I was wrong about no other girls today, on the contrary there were quite a few here.

“Seem to be a lot of the fairer sex today,” Mand suggested as we utilised the changing room at the school.
“Didn’t your dad say,” Ron started, “it’s part of the NRW girls’ series.”
“There’s such a thing?” I queried.
“’Course.”
“So what about the lads?” Mand asked.
“Not enough girls to run on its own I guess,” Ron offered.
‘I'm sure it is.’
‘Like you were sure it was Madonna in Dortmund last week.’

The voices, well I sort of recognised them from somewhere, the owners came into the room.

“Told you!” Barbie gushed, for it was she and her sidekick Fran that we met here last year .
“Hi guys,” Ron allowed.
“Madonna?” well I had to ask.

“Okay girls?” Dad asked as we shivered on the hilltop below the Bismark monument waiting for the start.

I wish this weather would settle down, one day it’s warm and bright, the next it’s like winter and hissing down – today it’s hedging its bets, cool, breezy but clear skies.

“Be happier when we get going,” Mand opined.
“Yeah, what’s the hold up,” I asked idly flicking my Ergo paddles.
“Some sort of incident on the circuit, the police won’t let the event start until it’s cleared.” Dad advised.
“How long?” Ron asked, we’ve been stood for nearly half an hour already.
“They didn’t give specifics, probably an accident.”
“Great,” I sighed.

It was only five minutes later that an official called us to the line.

“Okay folks, the Polizei have given the all clear for us to start but we’ve decided to reduce the distance by a lap.”

Unsurprisingly there were no complaints about that I can tell you.

“We’ll start in five minutes,” the head judge guy concluded.
“’Bout time,” Barbie commented.
“Hang on to my bike,” I told Mands, “I'll lose our trackies.”
“’Kay.”
“Any chance you could take ours?” Fran hinted as she slipped her race cape off.
“Go on,” I sighed.
“Cheers, Gabs, that's my mum in the red jacket.”

I passed my bike off to Mand, gathered the assorted tops and clacked over to the peanut gallery of parents. Fran’s mum met me and I handed off Barb and Fran's stuff as Dad reached me.

“Okay, kiddo, remember winning isn’t as important today, we’re after girls’ league points.”
“Yes Dad.”
“Go on, have a good ride.”
“Thanks.”

We slipped out of the park and onto the city streets behind the lead cars flashing lights, a motley group of riders from hopeful hobbyists to world champions – how many sports does that happen in? Did I mention there are a lot of girls riding, I did didn’t I, I never usually think about the sex of the riders, I'm just one of them. Here though it’s more in your face, I'm surrounded by pony tails, boobs and pinkness.

Okay, I admit it, I tick those boxes too what with my pink hair and the girls poking my Apollinaris jersey out despite my sports bra. I've been ‘lucky’ in that I've been able, up to now at least, to compete with the lads but is this my future in the sport?

It’s a longer neutral section than usual today, something like two kilometres, so despite the delay we were reasonably warmed up by the time we’d climbed out of the city. The neutral should mean no racing but the lads riding were to a man, boy, whatever, heading the field as we approached the deregulation sign and the start proper. Dad had suggested a game plan, essentially ignore the boys but like that's a bit defeatist right?

“Ron,” I hissed to my neighbour.
“’Sup?”
“Suicide.”
“Eh?”

I motioned with my head towards the front of the peloton.

She smiled as she realised my intent, “Suicide.”
“Laters!”

I hit the ‘go’ button literally as the green flag appeared from the lead car. Full gas, out of the saddle I shot forward and was almost on the cars bumper before the driver reacted. This is a big gamble, seventy or so kilometres ahead of me and no direct assistance – oh long escapes I'm used to but I've usually got some company.

“What’s she up to?” Barb asked the Apollinaris girl next to her, the English one.
“Stretching legs?”

The move had been totally unexpected and the reaction muted to say the least, some of the lads had upped the pace a bit but you’d have to be Jan Ulrich to make it stick with the full race distance to go.

I kept the pressure on all the way to the top of the climb before relaxing slightly as I joined the circuit. A quick glance behind revealed no chase, in fact no sight of the rest of the race, I took a drag on my bidon then got back down to work. It’s mostly downhill for the next few kilometres, I settled into the drops and snicked up a couple of sprockets.

Essentially today's course is up and down the northern side of the row of hills separating the Deilbachtal from the Wupper, not mountain climbing but if memory serves, twisty and bumpy. A lap sits about nineteen kilometres long so that's like forty minutes a go at race speeds, boy so it’s maybe three hours to the finish. The road switched about a bit and I enjoyed the freedom to choose my own line unhindered through the corners.

A couple of times the speedo saw in excess of fifty k’s and then it was the turn onto the main road at the bottom. No sign of the ‘incident’, still, that's no matter now, the road along the valley is wide and smooth – well apart from the big drains in the edge. Blue lights ahead soon warned of the turn off onto the climb, all nine kilometres of it.

“What’s the silly moo think she’s doing?” Mand queried as she sat alongside Ron on the descent into Langenberg.
“Going for the long one,” Ron suggested.
“Which leaves us where? We supposed to block?”
“I guess.”
“So much for an easy girly race,” Mand lamented.
“Yeah,” Ron agreed, “there’s bound to be a move on the climb.”
“Oh joy,” Mand allowed with a roll of her eyes.

The art of this sort of climb is keeping a regular cadence, nice and steady like – well that's one approach. Once I cleared the near hairpin turn in I attacked the gradient with some vim, I'm not interested in just getting up the hillside, I want, no need to take as much advantage as possible. The road surface is horrible, tar and chip with a dose of broken along the road edge and more widespread on the corners.

It’s not steep, well not 10% steep at any rate although it might hit that in places, no its more like 5%, a grind and energy sapping. The wind started to make itself felt as the height accumulated and the top approached – not strong but certainly a stiff breeze. I was grateful to see the next turn, at least there's a short down before the final bit of climb.

When I say short it’s like a kilometre down to the river then a short sharp climb out the other side complete with hairpin. I accelerated into the bottom of the climb then out of the saddle for the steepest bit. The road was strewn with straw, you know, little bits blowing all over then I spotted the source.

Indeed you’d be hard pushed to miss the overturned tractor and its trailers on the outside of the hairpin, there being a couple of Polizei and others surveying the carnage of straw bales and machinery. It was clearly the cause of our delayed start, how can you get a tractor to fall over? My legs were complaining by the time I reached the summit and the start of lap two.

“Allez, allez!”
“Dig in!”
“Go on, girl!”
The small group of spectators shouted encouragement, I managed a grimace in reply.
“Hup, hup!”
“Steady, kiddo,” Dad instructed as I blearily rode past the Apollinaris cheer team.
I gave a nod of acknowledgement and tried to relax a bit as the road started to descend once more.

“Far too early,” Dave muttered as he watched his daughter take a slug from her drinking bottle on the downhill side of their vantage point.
“I thought they were taking it easy today,” Angela noted.
“That was the plan, where’s the bunch?”

Ron hadn’t been wrong, the eventual reaction to Gab’s escape did come on the climb, nothing drastic but an incessant pressure from four or five of the lads. Both the Apollinaris girls were safely sat in but by the top there was a string of girls, in ones and twos who’d lost contact. Of their team mate they’d seen nothing although the flashing lights of the lead car were visible once or twice.

“Here they come,” Dave told his companion as he scanned the distance through the binoculars.
“The girls there?”
“Can’t see them, oh there’s Mand, looks like Ron behind.”

It was fully five minutes after the leaders transit that the remains of the peloton eventually crested the summit. Mostly male, the chasers did include more than just the Apollinaris girls even if it was about a three to one ratio.

“Hang in girls!”
“Five,” Dave threw in.

“Did he say five,” Fran asked her gasping friend.
“Think so,” Barb agreed grabbing her bidon from its cage.
“She’d need an engine to be that far ahead.”
“We are talking about the girl who came third at the Paris Roubaix here,” Barbie mentioned.
“And won in Baden last week,” Ron, overhearing the conversation added.
“Wonder woman!” the other two chorused.

I swung onto the main road before fishing into my pockets for some food, one of those new energy bars. The problem with an escape like this is, well you can’t relax, the closer to the finish the more likely fatigue and a chase will do for you. I suppose I could sit up but then I've wasted my effort so far so really I'm committed or maybe need committing.

Hmm, at least these bars are better than the old ones, they were like eating clay, yeuk! I kept the speed quite high along the valley, all too soon I was back on the climb for the second time. It’s still best part of forty k’s to the finish, I'm about halfway I guess, I need to take it a bit steadier this time around.

That doesn’t mean I slack off and enjoy the sunshine – I wish! After a couple of k’s my jersey was sodden, sweat trickling down into my shorts, luvverly, not. I was actually quite relieved when higher up the breeze cooled me a bit, the boys are so lucky, they can unzip their shirts.

I risked a look behind but there was no sign of pursuit, they could be just out of sight I suppose. It felt more of a grind on the final assault but the village at the top hove into view and I relaxed my effort a little. Come on Gabs, one more lap.

Maddy Bell © 17.11.16

 

 

 
“Keep it steady!” Dad advised as I approached the few spectators a few minutes later.
“Time?” I gasped.
“’Bout six.”
I nodded and went for another energy bar to help get me around the last lap.

“She going to make it?” Angela asked.
“Who can say, if the rest get organised I doubt it, I wish she’d listen.”
“Teenagers, Dave, they’re all the same.”
“I live in the hope that’ll change, I used to think Jules was the wild one, since you know, all the plumbing stuff it’s like this one is making up for lost time.”
“She’s a good kid, Dave.”
“I know but sometimes, I sort of wish the old, quiet Drew was back, is that wrong?”
“She’s been through a lot, Dave, she’s still finding herself.”
“That’s what Jen said when her sister started getting into all that goth stuff.”
“Better than bottling it up.”
“I guess so.”
“I know so, when we lost Ron's sister, well it wasn’t a good time but Ron, well she went from the bubbliest most mischievous bundle of fun to just the saddest little girl. It took ten years of therapy to even get her to accept it wasn’t her fault for Heidi's death. It was really only when someone suggested getting her involved in sport that her ‘guilt’ was released.”
“But it wasn’t her fault,” Dave observed.
“Of course not, how can anyone prevent cot death but she still took on the guilt.”
“But Ron's not got pink hair and an increasing collection of holes.”
“I wish she did, away from all this she’s still insecure. Coffee?”

It’s funny some of the stuff that goes through your head when you’re racing – especially in this sort of situation. Of course there’s all the calculations, how far to the finish, when should I eat, how much is left in the bidons and then there's the other side, how fast do I need to go to stay ahead, how fast do the pursuers have to go to catch me. A lot of it is pure speculation of course but if I've got six minutes on the bunch they need to take twenty seconds per kilometre to catch me from here, certainly not impossible.

On the other hand, with today's field I reckon it’ll be a stretch, these guys are not first division so even if they get organised I think they’ll struggle to pull me back. Well that's my gamble anyhow. And if I'm still putting in 100%, well it just makes it that much more difficult.
You can’t gain a lot of time on the downhills but you can lose time if that makes sense. I practice going down quickly, picking the fastest line and whilst being fifty kilos wet through puts me at a disadvantage I can get away with stuff that heavier riders can’t. One of which is just coming up.

The road flicked to the left and I gripped the hoods a bit tighter, gripping the frame between my knees – here goes! I concentrated on my line and when the surface dipped I tensed ready, up and weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! It wasn’t an Evel Knievel max air jump but I definitely left the ground for several metres, I landed with a small jolt and returned to my pedalling.

Oh yeah, she shoots, she scores!

So if I kept my six minutes to here they need to pull back nearly half a minute per kilometre, that's getting harder unless I blow. So don’t blow Gab, duh! I snicked it into the twelve sprocket and concentrated on riding fast, through the Langenberg turn and onto the fast, smooth and all too short main road.

“Guh!” Barbie allowed as the remains of the bunch passed the crashed tractor for a second time, “I swear this is steeper than last time.”
“Yeah,” Fran agreed.

The girls were doing pretty well, spurred on by the presence of the two sky blue clad Apollinaris riders. Of course they sort of knew the older of the pair, Veronike Grönberg, she only lives over in Mettmann and they’d ridden the same events before. The other girl, a blonde didn’t speak great German, maybe Dutch or Polish, but she was a strong rider too, giving as good as any of the lads in the group.

No one in the depleted bunch seemed keen to do anything but get their breath as they crossed to Dönberg to complete the lap.

“Keep it going!”
“Steady!”
“Six, block!”
Ron nodded towards Dave bond.

“She got another minute?” Mand asked sliding alongside her team mate.
“Looks like it.”
“I didn’t think she could get that much on her own.”
“This lot aren’t committed enough, she’d never last in a Jungere race.”
“Guess not,” Mand allowed grabbing her bottle.
“Just need to keep a lid on any last lap heroics,” Ron noted.

A trickle of sweat ran down my back into my bra, lovely. I was definitely a bit slower this time up the climb, not a lot, maybe a couple of k’s, hopefully the bunch will be suffering the same. I'm sure last time here it rained, at least, looking at the sky, we’ll be saved from that misery.
I kept plugging away but I was spending more time out of the saddle to stay on top of the gears. There’s not a lot of shade on the climb but I can see the woods just before the top, thank the heavens. They didn’t just cut a lap from the distance, they cut the drink station which means both my bottles are now empty, gott, I really need a wet.

The turn in the village seemed further than I remembered, girl (well I can hardly say boy can I?), was I pleased to get there. I squeezed the last dregs from my second bottle, it really was just a couple of drops, then returned to the job in hand. Down, over the bridge then out of the saddle through the straw and past the stricken farm machinery and up to through the hamlet to the summit.

It’s not far to the turn off, I spotted the blue lights of the Polizei auto long before I actually got there. I gave a smile and little finger wave as I turned off the circuit and started the mostly downhill return to Wuppertal. A board suggested it was five kilometres to the finish, oh yeah!
Last time here it was a frantic chase and a photo finish, today it’s just keeping the juice on. I was soon into the city, under the autobahn and with a police outrider heading towards the park and the finish at the botanical gardens. Nearly there, come on Gab, you can do it.

I made the last turn and started the last kilometre, a climb all the way to the finish. A quick look behind revealed no immediate danger of being caught so rather than kill myself I settled into a steady cadence, as long as I'm first across the line it doesn’t matter what the gap is. Into the park and the serpentine climb to the finish, I was into the last two hundred when I caught a glimpse of flashing lights on the park approach.

A small crowd started cheering as I made the last turn, nearly there girl. I sat up and straightened my jersey, might as well look smart as I take the win. The sound of my pursuers drifted from below, I gave a last burst of gas before crossing the line, arms thrust aloft in a victory salute.
The chasers actually took another two minutes to arrive, a messy sprint between the lads which the surviving girls wisely kept clear of.

However, a girly sprint followed, Ron taking the honours from Fran, Barb and Mand bringing up the rear.

“You guys riding the whole series?” Barbie queried emerging from the shower room wearing nothing but the towel she was drying her hair with.
“Put some clothes on,” Fran suggested.
“Not sure,” I allowed trying but failing to not look at the naked girl, “depends on the other races I guess.”
“Just wondered if we have a chance,” Barb noted as she turbaned her hair.
“You guys should try the Jungere league races,” Ron suggested.
“We’re not that good,” Fran replied.
“You were still there at the finish,” I pointed out, “that’s half the battle.”
“Yeah but you were miles ahead,” the brown haired girl put in.
“You just have to treat her like one of the boys,” Ron opined, “you really should do the national series, there’s not that many girls do it.”
“We’re not in a fancy team like you guys,” the still half naked barb mentioned.
“We haven’t always been, eh Mand?”
“Eh, haven’t been what?” My house mate queried as she arrived from the showers wearing more than Barb was even now.
“In a race team,” Ron filled in.
“Oh, er no, someone lost their bra? There’s one on a hook in there.”
“Oops, that’ll be me,” Barbie admitted.
“Mand's even come from England to get in the team,” Ron went on.
“Barb thought she was a Nederlander.”

“...And our winner today after an amazing lone effort, Gabrielle Bondt, Team Apollinaris!”

I clambered onto the podium and waved to the crowd, small as it was. The lads who took second and third spots loomed over me despite the extra height the middle step offered. Sometimes it sucks to be small.

“You sure it’s okay?” Dad pressed as we drew up to the Grönberg's place.
“Of course it is, to be sure I think Marcus likes talking shop with you, Dave.”
Angela has invited us for dinner which is nothing rare but Ron's dad will be home which is.

“So what was today all about?” Ron demanded once we were settled in her room with drinks and enough snacks to last until dinner.
“Whatcha mean?” I enquired selecting a biscuit.
“Don’t act your shoe size,” Mand put in, “disappearing up the road like that.”
“Oh that.”
“That,” my friends agreed.
“Just thought I'd give it a throw, the field didn’t look very strong.”
“It was supposed to be an easy day,” Mand pointed out.
“What can I say, I didn’t fancy a sprint today.”

“Dressed like Elvis?” Dad confirmed.
“Every one of them, white suits, hair the lot, it was like a set of dominoes, they were all in a line at the gate, the first one fell backwards looking for his boarding card, they went tock, tock, tock, eighteen of them!” Marcus chuckled, “Not one of them close to sober of course.”
“I'd like to’ve seen that,” Ron opined.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Not so much fun for the staff or other passengers,” Angela suggested.
“Well no,” Marcus agreed, “we had to take two off the flight after being sick but it was quite funny, tock, tock, tock.”
“Instead of talking, eat, I didn’t cook this for you to waste,” Angela admonished.
“I'm not wasting it, look I'm eating!”
“See what I have to put up with, Dave?”
Dad wisely didn’t reply.

Angela’s speciality might be cakes but she does a fair dinner too, beef stroganoff with a green salad today, it might’ve turned out warm but after today's effort I for one was ready for a good feed.

“Marcus is a comic,” Dad stated as we made our way across to the autobahn and points towards Dernau.
“Yeah,” I agreed dryly, “regular Will Smith.”
“What's up with you?”
“Tired I guess.”
“You didn’t have to ride the whole race on your own, it was your choice.”
“I know, it worked though didn’t it?”
“This time,” Dad agreed.
“You don’t have to rub in how much better you are,” Mand added.
“I wasn’t, I mean I didn’t.”
“Well that's what it looks like to everyone else,” she went on.

Maddy bell © 19.11.16

 

 

 
“Given the nature of this case and the evidence put before me by both parties I have reached a decision that I believe will be the best interests of the child A. said child will be taken from this court and placed directly into the care of Social Services and henceforth offered for adoption.”
“Nooooooooooooooooooo!”
“All rise,” the Usher ordered, “court dismissed.”
“Mum, you’ve got to stop them,” Bern begged, “they’re taking Drea away!”
“It’ll be for the best,” Cheryl told her.

Across the courtroom the team from the SS were celebrating, that witch ‘Mike’ laughing and giving high fives to the other members of the ‘team’.

There was no stopping the tears as a desolate mother hugged her first born, how could this happen, even mum was against her. She didn’t see the person approaching her but started at the familiar voice.

“We’ve won Miss Rose, I said we would so hand over the brat.”
“No!”
“Give her the child,” Cheryl Rose’s voice ordered.

Bern looked to her mother but it wasn’t her there but Mike, no, no no, this can’t be real.The babe was wrenched from her grip and the SS officer hoisted her above her head like a trophy which was greeted by a cheer from the rest of the rooms occupants.

“Drea!”

The baby started to cry as Mike roughly handed her off to an underling.

“We’ve won Miss Rose, we’ve won.”
“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

She awoke with a start immediately looking across to Drea’s cot, she could see her child lightly snoring – a dream then, no a nightmare. She lay back on her pillows and let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. It wasn’t the first time she’d had such a dream, but this one felt, well more real, what do they mean? Do they predict the future?

There was one thing for sure, she’d not get any more sleep tonight. Not that she ever got much, Drea for her part was very good, sleeping through most nights, it was the nightmares that kept Bern from doing the same. The subterfuge with Mart was supposed to give her some security but even that was causing her issues, would it really help in her keeping Drea?

“So where are you two off to?” Cheryl enquired as Bern fussed about getting her daughter ready to go out.
“Thought we’d go see the ducks.”
“You back for lunch?”
“Should be.”
“I'll wait ‘till you get back then, oh can you drop your Aunt Megan’s card in the post box?”
“Er sure, put it in my bag.”

It was a nice Spring day, not quite warm enough to go without at least a cardy but it was dry, the sky blue and the wind barely rustling the newly emerging leaves.

“See you later.”
“Don’t forget the card, its Megan’s birthday tomorrow,” Cheryl called after her daughter and grandchild.
“Got it, bye.”
Bern let gravity take the pram down the drive where she turned right towards the town, a journey she’d made countless times in the past to get to school, to meet her friends, to go shopping. But now, today, well its not the same, she’d pretty much lost contact with her ‘friends’, in a way she couldn’t blame them but it still hurt. Make new ones her mother had suggested, like that was going to happen.

You’d think there’d be some solidarity, some common ground with the other ‘gymslip’ mothers but she was at best tolerated. Generally though she was treated as a pariah, the posh girl who got her boyfriend put in the slammer. Posh, that’s a laugh, just because she had two parents and lived in a semi – oh and didn’t put out to every scrote in town.

If that's what posh meant she was posh, but posh and alone, lonely. Yeah she had a boyfriend, well sort of but he’s like hundreds of miles away in another country – probably having a good time, chatting up the girls who had more going for them than herself. For one they were German and for two, they didn’t come with baggage and history, she couldn’t blame him if he did drop her.

As she approached Burns Lane she could hear the kids at Warsop College as they enjoyed morning break, that had been her two years ago. At sixteen it still should’ve been but she’d mucked up big style, drugs, prison, that b*@#*^d Sean and of course Drea. She couldn’t blame anyone else, well okay Sean, but she’d sought out the bad boys, she didn’t have to go along with him and his cronies.

Rather than take the short route past the school to the pathetic bit of grass that Warsop counted as park she turned instead along the lane towards Meden. Meden, how many times had she been to Mad’s or Drew’s houses, yeah it was Drew back then of course. That pair had been like twins, if anything Drew, well Gaby was the prettier one and now, well Gab was in Germany and Maddy was seeing some lad from Birmingham or some such.

There weren’t many people about, the postman – must remember to post the card, and a few elderly home owners pottering in the gardens of the bungalows at this end of the estate. With a sigh she continued beyond the bungalows and along the poorly surfaced lane towards the river.

Cheryl watched her daughter and granddaughter head off towards the village centre before turning her attention to the mess of the living room. It wasn’t meant to be like this, not even forty and a grandmother and how it came about, well what's done is done. She surveyed the mess, okay it wasn’t that bad but somehow having a baby in the house meant goodbye tidy, hello toys under the sofa, sick on the carpet, nappies, constant clothes washing, stuff she’d thought things of the past.

Something was troubling her daughter, well more than the usual Social Services threats and visits. No there was something more, something Bern wasn’t talking about, well not to her or Jack anyhow. That German lad maybe? Seemed nice enough.

Then the Penny dropped – Marty, Martine, Bernadette Rose you are a sly one! I wonder if his parents know about any of this?

The ducks were fighting over the crusts and crumbs on the river bank, Drea was dozing again and the only other activity nearby was from an elderly couple walking a similarly elderly spaniel – oh the excitement. Bern fished her phone out of bag and checked the time, five past eleven, add an hour, should be lunch in Germany. She hit the speed dial and waited for it to connect.

“Hey Mart, your phone’s ringing.”
“It’ll be one of his fancy women,” Ralf proposed as his friend headed to the pile of bags and jackets forming one of the makeshift goal posts.
“More likely mummy wants something fetching from the Tier-praxis,” Freddy put in.
“Give over guys,” Marty requested as he hunted his Handy out.

Across the yard there was the usual conflagration of girls variously eating, talking or outright watching the makeshift game of footie.

“You want that Banana?”
“Geez, Gab, don’t you ever stop eating?” Con asked.
“I'm on a see food diet.”
“Yeah, see food and eat it,” the others chorused, it was an old line, overused but when you saw the waif in question you couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Go on, legs,” Con allowed passing the fruit over.
“Cheers, so we celebrating Friday?”
“Not a good day for me,” Nena advised.
“Nor me,” Steff agreed.
“We should like have a proper party,” Pia suggested, “I can ask Dad if we can use the cellar.”
“Count me in,” Bridg enthused.
“Just us or the lads as well?”
“I guess Max can come,” Pia chuckled.
“I didn’t mean...” Gabs rebuttle was cut short as her Handy started trilling, “who the heck's ringing at this time? Hello Bond.”

“Can you talk?”
“Sure, what’s up? Let me get somewhere a little quieter.”

“Frau Rose, what a surprise.”
“Sorry to call out of the blue, it’s Bernie.”
“What about her? She alright?”
“She’s quite depressed, I'm worried she might do something stupid.”

“Whoa, that's heavy.”
“Tell me about it,” Bern agreed, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Well nothing stupid for starters, you spoken to your rents?”
“Not likely!”
“Maybe you should?”

“Marty, I know the girls stayed with you when they went to Germany.”
Mart let out a sigh, “I told her it was a bad idea, not saying before.”
Thanks Marty, that confirms my guess, “Well what’s done is done, so what’s really going on with you and my daughter?”

“Flippin ‘eck Bern, you don’t half get yourself in some pickles.”
“It’s not a laughing matter Gabs, they really could take Drea.”
“But even if you came here, couldn’t they still take her?”
“Erm.”
“What haven’t you told me?”
“Well you know Mart was off school the other week?”
“Cold or something,” I agreed.
“Er something, he came to Warsop.”
“Warsop?” I queried rather loudly causing my friends to turn their attention my way.”
“You don’t have to shout.”

Cheryl sighed, trust Bern to come up with such a cloak and dagger idea, and to get Marty involved too. So who else knows about this? Marty’s parents? No, that's not likely, I'm sure they would’ve put a stop to things. And why keep their relationship a secret all this time, I got the feeling there was a boy when I went over but she never said and other things had our attention.

Question is, what happens now.

“Mum?”
“Living room.”

Bern parked the pram, checked that Drea was still asleep and clicked the kettle on.

“Nice walk?”
Bern jumped, “Geez, Mum.”
“Sorry.”
“Er yeah, I think we need to talk, I’ve put the kettle on.”
“Good, I think so too, I've been talking to your boyfriend.”
“Sean?”
“Marty, tall lad, speaks with a German accent?”
“I was going to tell you.”
“Like you were going to tell me about the birth certificate?”

Drea chose that moment to interrupt.

“Go on, sort chuckles out, then we’ll have that chat, eh?”
“Yes, Mum,” Bern agreed as she scooped up her hungry daughter.
“I’ll do us some lunch, cheese or meat?”
“Meat please,” this is going to be a long discussion.

Maddy bell © 21.11.16

 

 

 
“That sounded heavy,” Steff suggested when I returned to the rest of the Angels.
“Er yeah,” I agreed, “Bern.”
“The Kind is okay?” Pia asked.
“Oh yeah, yeah she’s fine, no her mum’s got some other stuff going on.”
“Nothing too serious I hope,” Nen opined.
“Hopefully,” I agreed, “so, we having this party then?”

Yeah this week is the gang’s last as full time students at Silverberg Gymnasium, a sobering thought. For sure we’ll still see plenty of each other but come September and it’ll be less as we each follow different paths into further education. It’s sort of scary, probably more so for the others, I've only been here two years, they’ve had five with the same teachers, buildings, journey.

“Dad says we can have the cellar next Tuesday,” Pia mentioned as we got ready for cheer practice.
“Tuesday?” Mand queried.
“We’re having an end of school party.”
“All right for some,” she moaned.
“You’re coming,” I told her.
“I am?”
“Manda, you know it’s just an excuse to party, course you’re coming,” Pia reinforced.
“So, there gonna be any boys?” Mand enthused.

“You think this is good for the Phantasia competition?” Hannah asked as the girls went through the launched tumble again.
“Don’t see why not, Lise has it cracked and P’s improving every time.”
“You’re the boss.”
“You don’t think they’re ready?”
“They are far from perfect,” Han pointed out.
“But they’ll be better by then and this stuff is worth a bunch more points than a pure floor routine.”
“Yes boss.”
“Give over,” I stood up and clapped for attention, “okay girls, let’s run through the full routine, Han, music please, aaaand start.”

“You look a bit distracted, kiddo,” Mum offered joining me in the kitchen where I was making a hash of a pile of ironing.
“I am?”
“You are,” she confirmed, “anything I can help with?”
“This ironing?”
“Hmm,” she allowed before taking the iron out of my hand.
“I'll put the kettle on.”
“These your dad’s shirts?”
“Well they’re not mine, I spoke to Bernie today.”
“As in Warsop, has a baby?”
“How many others do you know?”
“Well there’s the girl riding for Lotto.”
“And she’d be calling me, why?”
“Okay, so you spoke to Bernie, she’s not in trouble again?”
“Mu-um,” I sighed.
“Well I had to ask, she’s not got the best track record.”
“The Social are trying to take Drea away.”
“That’s not good, she say why?”
“Apparently they don’t need much excuse, they’ve been hounding her almost since Drea was born.”
“And she hasn’t said anything before?”
“She thought she could out manoeuvre them, where do you want this?”
“End of the table, that sounds like a can of worms.”
“No kidding,” I agreed.
“And?” Mum prompted.

And so I sat down and recounted the tale Bern had told me while Mum worked through the pile of ironing.

“This Marty, what does he think of all this?”
“No idea, I mean he did go to England so I guess he’s okay with it.”
“This could blow up in their faces, make things worse.”
“Yeah.”
“Does Cheryl know all this?”
“She didn’t, Bern was gonna tell her this afternoon.”
“So why today? I mean from what you said all this plotting has been going on for months.”
“Apparently there’s some sort of case review next week, she was all for jumping on a plane tomorrow when she rang.”
“I hope you talked her out of that.”
“’Course I did, I'm not that stupid.”
“You have your moments,” she pointed out, “I'll give Cheryl a call when I've finished this lot, this is everything?”
“Well there’s my knickers,” I suggested.
“If you want those ironing you can do those yourself.”
“Dang!”

“Mart! Hang on a bit!” I quick walked to catch up with him.
“Heya, Gab, what’s up?”
“You and Bern, she rang yesterday.”
“It wasn’t my idea, Frau Rose seemed to know everything when she rang me.”
“Cheryl rang you?”
“Yeah, lunchtime.”
“That's when Bern rang, she didn’t know Mart, Bern was gonna tell her when she went home.”
“And I told her everything, sugar!”
“Not your fault, question is Daddy, what happens now?”
“Keep it down, Gabs,” he checked to see if anyone was close enough to overhear, “well that was it, Bern researched it all before.”

Bern, Bern, Bern, what a nest of vipers you’ve put together.

“So she didn’t tell you she was planning on coming here after her birthday?”
“No, I swear she never said anything like that, Gab.”
I don’t think Mart’s got a gram of guile in him, if he says not I believe him.
“I think you two need to talk,” I suggested.
“Er yeah, no kidding.”
“If anyone asks, I've been telling you about the party at Pia’s next Tuesday, right?”
“Party?”
“I've just told you, seven at the Sebenschuh’s cellar, end of school bash.”
“Er right.”

“What’ve you two been plotting, Max’ll get jealous,” Con teased as I took my usual seat for registration.
“Connie Thesing you are just the biggest gossip! I was just telling him about the party next week.”
“You’re no fun.”
I gave her a very adult response, I stuck my tongue out at her.”
“When you’re quite done, Fräulein Bond,” Fr Dürst suggested.
“Er yes, Miss, sorry, Miss.”

“I'm looking forward to tomorrow,” Mand opined as we made our way along the newly resurfaced cycle track between Remagen and Oberwinter on our way to the Rolandseck ferry.
“What’s happening tomorrow?”
“We’re working at Pia’s?”
“Tomorrow? I thought it was on Thursday.”
“Don’t you listen to anything?”
“Not much,” I admitted.

We singled out to pass a group of Trekkers going barely fast enough to stay upright.

“So what’s so great about waitressing for a couple of hours?” I enquired as came back alongside her.
“Well nothing per se but like we’ll be making their holiday better and we get paid for doing it.”
“And we have to wear Landeskostüm,” I pointed out.
“Pah, it’s only a dress that you happen to look quite good in I may say.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Oh come on, Gab, it’s not like you’ve got to dance or anything, it’s waiting table.”
“Kerb!”

Well just because they put down a new surface doesn’t mean the cycle track is perfect. We stayed on the main road through Oberwinter and on to the ferry at Rolandseck – the cycle path is narrow and windy, not much good for training or road bikes. The ferry was just docking on the opposite side, we had about five minutes to wait.

“It’ll be hard going home after living here,” Mand mused as we watched the ferry battle across the current.
“Yeah,” I idly replied.
“You just don’t get this stuff on a training ride in Surrey.”
“Guess not.”
“Earth to Gaby?”
“Eh?”
“You’re not listening to a word.”
“Am, something about hard training.”
“I give up.”

The ferry clanged onto the slip way and the exchange of traffic started.

Once on the Bad Honnef side we started the hard bit and bit session that Dad wanted us to do. Down through Unkel then along the narrow, bumpy stretch to Linz where we turned onto the ferry slip way just in time to board as it waited for three huge barges to battle past our position.

“So where’s this race on Sunday?” clever clogs de Vreen asked.
“I think Dad said Maastricht.”
“Sounds foreign.”
“And everywhere else doesn’t?”
“You know what I mean, it doesn't sound German.”
“I think it’s in Holland, I saw some signs on the way back from Roubaix.”

The ferry nudged the western shore and we prepared to return to solid ground. Sometimes you just feel like giving it some and this evening was one of them, I sprinted off up the ramp and kept going.

“Gabeee!” Mand complained.

I got almost to the Sinzig flyover before she caught me then we were both full gas through the town and out onto the Remagen road. We had to wait for some traffic before we turned onto the lane into the Ahrtal then it was out of the saddle going for it until we reached the Bad Neuenahr level crossing. We stayed on the town side, we needed to cool down and it’s not a lot of fun on the new road anyhow.

Mand was soon rabbiting about something or other to which I grunted and nodded when it seemed appropriate. I wonder what's going on with Bernie and Drea?

Maddy bell © 21.11.16

 

 

 
“How are we getting to Pia’s tomorrow?” Mand enquired.

Mum had neatly sidestepped cooking dinner by claiming to have a meeting, and Dad well guess who was making cottage pie?

“Ride up I guess,” I suggested between beating seven shades of hell out of the taters.
“’Kay,” my audience allowed.

Of course it’s not that far, just over a kilometre, we could walk it in maybe ten fifteen minutes but riding gives us a bit more independence – can’t always rely on Dad’s Taxi.

“You can use Bern’s bike, it should only need the tyres pumping.”

Indeed the beast the Rents bought for Bern has been sat in the corner of the bike room collecting dust since last summer.

“Why not my road bike?”
“Make the gravy eh, get all togged up for a five minute ride?”
“It’s only shoes.”
“But then you have to carry your others and you need to take a coat.”
“I guess, er how thick do you want this?”

I looked at her sorry excuse for gravy, why do I bother, I end up doing it myself most of the time.

“Heard any more from Bern?” Mart asked after parking his Mofa.
“Not directly, Mum spoke to Cheryl, they’ve got an appointment at Citizens Advice today.”
“What’s that?” Mart asked falling in beside me for the walk to the main building.

What is it? Good question, I know they have an office in Warsop, it’s in a converted house near Sylv’s salon.

“I think they try to help if you have problems with the council and stuff, free lawyers and stuff.”
“Like the Öra in Bonn, I think they do the same.”
“I'm sure we’ll find out if there’re any developments.”
“Er yeah, you know I love her – and Drea.”
“Don’t worry, I'm sure it’ll all turn out okay,” I crossed my fingers.

“I'll come round to yours a bit early, we can do our hair before we go up,” Con told me as we queued to pay for our drinks.
“Er okay,” I hadn’t even thought about that.
“You alright, Gab?”
“Just a bit distracted, you know, this business with Bernie and Drea.”
“It’s not your fault and there's nothing you can do is there?”
“Guess not.” It doesn’t stop me worrying though.

“How d’you want it?” Mand asked brushing my candyfloss to within an inch of its existence.
“I dunno, just tidy?”
“Drink your coffee and leave it to me,” she almost cackled.

Oh boy.

“Hey guys,” Con greeted joining us in the kitchen.
“Coffee in the jug,” I advised.
“So how are you doing our Prinzessin Mand?” Con enquired as she located a mug for her coffee.
“Crown?”
“Oo yeah, you still got those sparkly grips you used at Weihnachts, Gabs?”
“Somewhere,” I admitted, look I don’t use that sort of stuff, maybe a couple of grips to keep it out of my face but otherwise it’s just elastics with the odd scrunchie to dress things up.
“Start braiding, Mand, I'll go find the sparkles.”
“Try the second drawer,” Mand suggested, “she dumps everything in there.”
Con put her coffee down and headed up to my eyrie.
“Do not!”
“Where did you find your Gran’s earrings?”
“Well I forgot to put them in their case.”
“I arrest my case,” she tugged at my hair and started the hair twisting.
“Don’t you think this is a bit over the top for serving dinner?”
“It’s pretty simple, your roots are showing already, you’ll have to go for a touch up.”
“That is so not going to happen.”
“Just saying.”
“So how are you and Con having your hair?”
“Thought I'd give the Princess Leia look a go.”
“Pretzels,” I offered.
“Yeah.”
“Ta da!” Con announced rejoining us, “found you some earrings too.”
“Nothing dangly,” I suggested.
“Just some studs,” she advised dropping them into my hand.

Ah, the Edelweiss and my erm diamond studs.

“Let’s see,” Mand asked.
“They weren’t paired so I had to root around a bit to match them up.”
“Gab, you really need to sort stuff out, aren’t they the diamonds Sophia gave you?” Mand opined.
“Um yeah,” I admitted.
“Ga-ab!” they both chorused.

“Looking good,” Ingrid announced when the three of us arrived at the Sebenschuh’s Weinstube. Con and Mand both had their hair in pretzels and our make-up specialist had given us each a similar restrained makeover – I still felt like a right plonker riding along Zaungarten.
“Er thanks.”
“Your Kostüm are in the service room.”
“Pia changing?” Con queried.
“Yeah, go on through, use my room if you need more space.”
“’Kay,” I allowed following the others out of the public area.

Having already put on scanties and hose before coming getting dressed was quite straightforward. There was some hilarity with the Büstenheber.

“I need one of these all the time,” Pia opined.
“I look like I'm hiding a pair of melons in here,” Con added.
“You don’t have to wear it,” I pointed out.
“You kidding,” she hurriedly replied as she adjusted her girls again, “hey we should wear these to school.”
“Really?” I proposed.
“Yeah, brill idea,” P enthused, “we could do it Friday.”
“I am not wearing Kostüm to school,” I stated.
“Not the Kostüm dumbo, the Büstenheber.”
“I've got that new top,” Con gleefully added.
“Boxberg will go potty,” I surmised.
“What’s she gonna do, expel us?”
“Some of us have got summer school.”
“You’re no fun,” Pia pouted.
Our discussion was cut short by Eva, Pia’s mum, calling through, “You girls ready?”
“Coming!” P called back.

If we’d got any ideas of ‘just’ serving food this evening that wasn’t turned into reality. After passing the scrutiny of the Boss and his wife we were tasked with laying tables, drying plates and other restaurant husbandry.

“Coach is here,” Mand observed.

I looked away from my napkin folding and out of the expanse of windows that enclose the restaurant area. Sure enough there was a big white coach waiting to turn into the parking area, ‘Global Holidays’ emblazoned along the side in metre high letters.

“Dad!” P shouted out, “Punters!”
“I've told you before, they’re guests,” Helmet stated from the bar, “okay, Gaby, Con out front please, how much more is there to do?”
“Few more napkins and the water.”
“Right then, Amanda, can you finish the napkins, P sort the water.”

Con and I relinquished our seats and after straightening skirts and aprons went through to the Stube.

“Okay girls,” Helmet started, “you’re the meet and greet, big smiles, hellos, take coats if they have them.”
“Er okay,” I allowed, “English or German?”
“I know you want to practice the English but I think it’s better here to stick with our own language for now.”
“Okay, Herr S,” Con agreed.

It’s not just us girls in Kostüm, Helmut’s looking pretty dapper himself in Landeskostüm and the Stube has gained some hunting ‘trophies’ from somewhere – pretty sure Mr S doesn’t shoot so they probably came from a shop.

“Er hello?” we turned to see who’d spoken, “the door was open, Julia Brown, Global, you’re expecting us?”

The woman was quite pretty for her age, she was at least twenty five, so I'm guessing the bright yellow skirt, white blouse and yellow neck tie thing weren’t her idea.

“Ah, Helmut Sebenschuh, welcome.” he took the proffered hand and performed a very Prussian hand shake, clicking heels, the whole nine er eight point two metres.
“Are you ready for us?”

Her German wasn’t bad, bit forced but understandable.

“Sure, sure, if you bring them round, the girls, Connie’s the tall one, Gabrielle the tiny one will look after them. There’s schnapps on the tables if they like, we should be ready to serve in about twenty minutes.”
“Nice to meet you, girls,” Julia allowed, “Chris wasn’t wrong, they’re gonna love this! Right, I'll go fetch them.”

The English woman departed and we stationed ourselves either side of the door.

“Wonder where she learnt German?”
“It’s as good as my English,” Con observed.
“You’re not that bad, I've got to take extra classes,” I admitted.
“Pretty ironic, eh?”
“Girls, smiles,” Helmut prompted as the first of the visitors arrived.

The coach was pretty much full, fifty passengers plus the driver, Phil something and Julia, by the time they were all in the Stube it was quite crowded. Talk about weird, it’s been ages since I've been exposed to this much English being spoken, in fact it was when we went to that dinner thing in York before Christmas. Half the time at home we speak a mixture although Jules prefers English despite having a German boyfriend.

As you might guess, our guests were majorly older, our parents age or older – some a lot older! They seemed a happy enough bunch, I suppose they are on holiday after all and we, dressed like Bavarian serving wenches, are the entertainment sort of. Phil managed to get his charges attention and Helmut cleared his throat.

“Welcome to the Stube Sebenschuh, in a few minutes we’ll go through to the dining room for your meal. The girls will take your drinks orders or there is wasser on the tables. After you have eaten there will be an opportunity to take a tour of our wine cellars and of course to sample our wares.”
I reckon he’d been practising his English.
“So please, when you are ready.”
“Thank you Helmut,” Julia started, “just a reminder, you are responsible for your own bar bills, enjoy yourselves.”

Maddy bell © 22.11.16

 

 

 
The restaurant can seat about a hundred at a pinch but of course you don’t want even half that number on one table – even if there was space. Instead there were a couple of ten seaters with the rest using the smaller tables and side booths. Once everyone had found seats it was time for us ‘waitresses’ to earn our keep.

