It was out of the pot and into the fire, so to speak. Without moving I couldn’t tell where they were, and if I move I’ll almost certainly make some noise, which they’ll hear and find me and, well that wouldn’t be good right? Nope, best sit tight, I’ll get a chance sooner or later, they can’t have just come in for a chat can they, can they?

What felt like hours was, when I allowed myself a look at my watch, barely thirty minutes. The original voices had been joined by at least two more, they kept up a constant conversation although they’d moved from directly outside my hidey hole. Not that it made my exit from the building any closer, no I’m still sort of cornered, unwilling to show myself and hoping for a big enough distraction to let me leave unseen.

I went through different strategies in my head, but everything I came up with involved a high chance of being ‘caught’. Nope stick to simple girl – which for now means sitting tight.

The bells started going again at about quarter to nine, not the dong, dong of the hour but a more continuous peel that went on for fully five minutes. The banter out in the church had dropped, the conversation taking on more hushed and serious tones. By the time the bells started ringing in nine o’clock it was clear that the congregation were starting to arrive – the service must start quite soon then.

Bells were replaced by the nasal tones of some sort of organ – the God lot seem to like the wheezy things wherever they are, it sounded like the organist was just making it up as he went along, it was certainly nothing I recognised. It sounded quite busy with bodies arriving, my heart leaped several times as the curtain was moved, caught or whatever then the organ drone changed to some sort of processional thing.

Things were obviously about to kick off, what I’m guessing was the choir started warbling, the low murmur of conversation ceased and my opportunity was coming up. I waited impatiently for them all to start hymn singing, it wasn’t long to wait, I slipped carefully from my perch and crept to the edge of the curtain. There weren’t as many people as I’d imagined sat in the pews, a couple of dozen at a push, the priest was addressing them from the pulpit thing which meant he’d see me as soon as I head for the door.

Bum, bum, bum! A couple of latecomers came in which confirmed my fear, the vicar bloke’s attention was immediately grabbed by the opening of the door even if he didn’t break from his sermon or whatever. He can’t spend the whole service stood up there can he?

There was more singing then finally, he turned to leave his lofty position, yes! I took my chance, slipping past the curtain before ducking behind the nearest pew. Cautiously I peered over the top, brill, they’re all occupied with something at the front.

One, two, three, go! I did a sort of fast duck waddle across to the door and held my breath as I opened it just enough to slip outside, expecting an outcry at any moment. I pulled it closed behind me before legging it across to the road where I slumped against the wall. Now what?

Well things didn’t start well, I’d been walking nearly fifteen minutes before, with more than a little frustration I realised I was retracing my steps from last night. By the time I got back to my overnight refuge the congregation were leaving the place – I hurried past. There was a sign for Zülpich at the end of the village, well its not like following the road is any more direct.

Zülpich isn’t a particularly big place but there is a bakery place so I chanced a few more precious euros on breakfast. It wasn’t expensive, I recognised the name from Gab’s missives, Fruhstück, three and a half euros got me coffee, orange juice and a plate of bread rolls, cheese, meat and salad stuff. Full English it isn’t but surprisingly filling, the last roll I made up and pushed into my bag – well I might need something later.

By the time I set off again it was closer to twelve than eleven and the sun was having a good go at dominating the sky, the earlier clouds being chased away. Nine kilometres, maybe a couple of hours and I’ll be at this Euskirchen place and get the train. Today though I stuck to the main road – well the track / path beside it at least and whilst not exactly scenic I made good progress, only pausing for a few minutes to watch the activity on a lake.

That reminded me of where I should be, Scarborough. I was well past the blame stage by now, as Drew, well I guess Gaby really used to say, shit happens. Gab’s, you wouldn’t’ve let me run off alone, damn I miss having you around cuz. Almost on cue a trio of chattering girls swept past on some of those huge city bikes they like over here – not Gab of course but from what she tells me, it easily could’ve been.

