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*Chapter 39*

Par-tee!

 
 
We tottered down to Gloria’s Porsche Cayenne; Max was stood at the door.

“Close your mouth, von Strechau,” I instructed.

“I er, yeah.”

“Mand meet Max, Max this is Amanda.”

“Er pleased to meet you,” Max supplied in his best English, he remembered what I told him earlier.

“And you, Max.”

He collected his thoughts from wherever they’d gone and opened the door, “Um please.”

Mand got in first, sliding across behind Gloria, I climbed in as graciously as I could manage. Max closed the door and got in the front.

“Evening, Gaby, sorry I’m early, I’ve got a meeting with the tourist board in Andernach at seven thirty.”

“No problem, thanks for taking us, Dad’s always moaning about being used as a taxi.”

Gloria set off before continuing.

“Wilhelm too,” she noted, so who is your friend?”

“Mu-um!” Max hissed.

“Amanda, she’s joining the team from England,” I explained.

“Hello, Amanda.”

“Mand, this is, Gloria, Max’s mum.”

“Um hi.”

“So, Gaby,” Gloria went on, “you are looking very nice tonight, a new dress?”

“Er thanks, I um got the dress today.”

“I’m sure someone will appreciate your effort.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Just why have I got a new dress and got tarted up? It’s not like I’m on the pull (as if!) or it’s some fancy do. No, it’s a night out with my friends and peers in a draughty barn, some of my friends just happen to be boys.

“So Max was saying it’s this week you go to Japon?”

“Saturday,” I confirmed.

“I do hope you get a chance to see some of the temples, they are amazing.”

“Hopefully, Dad’s keen to do some sightseeing between the racing.”
 
 

The Porsche ate up the kilometres along the valley and Gloria didn’t hold the horses on the climb up from Ahrbrück. We turned into the Preiser property much sooner than I expected, Gloria spinning the car around in the courtyard to drop us at the barn door.
 
 

“Thanks again, Gloria.”

“No problem, Gaby, nice to meet you, Amanda, look after them, Max.”

“Yes, Mum,” he replied with a roll of the eyes.

“I mean it, Max.”

“Yeah.”

And then she was gone, the Cayenne’s taillights bouncing over the cobbles before disappearing into the darkness.
 
 

So of course, here I am, short frock, ten-centimeter heels stood in a dark rough cobbled courtyard – again.

“Um, Max?”

“What’s up?”

“Could you like give me a hand, I don’t want to fall and break something.”

“Sure,” he agreed, “You okay, Amanda?”

“What’s he say?” she hissed.

“Do you need a hand on the cobbles?”

“Should be okay.”

“She’s fine, Max.”

Well of course, she’s not wearing stilts, okay her shoes, well sandals have a heel but it’s like four centimeters and somewhat broader than my stilettos. Why couldn’t I have got something in H&M® when we were in Bonn? A breeze blowing around my fundament reminded me we needed to get inside.

“Come on, it’s a bit chilly out here,” I urged.
 
 

I was still holding onto Max when we made our entrance, Mand bringing up the rear of our party. We were far from the first arrivals so we drew some attention as we crossed the threshold.

“Max, Gaby, glad you made it,” Mart enthused.

“Wouldn’t miss one of your parties would we, Gab?” Max supplied.

“Not on your er Nellie, I know you like the English ladies, Mart, do you think you could look after Manda tonight?”

“Manda?” he queried.

“Mand,” I had to release my grip on Max to pull her forward, hang on, why am I still gripping Max like death? Anyhow, “this is Mart, it’s his party, I told you about Bern? He’s her boyfriend.”

“Um, thanks for inviting me,” Mand offered.

After spending time with Bern in the spring Mart’s English is pretty good which is why I thought he might look after Mand no German.

“Any friend of our Prinzessin, talking of which, Bernie wrote this week, she sent pictures of Andrea,” he enthused.

“You’ll have to show me,” I noted, “come on, Mand, best introduce you around.”
 