“Pia, Gaby drinks orders, bring them to me, Amanda and Connie, you’ll deliver to table, okay?”
“On it Dad,” Pia chirped.

We took a table each and in practice we only made one trip to the bar as we passed off the orders to Con and Mand when they delivered the previous table. Even so it took best part of fifteen minutes to get everyone ‘watered’, almost everyone had something, even if it was just soft drinks. I can’t say it went like clockwork, these things never do but everyone eventually got what the wanted.

At Christmas it was all a bit make do and hope, today its all planned so once the drinks were distributed we were straight into delivering the soup, Ingrid doing the serving. With four of us on the job it went quickly allowing us to retire temporarily to the Stube where Helmut was ‘entertaining’ the bus crew. P got us soft drinks, its warm work all this rushing about in heavy skirts!

“Everything okay girls?” Helmut enquired.
“They’re all eating soup,” P advised.
“A couple of you check round in a minute eh?”
“I'll go,” I volunteered, “Con?”

Of course there’s an art to the timing with these things, how many times have you found yourself waiting ages between courses, used crockery sat on the table especially at formal do’s. On the other hand having it snatched away as soon as you put your cutlery down is just bad manners. The Sebenschuh’s have been running this place long enough to have fine tuned the timing.

We managed to make short work of the plate collection, three of us removing the remains whilst P checked on the drinks situation. I guess the Lebersuppe with Semelknöddel isn’t to everyone's taste but there wasn’t much left in the dishes and we had no complaints, the two vegetarians having received clear onion soup instead. By the time we’d finished Eva and Ingrid were placing tureens of steaming sauerkraut and boiled potato’s on the counter so we went straight into distributing the main course.

Well duh, they weren’t just getting that, no indeed, Eva started loading plates with Schweinhaxe1. We were already delivering the plates as Mand and Con finished with the potato tureens much to the surprise, delight or amusement of our guests. Once again we retired to the bar to catch our breath, but it really was a brief halt this time.

We gave them a few minutes to get started then Mand and Con went round with extra veggies whilst P and myself did another drinks circuit.

“Well done girls, that’s the worst over.” Eva offered when she poked her head into the restaurant for a moment.
“They seem to be enjoying it,” Helmut observed joining us, “can someone start the coffee please.”

Guess who got that job, well it did get me out of the main course clearance although I still copped for delivery of the berry compote that answered for dessert. By the time we got the coffee to table we’d been at it for over an hour somehow, we weren’t finished but at least most of the fetching and carrying was over. You can’t spin out a cup of restaurant ‘coffee’ for that long, soon enough the Global party started drifting towards the bar allowing us to start the clear up.

At some point the hubbub died down and we were alone, the cellar tour having departed for parts subterranean. I spotted Julia sat playing with her Handy, I grabbed a coffee pot and headed over.

“More coffee?”
“Oh please.”
“You didn’t fancy the cellars?”
“Er no, they lose their appeal after a couple of visits, Gabrielle isn’t it?”
“Gaby,” I suggested.
“Your English is very good.”
“Not good enough, Mums got me signed up for extra classes in the summer.”
“So were you one of Chris and Den’s saviours at Christmas?”
“Chris?”
“Sorry, I was forgetting, it was Nena wasn’t it, so?”
“Er yeah,” I admitted.
She had a light bulb moment, “hang on, your the girl who did the choir solo.”
“Um.”
“You are, Den showed me the thing on his phone, you’ve got a very sweet voice.”
“I was sort of conned into it,” I told her.
Then she had another light bulb light up, “I know you from somewhere else.”
“You do?”
“That's it! On the telly at Christmas, you were on that sports thing, that's it, they linked up with Germany, you’re her.”

Sugar, of all the luck, I have to meet the one person who watched that, no one ever remembers that after the night.

“Guilty.”
“Hang on, that means you’re English, they had an article in Chad.”
“So now I'm confused, Chris, I mean Nena said you were German.”
“I've lived here for a few years, I've been assimilated.”
“Assimilated, I like it,” she chuckled.
“It’s difficult not to be when you live here full time.”
“Well you certainly had me fooled, if someone was describing a typical German girl you’d be it.”
“So my friends tell me.”
“So the extra English classes?”
“True, top of the class in German, so so in English.”
“Helmut said he had an English girl working, I'd never have guessed it was you.”
“I don’t think he was, he’d be thinking of Amanda.”
“The platinum blonde?”
“Uh huh, she’s from Croydon.”
“I would’ve gone for the shorter one with dark hair.”
I gave a chuckle, “she’ll love that, she’s Helmut’s daughter.”
“Whoops.”
“Sounds like they’re starting to head back from the cellars, I'd best give the others a hand.”
“Well nice to meet you Gaby, I guess we might meet again, I think I've got a few of these Rhine Moselle trips this year.”
“Right, well have a good trip home, tschuss.”
“Tschuss.”

“What was all that about?” Con enquired.
“Just getting her more coffee.”
“Pull the other one,” Pia stated, “you were talking for ages.
“She recognised me from that telly thing at Christmas.”
“Telly?” Mand queried.
“Sports personality? They linked up from the market?”
“I didn’t think anyone watched that.”
“Neither did I.”
“Grab the other end Gab,” Pia requested offering me some table cloth.

It was after nine before we were done, the coach had departed about eight thirty with a load of happy, merry passengers.

“Thanks girls,” Eva told us as I stacked the last of the plates on the dresser.
“You straight off?” P asked.
“Best, Dad’ll wonder where we are I said we’d be home by now.
“I'll get your stuff then.”

It was only after we’d recovered our bikes and said our good nights that I realised we were still wearing our ‘uniforms’.

Sugar!”
“What?” Con asked.
“Kostüm?” I hinted.
Mand chuckled, “I'd forgotten, oh well, come on I'm starving.”

Yeah, in our enthusiasm we forgot to get anything to eat before coming out, never gave it a thought.

“Last one to Dernau kisses Jorge tomorrow,” Con challenged, pushing off down the ramp.
“Why you!”

We must’ve looked quite a sight, three dirndl wearing Teutonic maidens haring down Zaungarten on city bikes, skirts flying, yipping and shouting at each other as we each tried to gain ground on the others.

“You’re late,” Mum mentioned when Mand and I burst out of the bike store into the house.
“Soz, things ran over a bit.”
“Good evening?” Dad enquired.
“Pretty good.”
“We got fifteen euros each in tips,” Mand put in.
“That's nice,” Mum allowed.
“Got anything to eat, we’re starving.”
“You’ve not eaten?”
“We were working,” I pointed out.
“We forgot before we went,” Mand admitted.
“Your father and I had salad,” Mum told us, “I think there’s some frikadel and potato salad in the fridge you can have.”

Well its not exactly Schweinhaxe with the trimmings but its better than nothing.

“You could make some coffee,” Dad suggested.
“Whatever.”

“So you gonna wear your bust thingy on Friday then?” Mand asked as we waited for the Frikadelen to warm under the grill.
“Might do.”
“You guys are off the wall,” she stated shaking her head.
“We’re not.”
“Really?”
“Well maybe a bit,” I allowed.
“I don’t mean that’s a bad thing, I wish I had more confidence to do what you lot do.”
“Such as?” I queried rescuing our supper from the grill.
“Some of the stuff you wear for starters.”
“Like this stuff?”
“No, well yes but like when you all wore heels and stuff on the school trip.”
“How’d you know about that?”
“The others told me when we were shopping a bit back.”
“It was hardly daring.”
“You see anyone else doing it?”
“No.”
“I arrest my case.”
“That was like one day,” I pointed out.
“You serving those burgers or breeding them?”
“Oh right,” I passed her the plate of Frikadelen, “what else is off the wall?”
“You want a list? You want some Kartoffelsatat?”
“Er yeah.”
“List or salad?”
Good question, “salad definitely.”

Maddy bell © 22.11.16

 

 

 
“Bum!”
“What now?” Mum sighed.

This morning really isn’t going well and it’s only just turned seven. You remember last night? Working up at Rech? Yeah well by the time we got home, made and ate supper, chatted with my rents for a bit – look it was late when I went to bed so I didn’t shower, do it in the morning. Except I slept through my alarm, Mum’s just dragged me out of bed and I need to be gone in like ten minutes so no shower.

“Hair?”
“Well apart from the colour, looks fine to me.”

Yeah, fine if you think tightly braided hair is cool, well it has its place but it’s not cool for school – I've got a reputation to think of.

“Can you take it out?”
“If I undo it you’ll have a frizzy mess, you know what your hair’s like.”
I sighed, she’s not wrong, “Can’t you do anything with it?”
“Come here.”

“Didn’t think last night was that bad,” Con opined joining the rest of us at the table, our penultimate pre Silverberg coffee meeting. “You look like you lost a euro and found a cent, Gab.”
“I thought it went pretty well, Dad was pleased enough,” Pia added.
“Hair,” I suggested.
“Disguises the pink a bit,” Steff suggested.
“No kidding,” I huffed.

Mum had done something alright, re-pinned it and threaded a bunch of flowers, real flowers from the bunch in the kitchen vase. I feel like a flippin’ florist’s display.

“Well I think it looks pretty,” Nena offered.
“Cross between Heidi and a table decoration,” Bridg giggled.
“Thanks a bunch!”
“She’s only kidding,” Steff stated.
“Course I am, it wouldn’t work for anyone else but you’re so cute you can get away with anything.”

She used the C word, grrr!

“We should take cake for everyone tomorrow,” Con suggested.
“That sounds like a good idea,” P agreed.
“What have you got for Frau Dürst, Gabs?” Nena asked.
“Got?”
“You have bought her a gift?” Steff prompted.

Bum and double bum! why’s this only being mentioned now? I remember Mum getting various choccies and trinkets from her pupils back when she was teaching and she insisted that me an’ Jules gave our form teachers a ‘thank you’ gift when we left Warsop College. Damn, now I've got to go shopping after school.

“’Course.”
“So what’d you get her?”
“It’s a erm surprise, don’t want anyone spilling the beans.”
“As if we would,” Nen stated.

“Seriously, Gab, you got Frau Dürst anything?” Con pushed as we dawdled along behind the others along the cycle track a few minutes later.
“Um.”
“Me neither,” she admitted, shops after school?”
“Yeah,” I agreed,” can’t be long though, I've got training.”
“So what’s the story with the hair?”

“Gab!” Max hissed across at me as Frau Dürst prepared to take registration.
“What?”
“You heard from Soph?”
“Bond,” she’s started already.
“Er here.” I allowed before whispering back to von Strechau, “Your cousin?”
“How many do you think I know, ‘course my cousin.”
“No, what about?”
“Her sister’s getting married.”
“Sara? She never said at New Year,” I squeaked, “when?”
“Not sure of the details,” he admitted.
“So why you telling me?”
“Thought I'd book you as my plus one,” he grinned.
“As if.”
“You didn’t enjoy it before?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Stevens,” Frau Dürst called.
“Why not?”
“von Strechau?”
“Max!” Con interrupted.

It took him a moment to work out what her eye signals were about mind.

“Von Strechau,” she repeated.
“Sorry miss, yes miss.”
“Thank you, right I've got to go to the office so hopefully you can entertain yourselves – quietly, Freddy, until I get back, please.”

“Sounds a bit suspect to me,” Con opined as we rode in to Ahrweiler.

Well it’s not like she couldn’t hear mine and Max’s conversation this morning is it?

“Wotcha mean, suspect?”
“Well if nothing was mentioned at New Years, that lot go in for long engagements as well, well dodg.”
I guess when you put it like that, “You think she’s preggers?”
“Could be,” Con allowed with an evil grin.
“Nah, I can’t believe that, Sara’s the sensible one.”
“Just saying,” she mentioned with a waggle of her eyebrows.
“So where do you reckon we should look for these gifts?”
“Choccie shop?”
“We can’t both give her chocolate, I bet she’ll end up with tons, that and cheap smellies – Mum used to give ‘em to Jules, not the chocs mind.”
“Well I'm getting chocolate whatever.”
“’Kay, I'll see if there’s anything suitable in the gift shop next door.”

Con got her chocolate, I got a light bulb moment and bought a picture frame.

I finally disposed of both flowers and braids when I got home, well neither would fit under my helmet would they? Instead I tied back my pink bouffant and rammed my helmet on top before joining Mand on the drive.

“The Ring?” she suggested.

Dad had just got today down as two to three hours of level three, a ride up to the Ring or over to Műnstereifel works well for that.

“Suits,” I allowed engaging my right *cleat in preparation.

We both fiddled with our computers for a minute before simultaneously pushing off into the late afternoon sunshine.

“You remember Sara from New Year?”
“At the castle place?”
“Uh huh,” I agreed, “well according to Max she’s getting hitched.”
“Get on!”
“Straight up, might give Soph a call later to get the goss.”
Mand chuckled.
“That’s up?”
“You are, Gaby Bond, you are such a girl.”
“Worst luck.”
“Oh give over, girl, thou doth protest too much, you are like the biggest gossip in the valley.”
“Am not.”
“If you say so.”

Level three is hard enough that after our initial warm up stage up through Altenahr, talking was reduced to the occasional grunt until we reached Nurburg and started the downhill tending return.

“Wish I was finishing school tomorrow,” Mand lamented.
“You haven't done your GCSE’s yet,” I pointed out.
“I'm gonna do crap in them, dunno why I'm bothering.”
“For your future?” I suggested, geez I sound like Mum.
“It’s alright for you, you’ll get a pro contract, race for a couple of years then marry Max, have your two point four, end of.”
“You have to be kidding, there is no way I'm marrying anyone, let alone Max and as for rug rats.”
“We’ll see,” she predicted as we started the fast bumpy descent towards Ahrbruck.

Pia’s idea of wearing the Büstenheber to school on Friday came to nought, you have to admit it wouldn’t have the same impact with just three of us, now if we coulda got all the girls doing it…

“Okay everyone,” Frau Dürst called to get our attention, “I know you’re all excited but please calm down a bit, we’ll go down for the assembly in a couple of minutes I suggest you take the opportunity to use the loos, Frau Boxberg can wind on a bit.”

Well we didn’t need a second invite, all the girls pretty much made a dash for the door together, I took my time, there’ll be a queue after all.

“Er this is for you Miss,” I nervously told my form teacher before handing her the carelessly, well it was me doing it, wrapped parcel.
“Thanks, Gaby,” she told me taking the gift. “Hmm, not chocolate or smellies.”
“Mum used to be a teacher.”
“I remember her saying, geography yes? May I?”
“Er yeah, I mean yes.”

She carefully undid my less careful wrapping to reveal the contents.

“Oh Gaby, it’s beautiful,” she held out the frame and took a look at it, “come here, missy, I'll treasure this.”

And so I found myself sharing a slightly tearful hug with my form teacher, yeah I got emotional too.

What had garnered such a reaction? Well after dinner last night I got busy with my computer, the printer, some Prit Stick® , scissors and my limited artistic talent. The end result was a sort of collage made of pictures of me and the gang over the last couple of years. A trifle narcissistic I guess but it was fun to do and would remind Frau Dürst of us far longer than sweets or dubious toiletries.

There were pictures of the Anime dance, our Weihnachtsmarkt adventures, the trip to Berlin, kart racing at the Michael Schumacher track and so on. I'd also got some out of school stuff on there and I found pictures of everyone in the form to include. Okay so I might be on there more than anyone else but hey, it’s my gift!

“I er need the loo, Miss.”
“Go on with you, Gabrielle Bond, thank you,” she gave my arm a last squeeze before letting me depart.

“What’ve you been sniffling for?” Con enquired when I emerged from the cubicle.
“I haven’t.”
“Gab, your mascara is halfway down your face.”
“Sugar!” I stated after a look in the mirror, “You got any cleansers?”
“Here,” she passed me the pack of wipes before continuing the inquisition, “so?”
“Er just got a bit emotional,” I admitted, “I just gave Frau Dürst her prezzie.”
“Come on, girls,” said teacher encouraged from the doorway, “time to go.”
“You never did say what it was, a picture of you?”
“I'm sure you’ll see it later.”

I quickly finished removing the panda look and with more skill than I'd own up to gave my lashes a new coat of massy. Well it wasn’t perfect but it’ll have to do I guess. Con was waiting for me so together we chased through the corridors towards the main hall, giggling like idiots as we did power slides and cartoon cornering to catch up with the rest of the class.

Maddy Bell © 24.11.16

 

 

 
The big school assembly isn’t a usual part of Silverberg life,
not like back in Warsop where Woody delighted in his
Monday morning sermons. But of course today is different,
today more than a hundred of us ‘graduate’ in advance of
moving into more vocational education that will, for some at
least, lead on to University. We shuffled into the hall to join
the rest of the school, the lower school were already filling
the floor space leaving us to make our way up onto the
stage – I'm glad we ‘forgot’ the Büstenheber thing.

They’d filled the stage from the back forwards, as the last
class to arrive we found ourselves on the front row with a
clear view over the rest of the school. Of course that meant
the reverse was true too, I subconsciously fiddled with the
denim skirt I was wearing. Why was I in a skirt? Mum said it
looked smarter than my usual shorts or Capri's and its only
for one day – okay, its not the end of the world.

You don’t want to know and I'm not going to tell you every
detail of this gathering of fine Ahrtal youth. On the one hand
this marks the end of our time here but balance that against
the unknowns of the future makes it a day of mixed
emotions. Okay, I will be coming back for summer school
classes but this is the last day as a regular pupil.

Boxxie arrived and the general hubbub died back, she
climbed up onto the stage and installed herself at the
lectern. After the usual exchange of greetings she went into
a spiel about expectations and examples and, well I tuned it
out as it was aimed at those in front not us behind.

“I wonder how long this goes on for?” Con whispered.
“Too long,” I returned from the corner of my mouth.
“And so we come to the reason for our gathering here this
morning,” Frau Boxberg paused, “the departure of our year
thirteen pupils.”

Great, we’re getting to the meat at long last.

“Each year I stand here and make this speech extolling those
of you in front of me to do your best to emulate those about
to end their Silverberg careers. Each year I talk about
academic prowess and sporting achievements but this time
I'm going to tell you a story. Its a story that doesn’t start
once upon a time nor does it end happily ever after, indeed
its a story that’s far from complete.

What is this story about I hear you ask? Well for me it has all
the elements that keep me wanting to turn the next page to
find out what happens next. Some of you may know the
story or parts of it, for others this will be all new but I hope
that for all of you it will provide inspiration and something to
aspire to. I’ve said this story isn’t a fairy tale but there is a
princess, there’s happiness and sadness and a supporting
cast of angels.”

“I wish she’d get on with it,” Bridg opined from the row
behind.
“Shush!” came from several others.

I wonder if there’s a guide or something teachers use for
these inspirational speeches, Woody used to throw these
curve balls from time to time too.

“It all started on a day very much like today...”

Frau Boxberg can spin a good yarn, goodness knows where
she got the idea for this one.

“...Now hearing this news our Princess got together with her
friends the Angels and came up with a plan. They’d all had
fun at Weihnachts and so decided to bring it to the valley
early so their friend could enjoy the same thing.”

“she’s talking about us,” Con whispered.

I hadn’t really been listening, just content to metaphorically
twiddle my thumbs through the tale but now I tuned back
into the Head’s tale.

“I'm sure you all remember the snow we had last June? Well
that was the Angels at work. It was a great success and not
only did it bring great joy to their friend it raised a lot of
money for charity.”

There was a bit of sniffling along the row, I guessed that
was Nena, my colour was rising to match my hair.

Boxxie paused and surveyed her audience, Nen’s sniffles the
only sound in the hall.

“I mentioned before that our heroine enjoyed her sporting
endeavours too, well she had ups and downs there too. She
trained hard and gained some acclaim, not just locally but
across the country such that she was chosen to represent
her country at the highest level. She suffered set backs
through this time, injuries and ill health failed to deter her
and it was this determination that eventually paid off as she
eventually returned home with a Gold medal.

All this however came at a price, a price that almost ended
this story right there. Bad health kept her away from school
and her sport for many weeks but she never gave up and
returned only to embark on a new project. She gathered her
Angels and they returned to their charitable works with a
stall on the Weihnachtsmarkt.

But they didn’t just stand rattling tins, they engaged local
businesses to help out with goods and with costumes. It
wasn’t all fun, they were singled out for attention by a thief,
attacked and only the bravery of one of her friends
prevented tragedy. Through all this she retained a smile and
the Children’s Home benefited greatly from their efforts.

I've mentioned a lot of things outside of these walls but the
Princess has been active here too, helping organise school
events but not forgetting her school work. We started with
the arrival of this girl from a distant land, barely able to
speak German and thrust into our midst. Now I'm sure any
of you who’ve changed schools will agree, it can be difficult
making friends and doing your school work.

You might think this person, doing all these amazing things
would suck at something, maybe her studies. But no, in fact
she leaves us with some of the best exam results amongst
her peers. I'm sure behind me a few ears are burning,”

She turned to take in a look at the now universally
embarrassed year thirteen's before continuing.

“I won’t make her turn pinker by naming her, or her friends
all of which I've been glad to have here at Silverberg. In fact
its been a pleasure to have everyone behind me spend time
here and I hope all of you staying with us will look to their
example and strive to emulate them. Our heroine and her
friends leave us today, I hope you’ll join me in wishing them
all glück for the future.”

By this time I was almost glowing with embarrassment, the
final element was when she had us stand and started a
round of applause. She might not have named names but
you didn’t have to be Sherlock to know who she’d been
talking about. We returned to our seats and Herr Praxmeier
helped Claudia reposition a table while the Head moved the
lectern to the same side.

“We aren’t like the Americans with special graduation
ceremonies but instead we have our own small ceremony.
So please give the year thirteen’s a cheer as they collect
their certificates.”

And so started a conveyor belt of teens collecting envelopes
containing our all important General Certificates. Once again
they started at the back, each of us crossing the stage,
collecting from Boxxie then returning to our seats. Being one
of the last to go up I had at least returned to a more normal
colour by the time it was my turn.

“Well done Gaby, sorry to embarrass you like that,” Boxxie
allowed shaking my hand
“Thanks Miss.”

“We haven’t quite finished,” Frau Boxberg told the assembly
once the last of us, Marty, had collected his certificate.
“Don’t worry, this won’t take long then you can all return to
your classes. We don’t generally single out individual
students but this year one student has made a huge impact
on this school and this community. I’ve already told you an
abbreviated version of her time here at Silverberg, so
Gabrielle, can you please come back up.”

Sugar! Am I glad we didn’t go with Pia’s prank.

“Go on Gabs,” Con encouraged when I didn’t immediately
move.
“Erm,” I looked at the envelope on my lap.
“Gis that here, go on,” Con urged.

For some reason just walking across the stage raised some
cheering and clapping, this time from the stage as well as
the floor.

Frau B had me stand next to her before signalling for quiet.

“I've already told you a little of Gaby’s time here but there
are some things you don’t know, I'm sure she’ll be
embarrassed by what I'm about to tell you.”

Oh boy, I twisted my fingers together as I waited for her to
go on.

“Gaby, you’ve shown us all that you can combine an
academic career with outside interests and activities, my
short story though only brushes the surface. So let me fill in
a few gaps, Gaby here not only rides her bike with some
success but that success is against very often male
competition, a little bird tells me she was the first girl to ride
the famous Paris Roubaix event a couple of weeks ago. Not
only that but she came a very creditable third place to add to
the four first places she has already recorded this year. she
also coaches the cheerleading team at the Tanzklub and
works, I'm told, two jobs.

I hinted at academic achievement before, at the same time
as all this sporting success she has taken her studies seriously
and it’s for that that I've been asked by the examination
board to make this presentation. Not only has Gaby scored
highest overall in the exams here at Silverberg but for the
first time a Silverberg student has ranked first in the whole
High Eiffel region. So Gaby, congratulations from all of us
here.”

Talk about on the spot!

A trophy appeared as well as a bouquet, the hall erupted
with applause and some catcalling as I received my rewards.
Herr Ansbacher became the photographic recorder as I did
my best to smile through the experience. Eventually I got to
return to my seat and the lower school were dismissed to
return to their studies.

“I know some of you are returning for summer classes in a
few weeks but for many of you this may well be our last
meeting. I'm not going to lecture you about what you do
once you leave here today instead I and the teaching staff
wish you all well, wherever the future takes you and hope
that in turn you think of your time here at Silverberg as
being positive in your lives. Officially you should stay until
the end of the day but you can depart when we finish here –
just try not to disturb the students who are still in school.

So, without further ado, wiedersehn year thirteen.”

“Geez, I thought she was never going to stop,” Bridg
suggested.
“I thought Gab’s was going to explode,” Steff offered as we
made our way out of the hall.
“What’s in the envelope Gab’s?” Pia enquired.

The envelope, yeah besides the I noted returnable, trophy
I'd received a second envelope from Boxxie.

“Dunno, not looked.”
“Well look then,” Nena suggested.
“Okay, keep your hair on,” I paused and handing everything
else off to my companions proceeded to open said envelope.

The certificate from the exams board proclaiming my, I have
to say very unexpected academic prowess (god help the
rest!) was joined by a letter of congratulations and a cheque.
I quickly skimmed the missive, apparently there’s a cash
bursary that goes with being nerd of the year, €1000 no
less, a quick check of the slip of paper confirmed the
amount.

“You got money?” Con mentioned.
“If I'd known I’d’ve studied harder,” Steff proposed.
“How much Gab,” Nena enquired.
“A thousand,” I allowed still in a state of shock.
“Looks like your buying the Eis.” Pia crowed.
“Er yeah,” I agreed numbly.

Of course a lot, no make that most, of our classmates had
departed as soon as they’d collected their stuff from form
rooms and lockers. I was as keen as anyone to make tracks
but the others wanted to see what I'd given Frau Dürst and
anyhow its only polite to say goodbye. So we trudged up to
what, for the last two years has been my form room and
primary learning space.

“Sorry I couldn’t warn you about the presentation Gaby, Frau
Boxberg had me sworn to silence,” Frau Dürst advised as
the others cooed over my gift.
“’S alright miss.”
“We, that’s all the staff, really are very proud of you Gaby,
all you’ve accomplished since that day a shy, frightened child
arrived amongst us. I hope you won’t be a complete
stranger to us in the future.”
“I am coming to summer school,” I pointed out, “and we’re
supposed to be doing the Weihnachtsmarkt again.”
“So what does the future hold for Gabrielle Bond?”
“You mean after the partying and sun bathing?”
“You’re never one to let the grass grow,” she noted.
“Well I'm going to the college in Koblenz then I guess
university somewhere.”
“Back to England?”
“Maybe, home’s here though, my friends, family.”
“Boyfriend?”
“We’re just friends,” I defended.
“Come here Missy, I'll miss you Gaby Bond.”
For the second time today I found myself sharing a teary
hug with my form teacher.

Maddy Bell Copyright 30.11.16

 

 

 
“Gaby, might I have a word please?” Frau Thesing requested.
“Er sure,” I agreed returning to the counter area with the dirty crockery I'd been collecting.

We’ve been quite busy this morning, the warmer weather has brought out more trekkers and walkers and the board over by the bahnhof seems to be working.

“Tomas and I have been talking about the business.”
“Uh huh.”
“Well an opportunity has come up, you know the Imbiss hut by the bridge in Altenahr? The council are looking for new tenants.”

How could I not know it, nearly every time we go training we go past its tempting smells of grilled Bratwürst – not that we ever stop of course. I wondered why it has been closed the last few weeks.

“It’s been closed for a few weeks.”
“The chap who used to run it decided to retire, he had no family to pass the lease to.”
“You’re taking the lease?”
“Thinking about it, how would you feel about running it with Connie?”
“Running it? Seriously?”
“Of course Tomas and I would be in overall charge but you pair would look after the day to day stuff, making sure it’s staffed, there’s enough stock and so on. What do you think, interested?”
“Yeah,” I allowed, “but what happens when we go to college and I’ve got summer school and stuff.”
“We wouldn’t expect you to be there all day everyday, you’ll be the managers so you sort out the shifts, the menu, the prices.”
“What does Con think?”
“We’ll talk to her later, we thought we’d sound you out first.”

A customer came in, further discussion would have to wait a bit.

Of course the Thesing’s proposal did occupy my mind for the rest of my shift, it was certainly a good opportunity. On the other hand I, we, are only sixteen, it’s a lot of responsibility and would certainly cramp any plans for the summer. It was the end of the shift before I got the chance to talk with Con’s mum again.

“What we were talking about earlier,” I broached with Therese.
“Altenahr?”
“Yeah, well I'm interested but I really should talk to my ‘rents.”
“Let us run it past Connie then if it’s a goer we’ll all have a meeting,” she proposed.
“Er yeah, okay,” I agreed.
“You racing tomorrow?”
“When am I not? Maastricht.”
“Well good luck with that, see you Monday?”
“Probably,” I agreed.

“Alright, kiddo?” Dad asked when I arrived back at Bond Acres.
“Er yeah.”
“You look distracted,” he mentioned as he checked the bikes were firmly attached to the roof rack.
“Therese just offered me a job.”
“You already work for her.”
“A different job.”
“Oh?”
“Sort of a proper job, for the summer at least.”
“At the bakery?”
“Er no, they’re taking over the würst stand in Altenahr, you know, by the bridge, they want me and Con to run it.”
“And what does Connie think about this,” he asked evenly.
“Not spoken to her yet.”
“What do you think about it?”
“Well it is a good opportunity.”
“I hear a but coming,” Dad suggested.
“I'm not sure I want to do it.”
‘At least she hasn’t jumped in with both feet this time,’ Dave mused.
“Sounds like you need to think things through, we can talk more later if you want?”
“I guess.”
“Come on, get yourself ready, car’s loaded so we’ll have egg on toast or something then get off.”
“Ooh, egg on toast!”
“Get on with you!”

You may well ask why we are leaving this afternoon, Maastricht isn’t much over an hour away from home after all. The complication is that the race starts at ten so we need to be there by at least nine and we’d have to pick up Angela and Roni which would mean leaving home at like six. We’ve done it before but with Josh and Tali coming down it was just as easy to book the hotel for everyone.

No Gret – well spotted, the Luchow’s are away on holiday for a fortnight, sailing in the Med I think. So anyway we’re picking up the Grönberg’s this afternoon then meeting the others at the hotel in Holland. Oh yeah, Josh’s uncle is bringing them down, they’ll no doubt already be on the autobahn.

“What are you going to do when you finish school?” I asked Mand as we sat in the slow traffic past Bonn airport.
“Like college and that?”
“Nah, during the summer hols.”
“Dunno,” she shrugged, “out on the bike I guess, might see if I can get a summer job of some sort – your mum said they take on some at the bottling plant. What about you?”
“About the same I guess.”
“So what's it like being the brainiest girl in Germany?”
“It’s not all of Germany,” I pointed out, “just the High Eifel.”
“Well?”
“I'm not that clever, I suck at English.”
“But not at German, maths, geography or science and I bet your English is as good as anyone’s.”
“I only got 78%.”
“Which would be an A for GCSE, geez Gab if that’s your worst,” Mand observed.
I suppose when you put it like that it’s not that bad, I did rock over 90% for German though.
“I guess.”
“She guesses,” Mand sighed heavily.

I let the subject drop and instead used the traffic as a distraction, Mand plugging her earphones in and setting her new music cube thing going.

How many staff does the Imbiss need? I guess it depends when it’s open, have to find that out never really took any notice before but I guess no one wants sausages at like eight in the morning do they? Maybe they do. Hey we could do the pies there, maybe some pastries, get some better coffee in, stick some tables out. The place could do with a lick of paint, hmm we could put advertising boards out at the station, probably get some of the coach drivers over.

We had coffee in Mettmann before heading west on the second side of the almost equilateral triangle that connects, Dernau, Mettmann and Maastricht.

“What’s this course like, Herr Bond?” Ron asked as we crossed the Rhein.
“Flat,” I opined, “it’s Nederland.”
“I don’t think it is, Gab,” Dad replied, “Limburg is the hilly bit.”
“But it’s hardly the Eifel is it?”
“Maybe not but don’t expect something like Roubaix, the profile is a bit spiky.”
“Oh joy.”
“I'll say this now,” Dad went on, “I don’t want any heroics like last Sunday tomorrow, we don’t have anything riding on this, no Jungere points, no titles so let other squads do some of the work. It’s not just club teams, it’s a proper international with some national teams riding so there’ll be plenty of people with stuff to prove.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Eh?” Mand queried pulling here ear buds out, “I miss something?”
“Go back to sleep,” I suggested.

The hotel wasn’t in Maastricht but a few klicks out at Meerssen, not far from the airport and for once we were the first to arrive. It’s only a motel type place but there is a restaurant just along the road that looks pretty reasonable. The room dynamics were thrown out a bit without the Luchow’s and with Joe here, Dad got a single, the Waugh’s and Grönberg’s twins and me, Mand and Tali sharing a ‘family’ room.

By the time we were settled in it was heading towards six, Dad had the bikes ready, he thought it would be a good idea to do an hour so before dinner.

“Okay guys, just steady, we’ll go up through Valkenburg then come back in a loop to the hotel.”

Five is an awkward number, someone is always on their own unless you are in rotation and it’s often the weakest rider of the group. I intentionally rode alongside Mand to avoid her starting as the gooseberry, that instead falling to Josh. The adults meanwhile followed in the Mercedes, offering a little protection on the surprisingly busy route eastwards.

I've had a couple of good sessions this week and I guess I can see what Dad was aiming to do. But training and real time are different, the Dutch roads were less than brilliant in places, by the time we reached Valkenburg I'd had to bunny hop three potholes! The town was still quite busy with tourists as we passed through but thankfully the road was much better in the centre.

Out the other side and we were climbing, not like hardcore but a gentle incline that nevertheless was gaining us metres in height. It reminded me a little of riding around Warsop, nothing much above 5% but long enough to generate a bit of lactic. We relinquished the lead after Dad indicated we should turn out of the valley and up a steeper climb.

Once at the top we bobbled along a stretch of Route National back towards Maastricht before returning to quieter roads that took us back to Meerssen. It wasn’t the longest or hardest ride, we’d been out for not much more than an hour and covered just over thirty kilometres. I wasn’t the only one ready to eat though, egg on toast doesn’t provide much long term energy!

“So what’s the plan like?” Josh enquired before shovelling another forkful of pasta into his maw.
“Good question,” Dad replied wiping his mouth clean of Tagliatelle Milanese. “this won’t be like the Jungere League, the national teams will have riders with things to prove, we don’t.”
“You won’t be able ta tek it to them,” Joe put in, “wait for opportunities, keep an eye on what’s happening around youse.”
“Joe’s right,” Dad picked up again, “Gabs is our protected rider for a sprint but not at all costs. You’ll be heavily outgunned, a lot of last year juniors, lads that can put out more power than you girls so you need to ride canny. Josh, if you think there’s a move you can get in, do it, no one’s taking prisoners out there tomorrow.”
“Should we help him,” Mand asked.
“If you are in a position to, you know the drill but don’t expect to be as successful as in the domestic races. Remember what is was like in Switzerland, this will be like that but more so.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Just telling it like it is.”
“Dave’s right, lass, the teams are too small to control things very well, you might be able to combine with others, an alliance like.”

“Not gonna be much fun is it?” Tali suggested as she hung her team dress up.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Mand agreed.
“I guess we just need to make sure we get to the finish.”
“It’s alright for you, Gab, you can hang on, some of us find it hard.” Tal told me.
“We’ll just have to use our heads, make them think they’re in control.”
“What’re you suggesting?” Mand queried.
“Operation Girly.”
“I'll text Ron,” Tali enthused.
“What’s Operation Girly?” Mand asked.

Maddy Bell © 26.11.16

 

 

 
“What the?” Joe allowed when the female contingent of Team Apollinaris Jungere arrived in the breakfast room.
Dad glanced up from his plate of scrambled egg and had a chuckle.
“Not team girly again, man,” Josh moaned.
“You could join us Joshy,” Tali teased.

Well if you haven’t guessed already we’ve gone girly big style, full make up, braids complete with ribbons, pink nails – well the whole nine yards. Yeah I know it’s a tactic we’ve used before but this is the first time at this level of race. The four of us, it has to be said, look more like cheerleaders than serious cycle racers which is of course the whole point.

“Get your breakfasts, girls,” Angela smirked.

“Gabs? That you in there?” Cav enquired.
“Uh huh, didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Or you he countered, so what’s with all the makeup, you don’t usually wear any.”

Shows how observant you are Cavendish!

“Deflection.”
“Deflection? No I don’t want to know. So who’s here, Josh?”
“Around somewhere, Mand’s is over with Tali and Ron.”
“Ron?”
“So tall,” I indicated a spot above both our heads, “dark shoulder length hair.”
“That Ron, I thought you’d got another lad on the squad.”
“Nope, just us girls, so Mr Rainbow jersey, who you got?”
“Geth, Daz, Jamie and a new lad Bradley something, long streak of nothing.”
“Mark,” a familiar voice called out.
“Here!” Cav waved his arm about.
“There you are, might’ve guessed you’d be chatting up the ladies,” Chris suggested, hurrying up to us.
“Hi Chris.”
“Hi Gaby, interesting look.”
“If you’ve got it,” I offered.
“You wanted me, Chris?”
“Yeah, they want to do an interview, Mark.”
“Okay, see you later, Barbie.”
Chris rolled his eyes, “Good ride, girl.”
“Cheers.”

“That Cav?” Josh enquired passing me a tiny paper cup of Espresso.
“Who else.”
“Looks like a few handy riders here, man.”
“Urgh! This coffee’s like unrefined diesel,” I complained after taking an ill advised mouthful.
“Never said it was good coffee,” Josh chuckled.
“Think we’re gonna struggle for any sort of result today.”
“You could be right, man.”
“GB are running a new lad according to Mark, long streak of nothing.”
“Right,” Josh noted, “wondered who was talking to Jamie.”

Whilst big in its own right, the junior GP Limburg isn’t in quite the same league as Roubaix or the other scaled down classics. It does have full service, rolling road closures and attracts a good international field. Thankfully however the MC was more interested in the Dutch riders than anyone else, Cav got introduced and the Roubaix winner had a mention but thankfully this time I escaped.

Dad collected our trackies when we were called to the line, the sky looked like we’d stay dry at least. A whistle sounded and we rolled away from the City Hall for a four hour bumble around the Dutch mountains. They kept us neutral out of the city centre and remained under close police protection for a further kilometre or so.

We rolled over the Maas (there was a sign) then through the eastern ‘burbs and into the Limburg countryside. No one seemed very keen to do more than check out the opposition and it seems the hot chicks in the blue jerseys. I reckon almost every member of the peloton came for a gander, including the new lad on Team GB.

“Wotcha.”
“Hi?”
“Brad, Jamie said you were a looker.”
“Did he indeed,” I'll be having words with Mr Wilson.
“Yeah.”
“What else did he say?”
“That you could wup the lot of us.”
“Did he offer any clues as to how I might accomplish such a feat?”
“I asked the same thing,” he grinned.
“So what did he say?”
“Watch.”
“That all? Dang, I was hoping someone might have some idea how to overcome all this testosterone.”
“He said you were funny too,” Brad chuckled, “best get on, my lord and master will be looking for me.”
“Lord and master?”
“The Rainbow King.”
“That’d be right.

The road gained a few metres altitude, the peloton however remained pretty much intact except for an early puncture victim. Being the only girls taking part was having some slightly unexpected results, instead of the more usual jostling, each time I tried to move forward a gap opened. By the time we started the short drop into Valkenburg all four of us were nicely positioned top twenty.

Best part of fifteen K in and we were still a fairly compact mass of bikes but that was about to change. I’m not sure what triggered it but the speed went from thirty to forty and from a comfortable Sunday ride it was suddenly a race. It wasn’t like someone had even made a break for it, no it was more like a switch was flicked to go.

We were now on the road we climbed last night, if not familiar we at least had an idea of what awaited us over the next few kilometres. A lap is about sixty kilometres, we do two of them, Wuppertal this isn’t, any solo attack will, I'm pretty sure be doomed. It doesn’t stop people trying of course but realistically it’s just a waste of energy.

It was where we turned off last night that the first proper attack was launched, the sharp turns and narrow streets inevitably slowing the bunch. The lad was wearing the red and white of Switzerland and simply time trialled off the front. I was itching to give chase but Dad had been adamant that we were to let others do the work.

Okay I can see his logic, he’s not often wrong but that doesn’t mean that I always follow the game plan.

“Seems a bit weird just watching like,” Josh mentioned when I ended up alongside him shortly after.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “ot oh, chase time.”
The Swiss escape had gained maybe two hundred metres before faltering, he’d be back without the bunches input but that Bradley lad was winding things up at the front.
“We should help?” Josh queried.
“Nah, let’s see what happens.”

What happened was that the string bean towed the peloton along for over a kilometre before, if not blowing, at least sitting up. The gap to the leader wasn’t closed but it was smaller, now if that had been Josh we’d all be together. Of course the increase in pace did string us out some although the effects overall were more limited.

It wasn’t much further that a sharp left hander put us onto a more significant climb and the front of the peloton exploded all over the road. I was caught a little unaware so lost ground quickly, but I wasn’t the only one, the rainbow jersey was labouring big style, going up really isn’t his forte. A quick check round, yeah I'm still front half but the actual front is away up the road – damn!

We were some way up the road before things settled down a bit, but the damage was done. I could see Josh a few metres ahead, the GB shirt next to him belonged to Jamie, when did he pass me? The gradient eased allowing me to close on those ahead of me in time for another steeper section.

There were riders further ahead of our little group but they could wait, for now getting to the top of the climb was the important bit. The next village almost straddled said summit and now we could start thinking ahead.

“We chasing?” Josh asked.
“Let’s just hold for now, there’s still like ninety K to go.”

No one else in the group seemed inclined to do anything beyond stay put, vive le status quo.

“What’ve you been saying to that new lad?” I demanded of Jamie.
“Nothing.”
“Not what he said.”
“I might’ve mentioned yer a bonny lass.”
“Hmmph!”
“So what’s the plan?”
“You throwing in with us?”
“I don’t see any other GB shirts up here.”

It was a good job we were in a smaller group, the following descent, whilst not stupidly long or steep did contain some nasty turns. At least we could get round without too much hard braking, above and below us the squeal of rubber on alloy indicated others were having less fun. We exited the trees to cross the valley, we could see the lead car on the next climb, not a huge distance ahead, certainly no more than at the last summit.

We were riding quite well as a group, a loose sort of rotation which I was being quite successful at avoiding being a full part of. Maybe the whole girly thing is working? Chancing a look behind I was a bit surprised to find the main peloton I guess about a minute adrift but it was well populated, maybe thirty, forty riders.

A short steep section took us up to the summit, its twin almost immediately dropping us back down; that would be too simple of course as the road builders added a couple of hairpins for good measure before we returned to more rolling countryside. By now the early morning coolness was long gone and a thin haze sat across the Maas valley ahead and below us.

“Gab’s,” Josh called for my attention.

I dropped back as soon as.

