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*Chapter 11*

Sobering Thoughts

As it turned out we didn’t need the powers of Babel to order this time as it was self-service up to the point of exchanging tokens for goods. Rather than risk machine made cappuccino I went for milk coffee, it was a standard machine like you get in hotels, it wasn’t rocket science to work out what’s, what. Much like the coffee the food on offer was of the pre packaged variety and chocolate cake looks the same pretty much everywhere, Mand went for a giant butterfly cake that looked sickly as hell.

“We should ask about Kyoto,” Jules proposed between sips of her beverage.
“You think they’ll let us go?” Mand queried.
“Nothing ventured,” I supplied.
“We don’t even know how much it is,” Mand continued.
“Yes we do,” Jules grinned, “its about ¥11000 each.”
“That sounds a lot,” I noted.
“Not really, work it out it’s only about €85,” the dark one supplied.
“I’m not sure I’ve got that much,” Mand admitted with a dejected note in her voice, “guess I’ll have to pass.”
“We don’t even know if we can go yet,” I pointed out, “we can worry about paying layer.”

I gave my sister a look; the return slight nod was the confirmation I needed. I don’t mean to go round rubbing my comparative wealth in peoples faces, it’s true we don’t go short of anything at Bond acres but that doesn’t mean we’re rolling in it. We do get an allowance, mine gets topped up with my winnings and working at the bakery, I save most of it so I’ve got a nice little pot I can dip into when I feel the need.
 
 
“Dad?”
“Wassup kiddo,” pater enquired as we headed back onto the motorway.
“You know tomorrow?” I suggested plonking myself on his knees.
“Not personally but I look forward to meeting it.”
“Daa-ad!” I complained batting my eyelashes.
“Dave that’s terrible,” Mum grinned.
“Sorry, go on kiddo, tomorrow.”
“Well we, that is Jules and Mand as well, we were like wondering if we could go to Kyoto tomorrow.”
“We were only there yesterday.” Dad pointed out.
“Yeah but we didn’t exactly see much, there’s like all palaces and stuff.”
“And you’d get there how?” Mum enquired.
“Jules has looked it up, we can go by train.”
“And just how much is this gonna cost me?” Dad sighed.
Yes! Mand’s mascara worked!
“About €85 each,” I supplied.
“Let me talk to George and Vincenzo when we get to Hiroshima.”
“Thanks, Daddy!”
I bounded off my perch and back to Mand in the seat behind.
 
 
“She’s got you round her little finger, Dave Bond,” Jenny chuckled.
“No she hasn’t.”
“Really, luv?”
“Well okay, maybe a little bit.” Dave admitted.
“Pah!”
 
 
“So?” Jules enquired between our seats.
“He’s gonna check with George when we get to the race.”
“It’s not a no at least,” my sister stated.
“Told you the massy would work,” Mand observed.
 
 
We hadn’t been on the go very long when I spotted a sign announcing our arrival in Hiroshima prefecture; by my watch we had about another hour to our destination. From time to time we caught sight of the Shinkansen line, the very line the girls and me want to travel on tomorrow. Just like the new high speed ICE lines they’ve been building at home it barely deviated from its line, cutting through hillsides in tunnels that the road climbed over.

The distance dropped quickly and it seemed just a few minutes until we turned off into the modern city of Hiroshima. Despite its history it looked like so many other Japanese towns and cities, modern tower blocks, factories and so on, the same traffic jams and roadside hoardings. We drove through the generic cityscape for fifteen minutes before we reached our destination, the Peace Memorial Park.
 
 
Once we’d parked up George stood to address us.
“Okay everyone, time to earn our euros. The sponsors want their pound of flesh so I’m afraid we have to put up with a photographer for this afternoon and through until Saturday’s race. So it’s team strip and smiles please.”
“We always smile,” Anja quipped from behind us.
“Well make that you mean it at least eh,” George countered. “The hotel is the other side of the park so when you have everything you need Dave will go drop your overnight bags and get us checked in, questions?”
“What are we doing for lunch, George?” Mum queried.
“Vincenzo is looking after that Jenny, he should be with the photographer.”
At that moment there was a tap at the coach door, a moment later a grinning Italian bounded on board our transport.
“Laydeez, a lovely day, yes?”

