*Chapter 34*

Welcome to Denmark

 
 
Of course bed wasn't going to be the first thing on everyone else’s mind - food took pole position.

"You feeling alright, Gab?" Ron queried as we waited for the lift to take us down to the restaurant.

"Yeah, just tired."

"Never thought I’d see the day dynamo Bond would choose bed over food."

"Ha de ha."

"I can't believe we're in another country again, Schweizer last week, Danmark this."

"Yeah, regular jetsetters." I mumped as a ding announced the lift’s arrival.

"Oh come on, Gab's, it’s not that bad."

"You aren't the one in the dress."

Ron punched the button for the restaurant before replying, "You lost the game by fifteen points," she pointed out.

"I still think I should have got Syllt."

"It’s the island not the town."

"Whatever, I still don't see why I had to put on a dress."

"Well you packed it," she pointed out.

She had me there, I had packed not just one but two dresses, a skirt and even the ballet pumps I have on my feet.

Ding!

The doors slid open and we exited the lift and headed for the restaurant, the sound of cutlery on china giving a handy clue as the signs in Danish might as well have been written in Swahili.
 
 

"There you are, girls," Mum chirped as we headed towards where my rents were sat.

"She’s still moaning about Syllt," Ron grinned taking a seat.

"Am not!"

"Drinks are on their way," Dad put in.

"Well I think I’m gonna stick to a jacket tater," Mum proposed.

To be truthful I don’t know how she picked that out from the mystery collection of symbols in the menu, all those crossed o’s and too many syllables.

“I don’t suppose they do schnitzel?”

“We can ask,” Dad offered, “Roni?”

“Think I’ll do the folienkartoffeln with cheese.”

“Where’s it say that?”

“Here,” Ron pointed to a row of letters, “kartofler danablu.”

“If you say so.”

“Kan yie yehl-per die?” a voice queried from behind me.

“Sprechen sie Deutsche?” Dad queried.

“En smool,” our waitress offered, which I assume meant not.

“English?” Mum proposed.

“Yes, yes English,” a clearly relieved servitor agreed.

“Can we order please?” Dad posed.

“Vadh skoo deh vay-ah? Oh sorry, what like you?”

I think maybe she needs to work on the English!

Ron and Mum’s jackets were easily ordered, Dad went for something called ‘engelsk bøf’ – at a guess it’s roast beef of some sort.

“And for the small girl?”

Bloody cheek!

“Gab?” Roni prompted.

“Er do you do schnitzel?”

“Schnitzel?”

“Um, pork escalope?

“Pork? Ah Svinbrissel, yes, here,” she pointed to the menu, “with French fries and salat or sham-pin-yong.”

Sham-pin-yong? Oh right, mushrooms, guess that’s like Wiener schnitzel, “salat bitte.”

She collected the menus and left us to our drinks.

 
 
“What’re you laughing at?” I enquired of Ron.

“Nothing really.”

“Must be something, my dress undone or something?” I enquired checking the zip as I did so.

“No, no, it’s just your Dad, he asked if she spoke German.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a frown.

“But you are English.”

“So? Oh right.”

I guess when you look at it like that it is a bit weird, to be honest it seems weird when people talk in English, German has become my usual language. Thinking about it even at home, unless Jules is about we usually speak mostly German – going to the English school in Bonn Jules’ German isn’t as good as the rest of us.
 
 

The food was okay – not exceptional but definitely expensive, if my calculations are right it came to well over a hundred euros! Glad I’m not paying!

I yawned loudly.

“Someone sounds like they want their bed,” Mum observed.

Well I did say before dinner.

“I think we can all do with some shut eye,” Dad agreed, “another busy day tomorrow.”

“Yeah but not driving all day,” I mentioned.

“Think I’d rather be on one of those new carbon saddles than in that car again all day.” Roni opined.

I know how she feels.
 
 

I slept fitfully, I think I saw every hour turn over, Ron snores which didn’t help – oh yeah we got to share a room and whilst I’ve shared accommodation with other girls it’s the first time with Ron. Awkward or what – not that Fraulein Grönberg seemed to be bothered no it was me changing in the bathroom and acting all coy.

“Gnaaar.”

For heavens sake, Ron.

“Gnaaar-erl.”

“Ron.” I hissed.

“Gnaaar, hmm.”

“Ron!”

“Hmm, wha?”

“You awake?”

“Wake,” she mumbled.

At least the snoring has stopped.

“Wazzup?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“That all? Be that schnitzel,” she suggested into her pillow.

“Maybe,” I agreed, it was quite late when we ate, “what do you think our chances are?”

“Hmm,” she rolled over onto her side, I could just make out her face in the dim light coming through the curtains. “What time zit?”

I checked my little travel alarm clock, “Ten past three, you think either of us have any chance of winning?”

“Dunno, I guess, we did okay in Schweiz.”

“I suppose, but it’s different here.”

“‘Ow so?”

“Well there’s no second chance.”

“Never is.”

“You know what I mean and there’ll be lots of riders we’ve not seen before.”

“Not so many from out of Europe.”

“Hmm but that Australian did win last year.”

“The girls top three were all from Europe though, go to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“Just close your eyes.”

“They are.”

“Good night.”

That’s me told. I heard her resume her previous sleeping position but thankfully there wasn’t any resumption of the nasal sawing - well not before I finally entered the land of nod.
 
 

“Pity we haven’t got more time,” Dad offered as I took a slurp of my coffee.

“Why’s that?” Mum enquired.

“There’s a tram museum next door.”

Mum rolled her eyes, “and?”

There was bound to be an ‘and’.

“Some nice archaeology between here and Roskilde.”

“You and your rocks, we aren’t meeting the BC people until twelve, I’m sure we can squeeze in a quick visit.”

“We have to drop Roni off.”

“The German’s are based less than a kilometre from us.” Mum pointed out.

Why didn’t we stop at the team hotel last night? It would have made sense but firstly Dad didn’t want to just dump Ron and secondly we couldn’t get reservations as BC have block booked the whole place, a lot of the senior squad arrived yesterday apparently, just us juniors turning up today.

“Suppose we could, alright with you two?”

“As long as I don’t have to walk miles.” I pronounced.

“What she says,” Ron agreed.
 
 

“Thought you were supposed to be in boy mode today,” Roni observed as we dragged our bags out to the Merc.

“I am, shorts, tee shirt, trainers,” I pointed out my attire.

“You might want to lose the earrings and eyeliner.”

Sugar! The last thing I want to do is turn up at BC central looking any less male than usual.

“You got any remover?”

“In my bag, we’ll clean you up in the car.”

“Cheers Ron, you’re a life saver.”

“So I’m told,” she grinned, “so I’m told.”

Maddy Bell © 11.05.2014