Bindi Babes Read Online Free Page A

thirty?”
    “She's getting old,” Jazz remarked severely. “No one'll
want
to marry her if she doesn't get a move on.”
    “When did Dad say she was arriving?” Geena asked.
    “He didn't,” I replied. “He just said sometime soon.”
    “That's a bit suspicious, don't you think?” Geena said thoughtfully. “Maybe they're trying to take us by surprise.”
    “We've got to make sure we're ready for her, whatever happens,” I said.
    It all made sense now. Why Dad had agreed to get rid of Mrs. O'Connor last month. He must haveknown for weeks that Auntie was coming, but he hadn't said a word.
    One thing was certain. Auntie might
think
she was coming to take our mum's place. But we knew better.

    We ate breakfast and got ready to leave. We loaded the dishwasher and wiped the worktops and emptied the kitchen bin. Did we need anybody to look after us? No, we didn't. We were doing a fine job on our own.
    “You know what's going to happen, don't you?” I predicted, as we left the house.
“She's
going to interfere in
everything.”
I banged the door shut behind us. “No more takeaways. No more late-night TV. No more—”
    I turned and got a
Daily Telegraph
smack in the face.
    “You scumbag!” I charged down the path after the paperboy. Meanwhile, Geena and Jazz laughed their heads off. “You are so dead!”
    The paperboy stuck two fingers up at me, stopped at Mrs. Macey's gate, hurled the
Sun
into her porch and cycled off. I glared after him.
    “Why can't you open the gate, walk up the path and put the newspaper through the letter box like a normal person?” I hollered.
    I was really angry, though it was hard to explain why. It was more than the useless paperboy chuckinga
Daily Telegraph
at me. Here we were, trying our best to get on with things and cope with all that had happened. And there everyone else was, trying to make life really difficult for us. “Everyone else” included Dad.
    “Anything good in the paper, Amber?” Geena asked me with a grin.
    “Ha ha.” I stuffed the
Telegraph
savagely through our letter box. “So what
are
we going to do about Auntie? Any ideas?”
    We decided to walk, rather than get the school bus, so that we could discuss our anti-Auntie campaign in peace. The bus was always noisy, and the driver would be threatening to throw everyone off and leave us stranded in the High Street if we didn't behave ourselves. Or worse, he would be muttering about ways of killing us all, slowly and horribly. And boys would be pestering us for dates. Or they'd annoy us by flicking bits of paper or kicking our seats, and pretending they
didn't
fancy us. We weren't in the mood.
    “Morning, girls.” Mr. Attwal was unlocking the minimarket. “I hear your auntie's coming to live with you.”
    So he knew as well. That meant everyone else for miles around knew. You can't keep anything quiet round here. If you sneeze, everyone discusses it.
    “How do
you
know?” Jazz asked.
    “Your dad told Mr. Dhaliwal yesterday, and he told Mr. Chopra and he told me.” Mr. Attwal frowned. “Or was it Manjit from number twelve?”
    “Did he say
when
she was coming?” I asked.
    Mr. Attwal shook his head. “Can't wait, eh, Amber?” he smiled.
    “That's right,” I said bitterly.
    “You must really be looking forward to it,” Mr. Attwal went on. I don't know where he got that idea from. Did we look pleased? “What does she do?”
    “She teaches English in a girls' school,” Geena replied.
    Oops.
    “Ah, a teacher.” Mr. Attwal's eyes took on a faraway look. “Many years ago, when I was at school in Delhi—”
    “Got to go or we'll be late for school,” we gabbled, and fled.
    “Sorry, guys.” Geena was kicking herself. “He caught me off guard.”
    I glanced at my watch. “Let's get a move on. It's quarter past eight.”
    There was no way we could be late. We were never late for school, or anywhere. How could we show how well we were coping, unless we were perfect in almost every way?
    “About