsement, Mand.”
I grabbed a mug and poured myself a cup of coffee.
“That’s well pink,” Mand stated,” when Con said I thought you’d got like highlights or something not the full candyfloss.”
“Laugh today, it’s gone tomorrow. So how was the bakery?”
“Not bad, I was mostly clearing tables and selling bread.”
“You didn’t get to drive the Gaggia?”
“The coffee machine? Therese showed me how but I made a right mess, it’s much more complicated than that thing we had at the market.”
“It’s not,” I scoffed.
“Well I managed to steam a cup of coffee, went everywhere.”

I snorted in amusement.

“It wasn’t funny!”
“Course not,” I smirked.
Dad came up from the cellar cum garage just then, “I know it’s not far but you might want to get dressed, young lady.”

Why can’t I go in my jarmies? I've got knickers on, hmm, might want a bra though.

“Yes, Dad,” I sighed, “I'll just finish this.”
“And do something with the hair, please.”

Yeah, when Mand called it candyfloss she wasn’t far wrong, going to bed with it a bit damp has resulted in a semi afro, not a good look. It wasn’t even nine when we set off for our day’s activities, I had hoped to get forty winks on the way but I ended up reliving not just yesterday but Friday night as well. I didn’t want to brag but how could I not, I was voted Prom Queen after all.

We had plenty of time, the race isn’t until this afternoon so getting to the Grönberg’s before ten gave us time for coffee before going on. Of course I had to repeat everything for Ron’s benefit, this time with Mand filling bits in that I'd left out. Eventually though, we were called to order and we set off for parts north just before eleven.

One autobahn looks pretty much like another, Ron and Mand were rattling like fish wives about goodness knows what leaving me to contemplate the Westphalian countryside. We left the motorway after about thirty minutes then headed through Recklingshausen, taking another twenty minutes to reach our destination, Haard Camping right at the edge of the forest. Racing isn’t starting until two but already quite a few cars and riders were on site, railings being set up, banners fixed.

“Right, are you three getting changed?” Dad suggested.
“Yes, Dad, “I sighed, “come on guys, they're no fun.”

The fun was Dad and Angela doing the ezy up tango, Dad doing his best to prevent collapse, not aided by his daughter’s comments. Being a campsite there’s not exactly changing rooms but we’ve got exclusive use of one toilet block so we did have a bit of privacy to change. Apart from trying it on, this is the first time I've worn my rainbow banded skinsuit, I still don’t connect with that day fully.

“Nice BH, Gabs,” Ron mentioned as we set off back to the car.
“Wha?”
“It shows right through your suit,” Mand supplied.
“Pervs.”
“Hey it’s a nice BH, “Ron went on.

We, well me at least, was surprised to find Anita and her dad under the ezy up.

“Hi, Neet, how come you’re here, I thought the team were in Poland?”
She finished clipping in to start her warm-up before answering, “Five rider teams and it was my turn to rest.”
“This is hardly a rest,” I pointed out.
“Well it’s better than four or five hours graft for four days.”
“I guess.
“Come on, Gab, warm up,” Dad instructed.

The tent had the sides on, we don’t generally bother but here it gives us a bit of privacy, last thing we want is an audience as we warm up stripped to the waist. Soon there were four of us spinning away on the turbo’s, it’s safer and more controlled to do it this way. It’s not a hot day, pleasantly warm I'd say but it’s cloudy with a light breeze, not bad for a relatively short test – yeah it’s only thirty K.

“Not exactly the F1,” Mand stated over the yowl of the trainers.
“What's F1?” Ron queried.
“A time trial course in England, supposed to be quite fast.”
“All the courses have a code ,” Mand supplied, “round home they’re Q’s and G’s.”
“Right,” Ron allowed.
“It’s complicated,” I agreed.

Back home in England, time trials are seeded according to a formula, I think I've said before but today it’s all a bit random. The only thing that's familiar is that the highest ranked rider starts last, today, as reigning Weltmeisterin, that's my honour. Each of the others finished warming up before being escorted to the start area leaving just me and Carsten in the tent.

“Time, young lady,” he stated passing me a towel.
“’Kay.”

I eased down, then dismounted so Herr Pilz could release my sleek time trial bike from its restraints. After towelling off I pulled my skinsuit back into place before preening in the reflection offered by the car’s side windows. Aero helmet on, oh yeah looking cool, I admired the way I looked in the suit, all white except for the rainbow bands and the sponsor’s logos, the built in visor of the helmet giving me a space age appearance.

“Come,” Carsten instructed.

I remounted my speed missile and Neet’s dad pushed me across to the starting area. Thankfully there’s not a ramp, they are just scary, but there is a tent which is where Dad was waiting after seeing Mand off.

Beep, beep, beep, beeeeeep!
“Number seventy seven,” an official called, my minute person scooted forward to the start line.
“Okay, kiddo?”
“Think so.”
“Just do what you can.”
Beep, beep, beep, beeeeeep!
“Seventy eight.”
“Good luck, girl,” Carsten offered.
“Be careful,” Dad added as he wheeled me forward.

The pusher took over from Dad and after settling down I started my pre race breathing. I sat up to watch the countdown, automatically checking my helmet, cleats, computer.

“Fifteen.”

I returned to the bars and counted down in my head, ten, nine, eight…
Beep, beep, beep, beeeeeep!
I pushed down on the pedals and started my effort.

There was a right turn after fifty metres so I stayed on the wide bars until I was clear then it was down into my tuck before snicking up a couple of gears. This is the only bit of the course, about half a kilometre, where we get to see other riders, the couple finishing looked to be riding easily so at least the finish should be easy! A big yellow board announced turn one and our joining the public highway.

It’s not a closed road today, we do however have a supposedly closed lane so in theory no other traffic should be on our side of the road. An assortment of whistles and some cheering greeted me at the corner, where I had to come off the tri bars to dab the brakes. Once through the turn I returned to my aero tuck and spun back up to near forty kph, oh yeah, this is it!

Maddy Bell © 27.10.16

 

 

I settled into full time trial mode, concentrating on keeping a good line, keeping still – well just not getting distracted by outside stuff. I usually start playing a tune in my head, today its the Top Gear theme, I think its called The Chain, appropriate really for bike racing. The local Polizei were on duty at the next couple of turns as the course passed through the first village, the first turn was pretty much full gas but even scrubbing a good chunk of speed I ended up quite wide on the much sharper second.

It took a bit to get back up to speed, not helped by a less than smooth road surface and a slight incline. Up means there’s down, my velocity increased down to the next turn where I managed to only dab the brakes once to get through. Dad reckoned it was flat but the road ahead most certainly isn’t, a ribbon of tarmac stretching up into the forest.

But not just tarmac, riders, my minute person, a dot in the distance before the turn had turned into a rider maybe two hundred metres ahead. My brain switched to pursuit mode, the incline temporarily forgotten. The gap closed quite quickly as my quarry fought his bike up the grade, it wasn’t my minute rider but seventy six starting two minutes before me.

I glanced at my computer as I slipped past, eighteen forty five, not brilliant but okay. Ahead I could see another couple of riders – more carrots, I slipped down a gear as the climb started to bite. It’s not a steep climb, rather it’s a series of widely spaced rises, a flatter stretch linking them.

The riders ahead swapped position, the slower of the two coming rapidly back towards me. I was gaining on them both and on the next steeper bit caught number 75. I was holding my revs okay but my speed continued to drop all the way down to thirty kph, I hope there's a good drop soon.

It looked like the next lump was the last, I gave it some extra effort but as it flattened was dismayed to see a further rise in the distance. Well at least there was a slight dip beforehand, I snicked back into one, two, three higher gears, my breathing quickly settling down again. The carrot, I mean rider, ahead was holding their own on the flatter surface, maybe even moving away from my pursuit.

I almost missed the summit, the last incline looked worse from a distance than riding it but similarly it didn’t exactly turn straight into a ski slope downwards either. The numbers on the tiny screen steadily climbed, forty, forty five, come on faster. It was half a K before it tilted more steeply downwards and the speed edged towards the magical fifty.

Thoughts of the quarry ahead were temporarily forgotten as I concentrated on my line and riding fast, the forgotten sound track returning as my riding became smoother. My speed was good and I reckon the time wasn’t too bad either, twenty five minutes for sixteen kilometres. Another turn board attracted my attention and I set myself up to make the turn as fast as possible.

I ended up very wide, having taken too much speed into the turn, gave the oncoming car a fright but there must’ve been at least ten centimetres clear! I swung onto the bypass road, at least that had a slip road but also a slight rise through more trees. The rider in front lost a bit of ground to me on the incline but soon we were sweeping down to another sharp turn.

My brakes squealed loudly as I came almost to a halt to make the sharp, narrow turn. Still, I'd lost less than my prey, I was suddenly just metres behind 77, finally passing him on the rise out of the village. The road twisted about a bit, it was only after crossing some canal that I got the speed back over forty K’s.

It’s not a long way to go now, I can afford to go full gas for the remaining distance, I could see another rider away in the distance, they’d have to be damn slow for me to catch them. I adjusted my position a bit, maybe I need to move the saddle a bit. The road was tracking the canal which unfortunately meant there was a bit of a breeze, slowing my progress a bit.

The sign suggested the next corner was quite sharp, I took more caution this time before getting back into full aero as quickly as possible. Thirty five minutes, is that good? I'm not sure. I concentrated on my breathing, on my pedalling, anything to stop looking at the computer.

Slight rise, crappy road, this strasse really is schade! The kilometre to go board was only metres before the warning sign for the next, the final turn. I used as much road as possible to maintain speed through the corner and gave everything I had to reach the finish along near the campsite entrance.

Yes! I hit stop on ‘puter and slowed to a halt where Amanda was slumped over her bike and Dad was waiting.
“Good ride, kiddo.”