“Wassup?”
“That lot behind, we waiting for ‘em to catch us or making a move like?”

Good question, if we drop back we lose any advantage we have, stay and it’s just delaying the inevitable which leaves…

“Let’s inject a couple of K, if there's no change by the feed we take it to ‘em.”
“Fine.”
“Jamie’s in,” I added.

Josh nodded in understanding.

The lanes on this stretch were so like Nottinghamshire it was uncanny, no long straights but also not too squiggly, roads you can ride quickly and we did just that. Josh injected a bit of extra pace every time he hit the front, not sure if the others really noticed but we were soon singing along at a good forty K’s. We joined a main road and Maastricht was ahead of us, which meant we’d be turning to the feed shortly.

We didn’t seem to have made any inroads on the leaders, the lead cars lights were still in sight on the straighter sections but still a couple of minutes ahead. Behind wasn’t much better, the gap hadn’t closed but if it had opened it was by the smallest amount. Looks like plan B

Dad and Joe each held a musette out as we reached the feed zone.
“Two minutes!”

I nodded as I grabbed the bag, damn, we need to close that gap and before that ‘big’ climb. The bags contents were swiftly transferred to pockets in time for a drop of bag and empty bottles for Angela to collect from the grass verge.

Josh was equally swift in his efforts, Jamie was struggling a bit but as we started lap two we were ready.

Maddy Bell © 26.11.16

 

 

 
I checked around our little group, apart from the two J’s there were five other lads, one of them, in a French national team jersey I vaguely recognised – well I saw him at Roubaix. The others however were unknowns, three Dutch lads and a Scruffy looking boy from somewhere in eastern Europe. What they know of us is anyone’s guess, they might recognise Jamie from the coverage in France but possibly not.

As for me, well I'm in a different shirt and looking a lot less like a serious rider with my pigtails, ribbons and make-up. Whether the ruse will work or not we’ll find out shortly I guess. Josh glanced over and I gave a tiny nod – games on.

To be honest it doesn’t really matter if we get clear of our companions as long as we stay clear of the pursuit and catch the leaders, a ten, twelve man sprint wouldn’t be so bad, with Cav somewhere behind I would fancy my chances. Jamie took his lead from the big Tynesider and started the action with an out of saddle effort on the first slight dip of the road. There was no immediate need for Apollinaris to give chase, first let’s see how the others react.

It wasn’t quite a unanimous decision, one of the Dutch lads hesitated a little but led by Scruffy the others started a chase, a chase that Josh added his strength to but I failed to contribute to. Jamie kept the pressure on which meant the retrieval had to be serious to get up to him. I was impressed by the Scot’s effort, I shouldn’t’ve of been surprised after Roubaix but compared to last summer – well he’s a different rider.

With me still dangling at the back, some hard turns by the others eventually brought us up to Jamie. The danger was a return to our previous speed but Scruffy decided to have a dig, now that’s what we need. He gained a bit of open road but the rest of the group were sharp enough to spot the danger, indeed of this lot I considered him to be the wild card.

A rotation was started by the lowlanders and I ‘managed’ to take a turn, not that I offered much shelter to any of the others. I gave Jamie the thumbs up as we crossed, we’re clearly not out of the woods but at least we stand a bit more chance. Josh put in a long hard turn, the elastic started to stretch a bit but Scruffy was back and we were transiting Valkenburg.

We were out of the town before there was enough clear road to see the lead group, we were closer but not close enough. Nothing for it, I'll have to show a bit more willing. I checked around me, Scruffy was looking pensive but the other Europeans were relaxing causing a reduction in our group speed.

Here goes nothing, I gave a quick check behind and hit warp drive. Once I was past the rest of the group and clear I went into time trial mode and gave it full gas. I kept it going through the next village, the one with the bends, ahead of me the gap to the leaders was closing quite rapidly. I eased slightly, that climb’s coming up and I can’t afford to be on the rivet when I get there.

It was no surprise when I heard a gear change behind me, it was a surprise to find it was Scruffy though. Where’s Josh or even Jamie? No time to waste speculating, the new arrival came alongside and gave a cheeky grin before moving ahead.

There was nothing for it but to go with him which I'm sure was his plan as he wasn’t backward in suggesting I take a turn at the front, cheeky sod! The leaders were under a hundred metres ahead when we crossed the Aachen road, just fifty when I recognised the approach to that hill. I'm not getting caught out again, I took a long pull on my bidon and took the opportunity to check behind.

I couldn’t see the main peloton but Josh and co were still there, maybe three hundred in arrears, that’ll be plan C then. Scruffy wound it up into the climb, I let him go for now, the leaders are close enough to touch after all. Being small and light does have advantages and going uphill is one, I was soon within the leaders numbers and easily climbing through, Scruffy was quickly behind and although not the intention, when it started to level off a bit I was numero uno on the road.

A few deep breaths, another go at the bottle and a look behind followed in about that order as I kept a good but not hard pace up the lesser incline. They were stretched out behind me, ones and two’s doing their best to maintain position. The summit was still another K away, do I kick again and hope to stay away or gamble on a gallop?

If Josh had been at hand it would’ve been a no brainer but I'm on my own here and it’s still about thirty kilometres back to Maastricht. I eased off a little, let’s use this lot to get me to the finish. The rest of the lead group came up in dribs and drabs, any pretence of being a useless girly on my part is out of the window now, my colours are nailed to the mast good and proper.

“Bond.”
“Michael,” I allowed as my Belgian friend joined me just before the summit, “nice day.”
“Not bad,” he agreed before sucking from his bottle, “on your own?”
“Josh is in the next group with Jamie.”

He winced, clearly he was still irked by the Roubaix finish.

A quick head count made a bakers dozen , good size to stay away and not too many for a sprint. There were more familiar faces, some unknowns, I was surprised to see that new Team GB streak of nothing sat at the back with Scruffy. Interesting, I thought he was behind, I'm guessing Jamie had assumed that too by his throwing in with me and Josh, oh well.

“Up!” the universal alarm shout rang out just before we made the sharp right that takes us into the technical descent.
There was a general surge in reply as the cause, Scruffy lit the blue touch paper.

Sugar, that lad’s got no idea of how it works. I wanged it into the little sprocket and joined in the pell-mell chase down into the woods. Talk about mad, accelerate, brake, accelerate, brake, it was taking me all my time to hold my position, no chance of moving forward as we descended at close on seventy kph through the trees.

The attempt at escape finally ran out of steam when we emerged onto the flatter tarmac in the valley bottom, idiot. One more proper climb, I'm not gonna get away on my own, not with Michael here and no backup. We hit the bottom of the climb at a reasonable pace, that Bradley kid was keeping a high tempo and no one else looked keen to take over the effort, hmm I wonder.

“Gaby,” I offered a hand, “you fancy having a better go over the top?” I offered in German.
“Peter,” Scruffy replied giving my digits a quick shake, “the Deutscher wunder woman eh?”

His German quite good.

“Dunno about that.”
“What have you in mind?”

the others were concentrating on long streak all the way up the climb which allowed me and Peter to sit in near the back, perfect for us to regather our resources. The pace hardly changed on the last two fifty meters when it tilted up which had Peter out of the saddle and breathing hard. It was still a compact group as we approached the summit, time for plan, er D.

I swung out and accelerated past those ahead, now breathing hard after following Bradley up the climb. Peter slotted on my wheel and I slipped it into the twelve and let rip. My move almost caught out the lead car on the first hairpin, I went round pretty much alongside.

We were through the next turn before Peter came through and I was straight into his slipstream which is where I stayed until we were through the second set of hairpins. My companion isn’t that much bigger than me so when we started a fast rotation across the Limburg countryside we both got some shelter. Twenty K, it’s not a huge distance, thirty minutes or so of racing but can we make it stick?

A sharp change of direction allowed a check on our pursuers, all of about three hundred metres separated us, the slightest error will end our advantage. I quickly stuffed an energy bar in my maw and took a slug from my remaining bottle, don’t want to run out of gas. Peter was taking longer turns, not because I couldn’t but he’s obviously a tenacious rider so I wasn’t about to argue, he’s already admitted he can’t sprint, this is his chance.

My comp suggested we were within ten kilometres of the line when we turned onto the main road and Maastricht came into view ahead and slightly below us. I went into tt mode again, Peter tucked behind. The road surface wasn’t great, tar over concrete, the regular per-dunk over the joints both a distraction and a reminder to keep an eye out for hidden potholes.

The bridge over the Maas rose ahead of us, we were still clear but the gap was closing and this incline could well be the breaker. Of course it would affect the chasers too but I was concentrating on getting me and Peter over with maximum advantage. A stiff breeze over the river didn’t exactly help but we still had clear road as we hit the flat again with less than two thousand metres to go.

We were both at the limit, I could see it etched in Peter’s face when I looked across. And then it was over, not the race but our escape. The chasers took us almost as we hit five hundred to go, we weren’t swamped, more sucked in, bum, bum, bum!

Bradley was driving things but Michael was there too, anyone sprinting will have to go soon. Four hundred, three, sugar! I hit boost and jumped across the road and kept it full gas, the red mist starting to descend well before the line.

“Got you, kiddo,” Dad’s voice told me, my legs like jelly, my breaths fast and desperate as I slumped over the bars.

Squealing brakes, shouting, whistles – the noise of the finish area diminished then renewed cheering and a repeat as the main peloton came home. My breathing settled and I drank heavily from the bottle Dad gave me.

“That,” gasp, “was harder than Rou,” gasp, “baix,” I advised Dad.
“Good ride, Bond,” Michael advised giving my shoulder a pat as he threaded past.
“Well done, wunder woman,” Peter grinned a moment later.
“Thanks.”
“You know him?” Dad asked as my breakaway companion disappeared into the crowd of helpers and riders behind him.
“We broke away together, Peter something.”
“Sagan,” Dad filled in, “Chris saw him in Poland the other week, under eighteen mountain bike world champion.”

I just about managed to get the gunk off my face and the braids undone before I was called to the podium for the presentation.

“Third place,” the MC started, riding for the Slovak Federation, Peter Sagan!”
Scruffy climbed onto the block with a wide grin on his face.
“Second, riding for Wallonia, Michael Desgrange!”
With a resigned look, Michael took the second step.
“And in first place, our winner of the 2006 Junior GP Limburg, Gabrielle Bond!”

There was much cheering and clapping as I shook hands with the others before climbing onto the top step, oh yeah, I punched the air with a huge grin plastered on my face.

Not sure it was much consolation for Team GB, Bradley came in last of the lead group and having been swallowed on the run in by the main peloton Jamie finished twenty fifth, Cav having won the sprint for 14th! Apollinaris, well Josh and all the girls were in that same dash for 14th place, after all that effort less than two minutes behind me crossing the line.

“I am not wearing eyeliner to race again,” I complained, “look at my mitts.”
“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea,” Ron agreed.

Of course, whilst the lads had access to showers after the race, the four girls taking part didn’t so here we are at Aachener Hof motorway services using the trucker’s facilities. Not ideal but better than sitting in the restaurant in salt caked, smelly riding kit – better for the other patrons too. Two showers, four girls so yes we did share to speed things up (and it saved four euros too!)

“’Bout time,” Dad mentioned when I joined the table – well I needed to use the little girl’s room after the shower.
“Ordered you the schnitzel with Spätzle,” Mand told me.
“Fine, what's to drink?”
“Sprite,” Dad advised.

Damn, thought we might’ve got a beer at least for my win.

“I thought you were gonna get across,” I offered to Josh as he busily devoured a second slice of gateaux.
“Sho did I, man,” he allowed through his cake.
“Josh!” Tal complained.
“Sorry, lass, you want some like?”
“No I don’t, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, like youse lot went crazy on that climb again, I was on the back but someone up tha front was really going for it an’ I lost it.”
“Er, that might’ve been me,” I admitted.

“So we’ll see you at Celle in a couple of weeks then,” Dad stated as the Waugh’s and Tali got into Joe’s hire car.
“Aye, speak to you in the week, Dave.” Joe replied.

Everyone said their farewells and we in turn loaded ourselves into our transport ready to start the not exactly straight drive home.

Maddy Bell © 29.11.16

 

 

 
I cracked open an eye, the second one was needed to focus on my alarm clock, urgh ‘nother ten minutes before it goes off. Closing my eyes I laid back into my pillow with a sigh, morning already and sounds of my sister and Manda getting ready to depart drifted up from two floors below. I suppose I could get up now but on past experience it’s better to let them get off before I clutter the place up, Dad’ll have breakfast sorted after all.

It went quiet then as usual Dad stuck the radio on, Jules complains if he puts it on while she’s here so the music is a signal the Bonn contingent have left. I slapped the alarm as soon as it started, hauled myself out of bed and into my tiny en suite. Geez, I must’ve put more into yesterday than I thought, I'm kerknackered.

“Mornin’” I allowed before searching out my favourite mug, the angel one from the Kӧln Weihnachts, for my coffee.
“Morning, kiddo, weren’t expecting you up yet,” Dad offered from behind his paper.
“Why not, I always get up this time for school, well nearly always,” I amended.
“Short term memory.”
“Eh?”
“You finished on Friday?”

My brain took a moment but eventually the penny dropped.

“Urgh! What am I doing up!”
“You could go back to bed,” Pater suggested.
“I'm up now,” I sighed.
“So what’s your agenda for your first day of freedom?”

Before I could get my brain to work that out Mum joined us.

“Thought I could hear voices, morning, princess.”

Princess? Ha.

“Tea, luv?” Dad enquired.
“I'll do it,” Mum told him grabbing the kettle, “so what’s Baby Bond up to today?”
Baby Bond?
“Mu-um!”
“Wazzup, baby girl?”

Dad for his part was hiding behind the paper which was shaking about somewhat.

“Oooooo!”

Mum burst into laughter, Dad barely a moment behind.

“The look on your face kiddo,” Mum mentioned pulling me into a tight hug.
“I thought you’d gone loopy,” I suggested.
“Couldn’t help it,” she chuckled, “seeing you sat there looking like your sister’s Tiny Tears®”
“I do not,” I huffed, “for starters she didn’t have pink hair,” and for seconds she was mine.
“So, daughter mine, what are you doing today?”
“Er not sure.”
“I'm sure we can find you some stuff around the house, your cave could do with a good hoover for starters.”

As if!

“I erm did say I was gonna go see Con.”
“You only saw her on Friday,” Dad noted.
“And?” I challenged.
“Just saying.”

I did do a load of washing before I went out, I really must buy some new knickers, that machine seems to eat them faster than socks. It was still only just nine when I mooched into Thesing’s.

“Someone else couldn’t sleep,” Herr T suggested.
“Yeah well, Con upstairs?”
“Go on up.”
“Thanks.”

I made my way upstairs to the apartment.

“Con?”
“Kitchen! You want coffee?”
“Er tea please,” I requested joining her in the family kitchen.
“It’s cool about the Imbiss, eh?”
“It is?”
“Our own business!” she enthused.
“Calm down, Con,” Therese told my bubbly friend as she joined us, “Gaby hasn’t agreed – yet.”
“She hasn’t? You haven’t?”
“Well I only found out Saturday,” I pointed out, “and I was away the rest of the weekend.”
“But you’ve got to, it’ll be brill,” she demanded passing me a cup of insipid looking tea.
“I'm meeting the estates manager at ten, why don’t you both come and have a look with me?”
Well it’s not like I've got a lot on, “Er sure.”

It’s not far up to Altenahr, well you know that already, from door to door in the Thesing’s elderly estate car took just over ten minutes including waiting at the temporary lights at the tunnel. Therese parked across the road and we headed over to the cabin. Riding past you don’t take much notice but close up it was clear that the building had seen better days.

It might only have been shut a couple of weeks but already bill posters and graffiti ‘artists’ had added to its misery. The paint was dirty and peeling, weeds colonised the guttering and the buildings fabric even rotting in places. Impressed; I was not.

“Frau Thesing?”
“Herr Schreiber?” Therese offered in return.
“Yes, nice to meet you, nice day,” he smiled.
“This is my daughter Connie and her friend Gaby.”
“Girls,” he shook everyone's hand, “shall we?”

Gaining access was quite quick, just one big padlock securing the kiosk, I made a mental note, security. I'd imagined that everything would still be inside, you know, the fryers, fridges and so on but the only stuff left in situ was the plumbing and the disgusting looking griddle cum hotplate. Oh and a load of rubbish.

“It needs a lot of work,” Therese noted.
“Hence the low rent,” Herr Schreiber inserted.
“Hmm, let’s talk numbers,” Mrs T suggested leading the council official back outside.

“What do you reckon?” a slightly less enthusiastic Con asked.
“It needs completely gutting,” I opined, “plus all the gear.”
“Dad reckons he knows someone.”
“Still gonna cost a bit.”

I tried to imagine how it should be, fryer and stuff there, fridges, we could have a hot cabinet for pies over there, coffee machine. Maybe we could do ice cream, couple of tables with chairs? Big umbrella or two, we could have like white or yellow uniforms, something that looks fresh and clean, note to self, laundry.

“Earth to Gaby?”
“Er what?”
“You mumbling to yourself,” Con stated.
“Just imagining what it might be like.”
“Let’s go out.”

“So erm Herr Schreiber,” I started, “could we have like tables and stuff out here?”
“Ja for sure, the rent covers the kiosk and the ground around,” he checked the plan in his folder, “yes up to the footpath here and across to the fence.”
“Kewl!” Con allowed.

Indeed it was quite a big area, I'd seen it used for ad hoc car and motorbike parking but I reckon there was space for quite a lot of seating. On the other side, effectively the rear of the plot it was bordered by a rickety fence at the top of the river bank and a grotty bit of chain-link fenced gate behind which was clearly used for bins.

“I need to speak to my husband,” Therese advised, “get some quotes, run some figures.”
“Sure, sure,” Herr Schreiber agreed, “I'll leave you with the keys, we can talk again in a couple of days, say Thursday?”
“That should be okay.”
“And of course ring me if you have any questions.”

The man from the council departed leaving the three of us to close up the building.

“Well?” Therese asked.
“It needs a lot of work.”
“Presuming it’s all sorted, all the equipment’s installed?” she prompted, “What was that about tables?”
“We could put some tables, umbrellas and stuff out, people’ll buy more if there’s somewhere to sit.”
“Okay, anything else? Con?”
“Hey, Gabs is the brains of the outfit, Mum.”
“Anyone for coffee?

“Dad?”
“Wassup, Baby Bond?”
“Yeah whatever, so you remember I said about the snack bar on Saturday?”
“Up in Altenahr,” he agreed glancing over the spreadsheet he was working on.
“Well we went to look this morning.”
“And?”
“Well I think I want to do it, I mean painted up and with some tables and stuff it’ll be right cool.”
“You’ve got school again in a few weeks and possibly more stuff with BC.”
“I wouldn’t be working full time,” I pointed out, “and it’ll help when I go to college.”
He grunted, “I don’t want you taking on too much kiddo, you already work at the bakery and on Eve’s trailer.”
“Not exactly regular and I wouldn’t be at the bakery any more, I could schedule weekends better.”
“And when you go to college?”
“That's months away.”
“Well we probably won’t open so much when the tourist season ends – and we’ll have some other staff.”
“What does Connie think?”
“She’s dead keen.”
“I'll talk to your mother, you’re sixteen, we won’t stop you but at least listen to us.”
“That’s why I asked you.”
“I'm not against it, but just remember the Thesing’s might be friends but it’s their business, it’s not just a hobby for you and Connie, they’ll be looking for a return on their investment.”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“Hello?” Mand’s voice sang from the kitchen.
“I'll speak to her later, kiddo.”

“So how was it for the idle today?” Mand enquired as we walked along to Rech for our lift up to cheer practice.
“Okay I guess.”
“Drinky poos by the pool, a quick nap after lunch.”
“If you must know me an’ Con were looking at a business opportunity.”
“La dee dah!”
“Serious,” I pressed.
“Right, Gaby Bond, entrepre thingy.”
“Entrepreneur, actually it’s Con’s rents, they're taking over the snack bar in Altenahr an’ me and Con are gonna run it.”
“Give over!”
“True I swear.”
“How you gonna make any money, you’ll eat the profits.”
“Har, har.”
“You need any staff?”

Talk about mercenary.

Maddy Bell © 01.12.16

 

 

 
I still woke early on Tuesday but at least I'd remembered to turn the alarm off so when I snoozed I wasn’t rudely awoken a few minutes later, rather it was the bin men that roused me. Quite a novelty for me, they are usually somewhere down the village when we go to school – hang on, what time is it? A grab at the clock managed to put it on the floor so I groped for my Handy which revealed it was quarter to nine.

Quarter to nine, bum! I might not be the most morning person but like half the day’s gone already. I might not be at school but I've still got stuff to do, training, some research for the kiosk and getting ready for a party. Oh, and I'll try ringing Bern, I'm guessing nothing too bad has happened, no news is good news, yeah?

“Wondered when you’d surface,” Dad opined when I reached the ground floor twenty minutes later.
“It’s not that late,” I replied on my way to the kitchen, “coffee?”
“I will have one, please, I spoke to your Mother last night.”

That’s what I missed this morning, Mum leaving for some race in Italy. I soon had the percolator going and started gathering stuff for my breakfast.

“About the kiosk?”
“Amongst other things,” he agreed joining me in the kitchen and sitting himself down.
“Er you want toast?”
“Go on then, some of us ate a couple of hours ago.”

We have a four slice toaster so I filled all the slots and busied myself with crockery and cutlery.

“So what did she say?”
I splashed yoghurt over my bran flakes and started eating.
“Well,” he started.
“She doesn’t want me to do it does she?” I interrupted.
“If you let me get a word in.”
“Soz.”

The toaster snapped the bread from its grilling at that moment so I retrieved the toast before Dad went on.

“Where was I,” he started coating his toast with butter, “she was surprisingly upbeat with the whole idea.”
“She’ll want family and friends,” I put in, “but?” With Mum there’s always a but.
“But nothing, kiddo, she thought it was a good idea, get you out of the house, make you a bit more independent.”
“Really?”
“Her words not mine,” he advised scraping some Marmite® over his toast.

“Hi, Mrs Rose,” I offered when the phone in far away Warsop was picked up by Bern's mum, “it’s Gaby, from Germany.”
“Gaby, I'm guessing you’re after Bernie?” she paused a moment then continued, “shouldn’t you be at school?”
“I'm finished until September.”
“That’s early.”
“It’s different here to England.”
“I guess so, I'll get my daughter for you.”
“Thanks, Mrs Rose.”

It seemed like ages but was probably just a couple of minutes before I heard someone pick up the handset in England.

“Hello? Mart?”
“It’s me, Bern.”
“Gab?”
“Yeah, didn’t your mum say?”
“She just said someone was on from Germany, I thought it might be Mart.”
“Just me I'm afraid, so?”
“So?”
“Meeting with the SS,” I prompted.
“Family court,” she corrected.
“Whatever, you’ve still got Drea?”
“Course, oh you don’t know do you, Mart was s'posed to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Oh it was brill, you shoulda been there.”
“I wasn’t so spill,” I hinted.
“Well I told you about the SS woman…

Bern kept going into legalise which she then had to translate for me, the blonde with a small brain remember. Long and short, that Mike woman’s been suspended, apparently Drea wasn’t the only one she’d singled out as an adoption target and one of the other mothers was the daughter of a lawyer. Not only that but a rich lawyer with friends in high places, there’d been a secret internal investigation, unfortunately Bern and Drea had got caught in the middle.

Apparently, whilst Children’s Services does have an early adoption policy it doesn’t include removing children from stable homes unless there are other extenuating reasons. This Mike woman apparently had her own agenda and had removed six times more children from their birth parents than the rest of her department combined. The meeting, it had turned out, had been to apprise the affected parties, compensation had been mentioned, independent staff reviews – all sorts of stuff.

To cut to the chase, Drea Preiser was, whilst still on the ‘at risk’ register, not in any immediate danger of removal.

“Well that’s a relief, what's Mart say?”
“I think he’s relieved, there’s no rush for me to come to Germany and for us to get married.”

I can see how he’d be relieved about that, I didn’t exactly approve of the idea although of course I would’ve supported Bern all the way.

“So what’re you gonna do now?”
“Pass my GCSE’s, talking of which how come you’re ringing at this time on a school day?”
“Thought I told you, I finished last week, we had our exams weeks ago, got the results and everything.”
“I had a lot on my mind,” she pointed out, “so how’d you do?”
“Just scraped a pass.”
“Don’t s’pose your mum was that impressed by that.”
“She was okay with it.”
“I know your mum, just how much of a scrape was this pass,” Bern interrogated.
“Er eighty something percent,” I admitted.
“Speak up, I thought you said eighty percent.”
“I did.”
“Some scrape! So what’re you doing all summer?”
“Cons parents are opening snack bar, we’re gonna be the managers.”
“Pull the other one.”
“Straight up.”
“You gonna be much longer on there,” Dad called from the office, “I need to ring George.”
“Have to go, Bern, Dad’s complaining, give Drea a hug from Aunty Gabs.”
“I will, laters”
“Später,” I replied before hanging up.

“So what’re you wearing, later like?” Mand enquired as we started our ride in a less usual direction, up the hill out of Dernau to Esch.
“Dunno, haven’t really thought about it.”
“Oh come on, Gab, you must have some idea,” she pushed.
“I don’t.”
To be honest, beyond it being an end of school party I hadn’t really given it any thought whatsoever.
“How about that black tube dress?”
“Which is that?”
“That one you borrowed at Lilleshall.”

Lilleshall. It seems so long ago now, I was still in Gaby denial for the most part but Jess was determined I was Gaby. Out of all my friends Jess was never in any doubt about who I was, am, right from day one at Blades when I spent more time on my bum than on my skates. I really should write or something.

“I suppose,” I tried to envisage the frock in question, a black lycra tube dress with mesh sleeves and the décolletage decorated with some big flocked spots, oh yeah and it’s like seriously short.
“Think I'll wear the blue slip.”
“You got that stain out?” well last time she wore it she managed to get half a glass of red spilt down her back – long story.
“Yeah, it washed up pretty good.”

Today's ride, up to Rheinbach then around Meckenheim and back is perhaps a bit more rolling than usual, not flat but the climbing is certainly better distributed than going up to the ring. We passed Anna’s place, Gloria’s car wasn’t in evidence and of course Anna will probably be at college, it’s ages since she came out with us, I guess she has other friends now.

We rode along in comparative silence, it’s a nice afternoon, not much wind, just a few clouds marring an otherwise blue sky.
“Gab?”
“Hmm?”
“You ever think about what you’ll do after?”
“After what?”
“Well we can’t race forever, at some time it has to end.”
“Mum still races and she’s well old.”
“She’s not that old.”
“Nearly forty.”
“Whatever, so have you?”
“No.”

In my head at least I'll race forever, oh don’t get me wrong, I'll get some qualifications but I've no intention of using them.

“I have,” she allowed, “I'm hardly in your Super Girl class, I need a plan B for my life.”
“So what’re you gonna do then?”
“Maybe teach, sports science or something like that.”
“Sounds a doddle, on the other hand once we get on the top road we need to do some proper training.”

I looked at my reflection, at least black doesn’t clash with my hair, in fact it looks pretty good. It’s difficult to not keep tugging at the hem mind, it doesn’t quite reach mid thigh but with black strumpfhose and the net sleeves I'm probably showing less skin than most of the alternate options.

“You ready, Gab?” Mand called up to my eyrie.
“I guess.”

I grabbed my heels and padded downstairs.

“There might not be school tomorrow but I hope you’ll be sensible,” Dad mentioned as we extricated ourselves from the car.
“Yes, Dad.”
“We’ll keep an eye on her, Herr Bond,” Steffi told him, she’d caught a lift with us as well as Connie.
“That’s what I'm afraid of.”
“Da-ad!”

He’s not daft, he knows we’ll have some booze tonight, he also knows that my track record with alcohol is not good. The fact that we’re partying at the Sebenschuh Stube is unlikely to reassure him that much.

“Have a good evening, girls, ring when you want fetching.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I offered shutting the Merc’s door.
“Come on, Gab,” Con encouraged, “I smell pizza!”

Maddy Bell © 03.12.16

 

 

 The unmistakeable odour of the wood fired pizza oven in the Sebenschuh wine cellar Stube was as much encouragement as I needed. I tried tugging at my dress’ hem again but no sooner was it let go and it was sliding back up my thighs, maybe it hadn’t been such a good choice. We followed the enticing aroma into the wine cellars, strangely silent and empty of the sounds that fill the place during the day.
Instead the sound of pop music and the tinkle of girls voices drifted through the voids, guiding us as surely as the wood smoke towards our destination.

“I hope the heaters are on,” Steff mentioned, rubbing her exposed arms for warmth.

It wasn’t my arms that were feeling chill but somewhere further south, not helped by my migrating hemline! Let’s just say that using any form of friction for warmth wasn’t on the cards.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “it’s always so cold in here.”

I'd barely finished speaking before a solid mass impacted me and sent me sprawling sideways landing on top of me. Instinctively I'd closed my eyes, it was only when I opened them again from my recumbent position on the cold ground I discovered a startled face millimetres from my own.

“Gab?”
“Max?”
“What the...?” I managed to get out.

We were soon surrounded by other party goers, Max dragged off of me, assisted me to my feet.

“You all right?” Con asked.
I rubbed a now sore elbow, “Think I'll live, what the heck was that about, Max?”
“It wasn’t my fault, someone pushed me,” he looked hard at the Strech’s.
“Sorry, Gab,” Freddy offered, “we were just mucking.”

Someone swatted him around the head.

“Ow!”
“Come on, girl, you need pizza,” Pia suggested.
A pair of arms guided me into the Stube, arms connected to von Strechau.

“You okay now?” Mand enquired a short while and two slices of pizza later.
“Yeah, sides a bit sore still.”
“You need some of this,” Con plonked a paper cup with some suspiciously coloured liquid inside on the table.

I know I promised Dad but this is medicinal right?

“Hmm,” I allowed smacking my lips after taking a mouthful,” Châteaux Rech 1976.”
“Don’t be daft, it’s the 2004,” Pia advised.
“Damn, I ordered the good stuff.” I opined with an affected note to my voice.
“Er, you fancy a boogie, Gab?” Max asked joining the hen party.

Do I? Well I suppose I can’t sit here all night can I?

“Nothing too energetic, I'm still sore.”

“Whatever,” I told anyone listening.
“She always like this?” Ingrid’s voice asked.
“Every time she has more than one glass,” another voice stated
“Gab, Gab, can you sit up?”
“Don’ wanna dance.”
“No we’re not dancing,” Ingrid stated, “you got that coffee, P?”
“She alright?” Max enquired.
“Just how much has she drunk?”
“Not sure, two or three cups?”
“Lolly Lightweight alright,” Mand’s voice added.
“Not Lol, Lo, thingy, Gabs,” I offered, pushing myself into a slightly more upright position.
“Come on, Gab, get this inside of you,” Ingrid persisted pressing a cup to my lips.
“Her dad’s gonna go ballistic,” Steff stated.

In the end it was the shower that brought me to something like sobriety, my hair was still damp when I was escorted out to Dad’s taxi. he’s not daft though, it’s not the first time I've got, er, a little squiffy after all – well maybe my wet hair and lack of makeup were clues too.

“How much,” Dave Bond enquired.
“Not sure,” Con admitted as she pulled her seatbelt into place.
“Only a couple,” I suggested, not that I could say with any honesty if that was cups or bottles.
“Sorry, Herr Bond, one minute she was dancing away, next she was flaked out in a corner,” Steff added.
“Just try not to be sick in the car, eh?”

Dave passed his daughter the pot of Aspirin, “I really should be grounding you, what were you thinking?”
“I didn’t have much,” I offered in defence before slipping a couple of the pills into my mouth, my head felt like it was full of expanding foam.
“Look, kiddo, I know it’s difficult when all your friends are drinking or whatever not to join in but we’ve been here before, you and alcohol just don’t mix. This time you were with friends but what if you were in say, Bonn? You’re a young woman, Gabrielle, an attractive one, you need to be more careful – you don’t have to have alcohol or drugs to have a good time.”
“No, Dad, can I go to bed now?”
“Go on.”

The house was silent when my brain finally engaged Wednesday morning – oh I could hear a tractor up in the vineyards behind the house and the toot of the Express’ horn as it descended the valley but inside Schloss Bond, silence. My head was still doing its House of Pain impersonation but at least the room wasn’t spinning. Checking the time, the reason for the silence was clear, everyone was out, either at school or in Dad’s case taking the car to the dealers in Sinzig for a service.

I dragged myself from my pit and headed for the shower. By the time I got down to the kitchen my head was more settled although the thought of eating still made me a tad nauseous. Wednesday, washing and I really should go see the Thesing’s, bet the others aren’t hung over, lucky sods. I finished my coffee, rinsed my cup then rushed to the lav where I lost the contents of my stomach – oh joy.

“You coming to the Schwimmbad this afternoon?” Con asked after checking on my health.
“In Remagen?”
“Where else? ‘course Remagen.”
“Could do, I need to talk to your mum anyhow.”
“Come for lunch, we’re getting the two o’clock Express.”
Well it’ll kill two birds at least, “Okay.”
“See you in a few.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “Tschussie.”
“And don’t forget your bikini, laters.”

Well you didn’t think we would be going to actually swim did you?

“Connie says you wanted to talk,” Therese prompted as I helped myself to salad.
“Um yeah,” I agreed.
“The kiosk?”
“Uh huh, I've talked with Dad and I'm in.”
“Knew you would,” Con gleefully announced.
“Well in that case we’d best get things moving, if we are going to be ready for the summer season.”
“I've got some ideas.”
“All in good time, Gaby, first we need to sign the lease and get the building fixed.”
“Don’t the Council do that?”
“Normally yes but we’re getting it for nominal rent on condition we do the repairs.”
“That’s sneaky,” Con stated.
“Maybe,” Therese conceded, “but it lowers our start up costs.”
“So when do we start?”
“Whoa, slow down, girls, we’ll try to get Con’s uncle Josef to do a quick survey for us then we need to find a builder.”
“So we can’t do anything yet?” I queried.
“Well we need to check the dimensions of the kiosk so we can plan what goes where and of course get everything ordered, how about we go up and measure tomorrow morning and we can go to the shopfitters Friday.”

I mentally checked my diary, yeah that doesn’t conflict with anything.

“Sounds like a plan.”
“This is so exciting,” Con added.
“It’s going to be hard work young lady, you both need to be committed to it.”
“We will,” my friend stated.
“So what are you pair up to this afternoon?” Therese deftly changed the subject.
“Schwimmbad apparently,” I told her before starting on my schnitzel.
“Make sure you put on sun block, especially you, Gaby, don’t want to get burnt.”
“Mu-um,” Con groaned.
“Don’t you mum me, young lady, remember your dad in Tenerife.”
“He looked like a tomato!” Con chuckled.
“It wasn’t funny,” Therese stated.
“I s’pose not,” my friend agreed.

“We need to get some sun screen,” Con advised the others as we settled into seats for the journey down to the Rhein.
“There’s that place on the main street, you know, opposite the shoe shop,” Brid suggested.
“So you recovered from last night?” Nena directed at me.
“Pretty much.”
“Max was clucking about like an old hen,” Steff mentioned.
“To be honest I don’t remember much.”
“Well the striptease was getting a bit saucy,” Pia advised.
“Striptease? I didn’t did I?”
“She’s winding you up,” Nen put in.
“Had you going though,” P smirked.
“It’s not funny,” I stated.
“You’re right, Gab, not funny,” Con noted, “hilarious!”
“Con!”

I plucked at my swimsuit through my t-shirt, let’s be right, a bikini top is no substitute for a proper bra and the bottoms, well less said the better.

“What’s she doing in there?” I grumped.
“Buying the place up I reckon,” Steff suggested.

It was another couple of minutes before Con emerged from the Drogerie.

“’Bout time.”
“There was a queue.”
“Come on you two, there’ll be nowhere left that’s half decent,” Pia advised.

Half decent, that’s a laugh. Me, I'd happily find a spot in the shade, maybe not too near the pool but oh no, this lot aren’t happy unless we’re in full sun, close to the pool or at worst the beach volleyball court. Remember last year? Okay it turned out a good day but that doesn’t mean I want to have a repeat today.

Of course being a nice day the pool was quite busy, not just with teens but quite a few mothers with pre preschoolers and even a few oldies. Well at least I wouldn’t need to change in the draughty cabins and I'd taken the precaution of bringing a bottle of water – what can go wrong?

“Gabs!”

Maddy Bell © 05.12.16

 

 

 
“You alright?”
“I'm here,” I pointed out.
“You had us worried last night.”
“I don’t do alcohol very well, alright.”
“You were drinking it like cola,” Max advised.
“Really? I mean I wasn’t was I?”
“Well you had more than me.”
“Sugar.”
“Stop teasing her, Max,” Con suggested, “you weren’t, Gab, he’s having you on.”
“Your face, Gab,” von Strechau grinned.
“Why you!” I slapped at him, “I thought I was a right lush for a minute. So how come you’re here, who else have you got?”
“Well we all sort of planned it last night, Jorge, Marty, Moni.”
“She was out of it by then, Max,” Con noted.
“You never said anyone else was coming,” I accused my BF.
“I forgot.”

If I'd known before I'd have worn something different.

We were soon joined by a bunch of others from the graduating class, several of whom hadn’t been to P’s party. Instead of the close friends I thought I was here with it had escalated to a boisterous group of about twenty. At least I should get out of volleyball with this many of us.

I'm not really one for sunbathing but today, well maybe last night was still having some effect on me. The lads disappeared en mass taking several of the female contingent with them I'm guessing to the pool or the volleyball court. It didn’t take long to organise ourselves with music, snacks and removal of outer clothing down to assorted ‘swimwear’.

For my part it was the white bikini again, I seem to fill it out more than I remember from last year. Then of course it was the sun block ritual before everyone settled down on their towels and the goss could start properly. I faded out quick quickly, the accumulative effects of warm sunshine, a light breeze and a general feeling of Heimat having their effects.

I'm not sure how long I was asleep, maybe thirty minutes? Some squealing and laughing nearby returned me from Nod.

“You awake, Gab?” a voice I recognised as Steff enquired.
“Hmm.”
“You want a drink?”
“Got one thanks,” I hadn’t even opened an eye, I was comfortable and just wanted to savour the afternoon, “what’s the time?”
“Ten for four,” Pia called over.

Loads of time yet.

“You need more sun cream, Gabs?” Con’s voice enquired.
“Sure,” I agreed.
“I'll do you,” Steff offered.
“’Kay.”

It wasn’t a chill as such, rather a lessening of the heat on my back that told me Steff was behind me, dropping down to straddle my legs. I’d been expecting a chill from the lotion but when contact was made it was warm and smooth and hmm-mm. Her hands gently spread the cream before lightly massaging it across my shoulders and back – ooh I could get used to this.

She worked down my back, sheer bliss, before shuffling to gain access to stuff a bit lower. I squirmed a little as her attentions to my thighs tickled a little, there was a pause.

“Keep goin’,” I mumbled into my arm.

Another shuffle, more tickling but not where the sunblock was being applied, clearly I'm a bit over sensitised. Thighs, calves, ankles, I couldn’t help it at the touch to my foot.

“Steff!” I squealed snapping around whilst trying to shake my foot free.
“What?” the voice came from the wrong direction.

It took a moment for my brain to fully engage and my eyes to properly focus.

“Max!”
“’S me,” the figure knelt by my feet confirmed.
“What the heck are you doing?”
“Nothing now,” doing his best but ineffective innocent impersonation.

I shook my foot free, Max still had it in his hands, there was a peel of laughter from my ‘friends’, clearly I've been set up.

“Okay guys, you got me.”
“It was too tempting,” Nena offered.
“We thought you’d notice much sooner,” Moni added.
“You swapped after my back,” I prompted Steff.
“Not close,” she giggled.
“Legs?”
“She never started,” Con told me.
“Then who did?” the realisation came as the words formed on my lips.
“Guilty,” Max allowed with a grin.

I wasn’t quite sure who to kill first, the girls or their enthusiastic assistant.

“Why you!” I flung the first thing that came to hand in his general direction, note to self, hastily grabbed shorts don’t make the best of missiles.

“You need your front doing?” Jorge offered with a smirk.
“I'll do it myself thank you,” I snapped.
“Keep your hair on, Gab,” Pia put in.
“It wasn’t you being groped by a hairy ape.”
“Looked like you were enjoying it,” Steff observed.

Okay it wasn’t the worst thing ever, for an oaf Max has a good pair of hands and, look, I get to choose who puts their hands on me. Hmm just thinking about it has got me a bit tingly in places I'm not telling you about, that’s not the point though.

“I thought it was you.”
“I didn’t think you swung that way,” Con said with a barely straight face.
“You know what I meant,” I huffed, “and as for you Max, getting mixed up with this lot.”
“Eis?” he offered with a slight shrug.

Well what girl could possibly pass ice cream up?

“Your face though,” Max noted as we stood in the line for ice cream.
“It was mean,” I huffed.
“You aren’t telling me you didn’t enjoy it,” he pressed.
“Never said I didn’t.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem? I, I just was taken by surprise.”
“Like this?”

I found myself leaving the ground and those lips engaging directly with mine. I reflexively wrapped my legs around Max’s waist and joined the lip lock with some enthusiasm.

“Put her down!”
“Gross!”
“Get a room!”
“There are children present!”

The sun block might be protecting me from getting burnt but by the time my feet were back on terra firma I looked like strawberries and cream, my white bikini the cream to my head to toe pink blush. Where the heck did that come from?

It was heading towards six when we set off to return to our valley, warm, maybe a little more tan but certainly happy. Almost certainly this will be the last such gathering – oh I'm certain the Angels will continue doing stuff and we’ll see the others about too but we’ll all being doing different stuff, attending different schools, different new friendships. I'm sure I wasn’t the only one feeling a bit wistful, I know I wasn’t, Mart’s suggestion of hitting Maccy D’s was unanimously agreed on just to stretch the moment.

“I don’t know where you put it,” Chrissy opined.
“She has the hollow legs,” Pia supplied.
“And very nice legs they are too,” Max grinned stroking my thigh under the table.

You’d think I'd ordered a lot, I mean it was only a large Royale Menu with a Waldorf salad and Max nicked half my chips after eating his own. Well he had paid so I could hardly complain could I?

“Give over,” I half heartedly suggested although in truth I was enjoying the sensation.

Eventually though our return to the Ahrtal could be put off no longer and we trekked back around to the bahnhof and Gleis vier. The Express rolled in and we poured on board with the late commuters, the joy and playfulness of earlier replaced by melancholy. At each successive stop there was another round of hugs as we made our farewells.

“Good day?” Dad enquired when I eventually got home.
“Okay I guess, where’s Mand?”
“Out on the bike, should be back shortly, so what’s for dinner?”
Shitza, I forgot that I was cooking tonight.
“I erm, spaghetti?” I offered.
“You’ve caught the sun a bit.”
“So much for factor thirty,” I allowed, “I'll get a shower then do dinner.”
“I'll put you some water on.”
“Thanks.”

