Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

 
 
It seems a bit strange, Bern being just a few kilometres away but being somehow as remote as she is at home in England. Mart wasn’t saying a great deal either considering he’s usually bouncing about every message, every picture received from Warsop. Oh well, Mum’s invited them all down for dinner on Saturday, maybe I can find out what’s going on then.

“Gab, do you reckon Bernie would be up for Koblenz on Saturday,” Nena asked as we rode in to school Friday morning.
“Dunno, probably, you should speak to Marty,” I suggested.
“Good idea, he can ring and find out.”
“How you getting there?”
“Pia’s dad said he’d take us.”
“Right.”

Well of course I can’t go, even if I didn’t have a training ride in the morning I’m working at the bakery all afternoon. I sort of felt a bit left out, she is my friend and I’m hardly getting to see her. She could’ve stayed at ours but she wanted to stay at the Preiser’s, I’m sure there’s something going on.

“So which way’re we going then?” Manda asked as we clicked in and rolled down to the road.
“Down to Sinzig, along the river then back over the tops.”
“It was alright until you said over the tops.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Says the mountain goat.”
We joined the valley road and started the descent to the Rhein.
“It’s not, honest.”
“Hmm.”

We were reasonably warmed up by the time we hit the bypass, not my favourite bit of road but as an alternative to navigating the traffic of Ahrweiler and Bad Neuenahr it’s a godsend. Once past the autobahn we picked up the back lane down to Sinzig where we joined the main road – not too busy on a January Saturday thankfully. We were doing steady piano, a pace you can keep up comfortably all day – well that’s the theory.

We had forty-five minutes on the clock at Bad Breisig and I spotted a couple of riders ahead of us. The gap to our bait was dropping steadily – not fast but we had a couple of kph on them. I lost sight of them as we approached our turn at Brohl; I guess they were going straight down the river.

“This isn’t too bad,” Mand allowed as we rolled along the lower reaches of the Brohltal.
“We follow the railway most of the way up.”
“Railway?”
“Vulkan Express, it’s like a tourist line, steam trains and stuff.”
“I keep forgetting that you get tourists coming here, the only tourists we get back home are going through Gatwick.”
“It can get quite busy in the summer.”

We made our first crossing of the railway and as the valley widened a little the road’s long sweeping bend revealed what looked to be the same pair of riders ahead of us. We are out getting steady miles in, not racing but we looked at each other and by mutual agreement upped the pace a little. The road to Maria Laach branched off, it’s a horrible climb, I’m glad we’re sticking to the valley.

Each pedal turn closed the gap and by the time we left Burgbrohl we were just metres behind. I hung back, dropping the pace to match the two chaps seemingly unaware of our presence as they carried on a conversation that carried back to us. If even half of their supposed exploits were real they should be riding in the big tours, typical Weekend Warriors.

The Brohltal Viaduct loomed above us taking the E31 to the south or up to Köln, I signalled to Mand before clicking up a gear. Mand dropped onto my wheel and I towed her up to the bait, a quick glance for traffic and I powered past.
“Morgen!” we both called in unison.

We doubled back up and dropped the pace back to our earlier rate; a glance back as we made the next rail crossing confirmed they’d taken up the gauntlet. The almost flat road along to Niederzissen let us recover a bit and the Warriors catch up to us. Through the village and the road tracked the rail line to Oberzissen.

“Start climbing here,” I mentioned under my breath.
Mand nodded her understanding.

The main road drags uphill for several kilometres but follow the railway and it’s much easier until the last drag to the top station. I signalled for the left turn and we swept into the first short sharp climb, when it started to flatten our toys came around us seemingly confident of their superiority on the climb. Since last summer Mand’s climbing has really come on, I might still have more punch but she can hold her own in most company and this isn’t the Alps.

We let them drag us up to Brenk; they’d clearly been this way before as they started changing down for the steep section to the railhead. Their progress became untidy almost as soon as the road kicked up; the two girlies were around them and dancing up the incline with a calculated ‘tschuss’ in passing.

“Feck,” Mand gasped as we crossed the railway at the top of the incline.
“There’s some downhill when we get to the village.”
“Whatever,” she allowed taking a drag from her bidon.

I took a look behind as we reached Engeln village, the Warriors were only just at the level crossing, as I watched they stopped and collapsed over their bikes. There was indeed a stretch of downhill that was marred by a horrible surface, any chance of riding fast down it gone. At the main road we turned towards the Nurburgring but we took the next right, which started us on the steady climb north.