I took the offered bottle and it was only after a long slug that I could even think about anything else. My breathing slowed as I panted, leaning on my tri bars for support. My brain eventually got out of neutral allowing me to check my time, forty two minutes and a few seconds for the thirty kilometres, not bad I guess.

“You okay?” Dad asked.
“Uh huh,” I managed.
I got off my steed and let him push it whilst I duck walked along behind back to the car.

My actual 41.59 was 35 seconds shy of the win, and another three riders beat my standard putting me in fourth but clear winner of the women's prize ahead of Anita by one minute thirty. It was a bit disappointing to not make top three, where had I lost time? Could I have gone faster? Did yesterday’s effort affect today's ride? There’s no point beating myself up about it, in the run of things third place yesterday was a much more important result.

“I used to like tests,” Mand opined as we walked back from the shower block, “not so sure these days.”
“It’s a useful skill,” Ron offered.
“Well it’s not like I'm any good, not like jet knickers here.”
“Jet knickers!” I exclaimed.
“I like it,” Ron chuckled, “so knickers, you keeping the hair?”
Hair? Hair? Oh that.
“No way! It’s back to blonde as soon as.”
“Aw, you look cute,” Mand supplied.
“That I can do without.”
“Says the prettiest girl in the Ahrtal.”
“Am not,” I complained, “it’s the whole Eiffel!”

“Come on, Gab, cake,” Mand told me shaking my shoulder.
“Eh?”
“We’re at Ron’s.”

I blinked to clear the sleep from my eyes, guess I fell asleep after we left the event. Mand left me in the car, I pulled my ballets back on and recovered my cardigan to put on over my cami. I shut the car and headed into Schloss Grönberg, following the sound of voices to the kitchen.

“Alright, Gab?” Angela asked as I retrieved a mug for my caffeine hit, “The girls have gone up.”
“Yeah, bit tired I guess.”
“You were asleep before we got out of the car park,” Dad advised.
“Gab, you coming?” Ron called down the stairs.
“I'm wanted,” I allowed.
“You’d best take this up,” Angela suggested as she placed a third plate on the tray, a tray laden with double chocolate gateaux.

“Oo, choccy cake!” Mand stated when I arrived in Ron’s girl cave.
“You could’ve fetched it yourselves.”
“But you’re much more practised at waitressing,” Ron opined as she started the CD player.
“Hmmph!”
“Stop pouting, you know it’s true,” Mand added.
“So what’re you going to do until you start college, Gab?” Ron asked.
“Dunno, train more.”

Yeah, with the exams over and Prom passed I'm finished at Silverberg this week – well in theory. We are encouraged to do some of the non examined courses they put on for the summer term, I guess they are sort of bridging things to get us prepared for college. The Rents have sort of suggested I do a couple but I want to know if I've got the place on the catering course before deciding – Frau Boxberg thought I should get in okay but you never know.

“Du-ull,” Mand stated.
“So what did you do, Ron?”
“I worked at Aldi for a few weeks, stacking shelves and stuff.”
“Oh I remember you saying.” was it only last year? Guess it must be, she’s only a year older than me.

Ron and Mand were soon deep in conversation discussing, I dunno, girl stuff, I let it flow over me, my mind flitting over my post Silverberg options.

“Dinner girls!” Angela called up the stairwell.
Geez, what's the time.
“...shoulda seen her face,” Mand concluded whatever tale she was imparting.
“Pass us your plate, Gab,” Ron requested.
“Er, oh right,” I found said crockery and handed it to her before climbing off the floor where I'd been sat.
“Didn’t know we were staying to eat,” I allowed.
“You were asleep in the car,” Mand noted.
There was that.

Dinner was some stroganoff thing with boiled rice, I’d’ve gone with mashed taters myself but it was pretty good and filled the gaping maw of my stomach quite nicely.

“I'll ring Wednesday, Angela,” Dad advised as we got into the car.
“Okay, see you next week, girls.”
“Yeah, see ya, Ron.”
“Byeee,” Mand added.
We waved as we set off for the drive back down to Dernau, an hour away.

“Alright, girls?” Dad asked.
“Yeah fine,” I allowed.
“Busy weekend,” he noted.
“No kidding,” I agreed.

“Morning, Gaby,” Frau Thesing greeted when I clomped into the bakery Monday morning.
“Morning.”
“You look tired.”
“It’s been a busy weekend.”
“Amanda told me on Saturday, some big race in France wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was brutal then we had a time trial yesterday too.”

Her face was already glazing over, that's the thing with non enthusiasts, no staying power! I took my coffee and joined the others.

“All hail the Kőnigen!” Bridg started.
“Give over, guess everyone’s over Friday?”
“Just about, you given Max his tonsils back?” Pia queried.
“Eh?”
“Oh come on, Gab, all of year five saw you sucking tongues half the night,” Nen supplied.
“We were not.”
“Don’t mind them,” Steff advised, “just jealous.”
I know we had a couple of snogs but it was hardly in the middle of the dance floor unlike some people I could name.

Of course we had to swap notes on Friday’s dance, it was the main topic of conversation for the morning – well for the girls at least. The lads, well it was the usual football or whatever, I'm sure they do talk about this stuff but not around us girls. Yeah ‘us girls’, I know I am a girl but in my head I'm still Drew but that feeling, that belief is slowly being eroded. It wasn’t Drew riding on Saturday, it was Gaby well and truly, there was no mention of Drew, I was just treated as me.

“So, Gab, you getting your hair fixed later?” Steff enquired as we nibbled at our lunch.
“I hope so, I'm sure it’s only a temporary colour.”
“Yeah, they wouldn’t use a permanent colour would they?” Pia opined.
“Probably needs a few washes to shift it,” Con added.

If that's so, it’s quite resistant, it hasn’t faded through the weekends washes.

Maddy Bell © 25.10.16

 

 
“Is Vilma in?” I queried nervously, I wasn’t the most enthusiastic of customers on Friday but at least the gang was all here, today it’s me and Con come to hold my hand.
“Sorry it’s her day off,” the receptionist advised.
“Oh,” I sagged.
“I think Mitzi’s free?”
“That was the girl who did Steff,” Con whispered in my ear.
“Er yeah, okay,” I agreed.
“What name is it?”
“Um Gaby Bond?”
“Okay, take a seat, she’ll fetch you when she’s ready, oh there’s coffee in the flask.”

“That was lucky,” Con stated passing me a cup of slightly stale coffee. It tasted no better than it smelt either.
“Yeah,” I agreed, not quite sure what was ‘lucky’.
“You usually have to book at least a few days in advance in these places.”

I thought back to Sylv’s place in Warsop, oh it isn’t all flash and ‘modern’ like this place but all her ‘ladies’ would book for the next visit each time – some coming every week. As Drew, my experience of hair cutters ran to the occasional visit to the barbers on Mansfield Road then the occasional tidy up by Sylv when I let it get longer. I flicked through an old copy of Stern, just my luck, the edition with the Munich wedding!

“She’s a beauty eh?” a voice opined, “What I couldn’t do with that hair. Who’s Gaby?”

Well make it blonde again for starters.

“Me,” I allowed.
“Mitzi, come on over, so what can we do?”

“I've checked what she used, it’s a custom mix,” Mitzi advised returning to her station. She’d had to phone Vilma to get the low down as no one else in the store knew what she’d used. “She’s really sorry.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Well the good news is it won’t fade.”
“There's bad news?”
“Well it’s a permanent, it’s not going to wash out.”
“So I'm stuck with pink hair?”
“We could shave your head but otherwise yep,” she agreed.
“There must be something you can do,” I almost begged.
“We could try stripping I suppose.”
“Which is?” I prompted.
“We chemically strip your hair of the colour, it weakens the keratin, makes your hair brittle though.”
“But it’d be back to blonde though?”
“Er not, with your colouring it’d probably be white so we’d need to neutralize it and dye it back.”
“You don’t sound very keen.”
“Well at the moment your hair’s in good condition but stripping it will wreck it, I really wouldn’t recommend it.”
“So I'm stuck with pink?”
“It will probably take a darker colour.”
“Like?”
“Maybe chestnut or black?”

Black, after what I put my sister through when she went to the dark side.

“You’re her aren’t you?”
“Who?” I replied cautiously.
“The girl in that magazine, at that fancy wedding.”
“A,” my lack of cohesive reply was enough confirmation.
“Sugar! You are and we’ve ruined your hair.”
“I might’ve been partly to blame,” I admitted.
“The colour does suit you, maybe we can tone it down a bit,” she suggested, “have to ring the manufacturers to find out what to use.”
“I guess that would help,” I sighed, looks like I'm stuck with pink hair for a while, at least until it’s grown out some.
“Okay, I'll call them, get Joanna to book you in for Wednesday.”

“So you’re stuck with it?” Con queried.
“Looks that way, strip the colour and it’ll snap off, shave it off or dye it black.”
“Not a great range of options,” she agreed, “you could wear a wig?”
“Like that's gonna work.”

“Wassup, Gab?” Mand enquired from the door.

I kept blubbing, curled up on my bed where I'd been since getting home. I felt a weight on the bed then an arm go around me.

“It’ll be alright whatever it is.”
“Won’t,” I sniffled.
“It’s Max isn’t it, you can’t trust any of them.”
“’S’not Max, hair.”
“Thought you went to get it fixed?” she suggested.
“Can’t fix,” I snivelled.
“What do you mean?”
“They can’t get rid of the colour, Mand, I'm stuck with this stupid pink hair until it grows out.”
“You two going to Cheering tonight?” Dad called up.
“Er yeah,” Mand replied, five minutes.”
“Okay.”
“You go, I'll stay here.”
“You, Gaby Bond, are bigger than this, you were fine over the weekend.”
“That was before I knew I was stuck with it.”
“And staying up here does what?”
“Nothing?”
“Yeah, nothing so get that cute bum of yours in gear, show everyone you don’t care what they think, own it!”

