Bindi Babes by Narinder Dhami Read Free Book Online Page A

finger.
    Geena and Jazz stared at me. I could almost see their minds ticking over as they put two and two together. And I knew I was going to have to pay for it sometime. Probably quite soon.
    “Sorry,” I muttered, as Auntie went to fetch more samosas.
    Two shoes connected with my shins under the table.
    “Ow!”
I suppose I couldn't blame them, though.
    “Here, try these.” Auntie handed round another plate of samosas. She smiled at me, and I could see the challenge in that smile. She thought she'd got the better of us, and so she had. This time. But although she'd won this particular battle, the war wasn't over yet. Not by a long way.

    She
made us go to bed at 10 that evening. Would you believe it?
And
she took the fuse out of the plug on Jazz's telly. Geena's, too. We were seething with rage. Dad hadn't come back from work yet, so we couldn't moan to him. That was why I was reading under thebedclothes with my torch, even though it was after midnight.
She
wasn't going to boss
me
around.
    Jazz had said the same thing. But she had only lasted about half an hour before she fell asleep with her head in a book. She was snoring ever so slightly now, sprawled out with her knee in my back. She looked younger when she was asleep, more like how I remembered her looking years ago. Sweet, too. I wouldn't have told her that under torture.
    “Amber?” Dad had pushed the door open, and was standing in the doorway. “Why aren't you asleep?”
    “Sorry,” I said, quickly switching off my torch.
    Dad came further into the room. “Everything all right?” He said it in a pleading kind of voice.
    For once, I wanted to say no. Here, in the middle of the night, in the dark, with just the faintest glow from the landing light, maybe it was easier to be honest. I was desperate to ask him if he really wanted Auntie here at all. Or maybe
talking
would just start something I should keep away from at all costs.
    “Everything's fine,” I said, and the moment passed.
    “Good.” I could hear the relief in Dad's voice. He went out and closed the door.
    It was a long time before I got to sleep.

E verything continued to go spectacularly wrong. By Monday morning the three of us were ready to take our case to the European Court of Human Rights.
    “She got me up at eight o'clock on Sunday morning to tidy my bedroom,” Geena exploded as we stalked out of the house. “Eight o'clock on a Sunday morning. It's disgusting.”
    “So's your bedroom,” Jazz sniggered, and got a clip round the ear for her trouble.
    “You can wipe that grin off your face, Amber,” Jazz snorted, rubbing her ear. “I heard Auntie telling Dad that no way are you getting new trainers when you've got six pairs already.”
    “How does she know I've got six pairs?” I demanded. “She must've been snooping around.”
    “
And
she knows that you've got that Nike pair that cost eighty quid that you've never worn,” Jazz finished off triumphantly.
    “They make my feet look big,” I retorted. “And what's with the bedtimes? Bedtimes are for wimps. I can never get to sleep before midnight.”
    “She came in last night at eleven to check that we were asleep,” said Jazz.
    “Did she?” I frowned. “I didn't notice.”
    “You were asleep,” Jazz said with a smirk. “I was only awake because you were snoring.”
    “She's never going to leave us alone,” Geena said in dismay. “She's going to be watching us every minute. It'll be like being stalked by the sari division of the SAS.”
    We all glanced nervously over our shoulders. Auntie wasn't there, but Kim was, lumbering determinedly down the road toward us with her heavy bag.
    “Hi,” she panted. “Did you have a good weekend?”
    “Well, our aunt arrived unexpectedly, and proceeded to make our lives a misery,” I said. “What do you think?”
    “Oh.” Kim looked puzzled. “I thought she wasn't coming for a while.”
    “So did we,” Geena said.
    “What have you done to your head, Kim?” Jazz