Well the sun was trying to break through the cloudy heavens and it hadn’t actually rained since we arrived in Hiroshima.
“The photographer, he meet us at a the restaurant, come, Vincenzo is a hungry!”
“As long as it’s not more flippin’ rice,” the dark one muttered from the seat behind, “I could murder a Royale double cheese.”
“Ah fine cuisine,” I agreed.
“A what?” Mand asked.
“You know, a Royale.”
“They don’t have them in England, Jules,” I pointed out.
“Have what?” Mand pressed.
“BK Royale’s, they call it something different in the UK I think – not that I go for burgers very often.”
“Given a chance,” Jules challenged.
“Are you three coming,” Dad queried.
 
 
It wasn’t far to the ‘restaurant’, a rather utilitarian structure with a halfhearted attempt at adding a traditional appearance. Vincenzo led us to the exterior seating area where several tables were reserved for our party and a waitress was quickly on hand for our drink orders. The chap who arrived camera in hand was clearly our photographer, following and loaded with bags was a harassed looking girl, the camera was snapping away even before they reached us.

We had our beverages before Vincenzo introduced the snapper.
“A moment please, laydeez, this ees Satoro, the photographer who will shadow you the next days and his assistant Miyaki. Miyaki she speak a the Engleesh some.”
It was Miyaki who spoke, “Konichi wa, hallo, it is honour to meet with you all. After lunch we go to Heiwa hakubutsu- kan, we have permit, then to monument. Thank you.”
I hope there’s not too much posing, in my brief modelling career in Switzerland that was the bit that was a pain, especially at the Verkehrshaus.
 
 
We’d got to choose our own drinks but the food was a set meal, essentially the local version of spaghetti and meatballs. Well that’s what it most resembled, some sort of noodles, small meat dumplings I guess you’d call them served in a thin almost broth. To be fair it tasted okay, wasn’t spicy and it was quite filling, the ice cream dessert was certainly appreciated.

The next hour we spent in the Heiwa hakubutsu place, which turned out to be the Peace Museum, you know the recent history of Hiroshima? The A bomb that effectively ended World War II in Asia? The museum tells the story of the whole kit and caboodle, it was all at once fascinating, horrifying and humbling, I’m not sure it was the appropriate place for a sporting photo shoot but Satoro and Miyaki directed us into a variety of sympathetic shots before we headed back out into the afternoon sunshine.

Inside there were pictures of the only surviving building of old Hiroshima, the prefecture offices, the dome stark against a background of destruction. It was to that same skeletal structure that we now walked across a park that now replaced the destruction of sixty odd years ago. This wasn’t like when we visited Belsen concentration camp earlier this year, this was destruction of life and property on an altogether different scale.

I’m painting our visit as very dark, it wasn’t so much that as a very sobering afternoon, the death and destruction that day, the 6th of August 1945, came suddenly and without warning.
 
 
“The girls have asked if they can go to Kyoto tomorrow,” Dave mentioned to his boss as they followed the rest of the group back to the bus.
“For me it isn’t a problem,” George supplied.
“It’s a fair way off if anything should go amiss.”
“Dave they almost adults, Juliette she is seventeen, Gaby nearly sixteen in some places they would be married with children already.”
“True enough,” Dave agreed.
“I know how you feel, I felt the same when Florian went travelling, we fathers we are protective of our girls, eh?”
“Not just mine, George, there’s Amanda too, remember.”
“Imagine you are at home, Dave, would you stop them going to I don’t know, let’s say Stuttgart?”
“Probably not,” Bond senior agreed.
“So what’s the issue here? I say let them go, they will fly the nest soon, these experiences they are good for them.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I know I am, Dave.”
 