She’s probably right, own it indeed. There’s one thing for sure, there’ll be no pretence of being Drew, the boy, now.

“I thought you were getting your hair sorted yesterday,” Bridg proposed in Thesing’s Tuesday morning.
Own it Mand said, “Decided to keep it for now.”
Con gave me a look before adding, “It is kind of cool, Gabs.”
“Wish I was that brave,“ Nena mentioned.

I'd hardly call it brave.

“It’s not like it’s really vivid,” Mand observed as we climbed out of Adenau.
“No it’s not vivid just very pink.”
“According to Connie you didn’t notice straight away.”
“Well I thought it was the lights.”
“At least it goes with the team kit.”
“Yeah, I decided to do my hair pink because it matches our kit, Geez, Mand!”
“Just saying.”
“Can we leave my hair now?”
“So you gonna wear anything but that crystal in your nose?”
“Mand!”
“Okay, okay, it’ll be good seeing Caro at the weekend.”
“Yeah,” I agreed,” wonder who she’s bringing?”
“Laura and Claire I'd guess.”
“What about Sal?”
“You’re Dad said there’re two coming.”
“Maybe there’s a new Wonder Girl they’ve just found.”
“Put us out of a job.”
“Better train harder then, sign!” and I took off for the Quiddelbach sign.
“Gaby!” Mand complained.

Of course when Jules saw my fashion statement I had the Michael taken good and proper.

“Leave your sister alone,” Dad instructed.
“Mum’s gonna go potty,“ Jules suggested.
“That doesn’t give you licence to lay into her.”

Of course I'd had to tell Dad that I'd have pink hair for the foreseeable, it’s not like I can hide it for long is it. I’m not looking forward to Mum getting home, that's one conversation I don’t want to have.

“Well?” Mitzi asked.
“I guess it looks more natural,” I suggested, if pale pink hair can look natural that is.

Mitzi and Vilma had both worked on my Barnet adding various chemicals and bits of foil to add a mixture of highlights and lowlights to my locks so it’s not a uniform colour all through.

“It might not be your natural colour, Gab, but it does work for you,” Vilma opined.
“Remember to come back next month,” Mitzi instructed, “and use that conditioner instead of your own.”

I don’t generally wear my hair loose, it’s nearly always tied up or braided but the way Vilma had done it today wasn’t bad. I certainly look different to usual.

Mum got home Thursday, she was in the kitchen when I got home.

“Mum! Did you win?”
“’Fraid not, come here, gi’s a cuddle.”

Well I'm always a sucker for a huggle with Mum.

“So what happened?”
“Longo mashed us, Erika won stage 2 and I got third on the last stage, not our best week ever.”
“Guess you can’t win them all,” I allowed.
“Your Dad told me about the hair, Gab,” she advised, neatly altering the course of the conversation.
“It was an accident.”
“I might not like it, Gabrielle; but you’re sixteen now, a young woman, you’re old enough to make decisions and deal with the fall out yourself.”
“It’s not like forever,” I pointed out.
“We are here for you, me and your dad, you can come and talk to us.”
“Uh huh.”
“I'm sure we’ll get used to it, it looks nice like that but why are you wearing it down?”
“Vilma suggested I try it, she said I look less like a little kid.”
Mum held me at arm’s length, “Pink or not I have to agree, the tails and braids are practical but you do look more your age with it loose.” She absently tucked a few loose strands behind my ear.
“So, tell me all about The Hell of The North"

Well that went better than I'd hoped.

Maddy Bell © 27.10.16

 

 
“So what is it this week, Gab?” Herr Thesing enquired.
“Thought we’d try chicken?”
“Okay, just change the meat like last week then?”

With everything going on last week our pie was mince, the meat variety.

“I guess you could do it in gravy but it’s better in a white sauce.”
“You’re the expert."

He has at least mastered the pastry so I only have to run through making the fillings.

“So how are they selling?”
“Steady I would say, we didn’t have to throw any away at least. There were more as lunches this week, they aren’t the easiest things to eat on the go are they?”
“No,” I had to agree, eating a hot pie on the go can be quite messy, “we could try sausage rolls or pasty’s.”
“A Bratwurst in pastry?”
“Well not usually but I guess it’d work in theory, it’s different pastry though, I'll make some at home to try.”

By now the sauce for the pies was nearly ready – it’s quite simple, Therese has already done the chicken so once this is ready we’re good to go.

“Didn’t see you baking, Gab,” Mand offered, “what’s in them?”
“Chicken,” I supplied as I spooned mash onto the plates.

Well it was a bit of a cheat I know but I'm short of time on Fridays at the moment, what with making pies, dinner then Gardetanz.

“As you’re here, can you take those two through please.”
“Anyone’s?”
“They’re all the same,” well mine has got extra carrots but otherwise.

“Not bad,” Mum allowed, “you’ll make someone a great wife one day.”
“Mu-um,” I complained, you’d think I was interested in that sort of thing.
“Your pastry’s improved.”
“She does do a lot of cooking,” Dad mentioned.
“And what’s that meant to mean, Dave Bond?” she snapped.
“Nothing, luv, just saying, she gets plenty of practice that's all.”

Not sure Mum was exactly mollified, maybe she was feeling a bit guilty.

“Wish I was half as good,” Mand added oblivious to the under currents.
“Er, ice cream anyone?”

We went into the wheel, exaggeratedly high kicking as we turned, the music built to a finale, each of us dropping in turn into the splits as the tunes ran out.

“Excellent, ladies!” Hannah told us.

I sometimes wonder what’s harder, riding around the countryside for three or four hours or one of these Garde training sessions. It’s certainly a good workout and keeps you flexible, I bet Mand can’t get her legs to the vertical. Okay, it’s a weird ability but there’s only a few in the troupe who can manage it without support.

“Before you go, the new uniforms are on the table in the office, they’ve got names on – take them and try them on before next week so we can sort out any problems before Trier.”

At least I won’t be wearing one of those any time soon!

“I've entered the cheer in a competition up near Bonn,” our coach told me as I changed from dance shoes to trainers ready to go home.
“When’s that?”
“Three weeks I think, I'll give everyone the details on Monday.”
“Okay, the race season’s getting quite busy so you might be short of Mand.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we need to.”
“Dad’s waiting, Gab!” Pia called across the hall.
“Have to go, see you Monday, tschussie!”

I grabbed by bag and set off for the exit.

“Gab!” Han called after me.
I turned but continued walking backwards towards the door, “Wassup?”
“You haven’t got your Garde uniform.”
“I haven’t got one,” I mentioned halting my progress.
“Wait there, I'll fetch it,” Hannah instructed.

“Sorry, Mr S,” I offered getting into the battered bus.
“You’re fine, Gaby.”
“Don’t know why I need a uniform,” I grumped towards Pia.
“You are a member of the Garde.”
“Yeah but I don’t do the shows or anything do I?”
“Doesn’t mean you escape the uniform,” she chuckled.

I did my best to stuff the uniform into my bag – it was never going to fit but I just felt compelled to try.

“What time are you back from the bakery?” Dad asked as I put my hair into a braid for work.
“Should be here by quarter past twelve.”
“Please be sharp, kiddo, we’re meeting Caro and the girls at two and we’re in the bus remember.”
“I'll be here,” I predicted.

It’s going to be a bit of a crush, besides us, Dad is fetching the Grönberg's in the morning and Josh and Tali are being brought down by his uncle, all eight of us then drive down to meet Caro, the Luchow’s are meeting us at the hotel down in the Schwarzwald somewhere. It’s not just bodies, there’s the bikes, kit bags, turbo’s, ezy up – well a lot of stuff.

“Mum was impressed with the pies,” I informed Tomas, Herr Thesing, as I started filling the cabinet with our wares.
“Well that’s a positive.”
“She thought I'd made them at home.”
“Ah, that’s the edge we need, pies like Oma makes!”
“Well maybe mine but no one round here,” I pointed out.
“Okay, pies like Gaby’s Oma makes,” he chuckled.

Well he thought it was funny.

“I need to be away sharp today, we’re going down to the Schwarzwald this afternoon.”
“You do get about with your racing, Gaby, France last week, Hamburg wasn’t it before?”
“Yeah Hamburg, you get used to the travelling, Mum’s in Holland and Belgium this week, she’s hardly ever home in the season.”
“You know you can talk to me if you need to,” Therese mentioned, bringing another tray of sandwiches out to me.
“Um thanks.”
“It can’t be easy with just your Dad most of the time.”
“We get by,” I allowed.

To be honest, it’s been this way so long now that I can’t really remember what ‘normal’ is like. The Bond household is hardly ‘normal’ at the best of times, what with the bikes, a string of long term ‘guests’ and both my parents unusual employment. I never really considered how more traditional households might regard us or whether I'm missing anything by being part of our more avant garde arrangement.

“Thought you were getting rid of the pink,” Josh mentioned as Dad pointed the bus towards the autobahn.
“Decided to keep it for a bit,” I allowed – yeah a bit like months!
“Leave her be, J,” Tali told him, “I think it’s cool, Gab.”
“Er cheers.”

The trailer behind bounced over a curb, which made enough noise to frighten everyone on board.

“Daa-ad, trailer?”
“Sorry guys,” Dad told us.
“I wonder who’ll be with Caroline?” Josh mused.
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I submitted.
“We are going to be mob handed tomorrow,” Ron noted, “seven of us riding for Apollinaris.”
“Why don’t these girls ride for Britain instead of ‘Pollinaris?” Tali queried.
“Dad said it’s so they are in a team and don’t stand out, less pressure sort of thing.”
“I'd be scared stiff of turning up in a GB shirt at one of these events, everyone would expect me to be good,” Mand told us.
“So it’s alright for me and Josh?”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I think Amanda’s right, whenever we race for the federation we become targets.” Tali stated.
“And like wearing an Apollinaris jersey makes you less of a target like?” Josh suggested.
“Good point, liebchen,” Tali agreed before giving the Toon some some tonsil hockey practice.
“Guys!” Ron complained.

