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*Chapter 38*
Airporter

 
 
Normally, that is when my friends and me come to the big cities, we invariably eat in the department stores but somehow Gran and me ended up in a restaurant place on a side street just off Ehrenstrasse. Okay we’re a bunch of schoolgirls so coming into somewhere like this isn’t what we do – or even think of doing. Köln in particular is littered with places like this, usually fitted out in a traditional style despite being in a ‘modern’ building!

“So, what’s on the menu?” Gran asked once we were settled and the waitress had our drinks order.

Gaby the translator again.

“Erm,” I scanned the Speisekarte, “looks like the usual options, pork medallions, schnitzel, chicken Hawaii.”

“What’re these on this er taggis carty page?”

“The what?”

“This one here,” Gran pointed at her menu.

“Tages karte,” I giggled, “it’s like the daily specials.”

“Okay show off, the Cordon Bleu looks good value, what is it?”

I read my own list before replying, “It’s turkey schnitzel with like ham and mushrooms with fried potatoes, not had that before.”

“Shall we give that a go then?”

Well I was a bit intrigued myself, can’t say as I’ve come across this on a menu before.

We chatted about this and that, I clearly had most to tell what with my summer’s activities, Italy, Switzerland and of course Denmark and Japan. I sound like a right jet setter but there hasn’t exactly been a lot of playing grockle involved and whilst interested, Gran isn’t that interested in who did what in the races. Well unless one of her girls wins of course!

Our lunch turned up, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. The plate was half filled with the Bratkartoffeln, a slightly soggy looking thing sat in a pond of gravy like stuff along with a little dish of what looked like cranberry sauce.

“Looks interesting,” Gran mentioned.

I tried the sauce on my finger, “It’s quite sweet.”

“Well in for a pound.”

It tasted a lot better than it looked, it was actually a schnitzel stuffed with the ham, mushrooms and stuff. It’s certainly a different way to have your stuffed turkey – maybe I should try it at home!

I took a draft of my Radler, “Not bad.”

“Well it’s certainly disappearing quickly,” Gran admonished – I can’t help it if I eat quickly.

Brinnng, bring, Brinnng, bring!

“Dad,” I told Gran reaching for my Handtasche.
*
“Checking up on us no doubt,” Gran chuckled.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, kiddo, having a nice day?”

“Yeah, I think Gran’s spent up, we’re just having lunch.”

“Dinea?”

“Nah, some restaurant near Globetrotter, so why the call?”

“Your Gran there?”

“Yeah sure, hang on,” I passed Gran my Handy, “wants to talk to you.”

“Hi Dave……yes…oh only a walking jacket…uh huh…okay…I think so, let me just ask her.”

Gran covered the phone, “Do you know how to get to Dusseldorf airport?”

“Dusseldorf? I guess.”

“She says yes, Dave……oh don’t worry about it, what time?...Okay, we’ll see you later.”

She passed me the phone back, “What was all that about?”

“Seems Amanda is flying back here this afternoon, your dad thought it easiest if we pick her up as we’re quite close.”

“She wasn’t happy when I spoke to her,” I admitted.

“Well she gets in at ten past eight so we have some time to kill, your Dad says we’re about an hour away?”

“‘Bout that,” I agreed. Hmm, that’s an idea; I flipped the Handy open again and hit a regular speed dial.

“Who’re you ringing?”

“Ron.”

“You sure, Angela?…okay we’ll be there about five.”
*
Gran gave me a look.

“That’s sorted.”

“Do I want, no need, to know?”

“We’ll stop off at the Grönberg’s, have a cuppa then pick Mand up, they only live about fifteen minutes from the terminal.”

“If you say so, Gaby,” she sighed.

“It’ll be cheaper than the airport,” I pointed out.

“And this Angela, she doesn’t mind us dropping in?”

“Nope, me an’ Dad usually stop for coffee when we drop Roni off, Angela likes feeding us!”

“Hmm.”

