“So young lady,” Mum started, “just when were you going to tell us about this band?”

She had me cornered and alone, Max having just departed, the rest of the family still out on the deck.

“Band?” I tried innocently.
Mum was having nothing of it though, “Gabrielle Andrea Bond!”
“I’m not in the band,” I stipulated with a sigh.
“Your sister, Boris and your boyfriend seem to think otherwise,” she pointed out.
“Honest Mum, I’m not in the band, I’ll admit to singing with them a couple of times but that's it.”
“A couple of times?”
“Well,” I hedged, “maybe three, a couple of gigs we went to and the Moselfest, but none of it was planned.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Its the truth, I didn’t even know Stefan and the guys were even playing at the festival.”
“Hmm,” a very unconvinced Mum allowed, “and these ‘gigs’?”
“Well they were Blau Hase gigs,” I admitted.
“I didn’t think they were Status Quo,” she mentioned.

Status Quo, maybe i’d best not tell her about that.

“So just how did my daughter end up on the stage or shouldn’t I ask?”
“Erm well you know I’ve been known to sing along to the radio?”
“Go on.”
“Well the guys do some original stuff and some covers and I sort of joined in with the covers.”
“And this chap,”
“Stefan.”
“Stefan, just invited you to join them?”
“Sort of.”
“Gab, I didn’t come down with the last shower.”
“Its the truth, just ask Max,” I persisted.
“So when’s your next ‘gig’?”
“There isn’t one.”
“Really?”
Geez, its like the Spanish Inquisition, “er maybe October?” I admitted.
“Well you’d best get your Dad to put it on the calendar, we wouldn’t want to miss it would we?”
“You're not mad?”
“Mad no, upset that you didn’t tell us before.”
I gave a shrug, “it was just a bit of fun.”
“You’re forgetting I’ve heard you singing, your bit of fun is better than a lot of the crap on the radio.”
“It is?”
“Most definitely,” a new voice added.
“Jules?”
“Oh come on Gab, you know so and so do Stefan and the guys, they want her to join full time,” my sister informed my mother as she rinsed out the mugs she’d brought in.
“Jules!”
“Well its the truth,” she stated.

Truth it might be but I don’t think I want to be a singer, well not like full time any how.

“Can I go to bed now?”
“Lightweight!” Jules crowed.
“Mum?” I appealled.
“Go on kiddo, don’t forget to give your Dad that date.”
“Yeah, nite.”
 

So of course I couldn’t sleep, I lay there contemplating my navel, well figuratively, you know what I mean. Seeing Gramps and Nanna again was really good and getting acquainted with the flock of cousins was, well, interesting. I mean they are so much younger than me and Jules its not like we have anything in common except maybe a few wayward genes.

And then there was the weirdness over the singing with Mum. I’m still not sure what to make of that conversation, not sure if she was annoyed because I did it or because she didn’t know about it. Its not that I was exactly keeping it secret, I just didn’t think it was that important – and what was that about not missing the next one?
 

“How’d the big reunion go then?” Con enquired.
“It went.”
“Oh come on Gab, it can’t’ve been that bad.”
I sipped at my Sprite® before replying, “I guess not, Nanna was just like I remember, a proper Mrs Bouquet.”
“Eh? Boo Kay?”

Well of course she didn’t get the reference, why should she, its not like they play a lot of British sitcoms on RTL or NDR is it?

“You know, puts on airs, thinks she’s posh?”
“And your grand parents are not?”
“Hardly, they live in a semi not even in Weston, Gramps is some sort of manager.”
“Weston?”
“Super Mare, its a sort of seaside resort near Bristol, all holiday homes and not much else,” I supplied.
“So what about the Cousinen?”
I shrugged, “they’re just kids, the eldest boy was a little sod.”
“Not used to not being the main attraction,” Con suggested.
“Maybe,” I allowed, “the girls were sweeties though.”
“In awe of their big cousins.”
“Who speak funny and have weird hair.”
“Nothing weird about your hair.”
“So I speak funny?”
“Only when its about bikes,” she grinned.
“Huh!”
“So you seeing them again while they’re here?”
“Friday night for dinner, Gott knows what we’ll get fed,” I told her with a roll of my eyes.
“Now who’s a Boo Kay?”

Hoisted by my own petard as Gran would put it.
 

“Last night was fun,” Max opined before shovelling more Pommes into his maw.
“Define fun.”
“It wasn’t that bad Gabs.”
“You didn’t get interrogated by Mum about Blau Hase.”
“I’m not the one moonlighting as a rock diva.”
“I am not,” I snapped indignantly.
“Coulda fooled me, not that I’m complaining, I think its pretty cool.”
“Hmm,” I allowed nicking a couple of his chips.
“Nearly forgot,” he got out around a mouthful of Frikadel, “this came for you.”
I took the proffered envelope with some trepidation, “what is it?”
“You could open it to find out,” he suggested.”
“Huh, and how comes you have it?”
“Well that's easy enough, it came with mums.”

Sounds ominous, I inspected the envelope more closely, definitely posh, a pale yellow and containing some sort of card at a guess.

“Well open it then,” Max prompted.

It wasn’t sealed as such, the flap was tucked away neatly which made opening it easy enough allowing me to slide the contents free. The card was embossed and foil printed with some sort of logo on the front, the inside was equally simple and I read the script twice before appreciating the words.

‘We respectfully request the presence of Gabrielle Bond at our forthcoming event…..blah, blah, blah’
“Is this what I think?” I requested passing it across to von Strechau.
He quickly skimmed the text, “invite to some fashion show thing next month.”
“How come I got this?” I asked retrieving the card.
“I guess they have some sort of list,” he replied with a shrug.
“Fat lot of good you are.”
“I can kiss.”
Boys!
 

“What’s this then?” Con asked even as she snatched the card from my fingers.
“An invitation to some show,” I sighed.

My BFF slipped the card out and read the contents.

“I’m not even sure who its from,” I admitted.
“Dur,” she brandished the card towards me, “its on the front Gabs.”
“Eh?”
“D G?”
“No idea.”
“Dolce & Gabana® dumbo, how the heck did you pull this off?”
“Apparently I’m on some list?”
“Gaby Bond, sometimes. So you going?”
“Its hardly my sort of thing is it?”
“An invite to see Dolce & Gabana’s Spring collection and she’s thinking of not going.”
“What?”

Con just shook her head.
 

“What’re you looking so perplexed about?” Dad enquired as I parked the Schauff in the garage, he was doing mechanic things to one of the posher bikes in the underground bike lair.
“Nothing really.”
“I’ve seen that look before kiddo, what is it, the singing thing? Your Mum means well.”
“No not that,” in truth I’d forgotten about that, “no I got an invite to some show thing.”
“Oh? didn’t see any post.”
“It went to Max’s, he dropped it off at lunchtime.”
“What sort of show or shouldn’t I ask?”
“Fashion show, Dolce & Gabana.”
“As in tall skinny girls in weird frocks?”
“Guess so,” I agreed.
“You going?”
“It probably clashes with a race or something.”
“Won’t know until we look eh, stick the kettle on, I’ll be up in a minute.”

Dang, I was hoping for a straight veto. I grabbed my handtasche and headed upstairs to make the tea.
 

“What date is it?”
“Tenth?”
“Well that's no problem,” Dad advised, “its a Wednesday, nothing bike wise to stop you going.”

Bum.
 

Maddy Bell © 05.01.2018