Gaby Book 21 ~ Summer Loving ~ Chapter *33*

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*Chapter 33*
Currying Favour

 

It wasn’t too late when we got back to Dernau, even stopping off at Neuwied had only added a few minutes to the journey.

“Looks like Jules is still here,” I mentioned as we pulled onto the drive.
“How’d you work that out?” Dad queried.
“Well unless I’m mistaken, they’re her undies on the line.”

Mand snorted and it was Dad’s turn to blush when he automatically looked at the washing blowing about in the breeze.

“Er right,” he mumbled, “get the kettle on eh?”

 

“That was cruel Gab’s,” Mand opined as made our way into Schloss Bond.
“Good though.”
“Its a good job we were already parked.”
“Something smells good.”
“Coconut?”

We dumped our race kit in the laundry and made our way upstairs to investigate the enticing aromas.

“What’s cooking,” I enquired poking my head into the kitchen.
“Best ask your sister,” Mum advised.
“Chicken korma, beef madras and sag aloo,” the dark one supplied.
“Whoa,” Mand stated.
“Bhaji’s, naan bread?”
“We’re getting the works kiddo,” Mum supplied as she filled the kettle.
“What’s the occasion,” Mand ventured.
“Er nothing,” my sister hedged, “just thought we could do with a change from schnitzel.”
“You two, shower and change, I’ll sort your Dad’s tea,” Mum instructed, “and something decent please.”

 

“She’s after something,” I whispered as we headed upstairs.
“But what and from who?” Mand posed.
“Bum, the washing.”
“I’ll do it,” Mand volunteered.
“Cheers, see you in a bit.”

I stomped up to my eyrie and was quickly in the shower. I wasn’t too stinky, a strip wash after the race meant we were passable in polite company for the post race nosh. It having stayed dry for a change its not like we were caked in mud and stuff and the campers shower is a challenge to use.

Goodness knows why Mum wanted us dressed up but no point in winding her up so I found fresh undies and a summer frock, something curry proof! There wasn’t really time to dry my hair so I put it up into a bun – I’ll tame it properly later. I padded downstairs, Mand had somehow beaten me so I proceeded down to the ground floor.

 

“Get something on your feet,” Mum told me, “then you can give me a hand with this lot.”
“Where’s Jules,” I asked as I rescued a battered pair of sandals from the cloakroom.
“Changing.”
“What’s going on? Changing for dinner, really?”
“Keep it down, we’ve got company.”
I lowered my voice to answer, “company? Who?”
“The Appelroth’s.”
“The who?”
“Boris and his parents.”
“Ah,” I allowed, “peace talks I guess.”
“Something like that,” Mum agreed before plonking the warming tray into my hands, “ask your Dad to light it please.”

I could do it but I guess Mum’s mindful of last time when I set the tablecloth alight, anyone coulda done the same.

 

“How long?” Dad enquired as he lit the tea lights under the tray.
“Think we’re just waiting for Jules, they on the deck?”
“Talking with Manda, could you fetch that half crate of Krombacher up, curry deserves a brew eh?”
“If you say so,” personally I prefer lemonade with mine but i’m probably in a minority of one in this house.

I returned to the kitchen where Jules having returned all tarted up, was now back in control of the food.

“Dad wants beer.”
“I’ll get it,” Mum announced, “take the plates through kidda.”
Yes Mum.
“Hold the door Gab,” Jules requested following me with a tureen of homemade pilau rice.

 

A good Indian meal is something of a British institution, just about everywhere has a curry house there where you can indulge in a vindaloo or something a bit milder. Oh there are restaurants here but even the simplest UK one runs a more extensive menu than the best in Bonn or Köln so the German palate isn’t so refined in its enjoyment of a nice pakora or fluffy peshwari naan. This was telegraphed by the looks on Boris’ parents faces as the table was loaded with spicy goodness – maybe not the best choice Jules?

“Dig in everyone,” Mum suggested, “there’s pilau and plain rice, you’ve got chicken Korma this end, beef Madras in the middle and potato Sag nearest Boris. Pass the Bhajis round Gab.”

Not before I claim a couple! You won’t get them like this in the restaurants that's for sure, crispy balls of deep fried onion, not the mushy things so often passed off in these parts. Experienced curry eaters were soon loading plates with the results of Jules labours, Jan and Susannah obediently took bhajis from the plate but otherwise looked a bit bewildered.