Although we only had about twenty kilometres to go we both munched on energy bars, no point getting into bonk land when you can avoid it so easily.
“That was a bit mean back there,” Mand suggested.
“Fun though.”
“If you say so.”
“They thought we’d be mashed before the climb.”
“They were probably only doing a gentle ride.”
“We didn’t force them to chase after us.”
“I guess,” Mand eventually agreed.

We held a good tempo up to the summit of Adert where we took the narrow lane to Ramersbach; we aren’t far from the Preiser’s here. Mindful of the drive up on Monday I kept the speed quite sensible for our descent to Ahrweiler. When we reached the town wall even Mand knew where she was and it was simple enough to make our way around to the main road for the last couple of kilometres back home.

For once I had a reasonable amount of time to get ready for work and I was kind of glad I was going. No sooner had Mand emerged from the shower than Mum was roping her into some pre dinner party house keeping. I get out of cooking too, result!

“You look happy,” Con mentioned when I joined her in the bakery.
“You know the Preiser’s are coming to dinner at mine?”
“You did mention it yesterday, several times in fact.”
“Well guess who isn’t cooking and cleaning?”
“Maybe not at home but there’s plenty to do here,” she pointed out.
“But this is different.”
“How so?”
“Well I get paid for this.”
“You are mercenary, Gaby Bond.”
“Your point being?”
“Tables?” she suggested throwing a cloth at me.
“Yes boss!”

It’s January and Saturday afternoons are not exactly busy – it’s different in the summer but this time of year, like the Vulkan Express, the Ahrtal is devoid of tourists. I spent most of the afternoon cleaning as it turns out, tables, Gaggia™ and crockery from the couple of customers who did come in for coffee and cake.

I was quite surprised when Mand came in about half an hour before closing time.
“Heya, guys.”
“Hi, Mand,” Con offered.
“What’s up,” I queried, Mand never comes to the bakery on her own.
“There any brotchen left?”
“Er,” Con looked in the bin, “two.”
“Bum, we need,” she counted on her fingers, “ten.”
“Ten? What’re they for?” I enquired.
“Soup.”
There’re ten eating? Dad’ll have to extend the table.
“We’ve got some baguettes, three should do it.”
“I suppose it’ll do.”
“Well it’s that or nothing,” I pointed out.
“In that case it’s baguettes, she said she’ll sort you out when you get back, later.”
“Later,” I sighed.
She’s stuffed me again, I know I get staff discount but she never actually gives me the money, I know it’s not a lot but it’s my not a lot.

The house was full of cooking smells when I got home, not just smells but people too, well Boris and my sister at least.
“Right, Gaby, you can do dessert,” Mum informed me.
“Really?”
“Really,” she confirmed.
“What is it then?”
“Rhubarb crumble.”
“Why cant Jules do it?” I moaned.
“Your sister has a guest.”
“It’s Boris, he practically lives here at weekends.”
She gave me a look, one of those ‘if I have to tell you again’ looks that comes just ahead of full Sunday names.
“Whatever,” I sighed.

I had to make two crumbles of course as we didn’t have a single dish big enough to make it for ten – all extra time, I hope they appreciate my efforts. But of course crumble means custard, well it does in House Bond so that was another twenty minutes after the crumbles went in the bottom of the oven. By the time I was done everyone else was ready for show time and I had twenty minutes before our guests arrive, grrr!

So of course the Preiser’s with Bern and the baby were early – I heard them arrive before I’d even got in the shower. And twenty minutes, well that was never gonna happen was it?
“You coming, Gab?” Jules asked poking her head around my door, “Mum’s wanting to dish.”
“Er, can you zip me, I think it’s got caught.”
“You sure you want to wear this?”
“Why not?”
She sighed deeply, “Come here.”
It took some fiddling but eventually she freed my hair and got me zipped into my dress. I checked the view in the mirror, yep I’ll do.
“Come on then,” I suggested.
“‘Bout time.”

Of course when I joined everyone else downstairs it was too late to change my mind, everyone else was dressed ‘nicely’, even Bernie had a nice dress on. That sounds bitchy, what I meant was, well everyone else had made an effort, me on the other hand, well I felt like a right dog’s dinner. Over dressed doesn’t come into it, it might’ve been suitable for a posh do but a house party with friends, it was well overboard, I felt like crawling into a hole.

Maddy Bell 25.05.16