We still had some shopping to do; well I do so once we’d finished eating we headed back towards Schildergasse. In fact I only remembered that I still needed this comb thing when I was idly watching the waitress. If I’d been a girl all my life I’d probably have this stuff already. I’ve only actually been a girl for two months – okay that’s not really true but you know what I mean.

“That’s pretty,” Gran allowed as I surveyed the wall of hair accessories.

“Which?”

“Here,” Gran reached up and unhooked a card.

“Really?” I queried, “Looks a bit plain.”

“Less is more,” she suggested.

I’d been drawn to the sparkly stuff of course; one even had stuff hanging from it, but this, this was more er, adult. And adult is good when you don’t even make 160cm unless you’ve got heels on!

“Okay, you’ve convinced me, I need some more elastics while we’re here.”

That was me sorted; a quick detour into the Galleria supplied a gift for the Grönberg’s.

We were ahead of the rush hour traffic and despite missing the turn I thought we were taking we got onto the One and then the Three without having to retrace. Over the last couple of years I’ve travelled this bit of Autobahn a lot, I almost forgot that Gran didn’t know where we were going.

“Which way?”

It took me a moment to work out where we were, “Er first one, Wuppertal?”

“That where we’re headed?”

“Er no, we want the Solingen turn it’s not far.”

“Glad we aren’t going the other way.”

In the gathering gloom the west, Düsseldorf bound traffic was a slow moving mass of headlights. We came off at 30 and joined the queue at the top of the slip road.

“We want to go right, Mettmann,” I supplied.

“Glad you know the way.”

It’s literally ten minutes tops from the motorway to Roni’s place – well except when you get stuck behind a tractor! The light was gone now, Gran was driving cautiously which is just as well, I forgot we had to turn off through Gruiten. Hey, I’m usually asleep or chatting at this point of the journey.

We were a little ahead of ETA when we pulled up but Ron must’ve been looking out for us as she came rushing out to meet us.

“Gabs!”

“Roni!”

We hugged excitedly; it has been a while since we’ve actually seen each other.

“You grown?”

“Only round the middle,” I lamented, “er this is my Oma Peters.”

“Tag, Frau Peters.”

“She doesn’t speak German,” I giggled, “Gran, this is Roni.”

“Nice to meet you, Roni.”

“Sorry, Mrs Peters, welcome to Mettmann, Mama has coffee on.”

Angela excelled herself feeding us with homemade minestrone soup before rolling out dessert. It wasn’t one of her famous chocolate cakes but it was full of fruit, cream and the Grönberg touch! Gran and Angela, despite little common language seemed to hit it off allowing me and Ron to disappear for a bit.

“So Mand’s left home?”

“‘S what it sounds like, I know she doesn’t get on with her mum much but even so.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine not having Mum about,” Ron agreed.

“So what did Kris bring you?”

“New shoes!”

I’ve never seen Ron that enthusiastic about mere fashion accessories – maybe there’s hope for her yet.

“Let’s see then.”

Okay, silly me, this is Roni. Not a pair of heels then, oh no, a pair of those new Specialized shoes with the dials to tighten them.

“They are so cool, I’ll have to get your dad to put the cleats on, I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“Me too,” I admitted, examining her footwear, especially the carbon fibre sole – I’m jealous!

We didn’t have long before Angela called us back downstairs.

“Sorry, Gab, we should get to the airport, we need to park and find arrivals.” Gran advised.

“Sure.” I allowed, well it was always gonna be a flying visit.

Roni and Angela came out to the car.

“Thanks for the soup.”

“No trouble, Gaby, it’s been good to see you – and meet your Gran.”

I kicked something in the foot well, what’s that? I reached down and found the Galleria bag.

“These are for you,” I advised passing them out to Angela.

“You didn’t need to.”

“Well I know you like them.”

She peeked in the bag, a smile developed, “Thank you Gaby, we’ll see you in the New Year.”

“Yeah, see you, Ron,”

“Bye, Gab.”

“Tschussie!”

Maddy Bell 17.03.16