*Chapter 29*
Cheering Up
“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