Despite the trailer we made good time and after passing Frankfurt Airport we were soon pulling off to rendezvous with the BC contingent. They must’ve had a great night’s sleep, you could hear the planes almost continually overhead. It really was just pulling off the motorway, their hotel was only like two hundred metres from the Morfelden junction.
Caro was at the door before Dad had the handbrake on.

“Hi guys, we weren’t sure how long you’d be so the girls are inside having coffee.”
“Wouldn’t mind a cup me’sen like,” Joe stated.
“We’ve time,” Dad agreed.
“Yes!” I allowed, everyone else might’ve had lunch but all I've managed was a slice of greasy cardboard pizza that I consumed on the way home from work.

We filed off the bus and made our way into the Holiday Inn’s bar cum restaurant.

“Laura!” Mand exclaimed.
“Hi, Mand,” Laura beamed back.
“Kristen?” I enquired of the other girl.
“Kris, you remember Josh from last year?” Caro suggested.
“How could I forget, hi Josh.”
“Good to see ya like.”
“Let’s see if I can remember who this lot are,” Caro went on, “the one talking to Laura is Amanda who’s apprenticed to Apollinaris, then we’ve got, Talia? Roni and the little un with pink hair is Gabrielle.”
“Just Tali, um hi.”
“You all speak English?”
“Of course,” Ron confirmed.
“Some of us are crap at German like,” Josh offered.
“But you’re getting better, liebchen,” Tali told him.
“I think I should know you, Gabrielle,” Kirsten noted.
“Erm, we raced together a few times the other year,” I mentioned.
“You’re English?”
“Course she is,” Josh interjected, “you must remember Bond.”
“Bond? As in Gaby Bond from the telly and stuff?”
“Telly?” I in turn queried.
“She means the Sportsman of the Year thing,” Laura put in, “like the hair, Gab.”
“You didn’t have the er, pink hair then,” Kirsten observed.
“All new this week,” Mand told her.

Maddy Bell © 28.10.16

 

 

There was a bit of seat shuffling before we set off again, the Waugh’s travelling in Caro’s hire car, a Passat estate, whilst the English girls joined us in the bus.

“I'm missing something aren’t I?” Kristen suggested after a few minutes.
“Missing?” Mand queried.
“I don’t mean to be rude Gaby, but like I don’t remember racing with you before, you sure it was me?”

Duh! No ones actually told her about ‘me’ have they? I was doing my best boy impressions back then, I don’t think I've changed much but I guess I have, boobs, hair, how I'm dressed – yeah quite a lot of change.

“You never told her Laura?”
“Told her what?” Laz shot back.
“Told me what,” Kris added.
“You remember riding at Eastway, the championships?"
“Which time?”
“When Josh rode? You won the title?”
“How could I forget, that little kid, Drew...”
“Bond won.”
The penny dropped,” you’re Drew?”
“She was Drew,” Mand told her.
“How, why?”

For the next hour Kristen got an abbreviated version of the events since we won the British Championships.

“Toilets girls,” Dad announced as we pulled off for Bruchsal services.
“Good job, I shouldn’t’ve had that second coffee,” Laura opined.
“Told you,” Mand crowed.

Its like a switch has been, er switched in Mand’s head. Usually she’s fairly quiet, not wallflower quiet but not really taking much part of conversations. I guess its a bit difficult when its all my friends chatting away in German, but now, today, well she’s more experienced, has a better grip on the language than Laz and Kris. I guess I didn’t get the chance to be quiet when I arrived in Germany, it was total immersion almost from day one, school, a ready made group peer group that I was dragged into.

“Anyone got change?” I asked as I perused the contents of my purse.
“Here,” Tali tossed a fifty cent piece to me.
“Cheers.”
“You guys got toilet money?” Mand asked as we crossed to the road house.
“Bum, I knew I kept all those coins for a reason,” Laura sighed.
“We have to pay for the loo’s?” Kristen queried.
“Fifty cent,” Ron supplied.
“I've got enough,” ‘big sister’ de Vreen advised.

It was a bit surreal as we continued our journey south, half the bus chatting in English and half in German, the weirdest thing being that I could follow the German rather better than the English. Its probably because I'm so immersed in German life that my points of reference are German not British. Simple things like telly, food, the races – even though Mand has been here a few months, at school she’s still exposed to ex pat Britain.

After Karlsruhe the dark hills of the Schwarzwald appeared to our left, stark contrast to the wide flat expanse of the Rheintal stretching south towards Switzerland. The afternoon sun was bright, a nice day even if the breeze was keeping the temperature in the mid teens. The junction for the eponymous Baden flashed past then just a few minutes later we were leaving the autobahn at the junction for some place called Bühl.

My interest in the contents of H&M in Hamburg vis a vis Düsseldorf waned and my attention moved to the view beyond the buses windows. A newish bypass kept us out of the town and deposited us onto a somewhat narrower, twistier and compared to the drive so far today, hillier road. We climbed through small villages further into the trees before the road viciously rose up into the trees, through a hairpin bend before dragging up to a junction with a wide, fast road.

Somewhere on the ascent the bus had gone quiet as my companions turned their attentions to our surroundings.

“Hope there’s no climbs like that tomorrow,” Kristen opined.
“Nothing that steep as far as I remember,” I offered.
“’S mostly long draggy climbs,” Tali added.
“You guys’ve ridden this before?” Laura enquired.
“Its part of the national series,” Ron advised our ‘guests’.

The drive along the Schwarzwaldhochstraße offered some views out across the Rhein towards Strasbourg and the hills of Alsace. Soon enough we turned off, Dad briefly turned to us.

“This is part of tomorrows circuit.”
“Sheesh, its like Switzerland with trees,” Laura observed.
“It is the Black Forest,” I pointed out.

Dad was taking it carefully with the trailer behind us. The road switched back and forth as we descended, we were almost in the first bit of village before it opened out, if I remember its almost flat until it heads towards that F place, Froystadt or something. It wasn’t much longer before Dad pulled up outside our accommodation, the Im Tannengrund Hotel.

“Okay girls, we’ll get checked in then we’ll have a whip around the circuit before dinner,” Dad told us.

Urgh, not longer until we eat? The Luchow’s were already checked in, Dieter was soon taking charge of the trailer whilst the new arrivals got settled in.

“You want to go round Caro?” Dad enquired as we all gathered in reception.
“Your show Dave, tomorrow will do for me.”
“Okay, right the rest of you, on the bus, dinner’s booked for eight so you can get showered or whatever when we get back.”

Everyone found seats, it was of course a full house, eight riders plus Dad. Without the trailer in tow the bus has a bit more go, Dad enthusiastically set off for our lap.

“Its three laps tomorrow, just shy of fifty K each,” he mentioned as we turned onto the main road.
“A hundred and fifty kilometres?” Kristen queried.
“One four four according to the organisers.”
“Ouch!”
“We do some longer ones,” Mand told her as English liaison officer.
“This is the end of the lap, a steady pull into Freudenstadt, watch out for the bite at the top,” Dad went on as we journeyed on.

It was nearly half seven when we stopped once more outside of the Tannengrund after a lap of advice and hints from the Boss.
“Restaurant at eight, dresses please,” Dad instructed as we trailed inside, “Laura, Kristen, smart please.”

“Dresses?” Laz asked.
“Yeah,” I sighed, “you’ll see.”
“I wondered why Caroline said to bring something smart,” Kristen put in.
“See yous guys in a while,” Josh advised, leaving the rest of us to head to our own rooms.
“Josh doesn’t have to, like wear a dress?” Laura queried as we waited for the lift.
“He better not wear a dress,” Tali suggested with a grin.
“Don’t be daft, can you imagine that, nah he’s got a shirt and jacket.” I advised.

I smoothed out my dress, “I look like I've got a huge bum in this.”
“You have,” Mand’s voice announced from the bathroom.
“Have not!”
“You brought it up,” she mentioned appearing in the door with a mouthful of hair grips.
I inspected my reflection in the mirror once more, “glad I didn’t have to wear this last Saturday, the guys really would’ve taken the Mick.”
“They aren’t that bad,” Mand tempered.
“If you say so, come on, I'm starving.”

We probably made quite an entrance, the regular Apollinaris squad that is – we’d somehow managed to arrive at the restaurant together, even Josh looking more than a bit uncomfortable in his jacket.

“Holy moly!” Kristen announced.
“Yow!” Laura agreed.

“Flippin’ ‘eck Dave,” Caro announced when the girls came into the restaurant.
“Not my idea,” Dave admitted, “George does it with the senior squad, he thought the Jungere should do the same.”
“They do look smart,” she allowed.
“He reckons it encourages heimat.”
“Heimat?”
“A sense of belonging,” Dave translated, “and it looks more professional.”
“Somehow don’t think it’d go down too well in Manchester.”

“Coulda been worse Tal,” Roni offered.
“How?”
“I heard George wanted us in Kostüm.”
“No way!” Gret stated.
“What’s this costume then,” Kris asked.
“Kostüm,” I corrected, “like traditional dress.”
“Like you wore in Switzerland Gab?” Laura queried.
“Er yeah,” I admitted.
“Oo, I've not heard this one,” Tali enthused.
“Its sort of like those postcards in reception,” Laura advised Kristen.
“Tell you later,” Mand told Tal, the snitch!

I was more than ready for my dinner – did I mention the scraggy bit of pizza earlier? As usual we had soup to start, today it was Leberknödelsuppe, essentially thin liver soup with several small dumpling type things. Well it was a start.

