Bollywood Babes by Narinder Dhami

Author:Narinder Dhami [Dhami, Narinder]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780307514707
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2004-04-15T04:00:00+00:00

Monday morning came round at the pace of a snail. We grabbed it like a lifeline. Predictably, Auntie had been like a demon all weekend. To avert a major incident, Dad had actually taken Molly shopping on Saturday morning to keep them apart. Three phone calls from Mr. Arora pleading the case for the Bollywood party had only added to the tension. Auntie had spent the weekend cooking and baking madly for the party, and we'd been asked to help. Did I say asked ? Make that forced.

Also very predictably, Geena and Jazz blamed me for Auntie's bad mood. I was in a bad mood myself. Kim was not forthcoming over her secret conversation with Molly Mahal and had all but told me to mind my own business. In an assertive way, of course.

“Free at last,” Jazz sang joyfully, slinging her schoolbag onto her shoulder. We all turned to wave at Auntie, who was watching us leave, her face pressed wistfully against the living room window. “I love school. I so love it.”

“We've got the sponsored walk this Thursday,” I reminded her.

“I don't care,” Jazz replied. “I'd walk a million miles to get away from Auntie and Molly Mahal at the moment.”

“Girls!” Mrs. Dhaliwal was waving at us from the other side of the road. Hitching up her sari, she rushed across to us, scorning the zebra crossing, which was only a few meters away. A guy in a BMW screeched to a halt, narrowly avoiding squashing her. He began yelling. Mrs. Dhaliwal ignored him.

“So how's our film star?” she demanded breathlessly.

“Fine,” Geena snapped.

Mrs. Dhaliwal winked. She seemed full of excitement about something or other. “I saw her on Saturday. She was out shopping with your dad.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

Mrs. Dhaliwal winked again, several times. I wondered if she had a nervous twitch. “Well, I won't say any more now,” she said smugly. “Let's just wait and see what happens, shall we?”

“Yes, let's,” said Geena, looking puzzled.

“This is just what you need, isn't it, girls?” Mrs. Dhaliwal crowed. “Someone to look after you. A new mum. But”—she put her finger to her lips and shushed herself theatrically—“I'm not going to say another word.”

Beaming, she bounced off down the street.

“What the hell was all that about?” Jazz asked.

Geena was staring at me. Her eyes and mouth were round Os of horror. “She didn't mean—she couldn't mean … Not Molly Mahal?”

“And Dad ?” I gasped.

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