“Ow!”

The water stung as it hit my back, I really did catch the sun, I'll have to put some after sun on. Considering we’d been to the pool I'd somehow managed to avoid getting wet at all. Oh most of the others had at some point ended up in the water, but I hadn’t really been in the mood and I was comfortable on my towel so why move.

I pushed the spaghetti down into the bubbling water before turning my attention to the pan of Sauce Milanese simmering alongside.

“Spag bol?” Mand suggested glancing at my efforts a minute later.
“Nope, meat balls,” I advised sipping at my cordial.
“Tinned?”
“Get real, they had proper Swedish ones in Penny® the other week, just need to pan fry them.”
“Yum, where we eating?”
“In here I guess, good ride?”
“Er yeah, bout fifty K, got a bit lost in Neuenahr on the way back mind.”

I poured a dash of oil in the skillet before retrieving the meatballs from the freezer.

“Yeah I think I went along every road in the valley my first couple of weeks here, spent more time lost than training!”
“At least you could ask the way.”
“Not back then, I could hardly speak any German when we moved here, just a bit from Mum.”
“And now you’re like the super linguist.”
“Hardly,” I suggested pushing the meatballs into the pan, “I'm crap at English!”

The contents of the pan spat and sizzled, providing counterpoint to Mand’s strangled laughter.

Maddy Bell © 17.12.16

 

 

 
“Don’t forget you’re training with Amanda later,” Dad called to my departing back.
“I know, tschuss!”
“Tschuss.”

I almost skipped around to the bakery, it’s pretty cool that me and Con are setting this up, well okay, helping set things up with her ‘rents money, but nevertheless it’s pretty cool.

“Hi Mr T.”
“Morning, Gaby, go on up, they’re not ready yet.
“’Kay.”

I made my way up to the Thesing’s apartment where I found Therese and at the kitchen table.

“Morning!”
“Someone's full of bounce today,” Mrs T observed.
“You want coffee?” Con offered.
“I guess,” I agreed pulling a chair out, “what’s this?”
‘This’ was a pile of papers covering much of the table’s surface.
“Tomas and Josef went up last night then spent half the night working out what’s what.”
Con handed me a beaker of caffeine laced beverage.
“Cheers, so what’s the low down?”
“Well obviously the priority is getting the kiosk properly secure, Joe reckons he can get that sorted in about three weeks.”
“Three weeks? We can’t do anything for three weeks?” I slumped, the wind taken from my sails.
“We can do a lot,” Therese advised, “it’ll take time to sort out the inside, we can be doing a lot of that while they sort the exterior stuff.”
“What about the ‘garden’?”
“Let’s concentrate on getting the hut open, we can do the fancy bits later.”

I guess that sort of makes sense, in my mind I've only ever envisioned it as a complete thing but I guess it’s not had the garden before has it?

We drove up and this time parked behind the kiosk, a space barely big enough to park the car. It all looked much the same, well apart from the new lock on the hut door, I guess they fitted that when they were up yesterday. This is just so cool!

Of course when we came Monday we poked around inside so today was a little less adventuresome. Being the smallest I was the least useful for measuring so found myself perched on the bit of counter utilising my limited artistic skills for the plans. Picasso I'm not although my rendition didn’t look much different, to translate it only had the barest resemblance to fact!

I think we measured everything that could be and some that seem, to me at least, a bit superfluous but after an hour Therese seemed happy we’d got enough.

“So any thoughts on what goes where?”

Had I got thoughts! Is the Pope catholic? I fished in my bag – how do boys live without them? Anyway I fished about and found my notebook and quickly flicked through to a page titled ‘KIOSK’.

“Geez, Gab, you didn’t have to write a book,” Con advised.
“It’s just a few notes.”
“Well it looks quite thorough,” Therese suggested, “so what do you think?”

I glanced at my squiggles, they make sense to me but maybe not to anyone else, then orientated myself.

“So we put the fryers and hot plate over here...”

I worked my way around the work area, the others asking questions as we went and pretty much agreeing with my observations.

“If we have the warm cabinet here in the middle we can use both windows if we’re busy.”
“Eis at one and würst the other,” Con suggested.
“Or whatever,” I agreed, “usually we’d just use the left one as it’s closest to the grill.”
“Well I can’t see any issues with any of that,” Therese told us, “we’d best have some idea of what we’re shopping for tomorrow, can you make the list Connie. So big stuff first, hotplate, fryers...”

“We’ll need cups and stuff like stirring sticks,” I suggested.
“Okay,” Mrs T agreed, “I'm sure there’s stuff we’ve missed but nothing too drastic.”
“Gott, there’s two pages here,” Con announced.
“Maybe they have an instant kiosk package at the shopfitter’s, just add euros,” I joshed.
“Would simplify things for sure,” Frau Thesing agreed, “so are we done?”
“I know it’s not a priority but could we measure outside while we’re here?”
“I guess it won’t take long, go get started, I've a couple of things to do before we go so we have power and gas when we need it.”
“Come on, Con,” I encouraged almost dragging my eyeball rolling friend in my wake.

I waited impatiently for Manda to get ready, to say I was keyed up would be putting it mildly. After I got home I started making a sort of model of the kiosk, well not the best rendition but it was only a raided cereal packet and it didn’t need to be brilliant. The sooner we get back from training the sooner I can get on with my masterpiece.

A clatter of cleats on concrete announced Mand’s arrival.

“You’re keen,” she opined.
I shrugged, “No point in dragging it out, you ready?”
“As I'll be.”

I pressed the door close button on my key tag, Dad fitted the electric door a bit back as I was struggling to get the old one to close properly and this is more secure which is good given the contents. With practised ease we both mounted our steeds and dropped down onto the roadway to start not quite our usual ‘Ring route but a longer loop that’ll take us down to the Rhein instead of back into the Ahrtal.

“That it?” Mand queried as we crossed the bridge in Altenahr.
“Yep, Kiosk zur Brücke,” I proudly announced.
“’S a bit grotty.”
“It won’t be,” I defended, “it’ll be all painted up, new sign and stuff.”
“And when’s this all happening?”
“Three, four weeks.”
“Really?”
“It’s mostly cosmetic stuff needs doing.”
“If you say so.”

It was more overcast this afternoon, not like rain but that sort of cloud cover that takes the edge off the heat but can make it more humid. We kept it at a good tempo along to Adenau then on Dad’s instruction attacked the climb up to the GP circuit. I quickly distanced de Vreen then settled into a more comfortable climbing cadence.

Even so I was puffing a bit by the drag away from Quiddelbach, not that the computer seemed to agree to my effort, defiantly hovering around thirteen kph.

“Nice day.”

I nearly fell off in shock as Mand glided past, how the? I snicked up a sprocket and gave chase, she wasn’t going much faster but on a gradient it doesn’t need to be.

“H, how?” I gasped out when I eventually got alongside her.
“You hare,” she pointed at me, “me tortoise.”

Whatever that means. I matched her tempo and soon enough we were on the fast road past the circuit and I could get my breath back fully.

“You always struggle on the climbs.”
“Not always,” she corrected, “if I can keep my own pace I can get up okay, I struggle to change though so when you give it some I can’t follow, keep it steady and I'll be there.”
“There’s more to it than that,” I accused.
“Maybe,” she hinted.
“What?”
“Your mum suggested some training drills, it’s what I was doing yesterday, I went up that stupid road out of Neuenahr three times!”
“Well it seems to work, maybe I should give it a go.”
“Maybe,”she replied non-committally.

We started a rotation and pushed it across to Kämpenich where we turned off to follow the old Vulkan Express railway down to Bad Breisig. I did manage to lose Mand on the lane down to Oberzissen but I waited for her once we got onto the main-er road. The speed stayed high, well over forty, most of the remaining distance, well it’s not a bad road and its gravity assist.

At Breisig we followed the cycle route along to Sinzig, the main road is busy and no fun to be on. We had over two hours on the clock by the time we reached the lane up into the Ahrtal, time to cease hostilities for the last few kilometres home. By now I'm sure I wasn’t the only one ready for something more than a claggy energy bar, why can’t they make them less, I dunno, glutinous?

“What’s this?” I queried when Dad plonked the plate in front of me.
“Try it and find out,” he suggested.
I poked and sniffed at the ‘food’ before loading some onto my fork.
“It won’t kill you,” Mand giggled.
“I suppose you know what it is?”
“Hummus right Mr B?”
“In one, Manda.”
“So what is it? I cautiously licked at my fork.
“Chickpeas mostly,” Manda advised.
“Those big white things?”
“You’re thinking of broad beans,” Mand suggested.
“Am not, they’re like knobbly peas but white.”
“I'll take your word on that, kiddo, I bought it like you see it.”
“So erm, why are we eating it?”
“It’s a good fat free source of protein and fibre.”
“If you say so, prefer some meat and potatoes myself.”
“How about you, Amanda?”
“It is a bit bland.”
“I could rustle up some sausages?” I offered.
Dad shook his head, “Go on then.”

“What’s that supposed to be?” Mand enquired.
“It’s the kiosk.”
“Really?”
I'd brought my ‘model’ downstairs to work on, there's more space on the kitchen table than my computer desk in the eyrie.
“Well obviously it’s not an exact replica.”
“That's for certain, what's this stuff here, I didn’t see anything when we went past earlier.”
“The garden, we’re gonna have like tables and chairs so people can sit and eat instead of walking off.”
“You’ll get anyone using them.”
“That’s true, we can put up signs, you know saying it’s for customers only.”
“What you need is a fence.”
“Fence?”
“Well if there's a fence it’s clear it belongs to the kiosk, most people won’t go in unless they are buying, you know like the restaurants in Bonn and that with the plants and rope things. Build a nice fence, a few pots of flowers, you’ll like attract people with kids, you could even have a sandpit for them,” she enthused.

I tried to imagine it, hmm, could work, cheers, Mand.

“So I was talking to Steff earlier.”
“Yeah?”
“What’s this about you and Max at the pool yesterday?”

I'll get you blabbermouth, Oldberg!

Maddy Bell © 17.12.16

 

 

 
“I've booked you two on a course next week,” Therese casually dropped into the conversation.
“Course?” Con queried.
“Yes a course,” her mother confirmed as we accelerated onto the autobahn.
“What sort of course?” I enquired from the back seat.
“Hygiene and food preparation.”
“We already did that for the bakery,” Con pointed out.
“Not this one you didn’t, this is much deeper, we don’t want you poisoning people and the insurance insist.”
“When is it?” I asked, I might not have a full diary but nevertheless I like to have some idea what I'm doing.
“Wednesday in Neuweid.”
“Neuweid?”
“You don’t have to repeat everything I say Connie, yes Neuweid, it’s where the regional health are based.”
“We’re supposed to be working on Wednesday, at the Weinkeller?” I mentioned.
“I know, Gab, you’ll be back in plenty of time, it starts at nine and finishes mid afternoon.”
“Nine?”
“Connie,” Frau T admonished, “don’t worry, your dad will take you and bring you back, he’s got business in Koblenz so it will kill two birds.

Neuweid isn’t somewhere we go very much, it’s a fair size town and not that far but it’s on the other side of the river, the Rhein that is. We do occasionally get there but it’s a bit far for our usual training rides and anyway Koblenz is better for shopping and easier to get to if we aren’t going to Bonn or Kӧln.

“So what do we do on this course then?” I asked.
“Cleaning, cooking, some basic first aid.”
“Great,” Con sighed.
“Which reminds me,” Therese went on, “can you add a Ersthilfekasten to the list.”

The shopfitters, Kletterburg’s, well their catering department’s place was in an older building in the south of Koblenz, I’m not quite sure what I'd expected, maybe a big store like Saturn® perhaps but this wasn’t it. Therese parked in the small car park and we disembarked, I straightened my skirt as we waited for Mrs T to lock up.

“So why the skirt and stuff?” Con asked, “bit over the top.”
“She looks very professional.”
“For an office, we’re only getting stuff for a würst stand.”
“Doesn’t mean you should look like a scruff.”

I couldn’t get a word in edgewise as the two Thesing’s went back and forth.

“Wasn’t my idea,” I admitted, “Dad said I should dress smart.”
“And very wise he is too,” Therese opined, indeed she’d foregone her usual jeans for smart trousers and a nice blouse.

We crossed to the building, Therese ushering Con and I ahead and into the reception area.

“Good morning.” the receptionist greeted, “How can we help?”
“Morning, we need to look at some catering equipment,” Frau T supplied.
“Sure, if you want to sit I'll get someone down to help.”

The seating was the sort of sofas and chairs you see outside the changing rooms in fancier stores, better than plastic seats but you wouldn’t have it in your lounge. Each of us took a perch and settled to wait.

“This is all a bit posh,” I mentioned.
“Overboard,” Con stated.
“You wouldn’t want to buy from them if it was a couple of broken chairs would you?” Therese offered.
“Guess not,” Con allowed.

Not more than a couple of minutes of sitting passed before an office smart bloke appeared from around a corner.

“Morning ladies, Marius Haaner, how can we help?“
All of us stood to shake the proffered hand.
“Therese Thesing, my daughter Connie and her friend Gaby, we need some catering equipment.”
“Please, sit,” Marius prompted taking a seat himself, “so what do you need?”
“Pretty much everything,” Con stated.
“Okay,” Marius wasn’t fazed by her flippant statement, in fact his eyes lit up some, “let’s start at the beginning then, what are we catering for?”

Therese explained the reason for our visit, Marius took a few notes and raised his brows at Con’s list.

“So you really are starting from scratch, this may take some time,” he noted stroking his neatly trimmed beard, “shall we get started?”

Hmm, wonder what Max would look like with a beard?

“Ladies,” he invited clipping everything onto, yeah obvious right, a clipboard before standing.

To be honest, deciding on refrigeration equipment isn’t high on my list of exciting pastimes but that's where we started. Who’d have thought there were so many types, styles and sizes, we weren’t even trying to match kitchen décor! By comparison the actual cooking was straightforward, a double basket fryer, griddle and after some discussion a hotplate that will be custom made to fit our limited space.

“Coffee?” Marius offered as we climbed the stairs up to the first floor and the small appliance showrooms.
“I'm good,” Con offered before seeing the look on my face, “but I know Gabs will.”
“That would be good Marius, I can do with a break,” Therese added.

We were directed to a room from which the smell of fresh ground coffee wafted heavy on the air. The space had some comfortable seating but the thing, well things, that dominated were the myriad beverage delivery systems filling the counter space that ran around three walls.

“Wow!” I allowed.
“Please, sit, what would you like?”

It wasn’t long before I was sipping a cappuccino and admiring the various appliances, simple percolators, huge Gaggia’s, automated machines, they were all there. Okay I can be a bit of a coffee snob, I'll put up with filter coffee but you can’t beat what you get out of a nice shiny Gaggia or similar. I lovingly admired a huge four cup Gaggia, what a bit of kit.

“Nice eh?” Marius offered joining me.
“Very,” I agreed.
“But not in the budget,” Therese noted, “I was thinking one of the automat machines?”
“Maybe more suitable for your kiosk,” our salesman agreed, if he was disappointed he didn’t show it, indeed I could see Mrs T’s point when I looked at the almost four thousand euro price tag on the glittery behemoth.

We moved to a line of machines, many of the popular brands were represented, WMF, Bosch, Tschibo, Philips and to be honest they all looked pretty similar. I looked longingly back at the Gaggia but I guess at the end of the day we aren’t setting up a coffee bar, our clientele would no doubt put up with instant.

“Gab?” Therese prompted.
“Sorry?”
“What do you think we should offer?” Con asked.
Good question, “I suppose we should keep it simple, cappuccino, latte, milk, espresso, probably tea?”
“Perhaps the WMF 5000,” Marius suggested, indicating a smart looking black cabinet, “top fill, self cleaning, stand alone or plumbed versions.”
“Price?”
“Nineteen hundred outright or fully serviced on a two year lease is five hundred down, forty a month.”
“Any movement on that?” Frau T enquired.
“Not directly but I think we can sort something on start-up supplies?”
“What about the others?” I put in, I quite like the look of the Tschibo unit.
“Okay,” Marius allowed before patiently taking us through the other options.

“WMF?” Therese queried.
I nodded, “It has got the milk steamer.”
“Thank heaven for that,” Con sighed, “how can you get so worked up over a coffee machine?”
“It’s important,” I told her, “and it needs to be idiot proof for you.”
“Huh!”
“Girls!” Therese admonished, “WMF it is then Marius, on the lease.”

He nodded and added that to his order pad.

A quick stop at the Ladies preceded moving to another, larger showroom full of everything from cake moulds to paper cups, Bain Marie’s to teaspoons. I'm not weird, honest, but I was enthralled at the range of stuff, colours, qualities – I mean who’d have thought you can get three qualities of paper napkins, let alone all the colours and print options? Not that we were looking for napkins but you get the idea.

“Coffee cups,” Con read from the list.
“And stirrers,” I added.
“Paper I guess, we don’t want plastic, at least paper’s recyclable,” my BF told us.
“You thought of using proper cups?” Marius queried.
“Like ceramic?” Mrs T offered.
“Or glass,” he suggested, “most of your customers will drink at the kiosk yes?”
“Probably,” I agreed, “might get a few taking coffee for the train.”
“So use paper for those but it’s more economic to use proper crockery.”
“I see where you’re coming from Marius but we’d need a washer if we use ceramic, we’re a bit pushed for space and it’ll further stretch the budget.”
“Look at it this way, plastic or paper you’ll be buying all the time, proper cups you buy once, bit more to set up but they’ll pay for themselves in no time, even pay for a dishwasher.”

I got it now, I think the others did too. Oh sure Marius was trying to optimise his sale but let’s face it we most likely wouldn’t be coming to him for paper goods in the future. Thinking about it, disposable stuff isn’t very eco friendly whatever it’s made of, with proper stuff you re-use it pretty much indefinitely, we have proper plates and stuff at the bakery after all.

“We could put a dishwasher in the storeroom?” I put forward.
By her expression Therese was clearly doing some mental arithmetic, “Just supposing we went with that, what are we looking at, round numbers?”
“Fifty plain cups, mixed sizes with saucers – one fifty, washer, you shouldn’t need anything too big, Bosch eco model four hundred.”

So to put it simply, a euro per coffee and the cups are paid for after being used three times each, eight more times and the washers covered too. Bit simplistic I know but paper cups have to be bought and disposed of, that’s a continuous ongoing cost.

“We should do it,” Con stated.

And so we then spent time deciding on crockery and cutlery, what’s true for the cups is equally valid for plates and eating implements. Well Pommes and Currywürst are always served on a paper tray so we’ll stick with that for takeaway but if they are sitting in the garden we’ll plate it up. It came to nearly two fifty in the end what with the matching blue stripe on all the crockery and the extra items like a couple of dozen knives, forks, spoons etc.

Eventually, after over three hours, most items on our list were covered and not only was it time for reckoning up but my stomach was rumbling too.

“Okay Ladies, I'll get this written up, I'll send the rechnung in the post with the lease forms, you should have it on Monday.”
“What are we looking at for delivery?” Therese asked.
“From cleared payment I'd say two weeks, the hot plate might be a little longer but only by a day or two.”
“Okay, well thank you, Marius, we’ve taken up a lot of your time.”
“No, thank you, Frau Thesing for coming to Kletterburg’s and nice to meet you too girls, I wish you every success with the kiosk.”
“Thank you, Herr Haaner, you’ll have to stop for coffee if you’re passing,” I suggested.
“I'll take you up on that, Gaby, have a safe journey home.”

Therese gave a deep sigh once we’d got back in the car, “Well I don’t know about you two but I'm starving.”
“Gab’s stomach has been growling for ages,” Con observed.
“Thanks for pointing that out, Con,” my gastric system emitted a loud rumble right on cue.
“Buckle up then, we’ll stop at the Eck .“

We didn’t waste any time following the instruction and we were on our way, only the crossing of the town between us and lunch.

“So how much does it come to?” Con asked her mother as we queued at yet another set of traffic lights.
“More than I'd hoped,” Frau Thesing admitted, “but less than we’d budgeted.”
“So all that stuff over the dishwasher?”
“Smoke and mirrors, never let the salesmen know how much you are prepared to pay, they’ll do their best to take it all.”

Note to self, never try to sell Therese Thesing anything more than a coffee!

Maddy Bell © 19.12.16

 

 

 
It was almost three when Therese dropped me off at Bond Acres, plenty of time to get dinner started, change for Garde and have a squint at this month’s Rad-sport. I tripped up the steps to the kitchen door and went inside.

“I'm back!”
“Good day?” Dad enquired poking his head into the kitchen I few seconds later.
“Well we spent a lot of the Thesing’s money if that’s anything to go by.”
“Let’s hope it all works out okay.”
“Da-ad!”
“I'm sure it will.”
“You want a cuppa?”
“Wouldn’t say no – oh Max was trying to get hold of you earlier, dunno why he didn’t ring you direct.”
“I'll call him, I'll bring your tea through.”
“I'm in the office.”

He disappeared and I only took time to put the kettle on before digging my Handy from my Handtasche. Duh, that’s why he rang the house, I turned it off before we went into the shopfitters. Whatever, he can wait a bit longer, I kicked my shoes off before gathering the components for a pot of tea.

I hit the speed dial for Max, it’s easier than looking it up all the time right? Well anyway it rang several times before he picked up.

“Strechau.”
“What’s up?”
“That's nice I must say,” Max complained.
“Well?”
“Where’ve you been?”
“What’s it to you, you don’t own me.”
“Keep your hair on, I was just asking.”
“So what’s so important you had to disturb Dad all day?”
“I called once,” he pointed out, “you remember I said about Sara getting married?”
“Because she’s schwanger? Yeah you mentioned.”
“They’ve set the date, June third.”
“That's quick.”
“I er think time’s of the essence?” he suggested.
“Erm I guess so,” I agreed, of course there are unmarried mothers here but not I think within the monied elite living in the world of Stern and castles. I bet her parents are spitting feathers. “So why do I need to know this?”
“I, that is, we, are invited.”
I should’ve seen that coming.
“How, I mean why me? You could take anyone along.”
“Nope, hang on a minute,” the phone went dead for a couple of minutes, “back, blah de blah de blah, here we are, ‘cordially invite Maximilian von Strechau and Gabrielle Bond to the wedding’, blah, blah, blah.”
“Great. Can’t you go on your own?”
“We’re both invited.”
Yeah, I guess it would be mean to make him go alone, “So where is this bun fight?”
“Bun fight?”
“You know, the nuptials, wedding?”
“Sometimes, Gab you are quite obtuse.”
“Stop avoiding the question, oh my god, it’s not at Munich again?”
“Thankfully not, no it’s at the Dom in Stuttgart.”
“Wonderful.”
“So you’ll come?”
“’Spose I'll have to,” I sighed.
“Yes!”
“What was that?”
“Er, you’re the best, Gab.”
“Speak to you later.”
“Tschuss.”
“Tschuss.,” I agreed.

I suppose this means another visit to Eloise Couture, joy.

“Gott, you look like you lost a fifty and found five,” Pia stated when I arrived at the Sebenschuh mansion.
“Er yeah, no,”
“Make your mind up.”
“Eh?”
“Earth to Gaby, hello!”
“Um, sorry P, just thinking about stuff.”
“Like? Come on, Gabs, spill.”
“I've been arm twisted into another wedding.”
“Max?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “another cousin.”
“Lucky sod.”
“What’s lucky about it?”
“I thought you enjoyed the last one?”
“It was okay but it was quite small, Sara’s family are a bit further up the ladder, like near the top, Ludwig’s like a Duke.”
“Hark at her, calling duke’s by their given name! So I suppose you know this Sara girl?”
“It’s Sophia’s sister, we met at New Year.”
“So what’s the problem?”

Indeed, what is my problem? It’s not the wedding really, exactly, not even all the dressing up stuff, no I think it’s the assumption that me and Max are a couple. Even The invitation that’s been sent to the Schloss names me, not Max and partner or plus one, no Maximilian von flippin’ Strechau and Gabrielle Bond. It’s like I don’t exist without the great lummox, duh, I'm here, really, separate person.

I took a deep breath, “Nothing I guess.”

We were riding up to the Tanzklub tonight, we’d be home, well at least to Pia’s well before it gets dark.

“So how’s this burger bar going?”
“It’s not a burger bar, it’s würst and stuff.”
“Same difference.”

There wasn’t any point arguing, she’d win whatever I say.

“We ordered all the equipment today, Connie’s uncle’s doing the building work, full speed ahead.”
“So when’s it opening, it’s by the bridge right?”
“Uh huh, three, four weeks.”
“Cool, never took you or Con as burger flippers.”
“We’re not doing burgers!”
“Gotcha!”

She was saved from bodily harm by our arrival at the club building.

“You with us, Gaby?” Hannah enquired.
“Er, oh yeah sorry, second wheel right?”
“That was five minutes ago, why don’t you go sit down for a bit.”
“Um sure.”

I left the line and headed to a chair as instructed.

“So what’s the matter?” Han queried, “You’ve been distracted all night.”
“I've been invited to a wedding in a few weeks.”
“That's nice except I sense a but coming.”
“That’s just it, there isn’t really a but, it’s a friend’s sister down in Stuttgart, it’s just, well they just assume I'll go with Max.”
“Max?”
“Von Strechau, he’s a……..friend.”
“Why would ‘they’ think that?”
“I've sort of gone with him to a couple of ‘family’ functions.”
“He’s your boyfriend?”
“No, course not, as if! He’s just like a friend who happens to be a boy.” I answered perhaps a little quickly.

Han didn’t say anything in reply, instead directing her attention to the rest of the Garde.

“It’s alright to like a boy, Gab, you are allowed.”
“It’s, it’s not that Han, it’s just the way that his family sort of assume I'll be the next Frau von Strechau, I'm not ready for anything like that, I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for that.”
She put her arms around me and pulled me into a hug, “Gab, you have to stand up to them, tell them how you feel.”
“It’s not his parents really, they’re great, it’s like his wider family, I mean they’re great, really they are but it’s like I'm being assimilated as part of the family. This wedding, the invite was to Max and me, me specifically, I didn’t even get my own invitation, it’s like we’re already married.”
Han cuddled me again, “Poor Gabs.”

“What’re you watching?” I asked flopping onto the sofa next to Mand.
“They go around fixing peoples’ houses.”
“Just random like?”
“Be daft, no they get nominated by friends or neighbours, you know, they’re disabled or got twenty kids or something and the house is falling down. They go in and fix it all up.”
“Sounds riveting.”
“It’s good,” she defended, “you should get ‘em to fix the kiosk.”
“Ha de har. So what’re they doing this time?”
“This lad and his mum, he’s like disabled and the house was left by the grandmother, it was like a deathtrap, they’ve put in a new bath and kitchen and stuff,” Mand supplied.
“Maybe I could get them in here,” Dad suggested from behind his paper, “destitute father with a house full of women and bikes.”
“Don’t think they’d go for that, Mr B.”
“Huh, I sink further into penury, anyone fancy making a brew?”
I looked at Mand.
“I'm watching this,” she stated.
“Whatever,” I allowed, “tea?”
“Chocolate?” the cheeky moo suggested.

I lay staring at the moon, clearly visible through the skylight above my bed. Why did I get so wound up earlier, I'm sure nothing was meant by including both of us on the one invite but, well it rankles. It’s like I'm not my own person, I'm part of Max – sort of like inviting Max and his trousers, you assume he’ll wear them but you invite them by name just to cover the angles.

Ha, at least I'm a step ahead of Gerta for a change, I'll catch her out this time, I'll go down on Monday, ‘Hello, Gabrielle, why are you here?’, ‘I've a wedding to go to, I need a dress’, ‘oh woe, I didn’t know, what shall we do?’. Yeah, she’ll be well discombobulated. I'd best check with Gloria what I need to take, I suppose we’ll be staying over too and that won’t be a tatty hotel in Stuttgart down-town either.

Have to make sure we’re covered at the kiosk, we should be open by then. Have to speak to Therese tomorrow about staff, they’ll probably need training and stuff – oh and some sort of uniform. That four cup Gaggia was something else, if I ever have my own place I'm having one of them! It’ll be better with the pot cups and plates, much classier than those horrible paper things.

My mind jumped about for another twenty minutes before the weight of my eyelids became too much to fight and sleep took me.

Maddy Bell © 19.12.16

 

 

 
“You alright, Gaby?” Tomas enquired.
“Didn’t sleep well,” I allowed stifling a yawn.
“The pies are going well,” he advised, “Spargel und Hähnchen, who’d have thought.”
“If you can plate it you can pie it,” I offered.

Over the last few weeks we’ve done a good mix of the basics, mince, steak and kidney, chicken plus a few more interesting ones like my currywurst and this week’s chicken and asparagus – we seem to have built up a bit of a following, I wonder how they’ll fare at the kiosk?

“We need to clear out the kiosk this week otherwise we’ll not be ready for all the stuff you convinced Therese you girls need.”
“Er.”
He grinned, “Oh I know she doesn’t need much encouragement, I think you saved us money actually.”
“We did?”
“Well you were the one who pointed out that there’s a würst cutter in the store room, that’s over a hundred euros saved.”
“What about the coffee machine?”
“Ach, that old one is fine for your Weihnachts stall but even then it wasn’t so great, no some things shouldn’t be skimped on. I'm sure we could have found used fridges and washers but with new there are guarantees, it’s false economy, we have been that route before here at the bakery,” he admitted.
I finished stacking sandwiches in the cool display, “We should do some sort of advertising, tell people we’re opening.”
“Ahead of you there, I've ordered some banners and a flyer in the free paper.”
“We should invite the press to the opening.”
“Opening? Hmm hadn’t given that any thought.”
“We’ve got to have an opening Mr T, we could get someone famous to open it, a bit of a party, get peoples’ attention.”
“Anything else?”
“Well we should cross advertise with the bakery,” I had a sudden flash of inspiration, “we could do a sort of loyalty thing like if they buy stuff here then visit the kiosk the same day they get a discount or a free drink or something.”
“That it?”
“I'm sure I'll think of something,” I offered.
7
Ruff, ruff.

“Sounds like Fritzy,” I noted.
“It is,” the boss noted looking outside past me, “I'll pick you up at nine on Monday,” he instructed before making himself scarce.

Hey, did I agree to that?

“Morning, Frau Holdorf,” I managed to force a smile, “the usual?”

“Dad?”
“What’s up kiddo?” Pater replied from under the Mercedes’ bonnet.
“Thought it was serviced the other day?”
“Still need to check the oil and water,” he advised extracting himself.
“Right.”
“So what did you want?”
“Oh right, yeah, you know the kiosk?”
“How could I not.”
“Well you know we’re having a garden area with tables and stuff?”
“I didn’t but go on.”
“I was sort of wondering if you could help do it.”
“In what way?” he released the bonnet strut and lowered the lid.
“Well Mand suggested we have some sort of fence.”
“And you want me to build it?” he surmised.
“You did that one back in Warsop and Gran’s.”
“What does Tomas say?” Dad enquired ushering me through the bike store.
“He says it’s not a priority, we need to get it open before worrying about extras.”
“Maybe he’s right.”
“But it’s like building a bike and not fitting gears, they might not be essential but it won’t work properly without them.”
“Interesting analogy kiddo, tell you what, we’ll take a look later, no guarantees, the Thesing’s will need to sign off on anything.”
“Thanks, Daddy!” I bounced up and gave him a hug.
“So are you all ready for tomorrow?”

Tomorrow, yeah, another week, another race. After the epics of the last few weeks it’s a bit tame really, a return to Aachen and that circuit around the Rathaus. It’s a short circuit, a fast descent, tight corners and a stiff, narrow climb, just hope it doesn’t rain like it did last time – that was well dodgy!

“Hmm,” Dad mentioned as he paced the kiosk plot.

It’s not the biggest area, about seven metres by eight, a mix of scrubby grass and around the cabin an elderly concrete surface.

“So what sort of fence were you thinking?”
“I reckon one of those like woven plank things,” Mand opined.

We’d come up after dinner, Mand has been in Bonn with a school friend all day and I've been sorting out my wardrobe – well it’s good to know what you have and whether it fits.

“Not the most robust solution,” Dad mentioned, “it’ll need to be low maintenance and easy to repair if it does get damaged. Hmm, let’s have a look round the back.”
“It looks a bit grotty,” Mand stated.
“We are going to paint it,” I pointed out.

Dad inspected the fence around the bins, I thought it looked pretty solid but who am I to know?

“Looks pretty solid, what sort of tables you thinking, picnic benches?”
“Dunno, they can be awkward to get into,” I've taken a couple of tumbles myself getting out of ‘em, “separate tables and chairs?”
“You have to have umbrellas,” Mand put in.
“Naturlich,” I agreed.
“What you thinking, Dad?” I asked as we trailed back around the building.
“Well,” he started, “we do a ranch style plank fence, quick and simple.”
“Really?” it didn’t exactly grab me I have to say, “I was hoping something more, er German?”
“Hmm, okay, so we use planks, get a bit fancy with the jigsaw?”
“Could work.”
“Tell you what kiddo, when we get home I'll knock up a quick plan, do some sums, you said you’re coming up Monday?”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“Okay, I'll pop up and we’ll have a chat with Tomas. Anyone fancy an ice cream?”
“The kiosk’s closed,” Mand pointlessly stated.
“Well duh!”
“Marco’s is open so I'm going even if you pair aren’t interested.”

“Sounds exciting,” Ron offered as we crossed the almost featureless countryside between Düsseldorf and Aachen.

For a Sunday we’ve had a late start however today's event isn’t until two o’clock so even going via Ron’s in Mettmann we didn’t have to leave until after nine. The week’s dry weather looks set to hold for the race and the usual pre race tension is much less. The pressure’s off, it’s a one off event so apart from honour there’s nothing really at stake – just a good ol’ race.

“I wouldn’t call it exciting,” I told her.
“Yeah, you haven’t seen the place, it’s a right shed,” Mand advised.
“We haven’t started yet,” I pointed out.
“Well I think it’s pretty cool anyhow, Gab.”
“At least someone thinks it’s a good idea,” I glared at de Vreen.

Our race is one of a series being run today on the circuit, getting onto the circuit to practice is very restricted, just a few minutes between races. With this in mind Dad brought the turbo's, not ideal but at least we’ll be properly warmed up. Dad waved at me and indicated his watch, I guess it’s time to get ready.

“Careful on the descent, Mand,” Ron warned as we turned into the narrow lane.
“You weren’t kidding,” Mand stated taking a firmer grip on the brakes.
“Unless they’ve changed this year it’s a tight bend at the bottom too,” I added.

We dropped into the square hard on the wheels of a couple of lads who made a hash of the corner, nearly putting me into the barriers.

“Flippin’ amateurs,” I muttered loudly as we got moving again.
“And you’re so great eh, girly,” one of them called after me.
“Better than you,” Mand told them as she in turn passed them, “idiots!”

The climb isn’t long really but it’s steep enough to be hard, especially after a few laps, we took it easy taking the opportunity to find a good climbing gear. Then we burst onto Markt and the still gently rising finishing straight across the front of the imposing Rathaus. At a guess we’d get another three or four laps in before they called us off, enough to get a reasonable feel I guess.

We weren’t the only members of the fairer sex lined up for the start just under fifteen minutes later, the organisers had lumped the senior women in with the juniors. Not that it added many riders, five I think, clearly not enough for their own event but at least they get to race. I quickly estimated how many riders were waiting for the off, about fifty, quite ample on this circuit, in fact maybe too many on the narrower bits – especially if some of the riding I've seen warming up is anything to go by.

Three of us on a tight crit circuit over forty minutes and a lap don’t really allow for much in the way of tactics so it’s basically every girl for herself. The Commissaire droned on for a couple of minutes, be careful, laps out, getting lapped – hmm getting lapped. The lecture ended and I took a couple of deep breaths and readied myself to start.

Baaaaaaaarp!
And we’re off.

There was a clatter of cleats and pedals, a few curses, crunching gears and the peloton rolled towards the first turn and that drop towards the cathedral. It was a nervy descent, there’s just no space to get past anyone and it’s easy to get boxed against the railings. I think everyone made it down safely but I found myself rather too far back as the pace picked up again as we crossed to the climb.

Luck was with me though, no one attacked the climb and so I was able to sneak past a good few of the competition. I was a little nonplussed to spot Ron ahead of me, how’d she get there? It was essential for my plan to move up quickly, it’s not a long race, there won’t be a lot of opportunity if I don’t act pretty quickly.

A small businesslike group headed us as we turned out of the Markt for our second descent, more clear space around me allowed less use of the brakes. I nearly overcooked it at the bottom, a bit of deja vu, but I stayed upright and maintained my position across the square and onto the ascent. The front runners eased off a tad, damn, okay, you asked for it.

I snicked up a sprocket and went for it.

“Stupid girl!” someone yelled after me.

Hey it’s not me gonna get lapped so who’s the stupid one?

I gave it a good blast up the narrow lane, the sound of my pursuers echoing up the restricted space. Looking behind is a no-no, I returned to my seat as the course widened and the gradient decreased, keeping my speed into the finishing straight. The crowd isn’t huge but they are vocal and I was enthusiastically cheered through, the afternoon’s MC doing his best to whip up enthusiasm.

“Twenty metres!” Dad called across.

Okay, I've got the gap! I pushed on into the descent and pushed the thumb shift down to put my steed into top gear. It’s not the smoothest of surfaces but at least it’s not cobbles – or wet, I hunched low over the bike, my bum hanging out the back to keep the rear wheel in contact. I got the bottom turn licked this time, being able to use the whole width of roadway certainly helped, then it was a long push on the gear paddle to select a more suitable uphill choice of gear.

By my reckoning I'd get a couple of laps before a serious reaction, I need to make them really count if I'm to pull this off. With that in mind I stood on the pedals and hit the gas for another all out effort up the hill. The rattle of gear changing echoed up from behind, I still don’t have a lot of clear tarmac, not enough for sure.

Maddy Bell © 20.12.16

 

 

 
I'm sure I looked like some pink haired Valkyrie as I assaulted the finishing straight like a mad woman, out of the saddle and climbing all over the bike. I finally settled down three quarters of the way across the square and only after a shout of ‘easy!’ from Dad. I took some deep gulps of air as I turned onto the drop once again.

Clearly I couldn’t keep this effort going indefinitely, I need to eke out my energy so whilst I descended quickly I let gravity do most of the work then once safely through the bogey corner a quick drag on my bidon. I made a more tempered assault on the climb this time, even so I caught sight of the first tail ender as it straightened out after the slight right bend. Well a carrot’s a carrot and I pushed just a tad harder on the pedals.

The more measured approach was no less effective, I never heard the pursuers this time up the climb, this might just work. The MC was trying to whip up the crowd, not that they needed too much encouragement, the vocal support was warm and enthusiastic.

“Better, steady!” Dad called out.

Whatever. If the right (well wrong from my point of view) riders are in the mix even a half lap lead could quickly disappear. I certainly can’t sit back, I need to continue, if not full gas, at least ninety percent. And so I started several laps of continuous effort during which I started picking off back markers, singly and in two’s and three’s.

“Ten minutes!”

Maybe five laps left then. By now I was pretty much jumping from rider to rider, group to group, the other Apollinaris jersey’s were still somewhere ahead. I kept it fast but steady, any let up could be fatal.

‘And here she comes, that’s twenty two laps on her own now, I think the smart money is on Gabrielle to win this!’ the MC squawked as I completed another lap, overhauling another rider as I did so.
“Twenty seconds down!” Dad called out excitedly.

Twenty, it’s doable I guess, I could of course ease off and just get in first, it’s not like there's a bonus for taking a lap. Ease up? Not likely, I pushed on down the hill and in my enthusiasm nearly hit the barriers again, stupid moo, don’t want to take myself out. Seconds later I was dodging bikes and bodies at the foot of the climb, clearly there’d been some sort of coming together in the main bunch.

On the straight section of the climb I caught my first view of that bunch, climbing steadily seemingly within touching distance. It wasn’t far but enough, I counted off the gap, fifteen, can I? I held the gap whilst they were in sight, it would inevitably stretch as it flattens.

Much to my surprise they were closer than I could’ve hoped when I hit the straight, I could even see a sky blue jersey at the back. I'm sure it was the MC who alerted them to my presence as there was a slight flurry of activity before they turned out of sight. So close.

On the descent I found myself coming up fast on what appeared to be both my teammates, what the heck? Mand glanced back and called something to Ron who accelerated to match my speed.

“What’re you doing?” I gasped.
“SBB.”
“Eh?”
“Saving Bonds Butt,” Mand announced from the other side, “sit in girl, we’ve got butt to kick!”

And so it came to pass that Ron and Mand towed me up the climb and ever closer to the front group. It’s not strictly kosher but I wasn’t complaining and it looked like I was just catching them when I crossed the line to take the bell. We hit the chute at full tilt and we connected with the bunch as we turned onto what for me is the last climb of the race.

Yes! I climbed easily within the peloton, I've won, won by a lap! As we approached the line I dropped just off the back, the bell sounding for everyone else’s last lap but for me, the war is over. I exchanged high fives with the girls before they sped forward to the group and I rolled easily over the line, arms aloft and a cheesy grin on my face as the MC went into overdrive.

“You could’ve said what you were planning,” Ron suggested.
“I didn’t know until I started,” I defended, “it was spur of the moment.”
“Well if we’d known we could’ve made it easier,” Mand advised,” we didn’t know you were away for two laps or that you were alone even then.”
“Well thanks for the help at the end there.”
“What help? We were trying to stay ahead of you so we weren’t lapped,” Ron grinned.

We hadn’t hung around after the race, well not beyond the award ceremony, the senior men were already racing as we left Aachen to return to Burg Grönberg. It wasn’t a huge prize pot but every little helps and another win on my palmares never hurts. I've had a good string of results so far this season but for how long can I continue, the circuit played to my strengths today, at some point my luck will run out.

“Wow!”
“It's only rough,” Dad insisted.
“’S better than my ‘model’.”

I studied Dad’s drawing, for ‘only rough’ it was quite detailed, I hope Tomas goes for it. It certainly looks cool.
Beep beep!
“That’ll be my lift.”
“I'll pop up about ten,” Dad advised.
“Okay, tschuss!”

“Someone's happy,” Con mentioned when I clambered into the Thesing’s car.
“Won yesterday and we’re starting on the kiosk today, course I'm happy. So what’re we doing today?”
“Clearing everything out of the kiosk, all the rubbish, stuff on the walls, I've got a skip coming this morning.”
“What’re you doing, Dad?” Connie queried.
“I'll start on the outside, your Uncle Joe wants all the render off, it’s got some damp behind it in places, it’s easier to redo the lot than try to patch it.”

Sounds like a lot of work to me.

“Gott, there’s some muck in here,” my BF complained.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “there must be five layers of lino on this floor.”
“Urgh!”
“What?”
“Spiders, there’s like a nest or something.”
“Geez, they won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t like them okay, get rid of them, Gabs,” she wailed backing away.