“That was different,” Kristen opined.
“Not exactly Heinz®,” I agreed.
“I quite like it,” Laura admitted, “sure we had something similar in Switzerland last year.”
“What’s up next Gab?” Gret asked as I'd taken control of the ‘menu’ card.
“Some sort of house special, looks like.”

The waiting staff weren’t dressed in fancy Kostüm but a simplified version in black with dark red aprons and without their chests on display!

“Kostüm,” I whispered to Kris pointing at one of the girls as she collected our soup stuff.
“Ah,” she mouthed in reply.

Anyhow, the main course when it arrived was certainly a bit different – slices of beef with carrots and bratkartoffeln served in a thick white sauce topped with cranberries and grated mozzarella. Well it looked okay and my stomach thinks my throats been cut so I delved in with some enthusiasm. The English visitors were somewhat more circumspect but quickly joined the rest of us in enthusiastically demolishing our grub.

We finished with coffee after a typically disappointing berries in sauce dessert.

“I thought we’d at least have some Black Forest cake,” Kris suggested as we waited for the adults to finish their meal.
“Gotta be kidding,” Mand stated, “German’s don’t do puddings.”
“Might not do ‘em,” I put in, “they manage to eat them okay though.”
“Yeah, Gabs friends are always round hoping to score some Spotted Dick!”

I wouldn’t say always but I've never known them refuse one of my puds.

“Right guy and girls,” Dad stated coming over to our table, “time for the battle plan.”

Maddy Bell © 29.10.16

 

 

It really was weird being at the start mob handed. Our fellow competitors seemed quite bemused by the sea of light blue jerseys that dominated the front of the bunch as we were presented to the Badische crowd Sunday morning. Of course we aren’t all wearing blue, as leader of the Jungere League I have an interesting jersey that’s mostly white with the red, yellow and black of Germany in a diagonal stripe. I’m leader of the girls competition as well but I can’t wear both jerseys so Roni gets to wear the er pink jersey of leading girl.

And lets face it, it clashes with my hair! Just to help with the confusion, Gret instigated a braiding session after breakfast. five girls in the same shirts and hair style might just add to the confusion, of course you can’t hide in a pink jersey or with my hair but Ron and I joined in for solidarity – and lets face it its only boys we are trying to kid.

Its a big field today too, riders from the south of Germany that rarely see further north as well as interlopers from both Switzerland and France. Last year I spent my time trying to look like, well a boy, this year its no longer a requirement, I’m on the start sheet as Gabrielle Bond. Not that I don’t look for Andrew Bond but I'm not going to find him this year am I?

Having ridden in Switzerland and Denmark last year Laura has some experience of the big field but Kristen – well back in blighty the fields are restricted to as little as forty riders so her current nervous looks were well founded.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be this big for long.”
“No, I'll be out the back.”
“Talk rot Kris, you’re better than a lot of these jokers.”
“You’ll be alright,” Mand added, “Mr B is brilliant at nailing how races will go, we follow his plan and we get a result.”

In theory I internalised. There are some big brutes here today, we won’t be winning from going head to head but from a degree of subterfuge – but that’s bike racing.

The Burgermeisterin finished extolling the virtues of her town, we got our talking to by the Chief Commisaire then without further ado we were waved off. As usual it was neutral until we exited the town, Tali, Kristen and Mand took a flyer, soon being joined by about a dozen others willing to chance their luck with over 140km left. By the time we started the long rolling climb onto the High Road they were steadily taking time out of the main peloton.

Confusing for those in the bunch was the apparent lack of concern from Team Apollinaris. If you remember Hamburg we ran a similar tactic there, the sharper cards in the peloton might recall the outcome in Holstein but we were banking on a big lump of them not picking up on it

“So Bond, what’s with the hair?”
It was Innerthausen who’d slid alongside me.
“Well as I'm not wearing the pink jersey I thought I should at least make an effort to show I'm the girls leader too.”
“Girls,” he snorted, “what are you guys up to?”
“Nothing,” I innocently replied.
“How come there are so many of you today?”
“Its in the contract, we have to have six in Apollinaris jerseys.”

He seemed to contemplate my reply before the flow of the peloton moved him away.

“What did he want man?” my guard Josh asked.
“Fishing,” I told him.
“That Martin kids hiding behind us.”
“Best keep an eye on him, I'm sure that Pellini lad from Switzerland’s here too.”
“He could certainly be trouble,” Josh noted.

It always feels weird to be sat in the bunch essentially doing nothing when there are riders away up the road. Yeah I know chasing everything is just a sure way of wearing yourself out, it might work when you’re twelve but not when you’re our age when some riders at least are learning the tricks of the trade. Certainly everyone I would consider a threat was in this group.

We reached the Baiersbronn turn with no one making anything like a serious move, our troops however massed to the front – no point in risking a fall on the fast twisty descent. By the time it started to level off the race was stretched out over quite a distance, some of the nervier riders having caused splits and slowing more than necessary. Next lap the feed will be along here, close to last nights accommodation but this time through there was a chink in the status quo, Innerthausen tried his luck with a long, hard pull on the front.

Do we join in, close it down, sit tight? When Pellini joined the fray as we turned towards Freudenstadt it was taken out of our road captains hands. Josh isn’t daft and he set off in pursuit with yours truly sat tightly behind him, it wasn’t a surprise of course to find we had company. Not that they were keen to help any.

“Easy Josh!” I called out.

He flicked a quick glance behind and instantly reading the situation swung off and eased back. Our companions were thrown now, wasn’t it up to Apollinaris to do all the work? Not on your Nelly.
Our slowing was enough for those behind to close the gap a bit bringing Ron and co back into play.

“What?” she gasped coming up to me.
“No help, need to lose some and before they get too far up the road.”

The last thing we need is Innerthausen and Pellini to get to the front group without us. oh I know we have Tali, Kristen and Mand up front but if the lads get up there, well realistically only Tal really has any chance of answering any ensuing moves.

“Mob?”
I nodded.

We don’t return to central Freudenstadt until the finish this year, instead we bypass it on a lane through the valley, the climb into the town avoided until the finish. Ron organised the troops, Me and Josh would be last to go, Laura first. Flag waving and whistles alerted us to the turning off the main road and Laura took off on her not quite suicide mission.

Of course the rest of the team were ready but enough others weren’t when there was a reaction at the front. Gret was next up and as we came up onto Laz she took off like a scalded cat, her extra experience making her effort at least look more serious. The result was a definite rise in speed, she got to where the road starts to rise more steeply towards the main road before being reeled in.

Ron’s turn had the remaining peloton strung out nicely, the gap to the escapees was maybe forty five seconds, visible still on the wide sweeping curves. I checked around, both our previous rabbits had managed to hang onto the shirt tails of the now much smaller bunch, well done Laura. Ron was still time trialling, head down giving it some when Josh made his effort, not all out but even I had to really turn on the juice to follow.

The idea isn’t to blow our riders out but to get some reaction from the other riders with us, the lesson seemed to have be learnt as when Josh eased off slightly a couple of lads did go through to spell him. I said its a rolling climb before, it is but stretched over best part of ten K, along the ridge it bobbles along and it was only there that we started to make some headway.

But not enough, okay its only half distance but it’ll be difficult to shut things down on the last lap from this distance. The escapees made the turn ahead of us, still a good thirty seconds ahead of our chase. Oh well, nothing for it.

I did one of my out braking manoeuvres on the turn, hey I only weigh about forty five kilos, Josh is at least twenty K more there’s simply not as much of me to slow down. The result was a no effort lead of ten metres before we cleared the corner and its downhill now. I might not have gravity on my side but I'm still a dab hand at going downhill quickly, I snicked up a sprocket and let fly.

My lack of mass meant some big gear stuff on the straighter stretches but I made up a lot of road on the tighter turns, I was on Pellini’s wheel as we came out of the last hairpin. Of course then it was all about hanging on although clearly a lap of chasing the front group had taken some toll. The lead group popped into sight a couple of times on the straighter bits of descent but I reckon they still had a minute on us.

The feed was coming up and it didn’t need words to agree a temporary truce to collect our musettes. We reached the zone to find bodies on the road and helpers and officials everywhere.

“Forty five,” Caro advised as I grabbed my bag.

Clearly there had been a bit of a coming together in the feed zone and rather than forty odd seconds we immediately started passing riders. I spotted a light blue jersey, but whose? That was quickly answered as I recognised Tali’s distinctive riding style.
“Up!” I called to warn of our approach.

She glanced behind then prepared to slot onto us.
The truce was over, Super Mario and Innerthausen both keen to reach the front of the race. As a result Tali didn’t quite make it, our velocity just too high as we passed, damn. I considered the options and eased off a tad.

“What’re you up to?” a panting Tali asked as she drew up to me.
“Its advantage us, they can waste energy if they want. What happened back there?”
“Some idiot slowed right down for the feed, it was all brakes and bodies then.”
“You come off?”
“Nah but I had to stop, what's going on behind?”
“We broke it down some, I got away on the down.”

We made the turn onto the lane, the lads with about fifty metres on us.

“What about up front?” I queried.
“Six or seven, ours are doing okay.”
“Best go join ‘em then,” I suggested.

We regained the lads on the steeper bit up to the main road, the leading group now occupying the road that the lads held last time around. Although numerically stronger our two companions are much stronger, they were sure to try to dump me, us again – and as soon as they can. Some riders can’t help giving themselves away, Mario certainly couldn’t help telegraphing his intention as we joined the Hochstrasse.

I was on his wheel before he’d got clear, I could hear Innerthausen and Tali close behind but there was no thought of easing off. Pellini, I don’t think realised he had company for a good minute, the frustration in his body language when he realised was palpable. This attack‘ s been neutralized but how many more can we cope with and how will that affect the result.

Our return to sharing the pace gave me time to think a bit, thirty K, one downhill then the drag up to the finish, hmm?

“Anchor, five,” I mouthed to Tal who nodded in understanding.