The town is hardly a throbbing metropolis, add in the whole Sunday thing and Euskirchen felt more like a ghost town in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Well maybe that's an exaggeration, there are people about just not a lot and other than a petrol station none of the shops are open. Having previously worked out what to look for on the road signs it didn’t take a genius to find the railway station. I hurried to one of the ticket machines, took a deep breath and started dabbing at the screen.

S23,S23, I repeated the service number like a mantra, wouldn’t do to get on the wrong train! I had a few minutes before the train was due so I availed myself of the toilet before finding a spot amongst the others waiting. What i’ll do when I get to this Remagen place i’m not sure, time to worry about that later.

The tannoy thing crackled into life, I strained to recognise any of what was being said.
‘Die nachste zug am gleis drei ist die ess sechs und zwanzig nach Bonn’

Bonn, I got that bit, that's where I have to change. A moment later one of those bright red trains swept into the station, the route box showed S23 so I joined the general shuffle as it pulled to a stop. It wasn’t exactly busy, I think more got off than on but I was quite grateful to find a pair of seats to myself in the air conditioned interior.

I was a bit surprised when a couple of minutes later we set back off in the direction of the trains arrival but I guess it was the terminus. For a train, the inside was more like the Nottingham trams, loads of doors included but much wider. I idly watched the view beyond the window, trees, a few fields, more trees, the odd farm, I could’ve been back in Clumber.

There were a couple of stops, some exchange of travellers, soon Mads, be there soon.

‘Die nachste halt ist Bat Moonstereivel, deer zug endet hier.’

No idea what that was all about but I reckon we must be there, why else would everyone be getting up? The train started to slow then came to a halt, a minute later I was on the platform. Hmm, doesn’t look that impressive and like where are the other trains?

The other passengers soon disappeared at which point I spotted the sign on the platform – you know one of those name plates? It didn’t say Bonn that's for sure, no it was a right list of letters, BAD MÜNSTEREIFEL, even I know that doesn’t spell Bonn. Sugar, bum but it had S23 on the front.

It didn’t take much detective work to work out that it was the right service just going the wrong direction. Of course I then watched as the damn thing set off in the right direction, calm girl, there’ll be another one and there wasn’t a ticket inspector so I reckon I can blag it back. Except there wasn’t a train, well not for nearly two hours, urgh!

The station was now deserted, even the drinks machine was empty. I checked what was left of my ill gotten euros, not a lot but I reckon it’ll stretch to a coffee or something. Well if I can find somewhere.

With two hours to kill I set off towards the town – well I guess its the town, the sign said ‘centrum’ which looks about right. Five minutes later I went through a proper town gate and found myself in a wide pedestrian only area, shops and stuff along one side and a river down the other. The place was fair heaving with humanity, there even appeared to be some sort of festival taking place further along.

I wandered up the street, for some reason they have an old red telephone box, an English one with all the little windows, a few touristy shops were open along with a variety of cafés and restauranty places. Biggest problem was that they were all pretty busy but I spotted a couple vacating a table and homed in before someone else grabbed it. Phew.

“Abendt, essenkarte?” the waitress, complete with one of those fancy dresses asked, swooping on me almost as quick as I could sit.
Nope, no idea, “er coffee?”
“Tasse? Kannchen?”
I stretched my memory but nothing, “um.”
You could almost see her mentally doing the dumb foreigner eye roll thing behind her smile.
“Englis?”
“Yes!”
“The kaffee, a cup or beaker?” she vaguely motioned with her hands small and large.
“Big please.”
She did something on her little keyboard thing then disappeared inside.

A couple of minutes later she returned with a tray bearing one of those cafetieré things, a mug, sugar and a small milk jug. It was deftly unloaded in front of me – ooh good, there’s one of those lotus biscuit things!

“Sree euro forty bitter.”

Three forty, half my meagre resources, still, I should be at the Bonds in a couple of hours. I sorted through my few coins and made the right money in change – with a little help from my server, well they all look the same. She departed and I worked out what I had to do for the coffee after spotting another customer with a similar contraption.