I'm no fan myself but not that much of a girl (well technically I am but you know what I mean). I found a decent sized bit of the ripped up floor covering and set about collecting the spiderlings.

“Get the door.”
“Oo, ooo!” Con pushed the door open and cowered against the wall allowing me to pass out into the yard where I added lino and spiders to the skip that now fills the ‘parking’ area.

I don’t suppose they’ll be the last spiders in here – as long as there aren’t mice or slugs I'll be alright.

“How’re you getting on?” Dad asked poking his head into the kiosk.
“Hi, Herr Bond,” Con offered.
“Okay, Dad, nearly got all the lino up.”
“There’s spiders,” Con advised him.
“It happens,” he noted.
“So you talked with Mr T?” I enquired.
“I have and he’s agreed.”
“Agreed to what?” Con queried.
“Dad’s volunteered to build the fence.”
“Volunteered is a bit strong, my daughter arm twisted me, Connie.”
“Fence?”
“I mentioned it Friday? The garden?”
“Ah.”
“So he’s agreed the design?” I prompted.
“Well not a hundred percent, there’re a few changes but I think you’ll like them.”
“Such as?”
“I'll show you later or you’ll not get this finished.”
“Aw, Dad,” I moaned.
“Don’t ‘aw Dad’ me, I'm sure Connie’s keen to get on, eh?”
“As long as there’s no more spiders.”
“See you later, kiddo, Connie.”
“Bye, Mr B.”

He made good his escape leaving me well frustrated.

We finished clearing the floor before stopping for lunch, the tomato and mozzarella sandwich a reminder of similar, cleaner lunches during my time at Silverberg Gymnasium. Is it only a week since we left? there’s been so much going on, races, parties, Wednesday at the pool, the kiosk, wedding invites – shitza, I was supposed to be going to see Gerta today, damn!

“What’s that look for?” Con asked.
“I wanted to go to Eloise Couture today.”
“Whatever for?”
“A dress,” I suggested.
“I guessed that, but what for?”
“Another wedding, Sophie’s sister.”
“Where you went at New Year?”
“The same, anyway Sara’s getting hitched and I'm invited.”
“Little miss popular, just you?”
“Er not exactly,” I admitted.
“You’re going with Max you sly moo!”
“Define with.”
“Oh come on, Gab, you are so a couple, you know it, we know it, even this what’s her name knows it.”
“We are so not!”
“Remagen Wednesday? I saw you having a crafty snog on the way to Maccy D’s.”

Bum.

“Anyway you’ve got loads of posh dresses.”
“Eh? Oh the wedding, I can hardly wear the same as I did last year, it’s a posh do, they take notes.”
“You’ll be reading Nena’s Stern next.”
“And anyway I've grown since then.”
“Where?”
“I'm a centimetre taller.”
“Like that’ll make such a difference.”
“Hmmph!”
“Whatever,” Con sighed.
“I'll have to go tomorrow, you coming?”
“I suppose so, gets us out of cleaning for the day.”

“What get you out of cleaning?” Herr Thesing enquired appearing around the skip.
“Gab needs to go shopping tomorrow, I said I'd keep her company.”
“Well you’d best crack on today then.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Yes, Herr Thesing.”

We’d finished eating anyhow so we cleared up our improvised picnic site and headed back into Armageddon.

Maddy Bell © 20.12.16

 

 

 
“You’re getting to be a right Tante,” Pia moaned, “I swear if I hear one more sentence about that flippin’ cabin.”
“Imagine what it’s like at home,” Mand added.
“A-aaa,” I managed.

Maybe I have been going on about it a bit but like it’s cool isn’t it?

“You three coming in or what?” Hannah suggested.

It’s less than a fortnight to the competition at Phantasialand, we could really do with more than one more session. Perhaps it was a bit ambitious to introduce the new moves but it really could make a difference to our competitiveness.

“What you thinking Coach?” Han enquired as I watched another run through the tumbles.
“We need more practice.”

Lisse landed heavily on her bum to emphasise the point.

“Uh huh,” she agreed, “bit late to book the Klub though.”
“Most of the girls have finished school.”
“And?”
“Well we could just meet in the park each day,” I suggested.
“During the day? Some of us have jobs and lives away from the Klub.”
“We can cope without you at every session, we only need the deck.”
“That's nice I must say.”
“Sorry, that didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean, we don’t really need more than a flat space, the weather’s fine at the moment so we could do it in the park during the day.”
“Stop before you dig as deeper hole.”
“Er okay.”
“Best see what the girls think,” she suggested.

In the end it was agreed that we’d meet in the Altenahr park, just up through the tunnel each afternoon - not fixed exactly, not everyone can get every day but there should be enough to make it worthwhile. Mand’s a problem but we’ll work on her bits at Chez Bond, it’s all pretty much on the ground stuff.

“You not at the cabin today?” Dad enquired eyeing my appearance.

You don’t go to Eloise Couture in jeans and a T, I've learnt from experience I can tell you. So I've opted for a summer frock, I'll take a cardi of course but I've put on a pair of hold ups – Gertie doesn’t do bare legs and it’s a bit warm really for tights. She’ll expect heels of course, there’s no way I'm wearing them to ride down but my ‘wedding’ shoes are in my bag – it’s trainers for now.

“I did say, I need a dress for the wedding.”
“Wedding?”
Gott, he can be so dumb at times, “I did tell you, Serephena, next month?”
“That wedding, haven’t you got enough dresses?”
“Duh!”
“I guess not,” he allowed, “don’t forget training this afternoon.”
“Mand doesn’t get home till at least sixteen,” I pointed out.
“I suppose you’re going to that fancy place in Ahrweiler?”
“For a start,” I agreed,” we might go on to Bonn later."
“Well don’t go spending all my money.”
“No, Daddy,” I sighed.
“You going with Connie? You need a lift, I have to go to the office today.”

It would solve what to do with the bikes if we go to Bonn.

“Cool, I'm meeting Con at half nine.”
“I'll pick you up about ten to ten from there then.”

“You aren’t wearing those are you?” Con queried seeing my trainers.

She wasn’t gonna be buying a dress or anything of course but she was dressed smarter than usual in a skirt and top.

I patted my bag, “Heels.”
“That’s surprisingly organised for you.”
“Well I hate putting on those shop shoes, you don’t know whose feet have been in them.”
“I know what you mean, I don’t like wearing yours.”
“When have you ever worn mine?” Then it dawned on me, she never has, her feet are several sizes bigger than mine.
“Almost got you,” she chuckled, “looks like your dad.”

I looked outside and indeed our Mercedes was at the kerb.

“Got everything?” Dad enquired.
“I'll just change my shoes,” I told him as I dug in my bag for the heels.

It’s easier to put them on sat in the car, my hose meant I could just pull my trainers off, slip into the heels and do up the ankle straps without resorting to too much contortion-ism. Of course you have to mind your head on the door frame when you stand up, I gave myself a right whack a few weeks back after Mart’s party when I forgot how much taller they made me.

“Don’t be too late,” Dad instructed.
“I'll have her back before pumpkin time,” Con volunteered.
“Bag?” Dad hinted, passing it over to me.
“Thanks, Dadikins, see you later.”
He rolled his eyes, “Later.”

We waited for him to pull away before crossing the Ring to the gate into the Altstadt, it’s always a bit weird wearing heels after a break so I gripped Con tightly until we were safely over the road. At ten most of the shops are only just opening of course, there’s not many peeps about, the council guys were still watering the hanging baskets and flower beds. We walked, well Con walked, I clopped up to Marktplatz then down the side road to Eloise Couture.

Ding, ding, ding – the over door bell announced our arrival into the Ahrtal’s oldest, most exclusive ‘boutique’.

“Moment!” Gerta’s voice sang out from the fitting room area.

I'm sure I've told you about this place before, it’s definitely old skool, no artful displays, just a couple of rather dated mannequins in the window, the stock hung on rails or stored in drawers. That doesn’t mean the stock is old – far from it but if you want street fashion you’ll need to go elsewhere, you come here for classy, designer stuff. It certainly isn’t your normal teen haunt.

We giggled at the ‘old ladies’ foundation wear, Con going as far as holding one of those solid looking all in one things up to herself.

“Oo, very sexy.”
“Of course darling,” she hammed, “you need a firm grip on your wobbly bits.”
“And you’ve got plenty of those,” I giggled, well I couldn’t keep a straight face.
“Darling,” she pouted.

“Ladies.”

Oops, the dra... I mean Gerta. Con quickly hung the undergarment back on the rail and followed me back towards the centre of the shop.

“Erm, good morning.”
“Fräulein Thesing, von Strechau.”

Why does she insist on calling me von Strechau? she knows my name’s Bond but every time I come she calls me von Strechau.

“What is that on your head?”

On my head? I've got a couple of barrettes holding my bangs out of my face, but that's all. I patted around in case something had inadvertently got caught up, it’s not unheard of, I only found out I'd plaited a pair of knickers into my hair when Frau Dürst told me after registration.

“That, that, pink.”

Pink? Oh she means my Barnet.

“Um, hairdressing phoo bar.”
“Phoo bar?”
“The salon dyed it by mistake,” Con supplied the translation.
“It matches my prom dress,” I added.
“But not however your outfit for the wedding.”

How the? I swear she must be some sort of mind reader, I only found out the other day, it’s hardly public knowledge but not only does she already know, but she’s already got me dressed.

“It’s growing out,” I suggested.
“I somehow doubt that will be sufficient in four weeks,” she sniffed in disdain. “I see you are however dressed for the fitting, come on through, Dotty is just finishing the alterations.”

Alterations? I haven’t even seen whatever it is, let alone tried it. We trooped through into the changing room, Gerta went on to fetch this, this outfit, Con helped me out of my dress leaving me stood in lingerie and heels.

“Posh pants!”
“Some of us don’t need Oma knickers.”
“Huh! Geez, Gab, you didn’t half catch the sun last week.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. I'm quite fair skinned but if I avoid burning I do tan quickly. Last week’s trip to the pool left me with a deep enough tan that I look like I've got my white bikini on when I haven’t. Which is better than the usual bike rider’s penguin pallor.

Gerta returned and hung a couple of garments up.

“You’ve put on weight,” she stated.
“Only a quarter kilo.”
“Hmm, you’ll need a full slip.”
‘Granny’ Con mouthed at me, well that deserved a tongue poke.
“Girl, help her with this,” the Dra—Gerta ordered Con, this being a plain white slip which fell about mid thigh.

By the time it was tugged into place Gerta had the dress puddled on the floor for me to step into. I had to agree that my hair would clash somewhat with the predominantly pale yellow frock, a somewhat form fitting jobbie with a wide white collar and no sleeves.

“Turn,” I was instructed.

I was seemingly easily zipped up before my couturier started tugging behind me. I gave Con a questioning look which by reply had a ‘don’t know’ shrug.

“Stand up straight.”

I thought I was however I pulled my shoulders back and tightened my stomach. Moments later I felt some constriction around my middle, constriction that felt like, no surely not.

“Corset?”
“Don’t be silly girl.”

Well it feels like a corset to me.

Gerta finished her tugging and stood back, “hmm, we can sort the hair with the Perücke, you have yellow shoes?”
Have I? “Not sure; I can get some.” What’s she on about, Perücke?

She moved aside letting me see my reflection in the large floor standing mirror. It was certainly er unusual, definitely tailored and clearly more fitted from below the bust to the hips. I turned to check out how big my bum looks – geez, enormous!

Well okay not enormous but the ‘not corset’ certainly emphasises my waist and er, posterior. Not badly but I can’t say that I'm that keen, make that hate this, this abomination.

“Not happening.”
“Not happening?” Gerta spluttered.
“Exactly that, there is no way I'm wearing this.”
“Told you so,” a cheerful voice, that of Dottie drifted from the back room.

Con giggled which set me off.

“Try the other one, Gabrielle,” Dottie suggested joining us in the dressing room.

Maddy Bell © 05.01.17

 

 

 
The replacement was much better, still yellow but a stronger shade broken by tiny white polka dots. It had a fitted bodice but the skirts were wider and needed a net underskirt, very fifties.

“I'll make the alterations, collect it after the weekend?” Dottie proposed.
I shrugged before replying, “I guess.”
Gerta had, miffed at my rejection of the first frock, gone back into the shop.
“Will Gerta be okay?” Con queried.
“She’ll get over it,” Dottie chuckled, “no one ever stands up to her, well done for that, girl.”
“Well you have to agree, it was pretty appalling,” I observed.
“I agree but don’t let Gerta know I said that.”

Con and I mimed zipping our lips.

“Bonn?” Con enquired once we’d escaped from my couturiers.
I checked the time, geez we’ve been in there over an hour, “Yeah we’ve got time, we should be able to get the next Express.”

We set off at a fast walk, we’ve got ten minutes to do a five minute walk so we don’t need to run.

“That first one,” Con stated again.
“It was awful wasn’t it,” I agreed,” really, what was that corset bit about?”
“Not exactly flattering.”
“Can’t say I'm that keen on the second one,” I admitted.
“Think it suits you, needs different shoes though.”
“Why?”
“Just because.”
“And what’s wrong with these?”
“Nothing but I reckon you should get some that are more, I dunno, delicate.”

Well I guess she might have a point, these don’t exactly fit the delicate description.

“Sugar, I left my trainers in the car.”
“Duh! I think pink hair is worse than blonde up here,” she tapped her temple.
“Guess I can manage in these,” I sighed.
“Well we’re not going back home whatever,” Con stated.

Looks like a fun afternoon.

“No school?” Myleen suggested.
“We’ve finished,” Con opined.
“You’ve done the Abitur already?”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“You scored okay?”
“Okay I guess.”
“Gab’s is too modest, she scored highest in the school,” Con blabbed.
“You did?”
“Er yeah,” I admitted.
“I'm impressed, I barely scraped a pass, what about you Connie?”
“Well I passed, Gabs is the brain box.”
“I'm not!”
She rolled her eyes, “Whatever you say, your highness.”
“So what’re you girls up to today then?”
“Shopping in Bonn.”
“Gab’s needs shoes and stuff for a wedding,” Con announced.
“Ah, Schuhstraβe,” Myleen knowingly noted, “you both going to college then?”
“Down in Koblenz,” I allowed.
“Guess I'll see a lot more of you then, looks like the Rheintal is already in.”

I think I've mentioned before, the trains are actually timetabled for the connection, we get a couple of minutes to change from Gleis three to one. Our train eased to a halt by which time we were waiting at the doors.

“Later girls,” Myleen called as we hit the platform.
“Laters!”

Look, you can’t hurry down stairs in ten centimetre heels, I hung onto Con for the descent then, now at the rear of the crowd of transferring passengers, managed a semi run to the other stairs.

“Come on, Gabs,” Con encouraged.
“I am,” I panted as we tripped up to the platform.

The bells of the Dom were striking twelve as we exited Bonn Hauptbahnhof amidst a crowd of other travellers.

“Where first?”
“Dinea,” I stated, “I'm starving.”
“Whatever, you should be the size of an Ox!”
“I've got a fast metabolism.”
“If you say so, come on.”

I was almost dragged across the crossing and up towards the centre.

When I said Dinea first I didn’t actually mean that.

“I thought you wanted to eat.”
“I do, five minutes?” I pleaded.
“It’s your stomach.”
“Yes!” my turn to drag Con, this time into Puppenkönig.

“I don’t know what you see in these things,” Con mentioned examining a tiny boxed gem.
“They’re, they’re cute.”
“Cute?”
“Well maybe not cute but like all the detail, it’s amazing, what you got there?”
Con turned the tiny packet over, “BMW two thousand two, tee, I, I.”
“Cool, that’s one of the ones I want.”

I took it from her and added it to the Audi Q7 and Fiat X1/9 I'd already found.

“That it?”
I looked longingly at the shelves, “Guess so, for today.”

Stairs and heels are not good, make that steep and spiral and I had a death grip on the bannister to return to the 0G, a few cents short of twenty two euros lighter in the purse. Flippin’ shoes. At the Karstadt they do at least have a lift and escalators which took us up to the 4G and the restaurant.

Being lunchtime it was quite busy but there were plenty of tables so we both grabbed trays and headed into the food hall. All the usual stuff was out of course but I was attracted by the daily special, pork strips in mushroom sauce with boiled rice.

“I'm gonna grab some salad,” Con advised.
“Get me some,” I requested.

“So you gonna wear a perücke then?” Con queried as we tucked into our respective lunches.
“Perücke?”
“For the wedding? Gerta said earlier you should wear a perücke for the wedding.”
“As if!”
“She does have a point, Gab, pink hair might be okay working in the cabin but a posh wedding?”
“They can take me as I come,” but do I want to be the one who stands out like a sore thumb? “maybe they can do something at the salon?”
“Chop it all off?”

That had crossed my mind but really, it’s a bit drastic and I like having long hair.

“I was thinking more like dyeing it again.”
“What, pink?”
“Duh! I dunno maybe back to blonde or maybe like red or something.”
“Red? Like the Feuerwehr?”
“I was thinking more natural like but I guess bright red would be pretty cool.”
“Really?”
“Nah, maybe blue?”
“Now I know you’re mucking.”

Karstadt isn’t exactly a teen shopping destination, well not for shoes and clothes so after lunch we headed outside to investigate the fashion boutiques. Okay we’re not really looking for party frocks but you never know what you’ll find in Orsay, H&M, Pimkie and so on. Indeed Con found a nice top in H&M, nice if you’ve got the bust, she has, I haven’t!

“Not seen that place before,” Con noted as we drifted along Schuhstraβe.
“Tammy Weile, sounds like a boutique.”
“What’re we waiting for?”
“My feet, I forgot these shoes aren’t that comfortable.” Indeed out of all my heels these are possibly the least comfortable, all my weight feels like it’s on my toes and after a bit they hurt.
“Well Deichmann’s are next door, you can get some cheap flats in there.”
Not that I need more flats but it’s a plan. “’Kay,” I sighed and allowed myself to be dragged towards the new store.

Despite the name, Tammy Weile isn’t a clothes shop, instead think Claire’s® but maybe a bit more, er, adult? Yeah there’s the same sort of stuff but not so much kiddy type stuff.

“Hey look, they have perücke,” Con informed me as we worked our way through displays of hair grips, barrettes and scrunchies.
“Great,” I allowed with little enthusiasm.
“How about this?” my BF suggested taking a Titian extravaganza from the wall.
“I was kidding about the red.”
“Oh come on, Gab, you should so try it on.”
What's the harm, “Okay.”

“There’s a lot of it.”
“It’s the curls.”
“If you say so,” I noted checking my reflection.

For future reference, red hair doesn’t suit me, well not this sort of red brown mix and certainly not with big wavy curls below my shoulders.

“How about this?” she had something closer to my natural colour in her hand.
“Go on then.”

I whipped the red curls off and swapped her for the blonde wig. No curls but straight and cut in a shorter style, it certainly weighed less.

“Now that’s you,” Con stated.
“You think? Feels a bit weird not covering my neck.”
“You have your hair up most of the time, it hardly ever covers your neck,” my fashion co ordinator pointed out.

I guess she has a point.

“Oh you should totally get it, Gabs.”
“Alright girls?” one of the shop assistants enquired joining us.
“Just looking,” I suggested.
“She’s thinking of getting this one,” Con cut in.
“There’s fifteen off the perücke today,” she offered.
“That's good eh, Gabs.”
“Er yeah.”
“I shouldn’t really do this but if you have a discount voucher I could give you an extra ten percent.”
“But we don’t,” I observed.
She flicked her fingers producing a slip of paper, “You do now.”

Maddy Bell © 07.01.17

 

 

 
“Why do I have to wear it now?” I complained as we entered Deichmann’s.
“Oh stop moaning—ooh they look nice.”

She has a short attention span and I had to agree the shoes she was homing in on did look nice. Nice but not really what I was ‘looking’ for, I don’t think glittery pink with big bows would really work with a yellow retro look. On the other hand, further along the shelves were some that might.

“What do you think?”
“Turn round,” Con instructed, “you could get some seamed hose, go for the whole look.”

Not more expense, the perücke has already set me back thirty five, fifties style button earrings and a cutesie hair bow brought my Tally Weile bill to just over forty euros – this wedding is costing me a bomb!

“Well?” I pressed.
“They’ll do,” Con sort of enthused.

I checked them again in the mirror, pointed of toe, eight centimetre stiletto heel, a sort of half strappy sandal but the big selling point, they’re bright yellow like the dress. I doubt I'll find anything better and they’re only €19.99.

“Sorted.”
“You still want some flats?”
Want is maybe a bit misleading, need is closer to reality, “Yeah, my toes are killing.”
“I'll go look while you sort them out.”

“Found anything?” I queried when I joined my friend a couple of rows down clutching the wedding shoes and my heels.
“Not really, they’re all glitter or animal prints.”

I surveyed the shelves and confirmed her statement, apparently the Barbie meets big game hunter look is in for footwear – unless you prefer patent, nothing I wanted to own.

“Sandals?”

I shrugged, why not, at least they’d be sensible colours. I followed Con into the next run of shelves.

“Cool!”
“What?”
“Baseball boots.”
“More like loser boots.”

I picked up a blue example, well okay they’re not like Converse® or something but they are hi tops.

“Gotta try ‘em,” I told her before searching the shelves for my tiny size thirty sevens.

When I thought I was a boy my little feet were a bit embarrassing, the other lads all had like size forty one, two or bigger, even Jules wears thirty nine. But no I get pixie feet – oh I might need thirty eight in some brands – I used to get the bigger ones as a safe default with growing space but it’s unlikely they’re gonna get any bigger now is it? The shelf produced a box and I sat to try them on.

“Has to be the boots,” I told Con a few minutes later.

After trying the boots we’d moved on to the sandals but after trying several, couldn’t find any I liked.

“Whatever,” she sighed.

I returned to the stacks and after locating my size again, headed to the cash point.

“You not wearing them then?” Con prompted out in the street.
“Course, there’s a bench down there.”

We commandeered the bench and I pulled the shoe box out of the carrier. Cool, I've wanted some of these since, I dunno, I was eleven?

“I thought you got blue?”
I looked at the boots in the box, pink to the max, “I must’ve picked up the wrong box.”
“Give ‘em here, I'll get them changed.” she offered.

“They haven’t got any blue ones left,” Con told me a few minutes later.
“But I tried them on.”
“Must’ve sold them when we were looking at the sandals, you can get a refund.”

A refund doesn’t get me anything to wear and they haven’t got anything else I fancy, guess pink’s not so bad.

“I'll keep these I guess."

Not sure what happened to the time but the station clock was showing five past four when we reached the crossing.

“Sugar, we’re gonna miss the Zug,” Con stated.
“No we’re not,” I could see the train at platform two, the lights changed and it was my turn to drag Con, “come on!”

It’s certainly easier to run in baseball boots than heels, I sprinted up into the ticket hall, through to Gleis eine, down to the subway and up again to our train. The conductor spotted us and held off closing the train a moment allowing us to breathlessly board.

“Flip!” Con panted out
“With knobs on,” I agreed.
“Gab?” a voice enquired, that you?”
“Mand?” I poked my head up the stairs
“Thought it was you, there’s seats up here.”

We didn’t need a second invite, we climbed to the upper level and found Mand changing her seat to a vacant table group.

“Cool,” Con allowed sagging into a seat, the train was already picking up speed out of the Hauptbahnhof.

“What happened to your hair?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Last night it was pink and down to your bra strap, now it’s a blonde bob.”
“Oh that,” Con filled, “that's why we’re in Bonn, so Gab could get her hair done, you know for the wedding?”

The penny dropped, I've still got the wig on.

“Er yeah,” I added.”
“It’s a bit drastic but it suits you,” Mand offered.
“Thanks.”
Con gave me a smirky look, “I didn’t think you finished this early Mand?”
“We finish at three forty five but I don’t often manage to get on this train.”
“I thought your school was in the centre?”
“It’s up behind the botanic gardens, it’s a right walk.”
“I've only been by car,” I put in, “just after we moved.”
“So what’ve you bought in big D’s?”

“What made you buy pink boots?” Mand queried as she examined one when we got home.
“They hadn’t got any blue left, cool eh?”
“Bit retro.”
“I'm a retro kind of girl.”
“And I'm a hardcore biker chick.”
“I'll agree on the biker chick bit!”
“Come on you two, training,” Dad prompted.

It’s the race at Celle again on Sunday, is it really just a year that Josh has been riding with us? With that in mind, whilst there’s some climbing up there we don’t really need to practice our mountain goat skills so training today is north to Euskirchen and back through Rheinbach, Meckenheim and Bad Godesberg. Certainly not flat but it’s more rolling than the Hohe Eifel, in fact similar to Sherwood Forest, the Dukeries back around Warsop.

The worst climb is actually out of Dernau past Anna’s, it’s a no talk start but afterwards you only get out of breath when you want to.

“Wish there was a bit more breeze,” Mand mentioned.
“Yeah,” I agreed wiping a drip of sweat from my nose, “’S a bit warm.”
“So you get a frock sorted for the wedding?”
“Eventually,” I allowed.

Mand quirked a brow, well I think that's what it was, it’s a bit difficult to tell when she’s got cycling glasses on.

“Yeah the first one I tried was awful...”

Our circuit was designed to sort of mimic the weekend’s terrain but to spice things up Dad wanted us to sprint for road signs. It’s an age old game for cyclists around the globe, we did it in England, we do it here, it requires no special kit, just a lack of traffic. It’s as simple as it sounds, you sprint for the town or village nameplates, it adds a bit of spice to the ride but also works to prepare you for mid race attacks.

Whilst I'm the stronger sprinter Mand has improved a lot and she actually pipped me to the Rheinbach sign, cheeky moo. I didn’t think we’d bother for Bad Godesberg, it’s on a fairly fast and steep descent but fancy pants de Vreen took a flier and despite my best efforts she got that one too – I must be losing my touch.

“No time for napping, Bond,” she crowed.
“Thought I'd let you get one.”
“Just admit it, I beat you fair and square.”
“If you say so, go left at the bottom, we can get onto the bike track easier from the ferry.”

It’s still a fair ride back to Dernau but there’s hardly any climbing that you change gear for. I left Mand to use the downstairs shower, I've got my own of course, the stairs were soon littered with salt encrusted kit.

“Argh!”

I batted at whatever was attacking me, grabbing it and chucking it out of the cubicle. It didn’t seem to be moving so I continued to shampoo my hair and generally get myself clean before worrying further about my attacker. I let the water play across my shoulders, relieving tension I didn’t know was there.

The shower interloper didn’t get another thought until after I was towel wrapped and heading back into my eyrie properly. Oh bum, it’s the perücke! I picked the soggy lump of hair off the floor, it’s probably ruined – bang goes thirty five bucks. I straightened it out as best I could and using a towel removed a lot of the wet before using my make-up bin as a makeshift head form to dry on.

“Your hair!” Mand exclaimed.
“Where?”
“It was blonde – and short,” she accused.
“You must be dreaming,” I offered, “pink and,” I pulled a strand out, “about fifty centimetres.”
“But, but, I saw it, Mr B, you saw it too, you must’ve.”
“Gab?” Dad prompted.

So much for a bit of fun!

“It was a wig, I got it for the wedding.”
“Was?”
“Well I think I killed it in the shower.”
“Killed it?” Mand spluttered.
“Well I forgot I was wearing it, I was already in the shower and I thought it was a cat or something so I threw it out.”
“We don’t have a cat,” Dad pointed out.
“Er yeah well I sort of panicked."
“So where is this soggy wig now?” Manda asked having now regained her composure.
“Drying in my bathroom hopefully.”
Dad just shook his head, “Come on dinner’s ready.”

Maddy Bell © 07.01.17

 

 

 
Beep, beep!
Urgh, its too early! I grabbed my bag, cardi and keys, slipped my sunnies on my head and headed out to the waiting car.
“Morning,” Mrs T greeted far too cheerfully for half seven in the morning.
“Mornin’,” I managed pulling the back door open to get in.
“Heavy night?”
“Just early morning.”
“Aww, poor Gab’s,” Con chipped in.

It’s alright for them, having the bakery means they’re used to early starts so everyone else can have their daily bread alas I'm not a morning person, but you know that already. Our destination, Neuweid, isn’t that far but we’ll be catching the commuter traffic hence the early start. Therese soon had us heading towards the autobahn and a day of food preparation.

“Er, we’re here for the food preparation certificate,” I offered the girl on reception.

We did catch a load of traffic, there was some sort of roadworks on the Rhein bridge and then a bus had broken down in the town centre, we weren’t late but our buffer was reduced to just a few minutes.

“Names?” she enquired.
“Thesing and Bond,” Con supplied.
“Ah yes, you’re with Frau Becker, if you go up the stairs, left at the top, she’s the third door on the right.”
“Er thanks.”
“Have a nice day, girls, oh the toilet’s to the right of the stairs.”

Well, you know my policy, I set off for the facilities, with a shrug Con followed me.

“Frau Becker?” Con enquired sticking her head into the third door as instructed.
“Just one of you?”
“Er no, two,” I stated joining Con at the door.
“Well don’t stand out there, come on in.”

I'm not sure what I'd been expecting, a class of other students certainly, not the shiny stainless steel kitchen that we walked into.

“Pop the door,” Frau Becker suggested, “now who’s who?”
“Bond, Gaby,” I admitted.
“Which makes you Connie Thesing, yes?” our tutor deduced.
“Uh huh,” Con agreed.
“I'm Susan Becker, we’re on first name terms here if that's okay with you?”
“Er sure erm, Susan,” I answered for both of us.
“Right, that's that sorted, coffee?”

You really don’t want a blow by blow of a food hygiene and preparation course do you? Well you aren’t going to get one anyhow, okay a few edited ‘highlights’ then. Susan kept things pretty informal, which allowed us to relax and hopefully absorb more of what she was saying.

We spent most of the morning recapping what we already knew before covering more specific regulations and how they might affect us at the kiosk. Then we moved on to the more practical stuff, actual food storage, cooking, cleaning regimes and so on. Yeah cooking, I've been doing sausage and chips for years at home but it suddenly becomes more complicated when it’s for public consumption.

So anyway we got to practice würst grilling, Pommes frying, hot dog heating, roll slicing, onion sweating and currywurst serving to compliment our other excellent culinary skills. After everything was cleared up Susan had us do a short exam covering the day’s activities, the Abitur it wasn’t but even so some of the questions had me metaphorically scratching my head. We finished with more coffee while Susan marked our papers.

“Mum?...yeah we’re done...no a few minutes ago...yes mum...outside...thirty minutes...okay, see you there.”
Con shut her phone and stuffed it in her bag, “She’s gonna meet us in that Backhaus next to Saturn1.”
“’Kay, I was just thinking, we should get these certificates framed, put them up at the kiosk.”
“What for?”
“Well the customers could see we’ve had proper training.”
“You know we have.”
“But the customers won’t,” I pointed out.
“Whatever, we can probably get some frames in the Euro shop .”

Not my favourite stores but they do sometimes have some useful stuff.

“So you can cook Würst now?” Therese chuckled as we settled around a table with our coffee and cake.
“And fries and Bockwürst,” Con droned.
“Well I thought it was useful,” I told our sponsor.
“Never said it wasn’t,” Fräulein Thesing snuck in, “you get your stuff done?”
“Just about, new accounts for the kiosk set up, your dad needs to sign off on the insurance but that’s all organised too.”
“What do we need bank accounts for?” my partner in crime queried.
“So we can do the books properly, you’ll have to order supplies, pay in takings and so on, it needs to be separate to the shop or we’ll get in a right pickle.”
“I thought we’d just bring everything to the bakery.”
“Oh no, young lady, you’re not getting out of stuff that easily. There’s a couple of forms you’ll have to sign for the bank but then you’ll both be able to sign cheques and use the company cards.”
“Cool,” I managed.

“We walking up later?” Con asked when Therese dropped me off about an hour later.
“Unless it starts raining.”
“See you at five then.”
“Tschuss.”
“Tschussie.”

Later, yeah my other job, waitressing for Herr Sebenschuh and the English, the pay’s not great, the uniform over the top but it’s good fun and the tips are pretty good – well they were last time.

“You want a sandwich, Mand?”
“Please, we didn’t eat till way past my dinner time the other week.”
“There’s cheese, ham – oo, corned beef?”
“Whichever,” she allowed as she played finger hockey with her hair, mine was already in a full pretzel pinned to the back of my head.
“Corned beef then,” I decided.
“So you get the wig sorted out?” Mand asked around her mouthful of hair grips.
“Well it’s dry at least, think it’ll be okay with a proper brush.”
“Hope so, you looked mega cute.”
“Not exactly the idea,” I grumped.
“But true nevertheless.”
“You want tomato or pickle on this?”
“Tom please, we’re walking up, yeah?”
“Uh huh, Herr S will drop us back after.”

We’d barely finished the very English sliced bread sandwiches when our third over dressed member arrived. I pulled my new pink footwear on, they are comfy, shouted farewells and the three of us set off for Rech.

“Stop fiddling with your blouse, Mand,” Con suggested.
“I wasn’t,” she shot back.
“You so were,” I added.
“I still can’t get over how much boob these things give you.”
“If you need more,” I hinted.
“You’re only jealous,” Con stated.

Well maybe I am a bit jealous of Con, she’s tall, her hair does what it’s told and she lives at the bakery, I am not however jealous of her boobage, I've got quite enough, thank you.

It’s not far along to the Weinstube, we were setting tables by five thirty, this time we actually have a clue so everything was going quicker. It’s the same menu as last time of course, same menu and same programme, the only change was to the coach load we are looking after.

“Herr Sebenschuh,” the blonde hostess that was here at Christmas came in even before the bus was parked.
“Helmut please, welcome back, Fräulein Ziegler.”
“Nena and my colleague is Dennis again. Are you ready for us?”
“Sure, sure, Connie, Amanda, coats please.”
“I have to say the girls look very nice Helmut, just the ticket, eh?”
“We hope so.”
“Right then, I'll fetch the passengers.”

By the time the first passengers drifted in the door me and P were waiting with trays of schnapps and Herr S was in full ‘mein host’ mode. It was a full bus, fifty six I think it is, we’ll be kept busy that’s for sure!

“Pretty colour.”
“Sorry?”
“Your hair, it was blonde at Weihnachts no?” the hostess woman suggested as I collected shot glasses from where they’d been left by the visitors.
“Er yeah,” I agreed, “this was for prom and I'm sort of stuck with it for a bit.”
“Well it looks nice, I don’t think I could pull it off.”
“Do you and your Fahrer want coffee or beer? They’ll be a while yet.”
She switched to English to call over to her colleague, “Den? You want coffee?”

I know from Christmas she speaks good English but she has no accent, well not German, maybe Mansfield – weird.

“Wouldn’t say no,” the driver replied from where he was perusing the Stube’s photo gallery.
“Two coffee’s then please?”
“Er Gaby.”
“I'm Nena, the man mountain is Den.”

Having sorted out the coffee’s I joined my waitressing colleagues in the dining room where they were folding a last few napkins.

“For a German she speaks very good English, like a native.”
“Lots of Germans speak good English,” Pia opined, “you do quite well.”
“Har de har.”
“You do have an accent mind,” Mand put in.
“Don’t.”
“You do, definitely German,” she stated.
“Whatever, she’s got like a Mansfield accent when she speaks English.”
“Mansfield? Where you lived in England?” Pia queried.
“Nearby,” I agreed.
“Maybe she learnt English from someone from there?” Mand proposed.
“I suppose.”
“Maybe we should play spot the accent,” Mand suggested.
“Probably all Nottingham, that’s where the bus comes from,” I pointed out.
“Well mystery solved then, she’s caught the accent from the passengers,” Con stated.

The yammer of voices announced the impending return of the English and the start of our waitressing duties. I guess the mystery of Nena will have to remain just that, a mystery. We quickly distributed the missing napkins and assumed our positions ready for the onslaught.

Maddy Bell © 07.01.17

 

 

 
We see a lot of tourists, Grockles, Dad calls them, around these parts, it’s popular with the Brits and Dutch in particular being easily reached in a day. We’ve got castles, railways, vineyards and of course down on the Rhein, cruises. They’re just a fact of life, for most of us the only contact will be a few Trekkers on the bike paths, the occasional coach on the roads.

Of course some businesses like the Sebenschuh’s Weinstube are quite reliant on the visitors but otherwise we don’t give them much thought. From the outside looking in they’re all the same, mostly older and beige but that’s generalising. It might only be serving food but when you’re ‘in’ the tourist industry it’s clear that nothing’s that simple.

Take the bus load we have this evening, compared to the first group these are much more chatty, louder, outgoing. There are several who are keen to try their schoolboy/girl German on us, we shouldn’t laugh, they are making at least some effort. It has changed the whole dynamic of the group though, oh there are still some quiet ones but even they’ve been laughing at the language faux pas – not the least when Mand replied in English to one enquiry in her flat south London accent.

From the actual work perspective things have gone swimmingly too, no spillages on customers, carpets or us. I’ve been working the bar with P between serving and we’ve been busy, busier than last time certainly, it must be the different atmosphere with this lot. It stretched the meal out some and we all ended up ‘working’ until the Global bus departed at nine thirty.

“Bleh!” Mand allowed slumping onto a chair.
“You want us to finish clearing up?” Con asked the boss.
“There isn’t much,” Herr Sebenschuh suggested, “I'm sure Ingrid and Pia can cope, let’s get you three home.”

Phew!

“You had them on all night?” Pia asked.
“Eh?”
“Your kickers,” she pointed ground wards.
I looked down, my feet were encased in pink canvas and rubber, “Bum, I meant to change when we got here.”
“I bet they’re more comfortable than these,” Mand suggested as she rubbed a foot finally free of her low heeled pumps.

I chuckled to myself, back in Warsop Mr Pilling used to call plimsolls pumps, I had a sudden flash of everyone running around the sports hall in heels.

“What’re you grinning at?” Con asked.
“Nothing, tell you later.”
“Come on then,” Mr P instructed as he returned from the house dangling the keys for the minibus.
“Later guys,” P called after us.
“Tschuss!”

“Think I'll have to get some of them,” Mand mentioned as I removed my boots when we got indoors, “these suck for rushing about all night.”
“You could wear flats.”
“Or boots.”
“These don’t exactly go with Landeskostüm,” I pointed out.
“Wasn’t thinking of those,” she shot back, “I saw some nice thigh boots in that place the other day.”

She couldn’t hold a straight face, that place is a erm ‘alternative’ clothing emporium near Bonn station which caters towards a certain style of ‘exotic’ dancing.

“Now that I'd pay to see.”
“What’s that?” Jules enquired appearing from the lounge with a tray of empty cups and plates.
“Mand wearing thigh boots with her dirndl.”
“Kinky,” the Dark One offered, “could be arranged.”
“Wotcha mean?” I prodded following her back into the kitchen.
“What I said, your dinners are in the oven by the way.”
“Arranged?”
“I might know someone with said boots, so what would you pay?”
“You’ve got some?”
“Let’s just say I have access, so how much?”
“It’s just a saying Jules, I didn’t mean I'd actually pay.”
“Oh come on, Gabs,” Mand put in as she retrieved our food, “fair’s fair.”

I was being backed into a corner.

“What do you reckon, Mand, ten?”
“Oh at least, maybe each.”
“Twenty euros,” I squealed.
“Done!” Jules stated, “my room fifteen minutes and bring the cash.”

I gold fished, I've been well and truly outmanoeuvred.

I knocked on Goth Gurl's door, it opened almost immediately.

“Dosh,” she demanded.
With a sigh I passed her the two ten euro notes.
“Thank you, sis, Mand inside.”

I went to enter myself but was stopped.

“Not so fast dweeb, you get to come in when we’re ready.”
“Whatever,” there’s no point in arguing, I'm already twenty euros down through my own stupidity. I crossed to my stairs and perched on the second step to wait.

It felt like hours but was probably about ten minutes that I waited before Jules poked her head out. She checked the landing before motioning me over.

“Quick,” she whispered.
“What's with all the cloak and dagger,” I asked.
“Shush!”
“So?”
“The ‘rents don’t know about this right?” she stated as I slipped into the Gothic boudoir.
“About what? Why are the lights off?”
My sister ignored my question, instead I was girl handled to a spot further in, “Sit.”

Whatever. where’s Mand? Gothy’s got one of those dimmer switches in here and the lights gradually came up to about a third of full power, enough to see by but not read.

“Mand?”
“Madame de Vreen to you.”

My jaw hung open, Mand was stood across the room, foot on Jule’s dressing table chair exposing a boot clad leg as promised. What wasn’t promised was the eye mask, what looked like dark red lipstick, elbow length gloves and – is that a whip?

“What the?”
“You wanted to see me in my working outfit, leetle one,” she purred before slowly stalking towards me, slapping the er, whip thing into her palm.
“What is this? Jules?”
“Madam has taken a liking to you.”
“Guys!”
Mand reached me and made a show of lifting her skirts before planting a foot on the end of my sister’s bed, “Like what you see?” she couldn’t hold it though, she started to chuckle.
“Mand,” Jules complained as she turned the lights up.
“Soz, couldn’t help it Jules, the look on her face.”
“Hope it was worth it, Pinky?”

With the lights up I could see the whole kit and caboodle, my earlier observations were confirmed. The boots, long, black and sporting a significant pointy heel, a fancy mask which I could now see disguised heavily made up eyes, the red lippy and shiny long gloves. Geez.

“How comes?”
“I've got this stuff?” Jules finished.
“Well yeah,” I confirmed, “you don’t, you know?”
“Be daft! And you can stop laughing.”
“Soz,” Mand giggled.
“So?”
“Look you can’t tell right?”
“Would I?”
“Promise me?”
“Okay, I promise now spill.”

She hesitated a moment before replying, what’s this all about?

“You know me an’ Boris, you know?”
“Do a bit more than kiss?” I suggested, “’s hardly a secret.”
“Well he um likes me to dress up a bit.”
“Kinky boots!” Mand put in.
“Ew! that’s just – dirty.”
“No it’s not,” my sister, erm, insisted.
“He’s turned on by stripper boots, Jules, that's just wrong.”
“Well actually the boots were my idea.”
“Jules!” I squawked.
“Shush! You want Dad coming up?”
“What were you thinking?” I demanded in lower tones.
“Don’t mock it till you try it, I bet Max would like the boots, who knows what else?”
“Course he wouldn’t!” I snapped.
“Just cos he hasn’t asked doesn’t mean he isn’t thinking it – unless he has?” Jules posed.
“A, a, a.”
“Gotcha Lolita!”
“Can I take these off now?” Mand asked, “they’re not exactly comfortable.”
“I'll give you a hand,” Jules replied to the vamp.

I saw my chance and made a dash for the door.