Our companions were away last time so this might just work.

I had to stop pedalling, the bike was bouncing too much for comfort but I had clear road behind and the gap to the leaders was virtually zero. The brakes went on hard to scrub speed into another one eighty turn and then I was on Kristen’s wheel.

“Wotcha,” I grinned as I moved alongside her on the following straight.
“Where’d you come from?”
“Poof, and she was there,” I grinned, “need you and Mand to block when I go.”
“’Kay,” she agreed.
“Later,” I offered with a wink.

I caught my breath, everyone in this group looked bushed to be honest, its a wonder they’d lasted this long to be honest. Slipping forward I took my chance and accelerated hard out of the last tight corner and wanged it into the twelve. Its quite a gamble, there’s still over fifteen kilometres to the finish and lone breaks don’t have a good record of success.

For my part I was betting on Innerthausen and Pellini to not make use of the resources I was leaving them, okay so the three Apollinaris girls won’t be helping out but that still leaves five others who might.

I used all the road to maximise my speed and advantage as the road completed its drop into Baiersbronn, once or twice getting far too close to the lead car. A few people cheered me through the village, Caro, Sonja and Angela would be at the finish now. It was full on TT mode now as I swept onto the Freudenstadt road, swinging well wide so as to not lose momentum.

Five to go the board suggested, yeah, its all uphill and there's that sting up into the town. The comp agreed on the distance showing a steady fifty kph for almost two more kilometres before starting to erode a bit. I passed the ‘bypass’, three to go and an increasing gradient, keep it going Gab, you can do it.

Can I? Course I can, don’t be so daft girl. As the gradient started to bite I took a firmer grip on the hoods before dropping a sprocket, then another, my speed dropping quite swiftly. I got out of the saddle as I reached the hairpin, its not hugely steep but the surface isn’t the greatest which doesn’t help.

Don’t look, don’t look. I couldn’t help myself, glancing down through the trees to the road below, no one there, where are they? Sugar are they that close I missed them? I stood back up to get on top of the gear only sitting as the road levelled as trees were replaced by buildings.

My legs were by now leaden, inside the last kilo, come on! The road turned sharply to the left and I risked a glance behind, wish I hadn’t, a sizeable bunch was perhaps fifty metres behind. It was a slight incline but I'm not sure to whom the advantage fell, the ninety turn onto the finishing straight though was definitely to me.

Sprint? I left the saddle and engaged my last resources, the small crowd cheering me on or not, they’re gonna get me. Keep going.
“Gaby!”
“Go girl!”
“Keep going!”

The fog was descending, I'm still ahead, maybe I can still make it, don’t give up, races have been lost by doing just that this close. The PA was going potty, the crowd screaming – not that I could discern anything, my concentration focused 100% on the line. I'm gonna make it, I crossed the line and punched the air.

Maddy Bell © 01.11.16

 

 

“That was intense,” Laura allowed when she arrived in the girls’ changing room, one of the meeting rooms in the Rathaus.
Seven Apollinaris girls actually outnumbered the rest of the female competitors, some of which had already disappeared.

“No kidding,” Ron agreed.
“So what happened at the finish there?” I asked as I pulled some trainer socks on.
“Some idiot over braked on that last corner just as it was winding up.” Gret advised.

Indeed I owed that idiot for my win, the resulting crash took out several contenders and slowed the rest, I actually had a full two seconds on the line. Luckily none of ours were downed, Gret took a creditable seventh, Ron a place behind and everyone else in the main finishing group.

“Hurry up, girls if you want to eat,” Caro called from the doorway.

The BC girls are on a plane later tonight and the Luchow’s are heading in a different direction altogether so we’re eating here in Freudenstadt rather than up the road somewhere. No dresses but team polo shirts, at least we get to choose what else we wear, a variety of denim was favourite, mine a mid thigh skirt. Look, it’s a warm afternoon!

The Bären edges more towards traditional German than a lot of places, no pizza, burgers or kebabs just good ole erm, German. Unlike last night’s set meal today we have free reign of the menu including drinks, so yeah, I ordered a Radler.

“What’s this one then?” Kristen asked pointing to a line on the menu.
“Weisswürst, it’s er a sort of sausage,” I advised.
“Ew!” Mand announced, “That’s pretty gross, you want something you can eat.”
“Ah kinda like it,” Josh opined.
“But you, liebchen, will eat anything,” Tali noted.
“Ahm a growing lad, hen.”
“So what do you suggest?” Kris queried.
Mand was keen to show off her language skills, “The Hauspfand’l looks good.”
“What's that?” Laz asked.
“The house special,” I told her.
“Does look okay,” Ron agreed, “Spätzle with pork in mushroom sauce.”

I went for the mixed grill, but there were several plates of Hauspfand’l ordered and I think to prove a point Josh had the Weisswürst.

“Your races like this all the time?” Kristen enquired as we waited for dessert.
“That’s what Mand asked after her first one,” I told the table.
“Always the same, hen,” Josh opined, “Gabs always wins, right, man?”
“Not always,” I blushed.
“It’s not always so intense,” Tal mentioned.
“Here comes pud,” I enthused catching sight of a waitress bearing down on us loaded with plates of….

“Now that was a Schwarzwaldkirschtorte!” I allowed sitting back.

It sure was, there was more cream than sponge, lashings of chocolate and cherries – well you’d expect it to be good in these parts.

“Them things in Tesco aren’t in the same league,” Laura offered.
“I can’t move,” Ron complained.
“You did have half of Tali’s Spätzle,” I pointed out.
“Waste not, want not.”

All too soon it was time to depart, goodbyes were said, cars loaded with bodies and off we set. Caro followed the bus out to the autobahn then with a toot and various waves she floored it and soon the Passat was out of sight. On the bus we settled down for a long drive, some of us won’t get to bed much before midnight.

I have to admit to falling asleep not far up the road.

“So, Gaby, everyone's asking, Tour de France?” Gertie Schmidt asked.
“All the girls are all looking good, I think we can do it.”
“Your win at Roubaix was unprecedented.”
“Twenty minutes was pretty good, I told Eddy beforehand that I was going for an early lead but I agree, twenty minutes was a lot.”
“Some pundits are suggesting you are favourite for the Worlds this summer?”
“That’s for them to say.”
“Well thank you, Gaby and good luck in France,”
“Thank you, Gertie.”
“So there we are,” Gertie turned to the camera, “Gaby von Strechau, Baroness, cycling champion and still not seventeen!”
“Gabs!”
“Eh? I said I wasn’t favourite.”
“What are you mumbling about?” Ron asked, “Toilets.”
“Hmm?”

We got back to Dernau just after ten, there was a bit of vehicle shuffling, everyone else transferring to Joe’s people carrier. He’d drop off the Grönberg’s then the three of them were staying in a motel near Düsseldorf overnight before completing their journey in the morning. For once Dad wasn’t last to bed, in fact he headed up as soon as the trailer was secured whilst Mand and I had some supper.

“Gaby!” Claudia called from her nest behind reception.
“Me?” I queried.
“You are currently the only one at Silverberg,” she advised.
“I am? Er so what’s up?” I asked trying to lean on the high counter.
“The Boss wants to see you after classes.”

Like most kids a summons to the Head’s presence always pulls up feelings of dread – even when you know you haven’t done anything wrong. Sugar, it’s probably my damn hair, she wasn’t exactly pleased last time.

“Er what for?”
“Didn’t say, she’s had a few people in in the last week about their college choices, probably that.”
“Right, guess I'll see you later.”

“So what did Claudia want you for?” Pia asked at lunch.
“How’d you know?”
“Saw you at the desk when I came out of the loos. So?”
“Boxxie wants to see me after classes finish, probably gonna tear me a strip over this,” I grabbed a handful of pinkness.
“Nah, she’d’ve done that last week,” Steff suggested.
“Steff’s right, she never waits before siccing on you,” Con confirmed.
“Don’t forget we can pick up the Prom pics this afternoon,” Nena mentioned.

Oh joy, more reminders of my pinkness.

“Ah, Fraulein Bond, come in, sit,” Frau Boxberg instructed.

Of course I've been stewing since this morning and the conversation with the girls at lunch did little to reassure me. There being a choice of one chair I sat and tried not to fidget.

“Relax, Gaby, you aren’t here for any sort of punishment.”
“My hair?”
“I know all about that.”
“Er how, Miss?”
“Your father rang and explained and anyhow, you are only with us another two weeks, what would the point be of giving you detention or a suspension, eh?”
“None?” I ventured.
“Exactly,” she agreed.
“So erm, why am I here, Miss?”
“Your future educational career, young lady.”
Looks like Claudia’s hint earlier was right.
“You’ve got a place at the management school in September,”
“I have?”
“You haven’t had the letter yet? Evidently not.”
“Kewl!”
“Indeed, the question however and reason for this meeting is what you are going to do between now and then.”

Ah, so this is a recruitment drive. The Rents have already ‘instructed’ me what I'm doing, no easy summer for me.

“Er hanging out at the Lido?”
“Somehow I doubt that, Gaby Bond, your father intimated you’d be up for summer school?”
“Yes, Miss,” I sighed, “English, maths and biology.”
She chuckled.
“What’s funny, Miss?”
“When we first met nearly two years ago we were talking about extra German classes and now here we are, you with the highest pass of the year in German but wanting extra tuition in English.”
“I was best in German?”
“You were indeed, young lady.”
“Wow!”
“Surprised Herr Praxmeier too but that's just between us, eh?”
“Er yes, Miss,” I agreed.
“So, English, maths, biology, I think we can get you onto those, why the biology?”
“Mum’s got some weird idea of growing vines, it might be useful if someone in the house knows something about plants.”