There was no point in rushing, as I gave myself about fifteen minutes to get back to the station I might as well enjoy my coffee al fresco. I’ve no idea what the event was, there seemed to be a lot of folksy costumes, jollity and beer – well I assume its beer they’re all drinking. I don’t think it was a private do or anything, there were quite a few more normally dressed folk about too.

Someone started playing some music and as I nibbled at my biscuit it looked like something was going down. Sure enough most of the peeps wearing fancy dress assembled and the guy on the accordian thing was soon enthusiastically producing a jolly tune. The ‘dancers’ were soon just as enthusiastically doing some sort of folk dance – the kind of thing kids do in junior school except this lot were doing it from choice not duress.

Its not really my thing but I found myself engrossed in watching the often intricate steps. I finished my coffee and relocated to a spot on the wall above the river, a bit closer to the dancers but in sight of the church clock. I wonder if this is the guard thing Gabs does – she did try to explain it once but to be honest I wasn’t listening, I do know she has one of the dresses, she sent a picture of her and her friends at that restaurant she works at.

I chuckled to myself, who’d a thunk Gab would be working as a waitress, its not like she couldn’t do other stuff. When Auntie Jen told mum about Gab getting some award for her exams we never heard the end of it, Gaby this, Gaby that. Its not like I’m a failure, I got okay passes on my GCSE’s, but brainbox Bond I’m not.

Quite a few ‘tourists’ gathered to watch and my view was soon obscured by the press of bodies. Its not like I was that bothered but even so it irked, enough that I clambered to stand on top of the wall to see over the heads. Some of the dancing was quite energetic and the crowd cheered loudly as ladies were thrown, swung and otherwise exposed their undergarments.

Things did calm back down and even I can recognise a polka and found myself moving to the music. Probably not the wisest thing to do balanced on a wall but if I was wise I’d be at the Con back home in England right now. It was only when the music ended that I actually checked on the time, bum, the train goes in like five minutes!

I leant down to hook up my bag but as I swung it enthusiastically onto my shoulder I over balanced which sent me, arms wind-milling frantically, down towards the river below.

When I woke it was to the tinkle of nearby water and a navy blue sky, what the heck, how did I get here, where is here? I tried to move, ow, that hurts! ‘That’ being my noggin, I carefully tried everything else out for damage before cautiously feeling at my head.

There didn’t seem to be any blood but there is a great big lump on the back of my head. I must have banged it when I fell, shouldn’t I be in the water? As my eyes adjusted to the light I worked out that I was on a sort of ledge above the river, somehow I’d missed a dunking.

Question is, what now? Well first thing is to get back up to the plaza place, I strained to hear anyone out and about but other than a distant car all I could hear was the water. Yelling’s out then.

The wall above me seemed to stretch forever, only a stray street light showing me the edge in the darkness. Nah, no way I can climb up there, surely there’s a way up somewhere. My head wasn’t so bad once I got on my feet, I checked that I still had my bag, yup, right so which way?
Eventually I found some steps built into the wall which I gratefully clambered up but now I didn’t know where I was, someone’s back garden by the looks of it. There was a light on in one of the upper rooms, music drifted from an open window, urgh! I spotted what looked like a gate and carefully made my way over, keen not to attract the owners attention.

For once luck was with me, the gate wasn’t locked so I slipped out into the street and lured by street lighting found my way to the main drag near the gate I used earlier. Hmm, wonder if the trains are still running, my watch reckoned it was a bit after eleven so there is a chance right?
I hurried along to the station, a bright beacon in the otherwise subdued light, a hopeful sight right? Or not, according to the departures board I was a couple of hours late for the last train, the next departure is early doors. Damn, that means my ticket’s not gonna be any use, fifteen euros down the pan and I’m no nearer to my destination than when I started this morning!

Maddy Bell © 26.06.2018