 

The Angels, including I was glad to see, Nena, were stowing bags and coats still, they must’ve arrived just before us. I headed over to them, you can’t hurry in these shoes, I was spotted well before we crossed the ‘dance floor’. In what was obviously a rehearsed move they all turned and as one curtsied with a single chorus of, “welcome your Majesty!”

Talk about embarrassing!

“Give over!”

“Yes, your majesty,” Steff grinned, the others couldn’t hold it any longer and started cackling like a flock of hens.

“Your face, Gab,” Pia allowed.

“I know you said you had a dress sorted,” Con mentioned,” You didn’t say it was couture.”

“Biba actually.”

“You’re looking pretty dapper as well, Max,” Bridg supplied.

“Can’t let Gab get all the attention,” he stated from far too close, damn it; I’m hanging on his arm again!

I quickly extricated myself, oh right, my ‘lady in waiting’, “Er guys, this is Amanda, from England?”

True to form the girls set to practicing their varying levels of Anglo Saxon conversation, I wish they’d give up on the princess stuff.

“I’ll go give Mart a hand,” Max—he still here?—noted.

“’Kay.”

“Not your boyfriend, eh?” Nena stated.

“In his dreams, he’s not even on the list.”

“There’s a list?”

“No!”

“Whatever you say, highness,” she smirked.

“I thought we’d finished with all that guff?”

“Come on, Gab, you turn up on the arm of one of the most eligible lads in the area wearing a designer frock, bet those aren’t Aldi strumpf are they?”

I looked down at my legs, “Er Wolford.”

“Wolford, sheesh, and I bet your knickers cost more than my dress. Whether you like it or not you are ‘royalty’ in these parts and we, as your friends will rib you with it, it’s what friends do.”

“Thank you, friend. You okay?”

“Not really,” she admitted, ”but I need to get on with things, Claudia wouldn’t want us to get all maudlin.”

“She was a bit of a dynamo,” I agreed.

“Yeah,” she allowed with the start of a sniff.

“We should remember the real Claudia, let’s party in her memory, she’d appreciate that.”

Nen brightened a bit; “You know she’d’ve gone for the Prinzessin business big style don’t you?”

“Guess I can live with that.”

“Guys!” Nena called for the others attention.

They eased up on Mand long enough to find out what Nena wanted.

“I’ve been speaking to her majesty, Wolford strumpf! And she has decreed that we should party hard just like my sister would’ve, Claud, tonight’s for you!”

I’m sure they practice this stuff; the girls all repeated the curtsey thing, after a glance at the others even Mand joined in.

“Thank you, ladies, time to boogie! Max! Music please.”

“Coming right up!”
 
 

Mart’s parties are legendary, his parents keep an eye on things of course – thirty or so teenagers can get a bit rowdy. Of course there’s no alcohol, as if, but the punch is fruity, the snacks delish, the lads put on some kick a, I mean nice music and the emphasis is on having a good time. We started with some handbag tunes and things progressed from there.

“Having fun?”

“Your friends are mad!” Mand noted.

“Quite possibly,” I agreed.

“And you,” her eyes flicked past me, “enjoy.”

Enjoy?

A pair of hands snaked around me, who? I recognize that smell, Max.

“Dance, your highness?”

“Go on then,” I sighed, he’s a good sport after all.

“Maestro!” he called out and instead of a rockin’ tune, a classical number filled the barn, music that brought back memories of Munich and dancing with a real Prince. Claudia would’ve loved all that intrigue.

Max slipped me into position and we started the waltz to much amusement, cat calling and enthusiasm. Several girls dragged boyfriends or girl friends to the floor so by the end of the tune the floor was awash with inexpert waltzing, I like to think Max and I did it best. I saw Marty having his feet stood on by Mand, yeah, we were having fun.
 
 

“My feet are killing me,” I moaned as we waited for Dad’s taxi, almost the last to depart.

“Dunno how you lasted in those shoes,” Mand opined.

“Practice?”

“Gab, your dad’s here.” Max announced from the door.

“Coming!”

Yeah, a good night, you would've loved it, Claud.

 
 
Maddy Bell © 28.12.2014