Frau B smiled, “As good a reason as any; your father tells me you’ve had a busy time with the radrennen?”
“A bit I suppose,” I admitted.
“Some race in France?” she prompted.
“Er yeah, the junior Paris Roubaix.”
“Sounds a long way.”
“Oh we only rode 160km from St. Quentin, I was the first girl to ride it.”
“How do you feel about that?”
Good question, to be honest I hadn’t really thought about it.
“Well I’d’ve probably ridden if I was still, you know.”
“A boy,” she filled in.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “BC had to get special permission for me to ride, so I guess they think I've got potential or something.”
“And?”
“Well I came third,” I admitted although I'm sure she already knew that.
“So not just the first girl to ride but you claimed a podium finish, not bad for the Prom Königen!”
“That was a fix wasn’t it, Miss?”
“Whatever gave you that idea, Gabrielle? Believe it or not it isn’t just me and your tutors who think highly of you, your peers do too. You are unusual, an enigma if you like. On the one hand you are this killer racing cyclist, a world champion no less and then there’s the popular young woman who takes dance classes, does great charitable works and even manages a job.”

I was already reaching a hue to match my hair.

“People look up to you, Gabrielle, where you lead others follow. You are top of your year in German, a language you barely knew a word of when you started at Silverberg, you’re the moving force behind the Weihnachtsmarkt stall, oh I know the others are involved but you are the catalyst and others see it too. There aren’t many students in a teacher’s career that really stand out from the crowd, I'm glad to admit you are one such in mine.”
“Um thanks.”
“Well I'm sure you’ve got places you’d rather be and I've got another one of these meetings.”

I think that was a hint.

“Yes, Miss.”
“Claudia will have your summer school timetable on Friday, don’t forget to pick it up, will you?”
“No, Miss. I mean yes, Miss.”

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

“Wiedersehn, Gaby Bond.”
“Er tschuss, Frau Boxberg.”

Once outside a let out the breath I'd been sort of holding for the last thirty minutes.

“Everything okay, Gaby?” Claudia enquired.
“Er yeah, I think so.”
“I said there was nothing to worry about.”

Maddy Bell © 04.11.16

 

 
“I got your photos,” Con advised when I emerged from the school buildings.
“Er thanks, I forgot about that.”
“Your pack’s thicker than everyone else's, you order extra?”

School photos, I guess they’re pretty much the same everywhere, a pack of prints, one big one and a sheet of smaller versions, extras available at a cost. For the Prom the school ‘sponsored’ the basic pack but of course we could still order extras.

“No, maybe they put someone else's in with mine,” I surmised.
“Let’s take a look then,” my BF suggested.

There’re some benches by the bus pull in so after retrieving our steeds we sat to check out our photographic images.

“Mart looks a bit uncomfortable,” Con noted.
“Not much call for a collar and tie on the farm,” I suggested. “Sugar!”
“What? Let’s see?”

You know what it’s like, you get all dressed up, you’re the bees knees and then you see a picture and you never look as good as you thought, wrong hose, stray hair, something not fitting too well – we’ve all been there. So okay, I thought I looked pretty hot on Friday, look I'm as vain as any sixteen year old but the pictures. I handed Con the pack.

“Oh...my...god,” Con managed as she examined not just the standard arrival pic but the others of the Königen crowning that bulked the pack out.
“You, Gaby Bond, are beautiful.”

I didn’t recognise the girl in the pictures, oh Max was looking well buff in his Landeskostüm but the girl with him was on another scale. She dominated the pictures, the dress, the hair, the whole nine yards, oh I recognised her as me but my mind wouldn’t accept that I was she.

“Sugar,” was as much as I could manage.

“So, Gaby,” Herr Sebenschuh started. It was his turn to run the Cheer taxi this week and he’d just collected me and de Vreen from Bond Acres. “I've got some bookings from the Englisher reisebus people through the summer season.”
“Cool eh, Gabs,” Pia offered.
“Er yeah, that’ll be good for the Stube.”
“And us,” Pia supplied.
“Us?”
“Well duh, we get paid?”
“We do?”
“You do,” Herr Sebenschuh agreed.

I racked my brain for some clues as to how this news involves me. My mind flicked back to Weihnachts as P explained things to Mand, yeah, it was quite an intense couple of days. Fun though, the coach passengers had a good time in the end and whilst hard work the euros did come in handy.

“It’s only once in two weeks for now,” Herr S supplied.
“Dad’s stumping up for new uniforms,” Pia advised.
“Shirts and skirts?” I suggested.
“I wish,” Helmut allowed, “part of the deal is that the staff wear Kostüm, it’s gonna cost me a fortune.”

Oh joy, and I guess I signed up for this.

“I need your sizes so I can get it all ordered, the first booking is only three weeks away.”
“Any vacancies?” Mand enquired.
“An extra pair of hands would be good, Dad,” P mentioned.
“Three, four, huh, I'm trying to make money daughter not spend it.”
“Da-ad.”
“Alright, you’re hired, Amanda.”
“Yes!” Mand and P announced with a high, well low five.
“Why do I feel I've just been played eh, Gaby.”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.

“So if we can add some tumbling we get more points straight off,” I told my charges.
“Like gymnastic type stuff?” Lisse queried.
“Sort of,” I allowed, “I wasn’t thinking of anything too drastic, I'll show you, I'm a bit out of practice mind, can you give me a hand and Mand please.”

We dragged a crash mat out then it took a couple of minutes to explain what was required, I'm quite supple but I did some extra stretches anyhow. They linked hands, I stepped up and caught my balance.

“One and two and three!” they launched me upwards and I performed a slightly wobbly back flip with a half twist – I did say I was rusty.
“Yay!”
“Nice!”
“Go, Gabs!
“I'm impressed, Gab,” Hannah allowed,”you okay?”
“Not a great landing,” I allowed rubbing an ankle.

Clearly not everyone in the team could manage a back flip, for now at least we’d work on just a couple of girls doing assists. Of course it might be a bit of an ask to include the move at the next competition but once we’ve got the basics we can add more worth more points.

“Where did you learn that?” Hannah asked as we cleared up.
“In the States, we didn’t do tumbles in the Foresters.”
“States as in America?”
“School exchange trip, we did a competition over there so we trained with the AHS squad and they taught us some level two moves.”
“You really are full of surprises, Miss Bond,” Hannah noted.
“We’ll have to send a couple of these to your Grandparents,” Mum advised when Mand and I returned to the Bond stronghold.
Oh bum, she’s found the prom photos.
“That the Prom pics, Jenny?” Mand enquired heading over to where Mum was looking at the offending images.
“Mu-um,” I complained.
“They do make a good couple,” Mum stated, “your hair does compliment that dress, Gab.”

Yeah, just a pity I'm stuck with it for the foreseeable.

“You look like you’re about eighteen, Gab,” de Vreen suggested, “very elegant.”
“You sure you’re my daughter?” Mater joshed.
“Mu-um!” I complained again.

“There you go P,” I told my friend offering a slip of paper to her,” measurements.”
“Great, I've got Con’s so Dad can get them ordered.”
“What’s he ordering P?” Nen asked joining us with her coffee.
“Uniforms for a job.”
“Boring,” Bridg opined.
“It’s not gonna be anything too daft is it?” I asked.
“Mum’s actually picking the stuff, Dad just gets to pay,” Pia replied.
“Con says you’re going to the Koblenz Geschäftsleitungschule with P in September, Gabs?” Steff queried.
“I've got a place according to Boxxie,” I agreed.
“No more morning coffee,” Nena sighed.
“We aren’t all going to fancy colleges it’s only P and Gabs going to Koblenz, some of us are only going to the Hochschule,” Con pointed out.
“All that commuting,” Steff mentioned.

Joy, more precious time wasted, it’s like an hour each way to Koblenz - if the trains are running on time of course. Trust me to want a practical career as back up, the others get to study more maths and English etc. in Bad Neuenahr but I have to be different.

“We’ll still see each other,” Pia noted.
“Yeah, can’t break up the Angels,” Con cheered.
But it won’t be the same will it?

The rest of the week was relatively quiet, no drama’s, just the usual school, training, cooking, hanging with the girls – well until Friday at least.

“What have we got this week?” Tomas asked after I stowed my stuff.
“A Gabrielle Bond exclusive,” I announced.

I’d actually given this week’s pie filling a bit more thought. My original thought was a plain mince and veg, then I thought curry like back at Hygenic in Church Warsop. Not sure what Dernau would make of that so I've come up with a Gaby original – the currywurst pie!

Therese has grilled a dozen Bratwürst, the rest is straightforward, pikant curry sauce and paprika. Herr Thesing set too on the pastry, I retrieved a würst slicer from the store room, it took a bit of cleaning but it’s a bit safer than using a knife. (if you haven’t seen one, you put the sausage in the top and it comes out the bottom nicely chopped into like two centimetre chunks.

You normally have a full sausage on a tray with a liberal dose of glutinous sauce and paprika but for the pies, this first batch at least it’s about half a sausage. The catering suppliers have got us some better pie tins, smaller but a bit deeper, we can make the pies with a better filling to pastry ratio. Sausage in, ladle of slightly watered sauce, pie lid then a sprinkle of paprika on top – I suggested we identify the pies with different decoration on top so there’s a sort of sausage shape on these lids.

“Geez, it smells like fast food stand!” Con opined.
“Er yeah,” I agreed, I like currywurst but you can get too much of a good thing.
“Instead of complaining, try this,” her dad instructed.

She took the offered plate, found a fork and dug in.

“Pie and chips, not very healthy, Gab?” Mand stated.
“Well they’re not just any pies.”
“They do smell a bit weird,” she opined sniffing at her plate, “what is it?”
“Dad! Dinner.” I yelled into the garage.

Where’s Mum? Some race down in Austria, they left to drive down this morning.

