"You’ve won the lottery.”
"I wish,” Bern lamented.
"It hasn’t rained today.
"You’re being silly now, Gab.”
"Well I'm not a mind reader am I,” I pointed out, "Bum.”
"You okay?”
"Just about,” I supplied as I tried to get a little more comfortable, "Came off this afternoon.”
"What’ve you done?”
"Just some road rash.”
"Nice.”
"So come on, what’s this news you were so desperate to impart?”
"Well you’ll never guess who’s getting married?”
"You’re right, I'll never guess.”
"You’re no fun, Gaby Bond.”
"Well?” I pushed.
"Oh alright, well I was taking Drea to the clinic on Friday and who do you think I should see coming out of the doctors’?”
"I dunno.”
"Fran.”
"Fran?”
"As in Warsop College.”
"Fran Cowlishaw,” I translated.
"The same.”
"And?” I pointedly enquired.
"Well we had a chat like.”
"Cut to the chase, Bern.”
"Alright,” she huffed, "Well anyway she’s getting hitched.”
"Fran’s getting married?”
"That’s what I said.”
"That’s unexpected, who to?”
"Well that’s the thing, it’s Pilling.”
"As in ‘two more laps Pilling’?”
"The same!”
"I thought he was already married?”
"Divorced,” Bern advised with some authority.
"Guess I'd best send a card or something.
"Keep it to yourself though, no one at the school knows,”
"And who am I gonna tell? I'm like five hundred miles away.”
"I dunno, your cousin or Ally?”
"I've not spoken to Mad since New Year.”
"Well I don’t know do I?”
"So was that it?”
"Pretty much,” she admitted.
"So how’s Drea?”

Well that opened the floodgates, ask any mother about her kids and you’ll get chapter and verse on their toilet habits, sleep patterns and more associated drivel than I ever want to know. For the next twenty minutes I got the low down in exquisite detail – I think I dropped off at one point.

"So I'll see you in a few weeks then,” Bern concluded.
"Er yeah,” I agreed.
"Geez is that the time, bye!
"Nite.”
I checked the time myself, half ten, gott, she’s been rattling for best part of an hour!

 
It wasn’t a pretty sight, the combination of fresh scab and now, multi hued bruising, well my shoulder looks a right mess. The hip’s more painful but I can at least easily wear a skirt or something and its covered, but the shoulder… I squeezed a blob of Savlon® into my hand and slavered it over the damage – aah, instant relief. I quickly put my hair up – don’t want it getting stuck to my wounds, and limped my way downstairs.

"Alright, kiddo?” Dad asked, "Ouch, that bruising’s come out well, how’s the leg.”
"I'll live I guess.”
"You going to be okay at the kiosk like that?”
"Con can practice her cooking,” I suggested pouring myself a cuppa, "I can hardly not go can I, I mean I'm off most of the week as it is.”
"Well get your breakfast, I'll just be in the office, shout me when you’re ready.”
“’Kay.”

 
"Morning!” Con sang happily when she arrived at work.
"Heya,” I allowed whilst keeping my attention on refilling the sugar dispenser.
"Everything okay?”
"Think so,” I screwed the lid back on the sugar before turning round,” Dad did the tables.”
"What the heck have you done to your arm?” she squawked.
"I was trying to see how far I could slide on gravel.”
"You daft moo, seriously?”
"I fell off in the race, did my leg too,” I went to pull up my skirt to show her.
"I'd rather not see thank you,” she stated, the wimp.
"It might be best if you do the food today?” I suggested.
"I guess,” she agreed, "Don’t want bits of Bond in the Pommes.”
"Eurgh!” yeah, not a pretty thought.

 
"Soph?”

It occurred to me mid morning that I hadn’t called Sophia about tomorrow night, you know frocks and stuff.

"Yes?”
"It’s Gaby? Bond?”
"Gaby! You are still coming tomorrow?”
"Keep me away,” I fibbed.
"Great! Sara’s friends are all coming but I hardly know any of them, it’ll be great to have someone to bunk off with.”
"Er yeah, so I was wondering like, what’s the er dress code for this breakfast thing tomorrow?”
"Oh you know, something pretty, well that could be anything for you eh?”
"If you say so, so not too formal then?”
"Like in Augsburg,” she supplied.

Hmm, I think I know where that dress Soph gifted me last year is, I guess that’ll do.

 
"What’re you doing?” Mand asked before taking another bite from her apple.
"Looking for a dress.”
"You’ve got hundreds.”
"Bit of an exaggeration,” I pointed out.
"Well more than me anyhow, so any in particular?”
"Yeah, it’s a sort of semi formal thing for tomorrow night.”
"Tomorrow?”
"Yeah, there’s like a posh dinner thing for the family and selected guests.”
"Which you just happen to get invited to, so are you family or guest.”
"I'm not exactly related am I,” I pointed out.
"Not quite,” she mumbled.
"Aha!” I exclaimed, the frock in question was sharing a hanger with my prom dress for some reason. I extricated it and hung it with my wedding outfit and my evening dress.
"You two going tonight?” Dad called up.
"Coming!” I trilled back.

I guess I had excuse enough to give cheer a miss – I'm sure Mand wouldn’t’ve been too bothered but that would mean missing pizza night. I might be injured but I'm not off my food and double pepperoni is good healing food; well I reckon so and I'm sticking by that!

 
Mum was home when we got back with the pizza – I wondered why Dad got four instead of the usual three.

"Heya Mrs B,” Pia told mater.
"Hi Pia, good session girls?” she enquired as she distributed plates.
"Not bad,” I suggested, "Oh guess what?”
"Fran Cowlishaw is getting married.”
"John’s divorce finally came through then.”
"You knew about them?”
"It wasn’t exactly a secret in the staff room,” she mentioned, "Can you fetch the salad please, Amanda.”
"So much for hot gossip,” I sighed.
"I never took you for a gossip,” Mum noted, "So how’s the side?”
I slipped my t shirt off my shoulder, “’s dried up a bit now, it was a bit weepy earlier.”
“Urgh, put it away, Gab, it’s putting me off the pizza,” P complained.
"What this?” I said brandishing my scabby body at her.
"Gabrielle Bond,” Dad admonished.
"Soz,” I meekly returned easing my top back into place.

 
"I'll pick you up at twelve,” Mum confirmed as I climbed out of the A Klasse.
“’Kay, later.”
"Bye.”

I waited for her to depart before heading into the kiosk, Con having beaten me here even though she was supposed to be on late what with me finishing at lunch.

"Packed?”
"Just about, coffee?”
"Please.”
"So why’re you here so early?”
"Dad was coming up with the bread so I got a lift.”
"What’s that?” I asked as she was poring over some papers.
"First week’s trading, mum ran it off last night. Did you know we sold six hundred and thirty one coffees last week?”
"Is that good?”
"It’s more than the bakery.”
"That got everything on it?” I enquired handing her coffee to her before starting a second cup of coffee for myself.
"Pretty much, doesn’t tell you what cake it is mind, just how many.”
"So how many currywursts then?”
"Er, hot food,” she ran a finger along the line, "Seventy one, that doesn’t include the opening.”
"Felt like more than that,” I mused.
"We did twenty pies,” she offered.
"There’s hope yet,” I beamed.
"Next you’ll have us selling those pudding things.”
"Yorkshires? Ooh, now you’re talking!”

Con just rolled her eyes.

Maddy Bell © 31.03.17