Well of course I couldn’t get it out of my mind now, my sister prancing about in boots and stuff, Boris leering from the bed. I couldn’t get to sleep properly now, just a sort of half dream state, the images started to morph, from Jules to Mand in her kostüm, the figure on the bed becoming less certain. And then it was me gyrating in the boots and my white bikini, the body on the bed clearing to reveal a grinning Max.

“Aaaaaarghhhhhh!”

I dropped off properly after that.

“Alright, kiddo?” Dad enquired when I reached the breakfast table.
“Didn’t sleep well, weird dreams.”

Yeah dreams of stuff I don’t even want to think about, wonder if I could sneak them out sometime – no, that’s just wrong!

“I thought I heard a yell but it went quiet straight after.
“Probably me,” I allowed.
“So you going up to the kiosk today?”
“Think that’s the plan, we’ve not been up since Monday.”
“Might see you later, I need to talk to Tomas about the fence.”
“A problem?”
“No, nothing like that, no I just need to check some stuff. I didn’t ask yesterday, how was the course?”
“Okay I guess, we’re now certified in the art of currywurst and Pommes as well as washing up.”
Dad grinned, “I know who to come to now after dinner.”
“When I say washing up,” I deferred, “I meant loading the dishwasher.”
“A useful skill of course,” he smirked over his coffee.

Our banter was interrupted by a loud bang outside followed a moment later by the annoying trill of a car alarm.

Maddy Bell © 09.01.17

 

 

 

We both headed for the door, well it’s human nature to go look isn’t it?
“What the..!” Dad exclaimed as we looked down to the road, “Stay here, ring one one two.”
“Which for?”
“Everything!” and he took off.

I made the call then went back outside, the alarm was shut off and a deathly silence fell across Zaungarten . They’re building a new apartment block over the road and the builders were streaming out into the road. I had to move further down the path to see along the street to where Dad was stood by our car or should I say, the remains of our car.

It was a scene of carnage, a pile of twisted metal blocking the road, one end having landed on the car in our drive, not quite flattening it but we won’t be going anywhere in that again. The source of the steelwork was pretty evident, the building site and you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to spot the missing tower crane. Oh it’s not one of those huge things you see in the cities, this was a much smaller affair maybe twenty metres high – before.

Sirens sounded in the distance, the doppler effect disguising the number but it wasn’t long before the road was filled with blue lights and men and women in uniforms. I was distracted by the house phone ringing so I headed inside.

“Gab?”
“Con, wassup?”
“I was gonna ask you, why didn’t you answer your Handy?”
“Er flat battery?”
She went on, not having really listened, “The Notarzt and Polizei just went past here, blue lights, sirens and stuff.”
“There’s been an erm, incident.”
“Incident?”

I could hear more sirens sounding from up the valley through the open door.

“Er yeah, a crane fell on our car.”
“Crane?”
“From the building site, those new apartments.”
“Sugar! Is anyone hurt?”
“Dunno, I think I might be a bit late getting to you.”
“No prob, Dad suggested we go up on the Express anyhow, he’s got to pick some stuff up from Uncle Josef’s yard up in Adenau.”
“I'll get as soon as I can.”

When I looked outside again the emergency services had been breeding, fire engines, ambulances, police – nothing would be moving for a while. Dad waved me back inside and a minute or so later rejoined me in the kitchen.

“It’s not good kiddo, the crane driver’s trapped, this could take a while.”
“What about the car, how’re we gonna get to the race?”
“Let me worry about that, what are you doing today?”
“The kiosk with Con then training as usual.”
“Get yourself organised and go meet Connie.”
“But...”
“Let me worry about stuff here, looks like I've got a full day ahead of me now scoot.”

There wasn’t any point in arguing, I mean it’s not like I can do anything is it?

I had to go through next door’s garden to get into town, Dad had to lift me over the fence, he didn’t want me climbing over.

“Ring me before you come back, okay?”
“’Kay,” I agreed.
“Have a good day,” he instructed.
“I'll try.”

“So? what’s happening?” Con pressed when I reached the bakery.
“Our car’s squashed and the crane man’s trapped.”
“What happened?”
“No idea,” I admitted, “we were in the kitchen having breakfast then there was a big crash outside, when we looked it was all over.”
“Good job no one was in the car.”

I hadn’t even thought about that, a few minutes later and Dad would’ve been in the car, mind you he wouldn’t’ve been there long.

This morning’s ‘excitement’ had completely swamped my thoughts, what if it had landed on the house, if Dad was in the car, if it had fallen a different direction.

“Gab?” something poked my arm, “earth to Gaby!”
“Er, I spaced out a bit.”
“Yeah,” Con agreed, we’re just coming into Altenahr.”
“Oh right.”

I'm sure there was stuff I was gonna talk to Con about this morning but events have overtaken me.

“Ah, you’re here,” Herr Thesing stated when we arrived, “everything okay?”
“The Bond’s car got squished.” Con offered.
“Dave called a bit back, not a good thing. Best not to dwell on it, girls.”
“So what’s the plan, Dad?”
“There’s not much just now with the kiosk, Josef’s coming along later to start on the roof, how do you feel about a bit of gardening?”
“Gardening?” I queried.
“Well if we’re going to have tables and so out here we need to do something with this mess.” He indicated the scrubby, litter strewn patch in front of the kiosk.
“I guess.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Con asked her Dad.
“Well for a start clear up the rubbish then it needs levelling off.”
“Great,” Con sighed, “we are girls you know.”
“That’s never been in doubt, I've got you some gloves and tools inside.”
“’Kay,” she allowed.

“Who you ringing?”
“You’ll see,” I replied as I waited for call to connect.
“See you outside.”
“Best take the mulltasche,” I suggested.

The resulting raspberry told me what she thought of that suggestion.

When I said there was rubbish, it’s not like piles of fast food packaging and old tyres, no it’s not quite that in your face, at first glance you’d overlook a lot of it. And it was mostly stuff generated by the kiosk, discarded Pommes forks, scraps of wrappers, cigarette ends – you get the idea. A first pass soon had the loose surface debris bagged up, the stuff that was left was more stubborn.

“What now?” Con asked, “Digging?”
I checked the bahnhof clock, “Drink first.”
“Now you’re talking,” my companion enthused before calling out, “Dad, just going for drinks.”

A disembodied voice requested orangeade, we headed over to the station where there’s a snack machine.

“You ever, you know done it – with a boy?”
“Done it? Like with who?”
“I dunno, anyone.”
“As if! I'd tell if I had, oh mein gott, you and Max...”
“No! Like that’s gonna happen!”
A can dropped into the collection bin.
“So why the question?” Con quizzed.
“Something Jools said last night.”
“She still with Bjorn?”
“Boris, yeah.”
“So what’d she say?”
“What did your Dad want?”
“Orange, come on, spill.”
“Nothing.”
“Oh come on, Gab, you can’t start and leave me hanging.”
I fed more coins into the cabinet, “Look you can’t say anything right?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Well apparently she and Boris, well she’s got some kinky stuff she wears when they, you know.”
“Oooo, so what brought that confession?”
“Er, just something with Mand.”
“So what’s she got, sexy undies?”
“That sort of thing,” I'm not gonna admit my sister has pervy masks, whips and stripper boots.
“Maybe you should get some for Max,” she teased.
“Con!”

Mr T was talking to someone when we got back with the cans, “Here they are.”
“Hey, Gab, Con,” Max greeted us.
“Orange Mr T, Sprite for you,” I handed Max a can.
“I wondered why you got an extra drink,” Con advised.
“Well you didn’t think I was gonna dig the garden did you?”
“It was the plan,” she pouted.

Herr Thesing suggested Max break the surface up, Con and I to follow removing the bits of embedded paper, metal and plastic, we’d level things up afterwards. Seemed reasonable so once we’d finished the drinks we set too.

“You hear about that crane falling down?” Max enquired as he stomped the fork into the baked ground,” it was all over the news.”
“That’d be the one that squidged Gab’s Mercedes,” Con supplied.
“Really?”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“Apparently a cement truck hit one of the support legs and it over balanced, looked a right mess.”
“They say anything about the crane driver?” I asked.
“Just that he was one of the injured,” Max allowed pushing a clod of earth from the fork’s tines.
“They were trying to free him when I left, he was trapped in his cab thingy.”
“That’s not good,” Max opined, “so how come your car got hit?”
“It was parked on the front as usual, the crane fell across the road, landed splat on the roof.”
“Unlucky! Can you pull that off?”

Con reached in and pulled the ancient cola tin off the fork.

“So what’s in this for Max?” Con whispered when our muscle went for a nature stop.
“Why should there be anything in it?”
“Oh my god, that’s what all that stuff with Jules was about isn’t it?”
“No!”
“He wants you to dress up before you do it!”
“Con!”

Maddy Bell © 10.01.17

 

 

 
“What’re you two giggling about?” Max enquired when he returned.
“Nothing.”

He clearly didn’t buy that but thankfully didn’t pursue the matter.

“If we crack on we can get this finished today.”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.

Con was stifling a snigger which earnt her an elbow in the ribs.

By the time Max had dug and we’d rubbish picked the whole area we had two sacks of rubbish and I for one was feeling quite grubby.

“Ready for planting by the looks of it,” Tomas suggested joining us as we surveyed the bare earth.
“Planting?” Con queried.
“Well you didn’t think we were going to leave it as mud did you?”
“Hadn’t given it any thought,” she admitted.
“Grass I guess?” I offered in turn.
“Works best,” Herr T agreed,” can you give me a hand Max, I've got some plastic sheeting in the kiosk, we’ll cover you’re hard work so it doesn’t attract more rubbish while Josef is doing the roof.”
“Sure,” Max agreed.
“So are we done for today?” Con asked her father.
“There’s probably not much for you guys to do until your uncle’s finished the building work.”
“How long’s that gonna be Mr T?”
“Hopefully the roof will be done at the weekend, Gaby, I can get on with the new render next week then.”
“Couldn’t we paint the inside?” Con proposed.
“Not yet, we’re rewiring and putting some extra shelving in the stockroom.”
“So we can’t do anything until that’s done?” I offered.
“Hopefully it’ll all get done late next week,” Herr Thesing concluded.
“Sweet!” Con grinned, “The pool beckons!”
“Make the most of it, it’ll be full steam from then on if we’re to open on time,” her dad warned, “Max?”
“Right with you, Mr T.”

“So what’re you up to now?” Max queried.
“I need a shower,” Con shared.
“I've got to go training, bum, I need to ring Dad.”
“Suppose I should give my dad a hand, we’ve got a private function tonight,” Max told us.
“Oh the glamour of it,” I mentioned with a grin, “you come on the Express?”
“Bike.”
“You should join Gab’s training,” Con sniggered as we followed him to the ‘yard’ where his ‘sports’ bike was waiting.
“Maybe not, let us know when you’re going to the pool.”
“We will,” Con told him.
“Thanks for coming to help," I gave him a quick cheek peck, well he didn’t have to help did he?
“Later.”
“Bye, Maxxie,” Con teased.
“Tschuss,” I added as he checked the road before pushing off towards the lower valley.

“See you later, Dad.”
“I shouldn’t be late, tell your mother I'll collect the meat on the way back.”
“Okay, tschuss.”

We walked over to the station, the Express was still fifteen minutes away so there was no rush.

“Best ring Dad,” I told Con as I rummaged for my Handy.
“Hope everything's sorted,” she opined.
“Yeah,” I agreed as I found the phone and hit the speed dial.

He picked up on the third ring, “Dad?”
“Oh hi, kiddo, you finished at the kiosk?”
“Yeah, we’ve cleared the grass off, just waiting for the Express. What’s happening, they get the driver out okay?”
“Er yes,” his tone didn’t sound very positive, “he’s in a pretty bad way. Look, you can’t get to the house, can you go to Con’s?”
“I guess, why can’t we get to the house?”
“They’ve been doing investigation stuff all morning and now there’s all sorts of recovery gear everywhere.”
“What about training and stuff?”
“Don’t worry about that, I'll pick you up from the bakery at four, okay.”
“Okay,” I agreed.

“So?” Con queried.
“Looks like I'm coming to yours, our place is out of bounds.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“The driver sounds in a bad way, Dad says they haven’t cleared the road yet.”
“You gonna be able to go home later?”
“No idea,” I shrugged.

The bells on the level crossing started, the sixty second warning that the Express was approaching Altenahr on its downhill run.

“That’s better,” Con announced arriving in a couple of towels into the Thesing’s lounge, “you sure you don’t want to shower?”
“I'll wait to see what Dad’s arranged thanks.”
“Whatever, you want a drink?”
“Er sure.”

She led the way to the kitchen where Therese had all sorts of ledgers and stuff covering the table.

“You want coffee, Mum?”
“Hmm, iced tea please,” she requested without looking up
“’Kay, Gabs?”
“Er yeah, same please.”
“Coming up!”
“You alright, Gab?”
“Uh huh,”
“You can stay here tonight if you can’t go home,” she offered.
“Er thanks.”
“Sleepover!” Con enthused.
Therese looked up, “Constance Thesing go and get dressed, we don’t all want to see what you’ve got!”
“Mu-um, it’s only Gab.”
“Who I'm sure doesn’t need to see you half naked.”

I could feel myself start to colour up. To be sure, I have seen my friend, well not just her, Jools and even Mum er, naked. I've never been that comfortable with other people’s nakedness, I just try to er ignore it.

I thought it was my er, questionable status but I’m still no better – some of it’s context, bikini’s and speedos at the pool, no problem, communal showers – blush fest.

“Now!” Therese ordered, “Gab’s dad will be here soon.”
“Yes Mum,” Con agreed before sulking off to dress.
“I'll er do the drinks,” I offered.

“You want a drink, Dave?” Therese offered when Dad appeared just turned four.
“No thanks Therese, can’t stop, need to get trouble down to the bottling plant.”
“Any news?”
“They’ve still got the road closed, it could be tomorrow before it’s all cleared up.”
“Well let us know if we can help with anything.”
“Thanks, you ready, Gab?”
“I guess.”
“Come on then, thanks for babysitting, Therese.”
“Da-ad!”

Talk about mortified!

Therese chuckled, “No problem.”

“What’d you say that for?” I demanded once we were outside, “That was so embarrassing.”
“It’s in the job description, page twenty three I think, thou shallt embarrass your offspring at every opportunity.”
“Da-ad,” I groaned, flippin’ wind up merchant.
“In you get, kiddo.”

It was only then that I realised we’d walked along to the parked Apollinaris minibus.

“So where’re we going?”
“We’ll pick up Amanda from the main station then we’ll go to HQ so you can go training, you can use your race bikes.”
“What about kit, it’s all at home,” I pointed out.
“There’s spare stuff down there you can use.”
“Shoes?” I suggested, shorts and stuff are easy but footwear.
“Shoes too, they might not be perfect but they’ll do for this afternoon.”

We were soon heading down towards Neuenahr.

“What about the car?”
“I've spoken to the insurance people, we’ll get to go car shopping next week, George has okayed us using the bus until we’re sorted.”
“So what car are we gonna get?”
“I was wondering about a camper?”
“Like the Veedub?”
“Maybe something a bit posher than that.”
“Kewl, not very practical round town though,” I pointed out.
“There’s your Mum’s A Klasse,” he suggested.
“Not very big,” or cool for that matter.
“We’ll see, it’s not desperate, I need to talk to Mum about it too.”

We pulled onto the station forecourt just as the up bound Express arrived.

“So what’s happening?” Mand asked as she slid the door shut.
“There was an accident at the house this morning, we can’t get to it at the moment.”
“Accident? What sort of accident, was anyone hurt?”
“The crane at the building site fell over,” I started, “landed on our car, squashed it big style.”
“Wow,” Mand allowed.
“The driver’s quite badly hurt,” Dad added.
“So where’re we going now?”
“You pair are going training.”
“What about kit?”
“Already been there,” I told her over my shoulder, “apparently there’s stuff at the depot.”

The bus bounced into the yard and rattled to a halt in front of the team HQ.

Maddy Bell © 12.01.17

 

 

 
“Find yourselves some togs,” Dad instructed as he let us into the store room, “not the new stuff, there’s a box of shoes at the far end. I'll sort you some helmets out.”
“Damn, I was gonna score one of those gilets Mum’s got.”
“Be nice,” Pater stated before leaving us in kit heaven.

I guess most teams have something similar, spare race kit, bits of battle scarred clothing, still serviceable but not for front-line use and old kit from previous years. Most old stuff of course is kept by the riders or sold off but inevitably some bits get left on the shelf.

“You look for togs, I'll find us some shoes.”
“Okay,” Mand agreed before hitting the first box of jerseys.

I’ve no idea where the shoes came from, shoes are usually the riders responsibility although some teams do have shoe deals. There was a right mix of stuff, pairs held together by lacky bands, some with cleats, others not. First thing of course was to find some the right sizes, my thirty seven and Mand's thirty nine – I set too on the job.

“What about this?” Mand suggested a few minutes later.
“Ew!” goodness knows where the pink and green monstrosity came from but it was awful. “I hope that's not the choice?”
“Nah, I've found the stuff from Japan, bibs and shirts.”
“I wondered what happened to that stuff.”
“I can probably work out which are ours.”
“They’ve likely got names on the labels,” I guessed.
“How’re the shoes going?”
“Found some Spesh for you, not found any in my size yet, oh hang on, what about these?”

I held up my prize, a pair of Sidi’s, bright yellow with those dial lace things that came out a couple of years ago.

“Nice, I'd check the fit though, Sidi can be a bit narrow. Chuck us mine.”

“Dad!” I called out into the shed.
“Workshop,” he called back.

I trotted over clutching my share of the kit plunder.

“Ah, you’ve got yourselves sorted.”
“Er almost, um underwear?”
“You don’t wear any under your shorts,” he pointed out.
“Duh, Daddy! Not knickers, up top?”

The look on his face was classic!

“Right, bra, you can’t wear what you have on?”
“Hardly!” well we could but like they wouldn’t be very comfortable.
“So what do you suggest?”
“Well,” I started, “the seniors get them supplied, there’s some new ones in the store.”
“I knew this was gonna cost me, alright but I need the packaging so I square it with George.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” I beamed before giving him a daughterly kiss.

“When you’re quite done, Gaby,” Dad intoned as we gathered in the yard a few minutes later.

Okay, I had been fiddling with my bosom, trying to get things just so.

“Erm soz.”
“Right, I'll follow in the bus so we can do a one way run.”
“Where to?” Manda asked.
“Well I think if we go along to Andernach then across to Mayen you’ll get a good workout.”
“Urgh, that drag under the autobahn,” I moaned, “so what’re we doing for dinner?”
“I suppose we can eat out.”
“Yes! Pizza?”
“We’ll see.”
“What about our togs?” Mand addressed the elephant.
“You two get off, I'll get your stuff and catch you up, it’s all in the changing room?”
“Uh huh.”
“Right, off with you.”

We’ve done variations of this route before but usually as part of a circuit. Of course down to Andernach it’s along the Rhein but from there it gets a bit bumpy crossing over to Mayen, nothing too steep but some of the climbs are a bit draggy. We set off, from the depot it’s better on a bike to head over to the Sinzig lane from near the bahnhof, but soon enough we were tootling along the Rhein valley.

We were nearly at Breisig ferry before a couple of toots alerted us to Dad’s having caught up to us. My comp was showing a fairly constant thirty kph, not race pace but not hanging about. Dad was effectively holding off the traffic from behind so we’re in a sort of traffic free bubble although one idiot did cut right across us after passing the bus.

“So what's really been going on, all you two said earlier was there’d been an incident with the crane.”

To be honest I'd sort of forgotten why we’d been raiding the kit cupboard and starting our ride from the bottling plant.

“Why’d the crane fall over?”
“They think a cement mixer reversed into or something which made it over balance.”
“And the crane man was in it?”
“When it crashed, yeah.”
“Urgh, horrible.”
“It was dead lucky no one else got badly hurt.”
“Yeah,” Mand agreed, “so why couldn’t we go home?”
“Dad said they’re still clearing up, the Polizei have the road closed off.”
“Right, sign!”

You moo de Vreen! I had to change down before giving chase for the Brohl sign, I didn’t really have much chance given the barely hundred metres to said sign but I did make up some of the distance.

“That was cheating,” I bleated when I caught back up to her.
“Was not,” she stated wetting a finger and drawing a line in the air.

If it’s gonna be like that.

“Just you wait.”
“I'm all freickled, so can we go home later?”
“Dunno, possibly.”
“Hope so, there’s some stuff I need for school tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, hey I can go to cheer practice, it was my idea and I've not been yet what with one thing or another.

I got the Andernach sign, she can’t match me in a straight sprint and I was ready for her trickery this time. On a bike it’s safer, well compulsory to go along the waterfront rather than use the ‘new’ bypass but that means you get caught in the traffic and the grotty roads past the town. I say past, you don’t actually go into the walled old town at all, it’s rare we stop here at all, it’s nice enough but not exactly shopping central although they have a nice little Weihnachtsmarkt.

We followed the Mayen sign which took us through the newish industrial zone before linking with the actual Mayen road and the drag to the autobahn. It really is a drag, almost ten K of up gradually ramping up to the motorway. Dad shouted for us to do through and off, by the top we were both ‘glowing’ somewhat and panting hard.

“Phew! That's a toughie.”
“It is when you’re pushing on.”
“Is it like this on Sunday?”
“Not that I remember, it’s much flatter.”

Or is it? Maybe it’s not so high but I seem to remember the climbs are mostly long drags.

“Oh well, how far is it now?”
“Dunno, fifteen K?”

Rather than keep the fast rotation we started a less structured turnabout, essentially I took us up hill, Mand broke the air on the downslopes. Mayen came into view, easily identified by its twisted spire, bit like a German Chesterfield. Journeys end, we stayed out of the town to avoid all the traffic lights only turning in at the bottom of the town finally coming to a rest outside the main railway station.

Dad pulled up next to us.

“Good ride, ladies, get yourselves inside then we can find somewhere to eat.”

Food, oh yeah! Dad soon had the bikes inside and we were off again, out of the drop off zone.

“So any ideas where we can eat?” Dad enquired as we waited to join the evening traffic.
“There’re some places at the bottom of the town,” I volunteered.
“Okay, I'll find somewhere to park then you can change before we eat, wash kits in the back somewhere.”
“Got it!” Mand stated waving the prize.

A shower is what I really need but I guess a wash down is better than nothing, I've got some body spray in my bag, make me a bit less whiffy.

Dad soon had us parked on a side street, a quick drawing of curtains shielded us from prying eyes, the pair of us doing a quick strip, wash and dress in the gloomy interior. Pater meanwhile was outside, I could hear him on the phone but not what was being said.

“Ready yet?” he enquired cracking the passenger door just enough to allow conversation.
“Not finished but decent,” I advised.
“Leave the curtains, don’t want to tempt fate with the bikes.”
“’Kay. So what’s the news?”
“Well we can get home but not onto the drive, they’ve still got that fenced off apparently.”
“What for?”
“The crane driver, he died this afternoon, I guess they need to do more investigation stuff.”
“Poor man,” I allowed.
“But we can get in the house?” Mand queried.
“We can get in the house,” he confirmed, “now then, who wants to eat? There’s an Italian place a few doors down.”

The biggest problem with Italian restaurants is deciding what to have, oh I know I said pizza earlier but this place, Ristorante el Diablo, has like thirty different pizzas! Of course I could be boring and have the usual but some of these are well tempting. Dad got my attention.

“Double pepperoni I guess?”
“Does she ever have anything else?” Mand posed.
“Well actually, clever clogs, I'm gonna have the el Diablo.”
“Hark at her!”
“What are you having, Amanda?” Dad asked.
“The erm Tagliatelle Carbonara Lachs please.”

Damn that sounds good, I bet it’ll be a big plate too. I can hardly change my mind though, not after making a deal of having pizza. And the el Diablo does sound good, jalapeños, onion, beef, ham, olives, mozzarella and mushrooms with a chilli sauce drizzled over everything. The waiter returned with our drinks and took our order, Dad rounding out the order with his Conchiglie al Pollo.

“When do we leave on Saturday, Dad?”
“Not too early.”
“So I can work?”
“When I said not early I meant not crack of dawn, we should be away by about ten.”

Bum, I could’ve done with the dosh.

“I'd best let Therese know.”

My Handy chose that moment to buzz and vibrate across the table, what now?

Maddy Bell © 12.01.17

 

 

 
“Gabs?”
“Mum?”
“I've been trying to get hold of your dad, George said there’s been an incident at the house.”
“Er yeah, he’s here, we’re just about to eat. How’s Spain?”
“Hot and hilly, so what’s been going on there?”
“I'll let Dad tell you, it’s horrid, I'll pass you over.”
“Okay, I'll see you on Monday.”
“Good luck tomorrow, thanks kiddo.”

I passed the phone to Dad, it wasn’t rocket science to work out who I'd been talking to.

“Jen, George told you?”

Well it’s not polite to listen in and I'd only get half the conversation anyway so I turned my attention to Mand.

“Mum said it’s hot there.”
“Spain is known for it,” she pointed out, “it must be nice going all over at someone else's expense.”
“We’ve been to Holland.”
“Not quite the same as Spain or Italy is it?”
“Guess not, you reckon we’ll get picked to ride in Switzerland again?”
“Maybe, well you should, I'm surprised you haven’t been picked more anyway.”
“I did Roubaix.”
“Like one race, let’s face it, there’s just not the big races for us.”

Of course, that had been one of my fears, my official female status barring me from riding the big races. Mind you, just being in Germany doesn’t help, Josh hasn’t exactly been pulling on a GB shirt every week either. Still, no going back now, we’ll just have to make them take notice of us.

“We’ll just have to smash what we do ride then,” I stated.
“Okay, Monday...love you...tschuss!” Dad ended the call and passed the phone back to me. “In your bag please, you know we don’t have phones on the table.”
“Yes, Daddy.”

He gave me a look, maybe I need to lay off the saccharine a bit.

“Looks like the food,” Mand suggested and indeed moments later our comestibles were placed in front of us.

The others pasta looked and smelt excellent, my pizza is less aromatic but looks amazing.

“You gonna eat all that?” Dad queried.
“That’s the plan.”

It might be a bit of a job, forty centimetres is a lot of pizza, but I'll give it my best shot. Where to start?

Did I finish the huge pizza? Not quite, a combination of size and heat finally got the better of me, not that I left much but from halfway through I avoided the cardboard crust, then the Jalapeños then I just came to a halt. Mand didn’t clear hers either although Dad finished his chicken pasta – dessert was not an option!

We took a more direct route back to the Ahrtal, north past Maria Laach and the Nurburgring, arriving home a little before nine. Compared to this morning it was a picture of serenity, no flashing lights, fire engines or workmen. The only indication that there had been such a calamity, well at first glance, was the cordon preventing access to our drive and the squidged remains of the Mercedes.

“Geez, that's definitely not going anywhere,” Mand stated as we surveyed the scene from the front path.
“Not under its own steam,” I agreed.

It wasn’t just the roof of the car that had taken the impact of course. I remember when I was little Jules stamped on one of my Matchbox cars, one of my favourites, a sort of dragster thing, anyway whilst the body wasn’t damaged, the glass was smashed but as well the axles were bent so the wheels were at weird angles. Well multiply that out to a full scale car and the view wasn’t dissimilar.

I heard Dad sigh behind us.

“It is a bit of a mess.”
“I was hoping to keep it until at least the end of the summer.”
“The insurance will pay out though?” Mand asked.
“I certainly hope so but what we’ll get, whilst I think about it I need to take the plates off. Can you open the workshop, Gaby, I'll fetch your bikes.”

Friday dawned blue skied and windless, across the road the building site was silent, when I looked over I spotted several bunches of flowers by the gate – a stark reminder of yesterday’s drama. I hadn’t known the victim of course, I guess I may have seen him, well the workmen have been here for several months now but the floral tributes really sort of bring it home. Then of course there was our car, the familiar AW-DB 1 plates now stood in the hallway rather than fixed to the Mercedes. Hopefully today will be less traumatic.

“So what’re you up to today?” Dad enquired.
“They’re starting the roof today so we can’t do anything at the kiosk, we’re having extra cheer practice in Altenahr park this afternoon.”
“You want to tag along with me this morning?”
“What’re you doing?”
“Well I need to de register the car then go to the timber yard – might as well make use of the bus.”
“I suppose.”
“I'll drop you at the park later.”
Well it’s not like I'd exactly been planning on much this morning, maybe a bit of ironing, “Okay.”

By the time we were organised it wasn’t a lot before ten but it’s not like we had far to go. Less than ten minutes drive and we were parking at the council offices, home of all things local and official, the Police HQ is in the same building.

“You coming in?” Dad asked.
“Nah, I'll wait out here.”
“You’d best have the keys in case you want to have a walk, I shouldn’t be too long.”

I took the bus keys from him and settled down to wait by putting the radio on. It was either all news or grandma music on the local stations and the reception was nonexistent for the pop channels, what to do? My mind wandered aimlessly around my head as I watched the comings and goings around Neuerathaus Platz.

It was a light bulb moment, a workman arrived in one of those little maintenance trucks and started watering the floral displays. I grabbed my bag, locked the bus and headed towards the shops. The Alt Rathaus is of course in down town Ahrweiler but the new offices are actually in Bad Neuenahr but closer to the ‘industrie zone’ than the centre so the nearest shops are actually those in the micro mall on Hauptstrasse.

A couple of minutes and I was at my destination, it’s not exactly Meadowhall, no it’s just a few random shops, a kebap shop, bakery, slot machine arcade, cheapo boutique and my target, a florist. Now I'm not exactly into flowers, I've been on the receiving end, I've given them but really I've no idea what’s what. I checked out the displays but what’s suitable.

“Morgen, can I help?” an older chap in a green smock enquired when I ventured inside.
“Er, I'm after some flowers?”
“Right place,” he grinned, “occasion? Birthday, wedding?”
“Um no, a er death.”
His demeanour changed immediately, “I'm sorry, someone close?”
“Well not exactly, there was an accident outside our house yesterday, a crane fell over.”
“I heard about that on the news.”
“The crane man died, I want some flowers to put down at the site.”
He nodded in understanding, “I'll put something together for you.”

I got back to the bus just as Dad exited the offices.

“Flowers?”
“For the crane driver chap, there were a few by the gate over the road this morning.”
“A nice thought kiddo, you want to get a coffee before we hit Obi ?”
“Thought we were going to the timber yard?”
“I need some stuff from Obi too.”
“Whatever,” I sighed.

By the time we got home it was nearly one o’clock and despite the earlier coffee stop my stomach was rumbling.

“What time do you have to be at the park?”
“About three?”
“That's alright then, you gonna make lunch?”
It wasn’t exactly a question was it? “Sandwich?”
“I think there’s some sliced ham in the fridge, I'll be in the office.”
“’Kay.”

Ham there wasn’t but there was a packet of sliced roast beef, a quick look through the other supplies and I had a plan of action.

“Da-ad,” I called out, “food.”
A moment later Pater came through, “Something smells good.”
“Philly sub.”
“Well it looks...interesting.”
“We had it when we were in America.”

I have to say when I first came across the monster sandwich I was amazed, a huge baton filled with hot meat and melted cheese served with potato crisps and a bit of green salad. Today’s version is less epic in scale, no crisps but there is potato salad and some green stuff on the plates and its cheddar style cheese rather than the tangy American Jack stuff. It might not be 100% authentic but it looks the biz.

“Well it’s different I'll grant.”

It must’ve been okay as Dad’s plate was cleared before mine, I savoured mine a bit more, there’s something strangely moreish about the cheese melted through the meat, hmm wonder if it’d work with Gorgonzola?

“Come on then, kiddo,” Dad chivvied.
“I'm coming,” I replied as I pulled the kitchen door shut.

I shivered a little, it might be sunny but there’s a bit of a breeze with a slight edge to it. I didn’t really notice this morning but there again I had Capri's on earlier, now however I was slightly regretting going all out cheerleader. Not skirt and top but exercise shorts and a sports bra, not one I use for riding but a fuller cut I use for Garde practice. It was the lack of extra layer I was really regretting.

“Very er, cheery,” Dad opined when I skipped down to the bus.
“Da-ad.”
“Just saying, it is a bit er, brief.”
I climbed in, “it’s not exactly a bikini.”
“You would not be going to the park in a bikini!”
“Da-ad!”

Anyone would think it’s the dark ages.

However his words did get me thinking, would I really go to the park in a bikini? I know I wear one at the pool but that's different isn’t it? And what I'm wearing now, I don’t wear much different on the bike really, just a top and shorts and those triathlon people only wear what I am now.

Hmm.
Dad pulled into the car park, “You need picking up?”
“Er not sure, give you a call?”
“Okay.”
I climbed out but Dad stopped me closing the door, “Here, you might need this.”
“Thanks,” I allowed taking the tracky top from him, I guess it had been in the bus yesterday, “later!”
“Later,” he agreed.

I waited for him to pull away then headed to where we had agreed to meet for the extra practice.

Maddy Bell © 13.01.17

 

 

 

There was no one else about – well a couple of walkers up at the town end but there was a distinct lack of cheer leaders. Oh well, we hadn’t had made a set start time, they’ll be here soon enough. Might as well find somewhere to sit.

The little pavilion cum changing room by the football pitch looked a likely spot, I'll see anyone coming and I can sit on the steps. That decided I headed over and soon made myself comfortable on the top step. the track top draped over my shoulders, I rooted in my bag and found not just the apple I dropped in this morning but also the manga that I bought a couple of weeks ago and forgot about.

I pulled my feet up a step so I could balance the book on my knees, quickly readjusted my running knicks and with a decisive bite of the apple started reading. The book had been an impulse buy, I hadn’t seen the title before, ‘Gothic Sports’ , and reading the précis it sounded a bit different to the usual stuff. It didn’t take long to become engrossed, the tale of a misfit girl wanting to play football – yeah football but that's not the main thread really.

What pulled me in was the setting, somewhere in Bavaria by the hints so it’s real German Manga! No dodgy translations, missing speeches or unnecessary page notes, nope, this is manga as the writer/artist intended it. I was well engrossed, lost in the world of Anya, Loo and Filiz as they faced down the inequalities of school sports.

“Wotcha reading?”

I hadn’t even noticed someone approaching!

“A book?” I suggested flashing the cover.
“You and your comics,” Pia offered as she sat down beside me.
“They’re not comics.”
“Manga then, no one else here?”
“Duh!”
“They’re probably at Kristin’s.”
“We agreed here,” I pointed out.
“Well she only lives over the road, that place with the red roof,” P informed me pointing to the house in question, “I'll give her a bell.”

Great, I could’ve been sat here all afternoon, in fact when I checked my phone it was only thirty minutes. Pia made the call and five minutes later I spotted Kris, Lisse and Louisa crossing the green sward. Well I guess five of us isn’t too bad.

“Hey guys,” Lisse greeted.
“This it?” I queried a little disappointed, four from twelve.
“Heiki and Anna’ll be here about four,” Kris volunteered.
“Okay, we should make a start then I guess,” I proposed as I stowed my book and doffed my top.
“Looking hot, chica!” Lisse opined.
“It’s er comfortable,” I allowed as the colour started to rise.

The others were in a variety of dance / exercise stuff, bike shorts, T’s, Louisa was wearing a short, short skirt but I was certainly flashing the most skin. Spare clothing was parked, Pia connected a pair of mini speakers to her Discman and we headed out onto the grass to begin.

The others turned up earlier than expected which made things better, we could at least practice the off floor moves properly. Although we were several bodies short of the full squad we were able to work on most of the moves, I at least felt like it had been a worthwhile session. Certainly everyone had put in a lot of effort.

“Mine for drinks?” Kristin suggested.
“My bag’s there anyway,” Lisse mentioned.
“Gabs?”
It’ll take Dad a bit to get here anyway, why not?
“Sure.”

Although it looks like a house, Kris’ family actually only have the upper floor, her grandparents live on the ground floor. Seven teens quickly fill any available space, seats are at a premium, not helped by the very ‘lived in’ state of the Wüsthof abode – it makes Schloss Bond look like a palace by comparison. Not that I'm being snooty or anything, it’s just that the piles of magazines, knitting and so on didn’t help the seating availability.

Having not been before I was surreptitiously taking in my surroundings like you do, family photos were prominent on the huge dark dresser that filled one wall, a china cabinet in a corner, telly the other. The rest of the furniture wasn’t in the first flush of youth, not threadbare but certainly well used. Of the whole room, it was the decoration on the other walls that really had my attention, someone in the family was a keen hunter, I'm guessing Kris’ dad, trophies in the form of mounted antlers and even a couple of full deer heads leant a slightly Gothic feel to the room.

I’ve never really got the hunting thing, I mean, all that creeping around the countryside to shoot some poor Bambi or whatever. If it’s for sport that's just wrong, if it’s for food, well duh, there are supermarkets these days! In Germany though it’s like a national sport – there’s those hide things everywhere and round here you’ll often see people out with their guns and dogs terrorising the local rabbit population.

“Gab?”
“Er sorry,” I allowed, "Was just er daydreaming.”
“They are a bit creepy aren’t they,” Lisse suggested having guessed my thoughts.
“Erm, unusual.”
“We sort of inherited them with the flat, they’re Opa’s,” Kris supplied arriving with a tray of drinks, the mismatched glasses only adding to the ‘lived in’ feeling of Chez Wüsthof.
“Gab’s has a collection of stuffed heads, all the racers she’s beaten,” Pia proffered.
“Only a couple,” I countered raising some laughter.

We drank and chatted, chatted and drank, you didn’t think we’d be inspecting the carpet or something did you.

My phone chirped, "Best get it, Dad,” I offered to the gossip circle as I located the device.
“Heya.”
“Where are you?”
“Kristin’s.”
“You do realise it’s almost six?”

He sounded a little miffed.

“Is it? Bum!”
“So are you wanting a ride or not?”
“Er please.”
“So where is this Kristin’s place?”
“Just opposite the park, I'll wait outside.”
“Five minutes.”
“Er can we drop P off?”
“Five minutes,” he repeated.

“Gonna have to make tracks,” I told the others, “Dad taxi.”
“Guess it is getting late,” Lisse allowed.
“You want a lift P?”
“Please.”
“Best get out, he said five minutes,” I advised.
“That’s quick from Dernau,” Louisa suggested.
“He did sound a bit cheesed off.”

We’d barely reached the road before the bus barrelled to a halt opposite.

“That was quick,” I observed sliding the side door open for P to get in.
“I was at the kiosk, waiting for you to call.”

We set off in silence, oops, I forgot about ringing altogether when Kristin invited us to her place. We were only a few minutes down to Rech, Dad swung the bus into the Stube’s car park and I jumped out to do the door.

“Thanks, Mr B, you going to Garde, Gabs?”
“Er maybe.”
“’Kay, laters.”
“Laters,” I agreed closing the bus door.

“Hi guys,” Mand allowed when we entered Bond Towers.
“Caught the sun again I see.”
“Have I? Bum.”
“Hardly a surprise dressed like that,” Dad sniped.

What’s got into him, he was fine earlier, it can’t just be me not calling can it?

“I've put one of those frozen shepherd’s pie things in the oven,” Mand told us, "Should be about done.”
"Thanks, Amanda,” Dad offered, “I just need to wash up and we’ll eat.”

He stalked off, the pair of us waiting for him to leave before saying anything further.

"What’s up?”
"Dunno, he had a right grump on when he picked us up.”
"Can’t be time of the month.”
"Time of,” what’s she on about? "Whatever, he was fine earlier.”

One good thing with Mand’s meal plan is simplicity, frozen peas in the micro, stock cube and a boiled kettle, by the time Dad was back from the bathroom I was serving up.

"Something happened?” I queried once we were installed at the table.
"That obvious?”
“Just a bit.”
“I was on with the insurance company.”
“About the car?”
“About the car,” he confirmed, “looks like it’s gonna take a while.”
“How so? The crane squished it, it’s hardly a car park bump.”
"That’s the problem, there’s some issue over whose insurance covers what.”
"But the car was insured,” I pointed out.
"Doesn’t work quite like that, Gab, when Mum’s car got written off it took longer because her insurance were claiming from the council’s insurance,” Mand supplied.
“What happened?” I queried.
“Dustcart, reversed into it, bent it good and proper.”
“Nasty, was she in it?”
“You know she’s like a practice nurse? She was parked for a house call, she’d just got to the door and bam! Driver claimed he hadn’t seen her car.”
“Bit different here,” Dad noted.
"So our insurance won’t pay because it wasn’t our fault?”
"Not quite,” Dad stated with a sigh, “if it had been a road accident it’d go straight through but the building site is insured differently.”
"So we don’t get anything?”
"Not just yet, they’ve also suggested claiming for damage to the drive and garden.”
"So what’re you going to about a car?” Mand asked.
"Wait I guess, they’re talking weeks though.”
"Bum!” I opined, "Can’t you just buy one and get the insurance money later?”
"Wish I could, truth is kiddo there’s not a lot spare in the bank – oh we’re not destitute but there’s not new car money available. I'm sure George will let me use the bus but it’s not ideal.”

I've never really thought about family finances – well you don’t do you? Oh I've got my little bits of jobs and race prizes which top up my allowance but whilst not rich, I don’t lack for anything – not really. But the wider family, well we have a nice house, we had a Mercedes, eat well, Mum and Dad both work, that's how things are supposed to be.

But I guess the picture isn’t that simple, Dad took a wage cut for us to move out to Germany and bike racing isn’t as well paid as senior school teaching for Mum either. Then there’s all the stuff like power and water, insurance, fuel for the car, food, the house of course, I've no idea what it all costs but rich we ain’t. No, we don’t live in poverty but really, where would a bulging bank balance come from?

“You going to the Tanzklub’ kiddo?”

Dad was certainly more mellow now having eaten and got the insurance thing off his chest.

“I don’t have to.”
"No you don’t but you want to, that’s good enough for me.”
“I could ride?”
“And you’d be late, get your stuff, I'll take you up.”
"Thanks, Daddy,” I wrapped my arms round him and gave him a hug, what did I do to deserve him or maybe that's the wrong way around. I mean, I cause him no end of trouble, tantrums and taxis being the least of them. I squeezed tighter, “love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, munchkin,” he supplied easing me from my grip, "Now scoot, I'll wait out in the bus.”

Maddy Bell © 14.01.17

 

 

 
I checked my overnight bags contents again, team frock – check, wash bag – check, underwear – check, PJ’s? No pyjamas. Now where did I put them?

“You ready yet?” Mand asked poking her head over the top step.
“Almost,” I advised finding my nightwear under my case, “what’s the rush?”
“Just checking, I know what you’re like.”
“Cheeky moo.”
“Anyway,” she went on ignoring my slur, “your dad’s gone to the tankstelle so you’ve got a few minutes.”
“How comes you were already packed?”
“Planning? Oh and I didn’t spend half the night prancing about at the Tanzklub.”
“It wasn’t half the night,” I offered in my defence.
“Well I did my packing last night.”

I closed the lid and tugged the zip closed.

“You should take your wig.”
“What for?”
“Well it wouldn’t clash with the team dress like the pink.”
“Hmmph!”
“Hey, you could wear it today, wind the others up.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Why not?”
“Not happening,” I stated.