“Hmm, different,” Dad mentioned when he joined us at the table, “what's in the pie?”
“Currywurst.”
“Currywurst? Interesting choice.”
“It’s pie of the week at Thesing’s.”
Mand had a coughing fit, “Hurgh! Flippin’ ‘eck, Gab!”
“It’s not that bad is it?”
“A bit sharper than I was expecting.”
Dad finished smothering his chips with mayo before digging in, “Different.”
“That all?”
“Bit on the dry side, but not bad.”

Yeah, maybe the curry sauce needs to be a bit ‘wetter’ but I'm fairly pleased with it.

“Why chips?” Mand asked.
“Well duh, it’s what you have with currywurst.”
“She’s got a point, Mand,” Dad agreed.

“The Kostüm have arrived,” Pia advised as we warmed up for Garde.
“That’s quick.”
“Mum wants everyone round to try them on, can you and Mand make tomorrow?”
“Guess we could come in the afternoon after training.”
“Cool, they look brill.”
“So everyone checked their uniforms?” Hannah called across the room.

What is it with these people and uniforms?

Maddy Bell © 04.11.16

 

 
With everything else going on I forgot to tell you about the Garde uniform, the new one that is. I still don’t know why I need one but it’s a done deal now, to be honest it was Thursday before I remembered that I needed to try it on.

“What are you wearing?” Mand asked.
“Don’t ask,” I told her rolling my eyes.
“I just did,” she pointed out.
“Oh yeah.”
“So?”
“The new Garde uniform,” I sighed.
“You look like something off the Christmas tree.”

I guess that's being kind. At least it’s not as pink as I'd dreaded, okay it’s pink but more raspberry than rose, a little less saccharine.

“Clashes with your hair,” Mand giggled.
“Not a problem we wear white perücke and heavy make-up, I'm sure I showed you before.”
“What’s a perücke?”
“You know, a wig.”
“Oh right, don’t remember any pictures though, I know it’s all that marching stuff but that's about it, so what's with the uniform? Thought you only went for fitness.”
“I do but Han thinks I need this for some reason,” I sighed.

“Do you need picking up?” Dad enquired as we extricated ourselves from the Mercedes.
“Should be okay,” I replied.
“Hi, Herr Bond,” Pia offered,” Mum says are you eating here tonight?”
“Gab is supposed to be cooking so tell your mother, yes please.”
“Da-ad!”
“What time, Pia?”
“Six?”
“I'll be there, see you girls later.”
“Yes, Dad,” I sighed shutting the door, “tschuss.”
“Bye, kids!”

He set off and the three of us headed into the Stube.

“Urgh! I swear!”
“Got you out of cooking,” P mentioned, “coffee?”

Not knowing exactly what the Sebenschuh’s had ordered I was fully equipped, underskirts, Büstenheber , BH, blouse and I'd even got Mand to braid my hair.

“You girls okay?” Eva Sebenschuh, P’s mum asked.
“Think we can manage,” Pia told her.
“Well don’t be too long, what time’s Connie coming?”
“She said about five?”
“Hmm, okay, shoo!”
“Shooing already,” P giggled leading the way through into the family home.

I primped in Pia’s long mirror whilst the others finished dressing. In these parts if people wear Trachtenmode it’s usually lacking all the fancy stuff you get down south in Bavaria and that but Eva had gone for practical dressy, black dresses with a sort of peachy trim and a matching apron. There weren’t any underpinnings but we did get practical cotton Trachtenbluse, I readjusted the girls and grinned at my reflection.

“What’re you grinning at,” Mand asked joining me at the mirror.
“Nothing.”
“I have so got to get one of those lift up bra things,” she noted comparing my chest to hers.
“Me too, I look like I've got fried eggs in here.”
“Oh I don’t know, they could be double yolkers!” I joked, ducking to miss the friendly slap sent my way.
“So like do we wear proper shoes when we’re working?” Mand asked as she turned to get a look at her bum in the mirror.
“Guess so,” Pia offered.

“You could be mistaken for real waitresses,” Ingrid suggested when we presented ourselves for inspection back in the Stube.
That of course resulted in a bit of sibling tongue poking from Pia.

“Wunderbar,” Helmut noted when he arrived from the cellars.
“So your wife can get some things right, eh?” Eva quested.
“I still think the gelb was nicer.”
“But not very practical, what if they are working the evening?”
“Okay, okay,” he agreed.
“So what do you girls think?” Eva enquired as she checked the fit on us.
“I think I need some er help on top, Mama,” Pia suggested.
“Help?”
“Er I think she means these, Frau Sebenschuh,” I offered pointing to my chest.

All eyes of course rotated towards my exposed chest.

“Impressive, Gabs,” Ingrid broke the silence.
Turning a shade darker than my hair, I filled the silence,”it’s just a Büstenheber.”
“A whatty?” Ingrid queried.
“It’s like a bra without cups,” Pia supplied, “lifts everything up.”
“I'm not quite sure it’s appropriate,” Eva suggested.
Helmut however clearly had other thoughts, “Eva, get the girl one of these lift things, it’s exactly what our guests will be expecting, er well endowed waitresses.”
“What do you think, Inge?” Eva asked of her elder child.
“I think dad’s right, Mama, it’s okay looking like a hausfrau for normal work but the idea is to make these guests think they are getting a real ‘deutscher’ experience, even if one of the girls is English.”
Eva let out a sigh, “Okay, okay, we’ll order you one.”
“Yes!” Pia cheered.
“Best get them for the other girls too,” Helmut suggested, Eva just rolled her eyes.
“So, Gabs,” Ingrid started,” how come you’ve got one of these Büstenheber things?”
“I erm have a similar issue to Pia so I er checked stuff out on the internet.”
“You got one of those for me?” Con asked joining our meeting.
“Come on, Connie, it’s in the back,” Eva instructed.

“Hmm,” Helmut stroked his chin, “we should get some pictures, for promotion.”

We were still be-dirndled but sat in the lounge area with coffee and cake.

“I guess we can pose the girls, we can be the guests,” Eva suggested.
“Not gonna work, guys,” Ingrid put in, “it’ll look false, they need to be really serving and stuff.”
Herr S sipped at his coffee again, “How would you girls be about working this evening?”
“All right by me,” Con replied.
Mand shrugged, well it’s not like we had anything planned, “We’re in.”
“What are you up to, Helmut Sebenschuh?” his wife asked.
“We’ve got that birthday meal tonight, they can serve that, I'll ring Axel to do the pictures, he’s always up for a free meal.”
“Ja, my brother has never turned down my cooking,” Eva agreed.

Axel Freisinger, Pia’s uncle, I've met before, he’s got a photographic business up in Adenau, weddings, portraits and so on. He arrived in time to join the enlarged family meal, a nice (well it is a restaurant!) pork in mushroom sauce with potato croquettes and Rotkohl. There wasn’t a dessert, not that trussed up like this I could’ve eaten one.

Mand got a crash course in waitressing from the Stube’s resident head waitress, Ingrid – soon enough the first guests started to arrive. Dad was installed at the bar with Helmut, Axel was armed with his cameras and our flock of waitresses prepared for this training session.

It was quite late when we eventually left the Stube, photographed, ogled and eventually changed back into civvies, the uniforms would be at the cleaners Monday. Con got a lift home with us so it was almost midnight when we got indoors.

“Had a phone call from Australia yesterday,” Dad mentioned as we joined the northbound autobahn next morning.
“Nana Bond?”
“Uh huh,” he agreed, “they’re coming to Europe in the summer.
“Kewl!”

Nana and Gramps Bond emigrated to Australia when I was about six or seven, I think I've seen them twice since then.

“They’re keen to see their granddaughter racing.”
“So they’ll come to Germany?”
“Indeed, they want to make it a big family do, get all the family together.”
“All the family?”
“That’s the plan, they’ve rented a house so your Uncle Sam and Aunt Kath can come over with their families too.”

It might not be something that’s mentioned much but I do have some relatives, we might not be the closest of families but that’s partly because we live all over. Auntie Kath and her brood live down in Dorset and Uncle Sam’s family are up in the Lake District where he works for the National Park. It’s pretty much a wedding and funeral thing when we get together – oh when we lived in Warsop we’d see them if we were near them but that could literally be years apart.

“All of them?”
“Yup,” Dad agreed, “you know Aunt Kath is expecting again?”
“I thought she’d only just popped.”
“Rosie’s nearly one, kiddo.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“So like you’ve got some cousins then,” Mand noted from the other side of the car.
“A few, Uncle Sam’s got three boys and Auntie Kath has already got four, all girls.”
“I think they’re hoping for a boy this time,” Dad supplied.
“They were hoping for a boy when Daisy was born,” I pointed out, Daisy being the second of their four daughters.
“If at first you don’t succeed,” Dad started.
“Try, try, try again,” I finished the family joke, they’d wanted a boy when Violet and Rosie were born too, only Jasmine not a disappointment gender wise.
“So how many are there?”
“My sister’s got four,” Dad advised.
“Uncle Sam’s got three boys,” I added, “me and Jules are the eldest.”
“Sounds like quite a party,” Mand observed.

I kind of felt bad for Mand right then, she’s said before that she doesn’t have many rels, she doesn’t even get on with her mum and here we are rubbing this ‘big’ family in her face.

“So what’s this race like?” Mand asked as we departed Ron’s place.
“Up and down,” I supplied.
“Well duh!”
“We start in Barmen,” Ron started, “climb out to the circuit, I think it’s four laps then back to Wupper for the finish.”
“It’s a right honk up to the finish,” I added.
“Great,” Mand allowed.

This isn’t the same event, the Langeberg GP, we rode here last year but today uses the same circuit. It’s almost the opposite to last week’s huge event, we’ll almost certainly be the only girls and the field correspondingly smaller. I watched the very urban landscape of the Wuppertal pass by, the Schwebebahn swooping along above the river only adding to the contrast to last week’s Schwarzwald trip.

Maddy Bell © 04.11.16