“T art,” Dad advised, “is to have a little of each, you don’t get that option in most restaurants, a full bowl of Madras can be a bit daunting, oh the beer.”
“I’ll get it Herr Bond,” Boris volunteered.
“I’ll get the glasses,” Jules added following him out.
“Well it all looks very nice,” Susannah mentioned.
“Juliette’s been working on it all afternoon,” Mum put in.
“She cooked us, what did she call it,” Jan thought a moment, “that’s it, a full roast a few weeks back, quite the cook.”
“Gaby’s the cook in the family,” Dad inserted.
“It was either learn or starve,” I added.
“Jan was just saying you did them a roast?” Mum prompted Jules as the beer and glasses arrived.
“The Yorkshires were a bit flat,” she admitted.
“Hey maybe we shoulda had Yorkshires with this,” I suggested – I reckon that’d work quite well.
“Gab, that's disgusting!” Mand opined.

 

The rest of the meal went quite well, I’m not sure Susannah was that enamoured with the eating style, you know, fingers, messy or with the Madras but hot isn’t to everyone's taste I guess. Without guests I might’ve loaded my plate a bit more but I suppose I sort of should appear to be a bit more ladylike in company. Eventually though the eating ceased and a conversation about Jules cooking prowess started.

“Anyone for coffee?” I offered.
“Please,” Frau Appelroth smiled gratefully.
“Might as well make a pot Gab,” Dad suggested.
“’kay,” I agreed getting up from my seat, “Mand.”
“Eh, oh right, I’ll er give you a hand.”

 

“What's going on?” Mand enquired.
“Peace talks?” I suggested.
“Boris and Jules hardly look like their fighting.”
I was mindful of what Dad told me yesterday, about not shooting my mouth off, “think there’s some stuff they need to sort out about Uni.”
“Oh right,”
“You want to get the cups out?”

And so after delivering the coffee and removing the detritus of the meal to the dishwasher we left them to it and reconvened in the eyrie.

 

“Hope we don’t have many races that long.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Not for you maybe, some of us are mere mortals though.”
I shrugged, “it was pretty close at the finish.”
“You still won though,” she pointed out.
“If it had been a couple of hundred more...”
“Whatever, I hope this thing in Spain’s not as hard.”
“Well all the National squads will be in Switzerland.”
“Where we should be,” she interrupted.
“That's as maybe but it does mean the racing should be easier.”
“Hope so.”

To be honest so do I but given some of the riders on the GB ‘B’ squad its not gonna be a cakewalk.

 

It was after ten before we heard car doors and an engine start up announcing the Appelroth’s imminent departure. We looked at each other, grabbed our cups and set off for lower altitudes and information.

“So,” I enquired casually, “everything sorted?”
“If you mean am I going back to Bonn, Mum’s taking me tomorrow,” Jules told us.
“Well that's good right?”
“Ish.”
“Later Gabs,” Dad suggested, “bed perhaps?”
“I was gonna watch the film.”

There isn’t much worth watching on Saturday night TV and to be honest I didn’t really want to watch Rocky Three again.

“Its been on before,” Mum pointed out, “and there’s a DVD here somewhere too.”
“Come on Gabs, its been a long day,” Mand took the hint that I was missing but I did find myself yawning.
“’kay, see you in the morning, good curry by the way Sis.”
“You ate enough to know.”
“I thought I was quite restrained.”
“Next to a hippo.”
“Goodnight Gabs,” Mum prompted.
“Nite everyone,” Mand advised.
“Er yeah, g’night,” I added before kissing my parents.
“Nite kiddo,” Dad returned.
“See you in the morning love, oh and congrats on winning, sorry we got a bit side tracked this evening,” Mum told me.
“’s’all right, all in a good cause, nite.”

 

I lay in bed staring out of the Dormer, unable to shut my mind off and get into sleep mode. Instead I was listening through the silence to the conversation two floors below. Well not actually listening, I couldn’t hear what was being said or really identify the speakers, no it was more a low hum with one or two instances of raised voice – I’m guessing that was Jules.

It was probably midnight before I realised it had gone quiet, I must’ve dropped off at some point.

 

Maddy Bell © 10.11.2017

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