Dad made a double take when I got to the bus.

“What?”
“Nothing, you got everything?”
“Duh?”
“Just checking, you sitting up here?”
“I'll leave it for Angela.”
“Well get in then,” he instructed.

“Not a word,” I warned.
Mand raised her hands in surrender, ”Wasn’t gonna.”
“I am not wearing it for the race,” I added.
“Wasn’t suggesting it.”

We were already heading onto the motorway spur, I wonder how many times we’ve made this journey? After the last few days of nice, season appropriate weather this morning arrived overcast with a fine drizzle – not cold but hardly pleasant either. The autobahn was like a strip of spray across the landscape, to either side it looked dry by comparison, I just hope it’s dry tomorrow – I hate racing in the wet.

The matrix signs as we approached Kӧln suggested a local football derby, 1FC versus Bayer Leverkusen, I'm glad we aren’t going anywhere near that! By the time we made our exit for Mettmann the rain was more persistent, it’s gonna be a fun drive up to Hannover if this keeps up.

“Where’re we going?” instead of turning left we’d gone right.
“Bit of a detour,” Dad told us.
“Detour?”
“You’ll see.”

The road signs suggested we were headed into Solingen famous, like Sheffield back in England, for cutlery, knives in particular. But why were we going? We turned at another junction and found ourselves stuck behind a trolleybus, you know what I mean, they look like a normal bus but run off overhead electric like trams – I never realised they had them here.

We weren’t behind it that long before Dad spoke.

“Here we go.”
“Where?” I craned out the window, all I could see was trees on our side and some factory on the other.

We had to wait before we could turn in next to the factory.

“Haribo®?” Mand exclaimed, “like the bears?”
“Only one I know,” Dad mentioned with a grin in his voice.
“What’re we doing here?”
“A bit of shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“There a parrot in here? Yes shopping,” Dad stated pulling the bus into a rough parking area.
“For what?” I persisted.
“What do you think,” Pater quested as he got out.
“Haribo?”
“Eventually she gets it,” Mand opined.
“Well are you two coming or what?”

Hey, when I do manage to join the dots I can make the connections. It was a Keystone moment as Mand and I dived for the now open door together.

“Oh...my...god!” Mand stated.
“Kew-el!” I added.

It was a visual and nasal assault on the senses, a shop selling nothing but Haribo and Maoam sweets.

“Oh boy, gummi bear heaven,” my sidekick added.
“Can we get stuff?” I asked.
“Be my guest,” Dad told us, “I've got an order to collect for George, try not to spend too much.”

We didn’t need another invite, Mand grabbed a basket and we joined the other shoppers.

“How much?”
“That’s like less than half price,” I quickly calculated.
“I suppose it is the factory.”
“Gott, there’s kilo bags of one flavour!”
“Two ninety,” Mand read off the shelf label.

“Just how much did you spend,” Dad enquired as he stowed my and Mand’s purchases.
“Twenty?” I suggested.

It was actually closer thirty but he doesn’t need to know that, well you can’t pass up the opportunity can you? I hadn’t gone that mad, Mand spent nearly as much – I guess that is a lot sweets. Anyway, he could hardly talk, there’s like two big boxes in the back.

“Just don’t make yourselves ill,” he suggested with a shake of his head.
“Sweetie?” I offered, proffering the rather large bag of pick ‘n’ mix.

I didn’t mention that did I, they have like a whole wall with about every Haribo as pick ‘n’ mix, I must admit I got a bit carried away, a scoop of this, one of that, bears, cherries, sours, allsorts – you name it they’re in there.

It’s not that far or long a journey from the Haribo place to Mettmann, back across the autobahn, down through the next village then it’s like up the hill, turn left and we’re there. The family car was on the drive which means Marcus Grönberg, Ron’s dad is home, quite a rarity. We piled out – well it’s rare we don’t have at least coffee when we stop at the Grönberg’s isn’t it.

“Don’t get too comfortable up there,” Dad warned as we headed to Ron’s burrow armed with coffee and Streusel .
“Yes, Dad,” I groaned before following the others upstairs.

“We stopped at the Bear factory,” Mand supplied enthusiastically.
“Bear factory?”
“Gummis,” I enlarged.
“Haribo? Over in Solingen?”
“Yeah,” Mand agreed, you been?”
“Of course, we used to go regularly when I was smaller, birthdays and Weihnachts wouldn’t be the same without Gummi bears. I'm guessing you stocked up?”
“Not many,” Mand told our hostess, “it’s so cheap there.”
“No middlemen, straight from the factory.” Ron observed.

They can talk if they want but I was concentrating on Angela’s home-made Streusel, just the right amount of filling, not too dry, plenty of icing – well just how I prefer it.

“Hmm,” I allowed, “thish ish gud.”
“Gab!” Mand complained brushing imaginary crumbs off herself.

Ron collapsed into hysterics closely followed by myself then finally Mand.

“Clearly something’s funny,” Dave mentioned as the sound of the girls hilarity drifted downstairs.
“So the insurance aren’t paying out?” Marcus asked.
“Not for now, apparently it could get quite complicated, my insurance, the builders, the cement company, crane people.”
“A regular can of worms,” Angela noted.
“So what do you do in the meantime?”
“I'm hoping George will let me use the bus Marcus but the senior squad will need it for domestic stuff.”
“Something will turn up,”
Dave sighed, “I hope so, I really do.”

“Come on guys, long way to go,” Dad chivvied, “where’s Gaby?”
“Here, had to have a wee.”
“TMI Gabs,” Ron mentioned.

How comes as a boy I could say that without any repercussions but as me, that's girl me, it’s not acceptable? What am I supposed to say?
The Grönberg’s made their farewells, it was heading towards one by the time we started the journey into Niedersachsen. It’s around three hundred kilometres, a good three hours in the bus without a stop, I doubt if we’ll be at the hotel much before five.

“Geez, Gab, how much Haribo?”
“It’s not just for me,” I protested.
“She says.”
“Angela, she’s picking on me,” I bleated to her mother.

“We stopped at Haribo on the way up,” Dave told the woman beside him.
“Don’t tell me, the pick ‘n’ mix?”
“I think she got a couple of kilos.”
“That's a lot of sweets,” Angela observed.

I wasn’t really taking much notice of our route, one bit of autobahn looks much like another. We stopped at Gütersloh services for a leg stretch and toilets, and having outrun the rain, we enjoyed ice cream in the warming sunshine. Back on the road again I actually fell asleep after Ron and de Vreen started playing cards.

“What’s happening?” maybe it was a change in engine tone or just deceleration but I was disturbed from my slumber.
“Traffic’s at a standstill in front,“Dad called back.
“All we need,” I grumbled, “where’s the sweets?”
“You ate them all,” Ron stated.
“Did not, come on, guys?”
“Been asleep for an hour and the first thing on her mind is sweets,” Mand noted.
“Wasn’t the first thing,” I pouted, “sweets?”
“Stop teasing her,” Angela instructed as we edged forward.
“Here you are, moanie,” Mand told me as she retrieved the weighty bag of confectionery.
“I only wanted to know where they were.”
“Gaby!” the rest of the bus announced in a chorus.

Maddy Bell © 16.01.17

 

 

 
We were going nowhere fast, it’s amazing how quickly the traffic builds when it’s suddenly not whizzing along at a hundred kph. With the afternoon warming up so did the bus, it wasn’t long before the air con could be heard over the idling engine as it did its best to keep us cool.
The bag of Haribo did the rounds twice as we crept along – well you just do, don’t you?

“I wouldn’t mind but we’re going off at the next junction,” Dad advised.
“So near, so far,” I offered as the three lanes of traffic crept forward a few more metres.
“There nothing on the radio?” Ron queried.
“Nothing’s come up for this,” Dad told us, “some nasty near Kassel, coach on fire.”
“We’re miles from there aren’t we?”
“Far enough,” he agreed, “here we go.”

The traffic started to move, not quickly but at least forward. Looking ahead though there were several sets of blue lights and the next set of lane controls suggested that the outer two lanes were closed ahead – probably the cause of the stop start as all the traffic tried to get in one lane. But at least we were moving.

Eventually we reached the blue lights and I guess it’s human nature to want to look at the cause of the disruption. Although there were a couple of ambulances the crews were just stood chatting so I guess no one was hurt but it’s amazing if that's the case. One articulated truck was skewed across the road and several cars were sort of parked ahead of it.

But the actual accident was with a recovery truck, somehow it had found its way up onto the concrete barrier and complete with its load now rested at a precarious angle, the cab almost three metres above the road. The Polizei were ‘encouraging’ the passing traffic to keep moving so there was no chance to really look, the road quickly returning to the full three lanes. A frenzy of delayed organ donors zoomed past as our own speed increased, some people never learn.

“This looks like us,” Dad stated a short time later.
“How far is it?” Mand asked.
“Half an hour maybe.”
“Good, I can last that long.”
“You should’ve said something, we just passed a rest area,” Angela noted.
“I'll turn the air con down a bit,” Dad stated, almost immediately the cold air’s effects lessened – it had been affecting me too.

We are in the same hotel as last year, the Intercity on Nordwall, Dad spun us into the drive just as the town clocks started to strike five. We’d no sooner stopped than a figure hurried out from reception dressed in the almost default black waist coat, shirt and straight leg trousers. Dad got out and met the chap before he reached the bus, they were soon engaged in an arm waving conversation.

“Come on, girls, bags,” Angela prompted.

How come you have to repack your bag every time you get out of a vehicle? It’s not like I've been doing my war paint or anything but somehow I've still got half its contents spread around me – grrr. By the time I was organised Dad was back from the semaphore exchange.

“Everything okay?” Angela enquired.
“Just organising parking, go on in and he’ll sort your rooms while I move the bus.”
“The others here?” I asked.
“Not yet, I shouldn’t think they’re far off though.”

As usual these days me and Mand were sharing, Ron and her mum were in together, the Luchow’s have a triple and Dad is on his own. The others, well if you remember Josh’s dad is military, based at Bergen just up the road from the race start. Apparently Tali is staying there with him having come from Hamburg on the train, we’ll see them in the morning I guess.

“Tal’s got the right idea,” Mand opined, “these dresses are a pain.”
“It’s the price we pay,” I allowed.
“We’re gonna look right dorks walking around the town.”
“I think ‘professional’ is the word you are looking for,” I suggested as I teased my own frock into place.
“Yeah whatever, you ready?”
I checked that my wig wasn’t going anywhere, “Let’s go eat.”

It’ll come as no surprise that we were the last to arrive in reception.

“Hi, Gret.”
“Gab? You got your hair cut and it’s blonde again.”
“Fancied a change.”
“Told you she was different,” Ron stage whispered.
“Now we’re all here,” Dad intoned, shall we go eat?”

We were already getting some looks and we hadn’t left reception, Mand’s right, we’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb walking around Celle town centre.

The four of us in the blue team frocks clacked our way along the street, the adults following behind.

“Where’re we going?” Gret requested.
“Well unless anyone’s got a preference I have a table booked at some place called the Drei Glocken.” Dad advised.
“Is it far?” I asked, well we’d walked at least two hundred metres already.
“That looks like it on the corner,” Dieter proffered.

The Drei Glocken or Three Bells if you prefer is in one of the many timber buildings in old Celle, very rustic and on this fine evening busy both inside and at the tables outside.

“They’re all looking at us,” Roni mentioned as we arrived at our destination.
“I feel a right prawn,” Mand added.
We were intercepted by a waiter chap, “How many?”
“Eight, I've booked a table, Bond?”
“One moment.” He disappeared inside which gave us the chance to check out what other customers were eating – from what I could see it was fairly traditional German.
“Ladies, gentlemen,” the returned waiter indicated we should follow him.

He didn’t take us inside but instead through a side door which actually took us into a walled garden. Our table was sat beneath an elderly Linden, that most German of trees which provided the shade from the sun other tables had umbrellas for.

“This looks nice,” Sonja mentioned as we seated ourselves.

By the time we were settled the Speisekarte were at each place and a waitress was waiting, I'm guessing for our drink order.

“Don’t expect an easy ride,” Dad told us as we started discussing tomorrow’s race.
“Do we ever?” I queried as I chased the last peas around my plate.
“All I'm saying is that we can’t rely on the same tactics getting results, we can only play the fairer sex card so many times before we’ve cried wolf one time too many.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Gret asked, her hackles already rising.
“Maybe it’s time to play the Josh card.”
“We already do,” I pointed out.
“Okay let’s look at this from a different angle, who are we racing for tomorrow?”
“Gab,” Mand stated with conviction.
“Ron? Greta?”
“I guess,” Ron agreed.
“Wrong,” Dad stated, “you’re riding for the team, it’s not the Gaby Bond racing team it’s the Apollinaris race team. Greta, when you and Tali and Josh if he’s about to race without Gaby, who do you race for?”
“Well it depends who’s having a day.”
“So it might be any of you?”
“Suppose so,” Gret admitted.
“So when you don’t have a designated leader you still work together?”
“Well yeah.”
“So if I said we don’t have a leader tomorrow you’d all work together?” Dad pressed.
“Course,” Mand put in.
“What’re you suggesting, Dad?”
“I think,” Dieter started, “that what Dave is suggesting is chaos.”
“Chaos?” Ron queried.
“On the nail, Dieter,” Dad confirmed, “the competition have latched onto some of our tactics, look at Hamburg, even the Dutch race, those moves weren’t random they were intended to break our control. They’ve got used to how we work, so we need to change.”
“We’ve won though haven’t we,” Mand pointed out.
“So far but we haven’t been able to control things like we did last year, they smell blood, your blood and if we aren’t careful we’ll lose the upper hand.”
“So what do we do then?” I asked.
“We fall apart.”
“Eh?” Ron managed as Gret nearly choked on her coke.
“I thought you said, ‘fall apart’,” I posited.
“I did, Dieter’s right, we turn to chaos to gain the upper hand.”
“So like, how does that work?” Gret asked.

I was regretting not bringing a cardi by the time we got back to the hotel, by the time we left the Drei Glocken the sun was well over the yard arm and a cool breeze populated the city streets. I think we’ve got the race plan sorted out, Tali and Josh will get the low down in the morning. There was no point in hanging around downstairs so Mand and I went upstairs to chill in our room.

“You reckon it’ll work?”
“It will or it won’t,” I admitted.

To be honest I wasn’t keen, the others are usually at some level working towards a Bond win and tomorrow that’s out of the window – well not entirely but it’ll be more subtle.

“Better take the wig off,” Mand suggested as I got ready to shower.
“Sugar, I nearly forgot.”
I unclipped my hair piece and freed my pale pink locks.
“You got any ribbon?”
“Not something I usually carry,” Mand told me with a sneer.
“Hmm.”
“What are you plotting Gaby Bond?”
“Nothing, won’t be long.” I ducked into the bathroom leaving my roommate to her dismal Saturday night telly.

I couldn’t get to sleep, there was too much going through my head. Dad’s ‘chaos’ theory of course but not just that, the crane incident, my conversation with Raine Osman, the wedding – it all sort of merged into one big lump of sleeplessness. I reached into the bag of Haribo for more sugary goodness, scoring a lump of licorice and by the feel of it one of the new gummi Smurfs. A streak of light cut across the ceiling as a car manoeuvred outside, then it suddenly clicked, Dad’s whole plan was smoke and mirrors!

“You’re keen,” Mand observed from under her duvet.
“Early bird and worms.”
“What time is it?”
“Seven fifteen,” I advised pulling a pair of cycling tights on over my shorts.
“Guess I should get up then.”

My feet were soon in my baseball boots, in fact before Mand had crawled from under the duvet.

“See you downstairs.”
“Whatever.”

The breakfast room was sparsely populated, it is after all half seven on a Sunday morning, but I still wasn’t the first down, both Dad and Dieter were some way into their repast.

“You’re bright and early,” Dad noted.
“Can’t stay in bed all day.”
“What have you done with, Gaby?” Dad demanded.
Dieter was clearly puzzling over something, “Wasn’t your hair shorter and blonde yesterday?”
“Was it?” I grinned back.

Maddy Bell © 17.01.17

 

 

 
I was into my second cup of caffeine enriched coffee by the time the rest of our party emerged, it wasn’t great coffee but it was strong, not bitter and in plentiful supply. You can’t always get enough sport friendly food at hotel breakfast bars – Dad has usually got backup supplies in the form of pasta but at least we could escape that this morning as they had warming pans with the makings of a decent breakfast plate.

Apparently, back in the day, the favoured cyclist breakfast was rice and steak – I don’t think I could face that but scrambled egg, frikadel, beans, tomato and mushrooms pretty much cover the same calorie requirements, add in the fruit, juice, joghurt and a couple of rounds of toast with Nutella® or jam and I for one, am set.

“How’s the coffee?” Ron, the last to arrive, enquired.
“Drinkable,” I allowed with a shrug.
“You reckon this free for all will work?” Gret asked as she loaded her toast with Nutella.
“’S worth a try, if nothing else it’ll confuse the life out of the rest.”
“And us,” Mand put in.

I couldn’t argue with that, we’ve usually got some sort of fairly solid plan, attack here, sit in for the sprint, follow so and so but this new angle hasn’t got a real focus, all I can see is frustration. In the back of my mind was the fear of not winning today, oh I know I can’t win every time out of the blocks but is doesn’t stop me wanting to. Second best would be a team win and I can’t see that happening either.

“Woo-ooo,” a hand waved in front of my face.
“Eh?”
“You spaced out,” Ron stated.
“Er soz, just thinking.”
“Don’t worry your little self with that, we are quite capable,” Mand offered.
“Funny ha ha.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Dad announced.
“Damn,” Ron opined, still working on her hot food.

“Still a strawberry blonde then,” Tali mentioned as she started warming up on the turbo.
“Eh?”
“Hair? Pink?”
“Er yeah, how’s it going with lover boy?”
Said Toon was deep in conversation with Dad and Dieter just far enough away he wouldn’t hear us.
“You know how it is, he stays at mine most weekends, it’s easier to get to races.”
“I bet. Don’t your parents mind?”
“Why should they?”
“Well you know, you, him?”
“What's that supposed to mean?
“Do you, you know, er do it?”
“Sheesh, Gab, we aren’t in religious orders, of course we do, don’t you and whatshisname?”
“Course not!”
“Only asked, I mean your sister has her man doesn’t she?”

Boris. To be honest apart from a bit of sibling jousting I've never really thought too much about their relationship. When I think about it whilst they don’t push it into anyone’s face they do sleep in one bed at ours, they probably do the same at Boris’s place – I guess it’s inevitable that they er do it, gross!

“Um yeah.”
“So you and your fella never?”
“Not gonna happen, not this side of hell freezing,” I stated categorically,” and he’s not my ‘fella’.”
“Guess men aren’t for everyone.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, so you slept with her then?”
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend, dummy.”
“She’s not my...” I started to protest.
“You have Gaby Bond!”
“It’s not what you think.”
“And just what do I think?”

Good question and just what do you, Sophia Thun und Taxis think our relationship is?

“When you two have finished gossiping, we’ve got a race to win,” Mand interrupted.
“Er yeah, be there.”
Tali waggled her eyebrows at me – sheesh, now she thinks I've got a Girlfriend!

The sky looks like we’re gonna get a dry ride and by all the bare arms and legs everyone else seemed to think the same. I hate this bit, well hate’s maybe a bit strong but all the pre race hanging about, I just want to get on with things. According to my computer we still have about ten minutes, for about the fifth time I checked that my jersey pockets were fully provisioned and took a sip from my bidon.

Racing up here a lot of the time, our northern contingent were busy exchanging pleasantries with those they know, the rest of us recognising far fewer of today’s field. It might be a Jungere League event but it’s a long way to travel and quite an expense if you live in Baden, Bavaria or even Saxony. A couple of riders have made the long journey north, I exchanged nods with a couple of lads I recognised from Baden the other week.

I can’t see either of them offering any assistance today, we worked the field over that day – we’ve probably not made many friends with our racing style. Of course at Jungere events they do a presentation to the crowd – I say crowd, more of a puddle of supporters. And yes, that means that I get to wear the nasty green series leader shirt – again.

The MC tried to get a bit of crowd action going but in the end we rolled out of Hörsten to the accompaniment of some ageing American rock band. Four laps of @ twenty kilometres each, not the longest race of the season and whilst one of the flatter that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy either. We barely cleared the de-limit signs when the green flag dropped, time for action.

Last year of course I won after a small group including Josh broke free, it would be too much to think the same could happen today. I have of course given my tactics some thought and the reality is that whilst the terrain suits a lone attack, the circuit, with its long, far seeing straights doesn’t. Which leaves either a repeat of last years small group attack or wait out a gallop at the finish.

I've probably got the beating of everyone here in a sprint but it could get messy if there are too many contesting. There is another option I suppose, watch and react – Dad hasn’t forbade us working together, we just don’t have a team plan. One thing Dad did suggest was for us not to ride together as we usually do, that in itself doesn't seem that strange but it is a break from our usual.

Things cranked up at the front and I found myself around twentieth wheel in a line out doing forty K under the trees of the first multi kilometres straight. With fresh legs all round it probably wasn’t going to do a lot of damage but it was fast enough to make escape difficult if not impossible. One disadvantage of being small is that I can’t easily see past the mostly much bigger opposition in situations like this, I had my ideas on who was driving this but couldn’t confirm them.

The situation didn’t change through the first turn, not much more than a kink really but the road narrows some and takes on the barest incline. A check behind revealed the expected picture, the peloton stretched out behind looking just the wrong side of comfortable. Of course this couldn’t go on sine die, Josh will tire but not before his efforts take a toll.

That point came as we hit a steeper incline, not steep exactly, you probably wouldn’t even change gear normally but the rise was enough to cause multiple elastic snapping in the line out. I made ten places in fifty metres as riders dropped off the pace even as the engine at the front slowed. As the road flattened off again, the speed increased again but it was quickly evident this wasn’t now just my team mates effort, well pretty obvious when he floated down the outside of the line a minute or two later.

“Big effort,” I offered.
“Don’t want too many in the bunch like.”
“Any sign of the others?”
He swivelled to look behind us, “Can’t see Tal but the rest are here.”

There seems to be some sort of rotation going on, another rider drifted backwards, Josh taking his cue to slip away.

When it came my turn on the front we’d already reached Osterholz where we don’t just turn into the restricted military zone but have to tackle the steepest climb of the day. I turned the screws a bit, it might be steeper but we’re talking 5% at most for all of four hundred metres. It wasn’t a serious attack but even so I made the summit turn with clear air, the huffing and puffing behind me an indication of my impact.

Sitting up, I took a draw on my bidon as the now messy bunch came back up to me. Ahead the ribbon of road stretched away across the heathland, a roller coaster ride between scrubby trees, bits of military vehicles and more substantial woodland. We dropped through the checkpoint and onto the effectively closed road that returns us to Hörsten.

I took the opportunity to check out the rest of the field, Gret and Mand passed me, Josh a few places in arrears but no sign of either Ron or Tali which is a bit weird. At a guess the main group here numbers about two thirds of the eighty odd starters. No time to go wool gathering, I slipped back into the flow of riders a sort of plan formulating in my head.

Our speed was a comfortable thirty, thirty five which meant a degree of bunching, the peloton spreading like this morning’s Nutella across the roadway. I took the opportunity to regain some road on the leaders who, at least for the moment seemed content to cruise. The road slunk into a bit of a dell, around a bend and past the car park for the Siebensteinhauser , the archaeology that Dad’s so keen on seeing sometime.

A few hardy fans cheered us through, it was still something of a procession to be honest. If we repeat for the next three laps we’ll still be in a bunch of about twenty last time around – still a bit risky. No sooner had I made the calculation than there was a flurry of activity at the head of affairs.

A clattering of gear changing, some cussing and the speed increased rapidly as we made the small climb away from the dell. I reacted of course, accelerating past some of those caught napping, something you can’t afford to do. Back into more open country the attack continued, stringing the peloton across the landscape in a multi hued ribbon.

Things eased after several minutes of this effort with us having reached Bredebeck, less a village than a few farm buildings but a sign we’d almost completed a lap.

A panting Manda slid towards me.
“That stirred things a bit.”
“The idea,” she panted.
“You?”
She nodded between gulps from her bottle, “Gret’ll go through the line.”
Anyone would think this was planned!

True to the intel no sooner had we made the turn onto the public road than another round of curses signalled Gret’s ‘attack’. Of course, as team mates we weren’t about to chase her down but escape wasn’t the purpose – this all about attrition. Josh came past, we exchanged looks and our by now subtle signalling set things in motion.

Gret’s effort started to falter after a kilo or so but Josh sprinted past her and away up the road. The more astute took off after him immediately, those less aware getting caught behind the rapidly slowing Gret. We might not’ve started with a game plan but we seem to be doing okay so far despite that.

I latched onto one of the Bavarians as he went past, well there’s no point in wasting energy is there? Josh kept the pressure on along the straight but sat up as we entered the woodland that surrounds the turn towards the north. His, and Gret’s of course, effort had succeeded in stringing out the race, a look around would suggest a bit more chaff has been shaken loose.

Although the Apollinaris engine eased off, the pace dropped only a little as others took up the challenge, our progress towards Osterholz continued at a similar speed to last time around. There was nothing like an organised rotation but the pace was being shared, I showed myself for a few metres at the front, Josh however was now keeping away from the action. We progressed steadily towards the climb, both Mand and Gret still hanging in, maybe not comfortably but who is?

The climb doesn’t exactly loom but the concrete surface starts to drag at your progress. We climbed at a steady rate, one that kept us in a group all the way to the turn into the military zone. I inwardly grinned, the non plan is coming together quite nicely.

Maddy Bell © 20.01.17

 

 

There was a bit of looking around going on, clearly some puzzlement at the lack of an Apollinaris move. Indeed, anyone looking at a form book would be expecting us to be making a concerted attack right about now. But we don’t have a plan today do we?

The ride across the training ground was uneventful, the peloton an amorphous blob which allowed several back markers to rejoin.

“What happened?” I asked Ron after dropping back a few places.
“Tal punctured, thought I'd give her a hand getting back, took a bit longer than expected.”
“You didn’t miss anything.”
“Oh goody.”
“Feed this time through,” I noted.

Ron nodded in agreement and we drifted apart only for Tal to replace her as we dropped into the dell.

“Puncture?”
“Rear, ratios are a bit out.”
“But rideable?”
“Top ends fine,” she confirmed.

It was me doing the nodding this time as we separated.

Clearly we, that's Team Apollinaris, weren’t going to do anything – at least any time soon, our fellow competitors seem content to wait us out – you can almost see the gears working in their heads. Someone did go for a long one as we exited the trees, but it seems that no one else is interested at the moment, he got about fifty metres and just hung there.

He was still there as we came out of the military zone and into Bredebeck, time to get curbside ready to take the musette . Angela and Sonja are pretty expert at this now of course, its not something you really practice although I guess we should. The feed zone has been placed just before Hörsten to get it out of the way before the public road, suits well enough, we can eat on the slight down slope of the long straight.

I grabbed the bag that Angela held up and quickly slung it over my head. Its a dangerous place to be so I accelerated to get clear before anyone touched wheels. There are no written rules but its generally considered bad form to attack in the feed zone, so it was a relaxed bunch who started lap three.

There isn’t a lot in the musette today, a fresh bidon, energy bar, half a banana, some sort of sandwich and some mixed fruit in a bag. I sat up and quickly transferred my supplies allowing me to dispose of the bag within the drop zone a few hundred metres after the line. The banana was quickly squeezed into my food orifice and the natural packaging flung onto the verge – at least that won’t be contaminating my jersey pockets!

With a lot of the bunch taking the opportunity to refuel it was almost like a mobile picnic. The sandwich turned out to be paté and tomato, easily consumed and digested and a welcome change to all the sugary stuff. Looking around the pack, the other sky blues were done feeding for now, not long now.

The long wide straight came to an end and reading the body language of the peloton the trap was ready to be sprung. Josh let himself drop back leaving just Gret in the first twenty as we started the haul up to Osterholz. There were a few nervous glances and then the bait was taken!
Both the Bavarians took off like scalded cats quickly followed by half a dozen others, they soon had clear road but the rest of the bunch, as Dad predicted weren’t feeling in a lay down mood. The chase wasn’t very co ordinated but it was purposeful with at least a dozen riders taking pulls on the front. Josh, I could see was gnashing at the bit, patience, big boy, patience.

Oh we contributed a bit, I even took a turn at the front but we left the others to do most of the work. The gap however remained fairly constant, maxing out around two fifty metres but mostly around fifty less. The break faltered a little at the short, steep blip, the gap was halved and our job made all the easier.

I checked around for the others, Mand was alongside Tal, both looked okay, Ron appeared fresh enough, Gret appeared to be puffing a bit though – I hope that's just acting. The gap was still closing, I was close enough to the front of the chase to see first one then more glances backwards as we approached the Osterholz turn off. There was a degree of movement amongst the chasers, and suddenly the front was a sea of Apollinaris blue.

We hit the bottom of the ramp and all six of us hit the turbo button. We sliced through the break like a hot knife through butter, by the turn onto the Heide we were clear, five girls in a string behind our big motor. Josh stormed through the control point, our speed lifting to almost fifty K before hitting the first of the roller coaster rises. He took us up the other side before we started a fast rotation, effectively a team time trial.

Of course I don’t give a lot of shelter, Josh gives a lot so we’d devised a line up that meant I followed the big Toon who followed Ron, Gret, Mand and Tali. In theory we get the most effective advantage, even Josh getting some shelter behind next tallest Roni. It was eyeballs out across the open plain, we need to make as much lead as possible before we start losing people.

I slid to the back before looking under my arm for the chase, the quick glance revealing a lot of tarmac back to a blob humanity – perhaps four hundred in arrears. Tali took us out of sight into the dell, we’ll be hidden until the chasers clear Siebensteinhauser.

“Enough?” Josh asked.
“Maybe, we should stick to the plan though.”

You didn’t really think there was no plan today did you? It’s an audacious one and won’t earn us many friends but that's not the idea: winning is the idea.

Back into the open after exiting the dell we held a steady forty five kph, Josh taking longer pulls at the front instead of swinging straight through. Gret however clearly hadn’t been faking back at Osterholz, she was struggling to come through.

“Sit in, Gret,” I suggested next time we crossed.

She nodded agreement. Even if she isn’t pulling at the front, according to the BC guys we go faster just by her presence in the line. Something to do with airflow, I don’t really get it even after Dad’s explanation last night.

The MC was kicking up a storm as the Apollinaris express started lap four. The spectator numbers have steadily increased each time round, there promises to be a reasonable crowd at the finish. This next leg is potentially our most susceptible time, several dead straight, slightly downhill kilometres, the now rising breeze in our faces.

We were half way along the straight when Gret finally blew. A cry of “gone!” was all that alerted the rest of us as we trailed Josh. She still has a rôle to play, hopefully muddying the chase even just a little.

A quick glance behind as we turned off the arrow straight section revealed the pursuit to be a good distance behind the neutral service although I didn’t see Gret before returning my attention forward.

“Enough!” Mand gasped out.
“Me too,” Tali added.
“We can rest a bit,” I offered.
“I'm done, Gab,” Mand stated.
“Ron?”
“I'm still good.”

By my reckoning it’s about fifteen K to the finish, I can probably time trial there on my own.

“See you at the finish,” Tali suggested.
“Laters!”

And so five became three.

Josh was taking longer pulls now, he was fresher than usual having not spent the first fifty kilometres chasing stuff down. Ron for her part was looking well and me, well I've still got some in the tank. Talking of which, I pulled a handful of raisins from my pocket and topped up the levels a little.

The Osterholz ramp felt steeper this last time up, it has to feel the same for everyone, we aren’t the only ones tiring. We were clapped through the checkpoint by a few military types, the last leg at, er, last.

It’s not all easy now, in fact the opposite is true, this is perhaps the most dangerous time. Any let up by us could allow the chasers to come back, over confidence is as bad as lack thereof. Ron checked behind.

“Can’t see them.”
“Might be in the dip like,” the usually taciturn Josh suggested.
“Through the dell and I reckon we’ve got it,” I opined.
“Aye man,” the Engine agreed before hitting the gas again.

Into the trees, bends, dip into the dell then back up onto the open heathland and with less than five kilometres to the line we eased off. Don’t think we’re not taking it seriously but there's no point in killing ourselves to finish a few seconds earlier. Nope, barring disaster one of us will be first over the line, and if there is a late surge from behind, well we’ve still got some in the tanks.

Yeah, disaster. I looked down at my front tyre again, definitely losing air. Question is, do I get service or push on? Sprinting will be out if I go for the latter but a bad service could put me back with the chasers. Better third than no podium I guess.

“We’re not sprinting are we?” Ron queried as Hörsten came into view.
“Tinkerbell can’t,” Josh told her.
Not sure how he knew so I decided to come clean, “Front tyres nearly flat.”
“Team finish?” Josh offered.
“Should be yours,” Ron told him.

I couldn’t argue, he has done a lot of work today.

We turned onto the finishing straight, Josh in the centre, a girl to either side, the three of us crossing the line abreast with a combined victory salute. The chasers did sprint for the line about thirty seconds later, there are Jungere League points to be had down to tenth. Not sure what Dad thought of our finish, we’d cleared the points, made a good photo op and not been involved with any controversy.

Well apart from deciding just who did win – after all they have to have a winner don’t they? They finally gave it to Josh after a long examination of the photo, they gave me third but let’s face it the three of us were split by five centimetres. The others came in with the main bunch some five minutes down, yeah they were well er, tired.

Of course we had to go through the whole presentation thing, not just for the race but the league too. It was almost three by the time we were packed up and ready to leave.

“Food?” Dad suggested.
“Er me mam’s expecting me an’ Tal to eat at home,” Josh told us.
“Deet?”
“Wouldn’t mind getting off to be honest, Dave,” Luchow senior mentioned.
“Okay then,” Dad allowed, “I'll speak to you all in the week.”
“I'll drop your kit off if you two are riding up to the camp,” Dieter offered.
“Thanks man, we’ll see you next time like,” the still grinning victor told us.

Farewells made, the southern contingent loaded onto the bus before Dad addressed us.

“I take it you lot want to eat?”
“Duh?” I mentioned.
“Okay.”
An idea hit my frontal lobe, “We could go see those rocks, you said you wanted to last year and like we’ve been past four times today, but I've no idea what they look like.”
“It’s fine by me, Dave,” Angela stated.
“Mand, Ron?” Dad’s always democratic except when he’s not.
“I could do with a snooze,” Mand opined.
“As long as we eat after,” Ron added.

Dad was obviously quite pleased by my suggestion, he was actually humming as we started a fifth lap of the day.

Maddy Bell © 21.01.17

 

 

 
Of course, when we were racing we rode straight through the checkpoint but now of course the barrier was closed.

“What’s up?” Mand enquired when Dad got out and headed to the sentry point.
“According to the sign we have to check in and out,” I advised scanning the board next to us.
“What for, we went straight through before.”
“It’s Wehrmacht, normally the public aren’t allowed, only at weekends to visit the Grabenlagen,” Angela told us, “the race gets special permission.”
“Like Salisbury Plain,” I suggested, Dad says there’s all sorts of neat stuff there but you can’t visit most of it, like ever.”
“I wondered what the tanks and stuff were about,” Mand allowed.
“Okay,” Dad stated as he climbed back in, “let’s look at some rocks.”

It looked a bit different from the bus and we reached the dell in just a few minutes even with the fifty limit. I hadn’t really taken notice before but there were roadways going off all over, it’d be cool to explore but as the signs kept reminding us, we were restricted to this roadway. Dad pulled the bus into the parking area, there were a couple of other vehicles parked, for somewhere not on most maps it’s pretty popular!

“Thought you were sleeping?” I mentioned to Mand as we walked across the glade to the information panel.
“We’re here now, might as well take a gander.”
“Don’t go too far,” Dad told us, “there are signs but the chap at the gate says that there could be live rounds just outside the protected area, some muck up with visiting troops, Spanish I think he said.”
“They aren’t shooting today are they,” Ron asked.”
“Not at weekends, even the army works Monday to Friday these days!” Dad advised.

Dad and Angela headed one way, the rest of us down a different path that led to a grassy glade with a pile of huge rocks at the far end.

“So like, what’s it supposed to be?”
“It’s a burial chamber,” I pronounced.
“Looks like it’s falling to bits,” Mand offered.
“Well it is like five thousand years old,” I pointed out as I peered into the chamber. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

It’s not really my thing but it is Dad’s so we’ve been to loads of these places and inside a fair few. We’ve got a box of photos at home somewhere with the family variously inside or on top of monuments from Cornwall to Scotland, it’s apparently an archaeologist thing.

“Not likely,” Mand shrieked, “it’s gonna fall down any minute and all those dead people.”
“I doubt that,” Ron took the job of voice of reason, “it’s empty now and as to falling down, it’s been here a while without crushing anyone."

This one actually has two chambers and one has collapsed but I was busy crawling inside the other. Not that there’s exactly a lot to see, a dirt floor, the cap stone balanced on the side uprights allowing just a bit over a metre to stand, well stoop or sit.

“There’s not much room,” Ron observed.
“How much do you need when you’re dead?”
“Just saying.”
“Dad reckons you’d get hundreds in some of ‘em, they only put your bones inside.”
“What, like skellingtons?” Mand, curiosity piqued, queried.
“Sort of, Dad reckons they let animals eat your flesh then just stacked all your bones in piles in here.”
“Gross!”
“Come on, let’s go see the others.”

Essentially the others were variations on a theme, smaller or bigger than the first, a space to clamber inside and not much else. Of the five, only D was different, the chamber set within a large rock bound mound.

“So how comes this one’s different?” Mand asked as we sat under the huge central slab.
“Dunno,” I admitted, “have to ask Dad.”
“Ask Dad what?” Pater enquired catching the three of us by surprise with his camera flash.
“Da-ad!”
“We were wondering why this one’s different to the others, Herr B,” Ron advised.
He climbed the rest of the way in, “Well it might not be.”
“Come on, Dad,” I exclaimed.
He made himself comfortable on the floor, “Hear me out, it’s pretty certain that all of these chambers were originally part of a mound that's eroded away.”
“So where are the other rocks?” Mand posed.
“Probably part of some farmhouse, there’s hardly any natural rock to quarry around here, a lot of these monuments have been used as quarries.”
“Why not the chambery bits?” I asked.
“Either too big to easily move or they were still covered by the mounds.”

It was almost four thirty when we reached the checkpoint again, mine wasn’t the only rumbling tum in the bus. Oh we’ve had a few bits of fruit, some leftover sandwiches and delved into the Haribo bag but that can only take you so far.

“Apparently there’s a cafe place just out in the village,” Dad told us on his return to the bus.
“Worth a look,” Angela proposed.

The place was difficult to miss, a squat yellow affair facing the quaint little church, what’s more it was open. Dad pulled into the parking area and we tumbled out and made our way inside. A strange mix of pub, cafe and corner shop filled the interior.

“Tag,” a voice enquired.
“Tag,” Dad replied as a middle aged woman appeared at the ‘counter’, “are you still doing food?”
“Ja, ja, sit, I'll bring the Speisekarte.”

We found seats at a table next to one of the large front windows before realising we weren’t the only customers after all, an older couple in walking gear occupied one of the bar tables.

The menus appeared, a drink order taken and the serious business of food selection could begin. It wasn’t ever going to be cordon bleu but I'll settle for the basics quite happily ninety nine percent of the time. One big difference here at the Osterholz Diner was a lack of Pommes, plenty of potato but in the form of boiled and croquettes – guess it makes a change.

When it arrived I was surprised to find several finger thick sticks of Spargel, the white asparagus preferred this side of the Channel. The menu only stated ‘sommer gemüse’ which I guess doesn’t leave out many options! With the new potatoes and ‘gravy’ my Rinderbraten almost looked like a Sunday dinner.

Well apart from the Spargel and the cheese sauce on top and the lack of roasts and Yorkshire pud, so almost.

“What’re them things?” Mand enquired.
“Spargel.”
“That size?”
“There’s a van comes to Mettmann most weeks from Nederland,” Angela advised, “they have it five centimetres across.”
“Sheesh,” I allowed, “how do you cook that?”
“I think people make the soup with them, slice them up like carrots I guess.”

Mand seemed fascinated, her roulade came with Rotköhl.

“You want to try, Mand?”
“Can I?”

I selected one of the thinner lengths and delivered across to her plate.

“I didn’t need a whole one.”
“There’s a lot here,” I noted.

The day was heading towards six when we returned to the bus sated if somewhat dozy. A bit of the day’s heat disappeared with the arrival of some thin cloud cover, when we joined the autobahn outside of Fallingbostel the traffic was light. The others were equally quiet as we started the journey south, I padded up my fleece to use as a pillow and then missed the next three hours.

“You guys want coffee?” Angela offered as we unloaded in Mettmann.
“Please,” Dad requested, “might not make it back otherwise.”

It’s easy to forget that he’s been up as long as the rest of us without the benefit of a power nap on the motorway – and he’s old.

“I'll put the jug on.”

So of course, those having slept were fully awake which was all the more ironic given Dad had no sooner sat on the sofa and he was zonked.

“Let him be,” Angela told us when we noticed his comatose form.
“How’re we gonna get home?” Manda asked, “I've got school tomorrow.”
“We’ll let him have an hour, I'm sure he just needs a few minutes. You girls want to get showered?”

Yeah, no shower facilities today, we’ve had to make do with a flannel wash – not ideal.

I sniffed at my t shirt, “Might be an idea.”
“Finish your drinks and I'll get some towels.”

“You should’ve woken me,” Dad told us as we finally started the last leg of our journey just after ten thirty.
“And get it in the ear for disturbing you,” I noted.
“You obviously needed some Zzz’s,” Mand observed.
“Hmm.”

We joined the southbound motorway just as the skies opened up.

So of course the earlier slumber time means I can’t get to sleep, I did finally get to my bed nigh on midnight. The rain pattering on the roof light doesn’t help, it has got heavier the closer we got to Dernau, not torrential but wetly. We got drenched just getting from the bus to the house and by the time we had the bus unloaded, well you could wring us out!

I really want to sleep. What am I doing tomorrow? Dress – I've got to collect that dress. Not sure what else, wonder if Con’ll come with?

A flash of brightness lit the room for a moment, one, two, three, I pretty much jumped out of my skin with the volume of the thunder, great. Ever done this, laid in bed waiting for the next peal of thunder, the next lightning strike? I'm not frightened, well not really but it can be a bit, well it gets the ticker going. I'll never get to sleep now.

“Gaby!”
‘S that?
“Gaby, will you answer that phone!”

Dad’s voice, something else, ringing, phone.

At the second attempt my outstretched fingers located my Handy, not ringing for a call but for an alarm, it gets louder each repeat, if you don’t stop it it’ll repeat every five minutes. Why’s the alarm going? It took a minute to convince my eyes they should open, when they did I shut them immediately to block out the sunlight streaming in – when did that happen?