 
“Mister Bond?”
“Oh hello, Miyaki, everything okay?”
“It is very well thank you. I overheard you talking to Mister Müller just now, the girls trip to Kyoto?”
“Possible trip,” Dave stated.
“It could provide an opportunity for the sponsors I think.”
“How so?”
“I know a photographer, my ex boss, in Kyoto, she could act as how you say, supervision person and take some photographs also.”
“Chaperone? She’s trustworthy I take it?”
“Of course, she has children herself.”
“And she’d be willing to do this?”
“I’ll give her a call.”
“I would be happier with someone looking out for them.”
 
 
The race itself wasn’t at the Peace Park itself but rather in the neighbouring green space of Chuo Koen, the park between the castle and river. It was almost five by the time we arrived; Kenji was already set up and had our bikes ready and waiting for us. A quick change in the back of the bus and we were ready to warm up on the circuit, already several riders were circling the park.
“Urgh, that’s better,” I allowed, riding along no hands to stretch my shoulders.

“Gab!” Mand admonished, “Boobs.”
“Oh sugar!” I allowed returning to a less provocative position.
“What’s the plan tonight then?”
“It’s gonna be fast and tough that’s for sure,” I noted.

Indeed the circuit is short, like 950 metres, basically a triangle but only one side is straight, of the others one is a long bend and the shorter side twists through a pair of almost hairpins impossible to pedal through. There might not be any proper climb but it’s no easier for that, sprint, slow, sprint, slow, a bunch of cobbles, yep, the weak will be spat out in short order. I just hope we don’t get a repeat of last night in Kyoto, on this circuit it might actually work, it would certainly make things harder to chase down.
 
 
Satoro rattled off a ton of shots as we waited to be sent on our way, once again it was the same core of riders making up the bulk of the field but filled out with some new faces, I’m guessing the local talent. The North Americans were at full strength, potential allies and adversaries both, of course Hagiwara and the Japanese National team are here, what will they have up their collective sleeves tonight? Us? Yeah we have a plan, not terribly exciting but it’s worked before.

“3, 2, 1, Go!”

The neutral lap wasn’t run off exactly slowly, it wasn’t Hagiwara tonight getting itchy but several other Japanese certainly had the body language of attack. Last night’s TV coverage must’ve had some influence as we had the biggest crowd since Sunday lining the circuit. The green flag waved us into lap two; we did at least get through turn one before the first chancer made their effort.

There’s one thing about short circuits, they are difficult to control in the traditional team format and the more technical the truer that becomes. You daren’t sit back and follow, you’ll be out the back in short order so Team Bianchi were in the thick of the chase, part of the long string that quickly developed. Whilst the attack hadn’t survived long the pace remained relatively high through the technical section barely changing even through the hairpins, just as well we were strung out.

The lead changed hands several times during the lap and certainly not only gaijin taking the initiative. A pattern was set, keep the pace high to discourage attacking moves, it might shell a few bodies from the peloton at the same time. On the downside none of our number would be able to break away either, the gamble of course being the use of too much energy leaving nothing for the finish.
 
 
Five laps in and everyone looked a bit ragged, even Mum, Mand was only just holding wheels and perhaps a third of the starters were now detached from the action end of things. When Mum hit the front and immediately slowed the pace, the relief was almost unanimous with much reaching for bottles and energy bars. Of course it could only ever be a temporary effort level by the time we hit the bends the American girl was trying her luck.

It fell to me to give chase or at least up the pace, whilst I did the latter I reneged on the former that left her dangling less than twenty metres ahead of us. I took us through the bends before Monique took the helm in my stead. The pattern was set, several fast laps, a breather, attack and repeat, we were into the last quarter of the race before anything else interfered.
Hagiwara was the culprit; she certainly isn’t one for sitting back and waiting. The move was made as we hit the finish straight on lap thirty-two; a quick sprint and she had a gap. The lead was thirty metres before anyone really reacted and even then it was more an increase in pace than an active chase.

The extra couple of kph was enough for a major elastic snap, when I checked around both Anja and Mand were on the wrong side of the frayed material. Just a dozen riders constituted the chase group, with Hagiwara out front that meant a bakers dozen stood a chance of contesting the finish. Our own plan wasn’t in tatters by any means but it did have some serious rents and the laps were counting down quickly towards the finale.

Maddy Bell 29.10.15