“Your mum’s back later,” Dad advised.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Everything washed and away before she gets here please.”
“Yes, Dad,” I groaned, you’d think it was the Queen coming to visit.
“I mean it, she’ll have enough of her own stuff to sort out without you and Manda’s stuff everywhere.”
“If we hadn’t got back so late it woulda been done.”
“Well it’s not and it needs doing.”
“I suppose I have to do Mand’s too?”
“It’s hardly hard work and she is it school right now.”

Slave driver.

“And do me a shopping list, I'll do the supermarket when I go into the office.”
“Yes, Dad.”

Another day in paradise.

Maddy Bell © 21.01.17

 

 

Of course as a teenager I reserve the right to be a pain in the posterior, specifically towards my parents when they ask me to do stuff so my reaction to Dad’s breakfast time requests was completely justified. Well, in my head at least.

Mum instigated a system some time ago to make shopping easier – there’s a pad on the kitchen board that we are supposed to write down anything that we use on. Clearly stuff gets missed so it’s not Bond proof but it does act as a good starting point and it’s not like it is back in England where people do a big shop in Sainsbury’s or Tesco or wherever and that's it. For starters we get our bread from Thesing's, Dad goes to the drinks warehouse every few weeks, there’s a good butcher here in Dernau and most of the veggies come from a farm shop Stefan Preiser put us onto.

The nett result is that a trip to Aldi or Lidl or wherever is used to buy stuff like washing powder, biscuits, toilet roll as opposed to core food lines. Oh I know they sell the other stuff and occasionally we will pick up other bits if we are desperate. Generally though the weekly supermarket run is a poor imitation of back in Warsop.

It only took me a couple of minutes to make the list up by which time Dad was ready to go down to Bad Neuenahr.

“You alright? I'll be back about four.”
“’Kay.”
“Washing.”
“I'm doing it!”

His look indicated I was getting close to his patience threshold.

“You might be sixteen young lady but you aren’t too old to be sanctioned.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“If you go out make sure the place is locked up.”
“Of course I will.”
“Later then.”

I watched him from the kitchen window until he’d departed.

“Con, wotcha doing later?”
“Same as you?”
“Cool, I just need to finish this washing and I'll be round.”
“What’re we doing?”
“I need to collect my dress for starters.”
“Aah!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, geez, Gab calm down.”
“I am calm.”
“See you in a bit,” my BF told me.
“Later.”

I think I've mentioned before, we’ve got two washing machines, one in the ‘bike shed’, the other upstairs in the laundry room. I did a round of the washing hampers, well I might as well be thorough or that won’t be right either. Of course that meant both machines were pressed into action, someone – not me is gonna have a pile of ironing later!

You might think I'm making a mountain out of a molehill, you might even by right but I'm entitled okay? Last night’s thunderstorm has at least left everything fresh and green so rather than use the drier I decided to hang everything outside. It’s a bit of a pain but you never get the same sort of freshness out of the drier whatever you do.

“We’re going by bike?” Con queried.
“It’s a nice day.”
“Just checking, so you win yesterday?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?”
“Well we crossed the line together.”
“But?” Con pressed.
“They gave me third,” I sighed.
“Well that's hardly a disaster,” Con noted.
“But I coulda won,” I moaned.
“You can’t win every time, girl.”
“Why not?”
Con just shook her head, “You want coffee before we go?”
“After, my treat.”
“Well if you’re paying count me in!”

There were quite a few oldies on Trekking bikes on the bike path – yeah we’re well into Grockle season. In a few weeks they might be stopping at our kiosk for lunch, I smiled as we crossed which did elicit some friendly greetings.

“Why are you grinning like a loon?”
“All these bikes have potential customers on board.”
“Never thought of it like that,” Con admitted.
“We should do some advertising boards for on here.”
“Aren’t we a long way off here?”
“Plenty of them ride up to Altenahr, we could have like distance markers, you know like ten K to the Bridge Kiosk, five K and so on.”
“Okay, you’ve sold me – hey maybe we could get something in the Tourist Office.”
“Fliers,” I enthused, “we could put the menu on one side and directions the other.”
“We could go and see them after you get your dress.”
“Well maybe after lunch.”
“After lunch then.”

By now we were heading into the old town so further discussion was curtailed as we negotiated the narrow lanes.

Ding a ling, ling. The bell on Eloise Couture’s door loudly announced our arrival, I've become so used to the store being empty that I was a bit taken aback to find Gerta was already serving someone. And not just anyone, I'd recognise that hair anywhere.

“Gabrielle,” the Baroness, Max’s grandma greeted, “and your friend, Constance isn’t it?”
“Er yes,” Con agreed.
“Erm hello, Baroness.”
“I've told you before Gabrielle, Grandma,” she instructed, “you have come for your dress for the wedding?”
“Um Dottie said it would be ready?” I appealed to Gerta.
“My grandson said that your hair was an ‘interesting’ colour.”
“I've got a wig for the wedding,” I told her with a hint of panic in my voice.
I was saved by Gerta, “if you’ll excuse me for a moment, your Grace, I'll take the girls through to Dorothy.”
“Certainly, we can have a look when she’s dressed, eh?”
“Of course, your Grace. Come girls.”
‘Who’s Dorothy?’ I mouthed to Con who just shrugged in reply.

Well I knew I'd be trying the frock on so I had on some neutral hold ups under my Capri's and the shoes I got last week in Bonn were in my bag – see, I do learn. Once delivered to the changing room, Gerta called for ‘Dorothy’ before returning to the front of the shop.

“Ah, Gaby and Connie,” Dot greeted, “I'll just fetch the dress.”

The penny dropped, since no one else works here Dottie is Dorothy, Gerta was trying to be posh in front of her exalted and no doubt lucrative customer.

Dottie returned with the er dotty creation within seconds, “You need shoes?”
“I've er got some,” I allowed waving said stilts.
“Well let’s get you dressed then.”

It felt weird, the net underskirt full enough to hold the knee length skirts away from my legs whilst the semi fitted bodice hugged me above the waist.

“Looking good, Gabs,” Con stated as Dot fussed with the skirts.
“I feel a right dork.”
“You don’t look like one,” Dottie noted, “in fact very sophisticated. Let me put your hair up before we show the Baroness.”

With practised ease my hair was soon in a tidy chignon and I was being ushered into the shop.

There was silence when I stepped out, the assembled audience increased by Max’s mum.

“Is it okay?” I squeaked.
“One moment,” Gerta suggested hurrying across the store and returning with a yellow clutch that matched both shoes and dress, “there.”
“You look stunning, Gaby,” Gloria broke the silence.
“My dear, you’ll outshine them all,” the Baroness added with a weird little clap.
“Not Sara I hope,” I opined.
“Silly girl,” Grandma mentioned.
“Not the place, mother,” Gloria suggested.
“No, no indeed, Gertrude, include the bag.”
“Of course, your Grace.”
“I um better get changed,” I mumbled.

When I'd decided that we’d ride down I hadn’t allowed for more than the dress itself, I surveyed the pile of bags on Gerta’s counter, wondering how to transport dress, underskirt, shoes and bag back to Dernau. I didn’t dare look at the chit when Gerta requested a signature – far too much I'm sure.

“I'll drop it off for you, Gaby,” Gloria offered.
“There might not be anyone in till late this afternoon.”
“I'll ring beforehand then.”
“Erm thanks.”
“Can’t have our Prinzessin getting in a pickle, eh?”
“Erm no.”

“Grandma?”
“Wasn’t my idea,” I told my companion, “she insisted when we went to Munich last year.”
“Munich,” Con sighed, “I really should go to some of these places.”
“They aren’t all that brilliant, one city’s much like another.”
“Easy enough for you to say, you’ve actually been further than Kӧln.”
“You went to Berlin,” I pointed out.
“One trip hardly compares to your globe trotting does it?”
“Tell you what, we’ll go on a road trip, everyone together, we can go to Munich and Nürnberg and wherever.”
“In our dreams.”
“Nope, I promise.”
“Think she’ll adopt me?” Con changed the subject as she unlocked her bike.
“I'm not adopted.”
“Don’t take everything so literally, Gabs, so where’re we eating?”
I hadn’t given it a lot of thought, a glance along the street gave sudden inspiration though, “Der Mühle?”
“As in the Foch’s place?”
“Only one I know, I might be able to swing a staff discount.”
“Gabrielle Bond, you are the limit!”
“Ah but the limit of what?”

Con just shook her head, kicked the side stand up and started pushing her steed along towards the restaurant cum bar.

Maddy Bell © 23.01.17

 

 

I've been in loads of these places, this one on several occasions but today is the first time without ‘adult supervision’. There were a few others partaking of the hostility, I mean welcome of the family Foch, we claimed an empty booth and waited for service.

“Heya guys,” Chris greeted, “food?”
“Er yeah,” I confirmed.
“Your rents keeping you busy then,” Con suggested.
“Pfft, family business,” she allowed.
“Tell me about it,” Con agreed.
“Drinks?”
“Sprite® for me,” I requested.
“What she said,” Con added.
“I'll get you some speissekarte.”

Of course, it’s hardly the first time I, we, have bought our own food but doing so in a bar cum restaurant just feels sort of more ‘adult’. Our former classmate returned with our drinks and the ‘mittags’ menus promising to return for our orders in a few minutes.

“This feels weird,” Con stated as she perused the listing.
“Yeah, it’s usually us serving,” I pointed out.
“Think I'll just have the Salatplatte.”
“Hmm,” I scanned the options, “Omelette with ham and the Gemüseplatte I think.”
“I don’t know where you put it.”
“I've got a fast metabolism, you should’ve seen the Spargel I had yesterday, it was immense,” I enthused.
“Not that keen myself.”
I shrugged, “Don’t know what you’re missing.”
Chris joined us, “So what’s it to be?”

“Here you go, ladies,” Eva arrived with our food, “I'm guessing the omelette is yours, Gaby?”
“Erm, guilty,” I allowed.
She started to distribute food, cutlery, condiments.
“I'm glad you’ve come in, Gaby.”
“Oh?”
“Eat your food, I'll catch you afterwards, enjoy.”

“What’s that about?” Con queried as she added dressing to her bowl of mixed green stuff.
“No idea,” I allowed spooning veggies onto my plate – no asparagus but peas, carrots, green beans and cauliflower soon added colour to my plate.
“Pass the salt, ‘s probably another mad scheme you’re involved in.”
“What apart from the kiosk am I involved in?”
“Let’s see, waiting table at the Stube, cheerleading, rent a guest.”
“Rent a guest?”
“They buy you a frock, you go to the wedding.”
“You make it sound quite mercenary.”
“Well?”
I munched through a forkful of cooked egg, “Maybe it’s not such a bad business plan.”
“Only you would actually consider that.”
“A girl has to live,” I stated.

“Done?” Eva queried.
“Thanks,” I agreed, “so erm, what do you want to talk about?”
“I've got a couple more bookings for the crepe stall if you and Amanda are interested?”

Con just gave me her ‘told you so’ look.

“Have you got the dates?”
“I'll write them down for you, you ready for the bill?”

“Fingers in pies,” Con stated as we pushed our bikes across Marktplatz a few minutes later.
It was my turn to shrug, “It’s not like I go out looking for work is it?”
“Which is even more annoying,” Con suggested with a hint of grin.

When you live somewhere, anywhere, the local tourist office isn’t somewhere you tend to visit, I mean, it’s for tourists isn’t it? The Altenahr version is probably quite typical, a few local souvenirs and guide books, racks of flyers and postcards, oh and a hotel booking service. Given our earlier discussion we homed in on the flyers, a mix of attractions not just in the Ahrtal but across the region, the tourist trains at Brohl and Linz, glassworks at Euskirchen, Silverberg of course.

“Alright, ladies?” one of the smartly dressed er assistants asked coming over to us.
“Er just looking,” Con offered.
“Um actually,” I put in, “we were wondering, can anyone have flyers in here.”
“Within reason, why do you ask?”
“Um, we’re opening a kiosk up in Altenahr, we were thinking we could do some flyers, you know for the tourists?”
She looked at us for a moment, “Hmm, when you say kiosk?”
“It’s the old one by the bridge, opposite the bahnhof,” Con told her, “Mum and Dad are refurbishing everything, me an’ Gab are going to run it.”
She still looked a trifle sceptical, “Well it’s not down to me, I think maybe you should have a talk with Herr Bayermann.”
“Who’s he?” I asked.
“The manager for the tourist service.”
“Hey cool, can we do that?”

I think she’d been trying to put us off, probably thinks it’s a wind up. She led us over to the counter and retrieved one of those big desk diaries, Dad’s got one in the office at home.

“Let’s see, he’s here on Wednesday or we’d be looking Friday next week.”
“We’ll take Wednesday,” I requested.
“Ten o’clock?”
“We’ll be here,” I enthused.
“Names?”
“Constance Thesing and Gabrielle Bond,” Con told her.
“Okay, we’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“What was she all about?” Con asked as we rescued the bikes.
“Probably thinks it’s some sort of wind up.”
“Hmm maybe.”
“We should look like proper business women when we come Wednesday,” I suggested.
“Easy for you, I don’t have a suit or anything.”
“You’ve got nice skirts and stuff,” I pointed out.
“I suppose I could borrow a jacket from mum, seems like a lot of effort for a bit of paper.”
“We need to advertise,” I pointed out, “and we need to attract visitors, the locals probably won’t come anyhow.”
“You might be right,” she sighed pushing off.
“We can ask about the Radweg too,” I suggested following her.

“You coming in?” Con enquired when we reached the bakery.
I checked my watch, “Best not, Mum’s back today and I need to finish clearing up.”
“’Kay, see you tomorrow then.”
“Yeah, tschu-uss.”

I whizzed around the corner, if I get twenty kph I can just about coast up to the garage doors. Bit too slow today, I ended up having to heave the pedals around to reach the flat area where I put down the stand and closed the wheel lock – no point in putting it away, we might be riding to cheer later. I did however grab my bag before taking the steps up to the house and round to the kitchen door.

No, this can’t be happening, I know I locked the door when I left this morning but here it is, wide open. Sugar, what now? I flattened myself against the wall and strained to hear anything inside but nada.

Now what, what if there is someone inside? But on the other hand what if there isn’t and I'm stood out here for nothing? I took a deep breath and peered into the kitchen which, of course, was empty, well not empty but devoid of other human life forms. Gathering myself up, I took a deep breath and stepped cautiously inside, creeping past the table towards the hall.

I was nearly there when I heard a thump. My ticker was going nineteen to the dozen, sugar, sugar, sugar, I grabbed one of the umbrellas from by the door.

“Who’s there?”
Silence was the loud reply, I eased my bag to the floor and took a double handed grip on the brolly.
“I'm armed,” I warned moving into the lounge.

No one there, the door to the office was shut as usual and moving further into the room the dining area was empty too. Nothing seems to be missing, telly and music centre still here. Another thump made me jump, they’re upstairs.

I returned to the hall, my heart racing, and started to climb the stairs, an easy task made difficult by the need to keep quiet and grasp my ‘weapon’. Slowly, slowly. Not that I had any idea what to do if I'm confronted by the robber.

The landing was free of interlopers so I carefully crept along to Mand’s room, clear, I padded over to my sister’s open door and looked in, no one there either. Another deep breath, and after readjusting my grip I went back out holding it like a light sabre.

“Aaargh!”
“Aaargh!” I confirmed jumping out of my skin.
“Geez, Gab, you gave me a proper fright.”
“Mum, what are you doing here?”
“I live here remember, what are you creeping about with that umbrella for?”
“Er the kitchen door was open, you weren’t supposed to be home till later, I thought someone had broken in.”
“We made good time, Maria dropped me off, your dad’s bringing my car back later,” she explained.
“Why didn’t you answer, I did call out.”
“Sorry, kiddo, didn’t hear you,” she pulled me into a hug.

A Mum hug is always a good thing, I really miss them when she’s away.

“Come on, let’s go get a cuppa.”

“What were you going to do if you had found a thief?” Mum asked once the tea was mashing.
“Er not really sure.”
“Promise me you won’t attempt any heroics in future, you had your phone, ring the police.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me that I could get hurt or that I should call for help – I really shouldn’t rely on Buffy as my go to hero!

“Yes, Mum,” I agreed.
“So tell me all that's been going on.”

With consummate bad timing the house phone started to ring.

“I'll get it,“I sighed, “it’s probably for me anyhow.”
I caught it on the third ring, “Bond.”
“Gaby, good you’re in.”
“Uh huh,” I agreed.
“I'll pop down with your dress then,” Gloria told me.
“I'll put the kettle on.”
“Excellent, mother has been driving me daft today.”

Maddy Bell © 23.01.17

 

 

“Sounded intriguing,” Mum probed.
“Max’s mum, she’s gonna drop my dress off in a few.”
“Dress?”

I refilled the kettle and set it to boil.

“For the wedding.”
“Wedding?”
“Sara Taxis? I did tell you the other week.”
“She’s getting married?”
“I think ‘has to get married’ is more the case, she’s up the duff.”
“Gaby Bond!”
“Well it’s true.”
“That may be the case but it’s still not very nice to say it like that.”
“Well anyway, that's why the wedding.”
“This isn’t eighteen hundred, they don’t ‘have’ to marry,” Mum declared.
“Not how Max tells it, anyhow it’s in three weeks.”

“Gloria,” Mum greeted the delivery woman, “come on in.”
“I didn’t realise you were back.”
“Only about an hour ago, Gaby.”
“I'd best go hang it up,” I suggested taking the bags from Gloria.
“You should show your mum, Gaby; she looks a complete stunner in it, Jen.”
“I think I'd like to see that,” Mum agreed.
“Go on, Gab, show your mum just how beautiful you are.”

I'm not gonna win this one am I?

“Whatever,” I allowed with a roll of my eyes.

I left the two adults to it and headed upstairs.

Up in the eyrie I surveyed the frock, if I just put the dress on that won’t be right will it, I suppose I've got to go the whole nine yards. Which means I need a shower, oh well, best get on.

I readjusted the wig adding an extra grip, hmm, it’ll do. Of course dressing myself meant a bit of contortion-ism to do the back up and getting my feet into the shoes was fun – not. Now all I have to do is get downstairs – easier said than done in these heels.

“That you, kiddo?” Mum queried when I finally got back to the kitchen.
“Well duh!”
“Mein Gott!” Gloria stated, “she looked gorgeous at the shop but this – fantastische!”
“Mum?”

Mater was just sat there, slack jawed.

“Mum?” I repeated.
“Come here, kiddo,” she requested standing up.

I’m not sure when Gloria left as Mum and I hugged for several, well quite a few minutes. In fact Mum was still holding me when Dad and Mand arrived.

“Can anyone join in or is it a private party?” Dad enquired.

Mum released me and just made some blubbing noises at him.

“I have been telling you, Jen.”

She just sniffed more transferring her grip to Dad.

“Stick the kettle on, Mand,” Dad instructed, “and you, young lady, have some explaining to do.”
“What’d I do?” I asked somewhat confused.
“Just don’t announce your betrothal before we’ve got the dams set.”
“Dams?”
“Your mum’ll flood the valley.”
“Well that's not gonna happen anyhow,” I added once my brain had deciphered his whole sentence.
“Go and get yourself changed, kiddo.”
“You need a hand, Gabs,” Mand offered.
“Er yeah, please.

“So what was that all about?” Mand enquired as she undid me.
“Not quite sure,” I admitted, “I was only showing her the dress.”
“You do look er, don’t take this the wrong way, Gabs, well beautiful, I'd say on a scale of one to ten, you’re a twelve.”
“Give over, you daft moo!”
“I'm not kidding, you’d be a ten in a bin bag but this frock, well no one else comes close.”
“Now I know you’re mucking,” I stated as I stepped out of the dress.
“Just saying what everyone else sees.”
“I'm too short to be the B word.”
“If you say so, I'll see you downstairs.”

I stared at my reflection, maybe it was the make-up? I mean I didn’t go barmy, a smear of lippy, massy and a bit of blusher – nah, apart from the bright red lipstick it’s pretty much what I wear most of the time. Can’t be hair, it’s a wig after all, I winced as a missed grip dragged my scalp. Well it certainly can’t be my bod, I stepped back just to be sure – nope, same as it was, pair of fried eggs, well maybe double yokers, but my hips can only be described as ‘boyish’ - ironic eh?

Okay, I'll admit to not being ugly, the Peters’ women are all blessed with reasonable looks, pretty maybe but beautiful? When I thought I was a boy I guess I did look a bit girly, clearly taking after Mum rather than Dad. It’s a bit ironic that Jools, although sharing the same face she’s taller and has more of Dad’s build than me.

“Gab? You coming or what?” Mand yelled up my stairs.
“Yeah,” I agreed, well maybe I do need to get dressed first.

“You two eating before you go cheerleading?” Dad enquired as I stuffed er stuff in my bag.
“After, is Mum, you know, alright?”
“Fine, just a bit emotional.”
“It’s only a dress.”
“It wasn’t the dress, kiddo.”
“What then?”
“She’s away a lot, Gab, she doesn’t see you ‘change’.”
“Change? I haven’t changed – well maybe this,” I grabbed a pink braid, “but she’s seen my hair before.”
“Look, kiddo, it wasn’t the dress or your hair, you’ve matured, wrong word really but it does the job. It’s not so obvious to me, I see you every day but your mum, well you know she’s proud of you, both of you, but you aren’t her baby any more, you’re a sophisticated, beautiful young woman.”

That B word again.

“What are you two talking about?” Mum demanded sweeping into the kitchen.
“Food,” Dad offered, “you okay waiting until the girls get back, I'll fetch pizza?”
“Think I'll survive.”
“Does that mean we get a lift?” I suggested, well the pizzeria is on the way.
“I suppose so,” he agreed.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I gave him a quick hug, “come on Mand, taxi’s waiting!”
“Ever get the feeling you’ve just been played?” Dad told the room.
“Dad’s prerogative,” Mum chuckled.

“I suppose you want your usual?” Dad suggested as we climbed out of the A Klasse.
“Extra olives?”
“Manda?”
“That chicken one I had last time, please.”
“The Pollo Special, okay I'll see you later.”
“Tschuss!”

We watched him drive away before heading into the Tanzklub.

Lucy landed with an audible thump, only making a slight adjustment to the finish position. The peanut gallery clapped and cheered, it’s the first time she’s landed it with poms. This evening’s session has been pretty good – still room for improvement of course but there always will be.

“Excellent,” I allowed, “now from the top.”
“Slave driver,” Pia stated.
“Puh chuh!” I offered pretending to crack a whip, “back in line, Sebenschuh!”
“Yes, mistress,” she grinned.
“You, Gaby Bond, are scary,” Hannah advised.
“I'll add that to the list,” I told her.
“List?”
“Well according to Mum I'm beautiful and Dad reckons I'm ‘mature’.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think they’re both daft but I'll take your scary.”

Han just shook her head and readied the CD player.

“You want a lift P?” I offered.
“I could be tempted?”
“We are having pizza but Mum’s home,” I apologised, she does usually get an invite.
“’S all right, a lift’s good.”
Dad swung into the car parking area, “Right on time.”
“What happened to the estate?”
“I told you last week, it got squished so we’re using Mum’s A.”
“I thought it was like a bit of a dent.” P mentioned climbing into the back seat.
“Think pancake,” Mand advised.
“Really?”
“Not quite,” Dad noted, “but it is a write off.”
“Geez.”

I grabbed another slice of cheesy, pepperoni delight from the box and plonked it on my plate.

“I don’t know how you can eat that,” Mum stated.
“Dead easy,” I replied wiping a greasy hand on a paper napkin.

It’s not like I eat the whole wheel on my own, Dad usually has some, Goth Gurl too if she’s home. And I have had a slice of the Pollo Special too so it’s not like I'm stuck on the Pepperoni.

“At least have some salad.”

I leant over, nicked a slice of tomato from her plate and dropped it into my maw.

“So what are you up to tomorrow?”
“Probably see Con in the morning, training when Mand gets home.”
“I might be late tomorrow,” Mand chipped in, “we’ve got some careers presentation thing,” she explained.
“You could come out with the grown ups?” Mum offered.
“Both of us?”
“’Course, it’s not full on training just a steady ride.” she clarified.
“You’ve only got a chipper on Sunday,” Dad told us.

I looked at Mand who shrugged back.

“’Kay.”
“Good, that’s settled then,” Mum grinned.

Maddy Bell © 24.01.17

 

 
“But I've not changed,” I stated.
“Of course you have,” Con replied, “we’ve all changed.”

Logically of course she’s right but I don’t feel any different. I'm still me, I look the same, well if you discount the hair, I do the same stuff, race, cheer, shop, the only different thing has been finishing school.

“I still look the same though,” I pressed.
“Maybe a bit curvier.”
“What are you two so serious about?” Therese asked as she cleared the next table.
“Mum says I've changed.”
“She hasn’t has she,” Con posed.
“I'd say so, oh not in looks particularly but you were like a mouse when you first came, you’re much more confident now.”
“Really?”
“The other girls used to lead, you followed.”
“You did fall for some dodgy outfits,” Con agreed.
“Now,” her mum went on, “you’re the leader.”
“I'd hardly say that.”
“You might not but it’s pretty clear whenever you girls are together, oh you aren’t a dictator or anything like that but it’s your opinion that holds sway, your ideas that get followed, where you lead, others follow.”
“Get on!”
“Mum’s right, Gabs.”
“But I don’t want to be the leader,” I complained.
“Don’t think you’ve got much choice in the matter,” Frau T opined, “people just feel compelled to defer to you, you even convinced Tomas with those pies.”
“It was only a suggestion, I didn’t do anything.”
“You didn’t have to, you just have to be you. So what are you up to today?”
“Going to Nena’s for coffee,” Con told her mum.
“Well enjoy yourselves, what time are you going?”
I looked over to the clock, twenty five to eleven, “Sugar, we’ll miss the Express! Come on, Con.”

It was close but we caught the train thanks to it being a couple of minutes late. It’ll be good seeing the others, it’s been a bit weird since school finished, we’ve hardly seen each other. Well okay I've been with Con most days and P a few times for stuff but the others, well we just don’t seem to cross, so when Nen rang suggesting coffee this morning I was right on it.

“Seems weird.”
“Hmm?”
“Meeting up with the others,” Con mentioned.
“We used to do it every day,” I pointed out.
“Yeah but we’ve only met up once since, when we went to the pool.”
“We’ve been busy,” I pointed out, “when the kiosks open we can hang there.”
“I guess, oh I forgot to say, Dad was on about staff last night, we need to get recruiting otherwise it’ll just be us.”
“Bum, I forgot about that.”
“Me too.”

The journey up to Mayschoß is timetabled at five minutes so we were on the platform at quarter to eleven even with the express running late. It’s been a while since I've been to the Fischer’s, our social life has always tended to be centred around the homes with better catering facilities – the bakery and Stube. We crossed the river and headed up into Mayschoß, the ‘new’ housing area where our destination lies.

“What you thinking, Gabs?”
“Last time I came to Nen’s, it was after Claudia died.”
“We’ve been since.”
“I haven’t.”
Con thought a moment, “I think you’re right, you’ve either been away or in hospital.”
“Don’t remind me,” flippin’ plumbing.

It’s not a long way, maybe half a kilometre so we arrived barely ten minutes after getting off the Express.

“Moritz!”

The hairy bundle happily bounded up to us, in recognition of us, his name or purely curiosity I'm not sure but he was happy enough to receive a fuss, once he was shooed from investigating our bags.

“Hey guys, Mor, leave Gabs alone.”
“It’s alright, Nen, we’re friends aren’t we, boy?”
“Ruff!”
“He can get a bit over enthusiastic,” Nena advised, “come through, the others are on the back.”

Looks like we’re last to arrive. With the mutt in close attendance we closed the distance to Nen and exchanged greetings before moving around the back of the house.

“Told you,” Steff offered.
“What?” I asked as we started a round of hugs and air kisses.
“Steff said Con would bring cake,” Brid advised.
“Was a bit of a no brainer, Brid,” Pia suggested.
“The coffee should be ready,” Nena noted.
“I'll give you a hand,” Con volunteered, waving her bag meaningfully.

“So when do you open?” Nen asked.

There was a surprising amount of catching up to do and somehow it was already heading towards one.

“Two weeks?” Con suggested looking to me for confirmation.
“Yep, two weeks today,” I agreed.
“There’s still loads to do, painting and putting all the new gear in,” Con told our friends.
“And it’s just you two running it?” Brid asked.
“Yup.”
“So you’ll be there all the time?” Steff suggested.
“Well hopefully we’ll have some staff,” I told them.
“Hopefully?” Nen queried.
“Well we haven’t actually got anyone yet,” Con allowed.
“We haven’t exactly been looking,” I admitted.
“You girls want a sandwich?” Rosina, Nen’s mum offered from the kitchen door.

Well it’s not like I've got lunch organised is it?

“If it’s no trouble Mrs F,” Steff replied for us.

It’s strange isn’t it, different peoples’ interpretation of a sandwich. Of course back in Blighty, home of the sandwich you’d expect a couple of slices of bread typically with one or two fillings. Here in Germany, a few people might make that at home but go to Thesing’s or a cafe and a sandwich will be quite different.

Think a crusty baton filled with green salad before the actual filling is added – the usual options will be mozzarella, tomato, frikadel, sliced ham and maybe a gherkin. So that's what most Germans expect however when supplied as lunch the gloves come off. Rosi emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later bearing a tray of stuff, the least of which was a basket of fresh batons, looks like it’s DIY time!

“Gab,” Steff complained.
“What?” I poked a slice of frikadel back into my sandwich.
“Couldn’t you get any more in that?”

I examined my construction, nothing too exciting, the aforesaid German burger, tomato, a bit of green salad and some Gorgonzola.

“What would you suggest?”

Pia nearly sprayed her own creation across the table.

“I wasn’t thinking more,” Steff noted.
“German sandwiches are so boring,” I stated, “now a decent chip butty or bacon and tomato or cheese and Marmite®, hmm.” My mouth started to water at the mere thought of stopping at the trailer near the A1 for a proper, hot, bacon and tomato sarnie and a mug of tea.
“Gab?”
“Eh?”
“You spaced out, girlfriend,” Con mentioned.
“Just thinking about a proper, English hot sandwich.”
“What’s a ‘chip butty’?” Bridg asked.

Now there’s an idea for the kiosk.

“I'll make you one next time you guys come to Schloss Bond,” I suggested.

“Thanks for lunch Frau Fischer,” I offered as we prepared to go our separate ways
“You’re welcome, girls.”
“We’ll have to sort out going to the pool later in the week,” Brid suggested.
“Yeah,” I agreed, not sure when though.

We started to make our farewells which attracted Moritz who of course demanded a fuss from each of us. If I could have a dog I'd want one like Moritz, just enough bounce, not too barky and always ready for a fuss. However the nearest the Bond household has come was when Jools had a hamster when I was about six, pets have never really been an option with our ‘lifestyle’.

With Brid living up the valley and Pia meeting the other cheerleaders up in Altenahr it was just me, Con and Steff waiting for the down Express.

“So what are you up to now?” Steff asked, “You never seem to be at home.”
“Training when Mand gets home,”
“She’s still at school?”
“Yeah, the English school doesn’t finish till after their exams next month.”
“Bummer,” Steff allowed.
“You got any work lined up for the summer,” Con asked, “Mum’s looking for someone at the bakery.”

We did a lot of catching up but not everything got covered.

“Mum’s got me some hours at the market, you know shelf filling and stuff.”
“Sooner you than me,” I offered.
“It’s only a couple of hours in the evenings so I've got the days free.”
“Not so bad I guess,” Con opined.

The Express whooshed into the platform and we climbed aboard to return to Dernau.

“Good time?” Mum enquired as I made a pot of tea for us.
“Yeah, it’s not like before though,” I lamented.
“Part of growing up I'm afraid,” Mum advised.
“I guess.”
“You eaten?”
“We had a sandwich earlier.”
Mum raised a brow, “You want a baked tater before we go, I'm sure Amanda will be hungry.”
“Well if everyone else is eating,” I stated with a shrug, “so where’s this ride going?”
“George was on about some restaurant in Daun.”
“Daun? That's miles away!”
“You don’t have to come.”
“I was just saying,” I backtracked.”
“Well find some spuds then, if we get them in now they should be ready when Amanda gets home.”

Geez, Daun that’s like half way to Trier!

Maddy Bell © 27.01.17

 

 

If I'd thought it through I'd have realised that we were only riding one way this evening and that whilst designated as ‘easy’ it was still team training and as such would garner the full squad support. When it’s just me and Mand training is – well riding but when you’re in a line out with a couple of team vehicles behind is pretty cool. People wave, traffic is more respectful, my chest was puffed to be part of this procession.

We were down at Sinzig before it dawned on me we were heading the wrong direction.

“I thought we were going to Daun.”
“We are,” Tina who was riding alongside me confirmed.
Confused I asked the obvious follow up question, “So what are we doing here, it’s the other direction?”
“You didn’t think we’d go straight there did you?”
“Er,” it hadn’t occurred to me we wouldn’t be.
“So erm which way are we going?”
“Mar,” Tina yelled up the line, “Gab wants to know which way we’re going.”
“Maria Laach then the lanes,” the reply came back.

There’s some right climbs across there!

“I thought it was supposed to be an easy ride.”
“Steady not easy,” Tina observed.

Bum, you knew Mum and Dad.

Once we gained the B9, Maria as team captain, instigated a rotation of our pairings, essentially the front pair do a turn then both drop to the back to rejoin the back of the group. It’s pretty standard stuff for a non race group riding, everyone sees the front but it’s less frenetic than a full on rotation. Turns tend to be longer allowing conversation and with an even number of riders you stay with the same pairing until there’s a break.
It helps when you know the other riders of course, I've known Tina for yonks so there’s no holding back in the conversation. I got the low down on the last couple of race trips the girls have been on, stuff that we don’t hear from Mum.
“You’re kidding?”
“Straight up, Erika and Jen didn’t roll in until after midnight,” Tina chortled.
“I bet George was pleased.”
“He tore them a right strip at breakfast.”
“Change!” Maria called from behind.

Our first mix up of the group came after the Brohltal turn, I found myself paired with Anita when we sorted ourselves out again. The trees sheltered us from the sun as we tracked the tourist train up the valley. I spent the next couple of kilometres going on about last Sunday but then we turned onto the road up to Laacher See.

I suppose in the global run of things the hundred and fifty metres of altitude gain aren’t much but squeezed into just over two K, well it’s a fairly stiff climb. It’s a steady ride right? Within metres we were climbing in a group, no one pushing the pace even if there was already some selection going on.

Up through the trees I concentrated on keeping an even pace, when the gradient eased I snicked up a gear and kept the same pressure on the pedals. Conversation was far behind, Erika and Anja matching me stroke for pedal stroke as we bypassed Wassenach. Erika dropped away on the final haul to the top and back into the trees and then the road levelled off and I sat up.

Anja patted me on the back before retrieving a bidon from its holder.

“Where’s the rest?”
“Dropped in the bottom trees,” Anja supplied as we soft pedalled past the lakeside campsite.

Erika rejoined us soon after but we were best part of the way along to the Maria Laach monastery before the back markers rejoined us.

“I thought it was supposed to be steady,” Mand complained as she arrived with Maria.
“Someone got carried away,” Tina suggested.
“Well keep it down a bit,” Maria opined, “we’ve still got about sixty K to do.”

We took the next turn for the short climb then swooping descent to Bell, once more in pairs, I found myself with Mum.

“You don’t have to prove anything, kiddo.”
“I was just keeping it steady.”
“If you say so.”
“I can’t help it if I go up hill quickly.”
“Well try not to make your old Mum look too bad, eh?”

The road bucked and jigged towards Mayen but just when I thought I'd worked out our route Maria called a turn and we were descending a single lane road into a wooded valley. Clearly the seniors have been this way before as they fair sped down through the trees only braking at the last minute for the junction at the bottom. I on the other hand, lulled by their riding, grabbed too much rear and ended up doing a bit of a shimmy on the gravelly surface – sugar.

We made a right and started the gentle ascent of the river valley, first one side of the water then the other and back again. The ‘main’ road took off up the hillside but we continued on more lane alongside the river, the trees gradually closing down the valley.

“Climb coming,” Mum advised, “try not to burn everyone off.”
“I'll try,” I grinned back.

A left turn over the watercourse took us into wall to wall trees and within metres tilted more strongly upwards. Maria was on the front with Anita, the pair keeping a comfortable if not slow pace under the leafy canopy. About a kilometre in Maria went wide letting Anja go through, I sprang onto her wheel, soz Mum.

The two of us took over the pace, something just above a comfortable conversation, the sound of heavy breathing still close behind. A sign warned of ‘kehre ’ for the next kilometre ahead, oh goody. Trees blocked the view uphill so I could only guess at what lay ahead, Anja glanced over before turning the screws up as we hit the first turn.

It was left hand so we had the shallower outer side of the round, I easily matched her acceleration but the sound of gears crunching behind suggested others were less able to follow. The road jinked around a little before starting a straight ramp towards the second corner. I sat tight on Anja’s wheel, which blocked my forward view, only when she veered wide did I realise we were at the turn.

Although it was a fairly ‘flat’ corner you still don’t want to be hard on the curb with its much steeper surface. It wasn’t a classic hairpin but a two parter, the two turns separated by perhaps twenty metres. I know what Mum said but my competitive urges took over so I took the inside line through part two before upping my pace on the following straight.

Two hundred metres and another wide loop to the next ramp. It did cross my mind to ease back a bit, down in Italy and Switzerland last summer we had climbs like this going on for kilometres but clearly the Hohe Eifel is nowhere near as high. Even so I pegged it a little, the next and as it turns out last hairpin barely a hundred metres away.

I broke from the trees, the road dropping slightly towards a village and a junction direction at which I had no idea. I freewheeled down to the habitation taking a long drag on my bottle, my ragged breathing not improving much before I hauled on the stoppers and pulled up just before the junction. A flick through the screens of my bike comp was surprising, were almost fifty kilometres from our start at the Apollinaris yard and nearly two hours riding.

My rest was short lived, the others whizzed down towards me, instead of being out front I was now playing catch up, the team bus holding station a few metres behind. I suppose it serves me right, the others had the pedal to the metal and starting from a standstill I was quickly some two hundred metres in arrears. All in all it took me five kilometres to get back on and it was only a stiff little up that let me rejoin then, if they’d got over the top I might never have contacted.

It was only when we joined a main road at Baar that I recognised where we were, just a couple of kilometres from the ‘Ring. Sheesh, we coulda come straight up the Ahr to Adenau, much shorter and quicker. We didn’t hold the busy road for long, the sign proclaimed Nitz to be our destination and another narrow lane climbed across the Eifel countryside.

“What do you reckon?” Maria queried over her shoulder as we approached the few buildings that comprise Nitz.
“It’s been dry,” Anita opined.
“What are they on about?” Mand, my current riding partner queried.
“No idea,” I admitted.
“Just go for it,” Mum encouraged.
“Go for what?”
“The road to the next village,” Tina explained, “it’s a farm track otherwise it’s extra kilometres.”

I considered the bikes we were riding, whatever we call them they are essentially race bikes, narrow tyres, lightweight wheels – well you get the idea. Not off-road bikes by any stretch. There was a bit of arm waving with the support crew then we were on a tiny lane through a farm yard.

Anita was in her element, it might not be a tarmac road but neither is it a muddy, rutted mess, as we crossed the fields I could think of some actual roads with worse surfaces – remember Roubaix? Don’t get me wrong, it’s not smooth and we were getting quite a pounding, I tried to remember what Anita taught me last autumn, relax and ‘float’. After the order and organisation of the last couple of hours everyone was now much more relaxed.

The shade through a patch of woodland resulted in a few dodgy bits, the lack of contrast disguising the lumps and bumps. I thought I'd blown it when I impacted a hidden stone, if you’ve ever done it you’ll know what I mean. Bizarrely not much beyond the trees there was a yellow village sign and soon after another dodge between farm equipment had us returning to tarmac in down-town Kirsbach.

We soon joined a bigger road again where George was waiting with the bus and I think conscious of the time, the pace went up a notch. The road climbed up for a bit then we dropped to Kelberg, the sign proclaimed Adenau to be just sixteen kilometres away. Talk about a roundabout route.

“Last climb,” Maria informed us as we started the drag out of Kelberg the town onto Kelberg the, well berg.
“Good job, I'm done,” Mand offered.
“We’ll get you there,” Anja stated.

Going uphill on a bike is hard at the best of times, going uphill pushing someone, well I don’t recommend it. It coulda been worse, Mand was still pedalling so our assistance was mostly to get her up the incline a bit quicker. We each had a turn, so whilst progress was slower the effort was spread, when we turned off the B road just before the summit everyone was feeling the effects.

“Ten K,” Maria announced, “usual place.”
“Usual place?”
“Sprint for the sign then we eat at the Dorfbrunnen,” Tina advised taking a quick sip from her bidon.
“Where’s that?”
“Just wait at the roundabout after the sprint.”

No one made any effort to race off so I joined the liquid takers as we descended through the trees.

I checked around the others, Mum looks pretty fresh still, Mand’ll get there but not offer any competition. We might not have been going race speed but we’ve not been holding back and with best part of four hours in the bag, well I'll not manage a long one. Bide my time, yeah, a quick check of the distance confirmed about eight to go.

We kept a quick rotation down the valley, Mand took one turn before taking Tail-end Charlie, at thirty five plus the distance passes quite quickly. I spotted a motorway viaduct ahead, we must go underneath and could that be Daun on the hillside beyond? When I realised that the turn to the autobahn was via a roundabout I decided to use that as a springboard.

There’s only eight of us, seven if you take Mand out, I doubt Maria or Erika will give chase so five including yours truly. Like most German roundabouts it looked to be quite small, they can be awkward to negotiate at speed, especially in a group. I got myself onto the outside of the group and prepared myself for action.

“Clear!” Anja called out before leading the group onto the island.

There was a sort of run on zone around the centre, I guess to accommodate bigger vehicles, I hopped the low edge and sped more directly towards the exit, maintaining speed and reducing the distance. I pushed the right hand thumb lever down hard and stood on the pedals as I zoomed past the others. Down on the drops I went into testing mode, two k’s I guess, oldies, eat your hearts out!

Ahead I could see a tractor or something, whatever it is I'm catching it, hope it turns off. I didn’t want to give the others the benefit of a look behind, I concentrated on where I'm headed. Under the viaduct, through one of those chicane things that are popping up everywhere, then a good stretch of straightness. Come on Gab, it can’t be far now.

What the heck is that tractor doing? closing on it quickly my choices were reduced to pull in behind or overtake, well I'm not giving in after all this effort, overtake it is. I glanced briefly behind, clear, a car flashed the other way, right here goes. I swung out effectively blind, the tractor blocking the view forward – oh sugar!

Maddy Bell © 27.01.17