Superstar Babes

by Narinder Dhami

  ‘Go, Amber!’

  ‘Amber, you’re the greatest!’

  ‘We love you, Amber!’

  ‘Oi, Amber! Wake up, you lazy lump!’

  ‘Huh?’ I groped my way out of a deep sleep, leaving my delicious dream far behind me. I opened one eye cautiously. Baby was looming over me in the early-morning greyness.

  ‘Oh, good, you’re awake,’ she said, strolling over to the door. ‘Hurry up, there’s loads to do.’

  ‘What time is it?’ I called feebly after her.

  ‘Six a.m.’ Baby didn’t even bother to hide the smugness in her voice. ‘You’d better get on with my list of jobs, or I’ll want my money back.’

  ‘Wassgoinon?’ Geena emerged from under the duvet, yawning, her hair sticking up like porcupine spikes. She clocked Baby by the door and grinned sleepily at me. ‘Bye, Amber. Have fun.’

  ‘Don’t get too comfy, Geena,’ said Baby as Geena curled up again. ‘Auntie’s waiting for you and Jazz downstairs.’

  ‘What!’ Geena howled, sitting bolt upright. ‘This is contravening my human rights!’

  Baby shrugged. ‘Whatever,’ she said, and went out.

  Geena and I dragged ourselves out of bed. I didn’t know it was possible to sleep standing up, but Geena fell asleep buttoning her school shirt. I poked her awake and we wandered, gummy-eyed and yawning, out onto the landing, where we bumped into Jazz. She was slumped over the banisters, snoring loudly.

  Geena slapped her on the back.

  ‘I wasn’t asleep,’ Jazz mumbled, eyes still closed.

  I left the two of them to help each other downstairs, a step at a time, and stumbled into Baby’s room.

  ‘At last!’ Baby said, rolling her eyes theatrically. ‘Right, my washing’s over there. You can take that downstairs and load it into the machine first of all. Then you can make the bed. You can tidy and clean out my make-up bag. Oh, and clean all my shoes and boots as well. You’re lucky, I only brought fifteen pairs with me . . . AMBER!’

  Baby’s voice seemed to be coming from a very long way away.

  ‘Are you asleep?’ she demanded.

  ‘No.’ I propped my eyelids open with my fingers. ‘I heard you. Washing first.’

  I gathered up an armful of T-shirts and jeans and trudged downstairs. Geena was emptying the kitchen bin and Jazz was cleaning the top of the cooker. Auntie, meanwhile, was making coffee. She looked as fresh as a daisy.

  ‘This will keep you going,’ she remarked, handing me a cup.

  I sipped the coffee as I plodded back upstairs, yawning. But it actually wasn’t the coffee that woke me up. As I reached the top of the stairs, I could hear Baby talking on her mobile. She sounded agitated.

  ‘I know I said to ring me early, but this morning’s not a good time,’ she was muttering. ‘Everyone else is awake too, and I don’t want them to find out what’s going on.’

  Uh-oh! Instantly I was as alert and awake as if I’d drunk a hundred cups of coffee. Something was going on! I froze on the top step, straining to hear what Baby said next.

  ‘Well, has anything changed?’ she asked urgently. There was silence for a few minutes. ‘No! You can’t be serious!’ she gasped. ‘What’s going to happen now? What are we going to do?’

  ‘Get out of my way, Amber.’ Jazz’s voice behind me made me almost jump out of my skin. She was trudging wearily up the stairs towards me. ‘Auntie says I have to change my bed and if I don’t keep moving, I might just fall down and die of exhaustion.’

  Baby must have heard Jazz too because by the time I went into her room, she’d rung off and her phone was lying on the bed.

  ‘About time too,’ she snapped with a nasty glare. ‘Here.’ She thrust a make-up bag the size of a small suitcase at me. ‘Give this a good clean. I’m going for a shower.’

  This was a foul mood, even for Baby, who wasn’t known for being Miss Sweetness and Light. I was definitely intrigued. Another mystery to add to the others . . . Honestly, the TV people should make a documentary about my family and their secrets. It’d be a lot more interesting than Who’s in the House?

  I told Geena and Jazz what I’d overheard on the way to school that morning. As all three of us were having trouble keeping our eyes open after two hours of hard labour, talking it over helped to keep us awake.

  ‘Maybe Baby was speaking to Rocky,’ Jazz suggested with an almighty yawn.

  ‘But why would she tell him to ring her so early?’ I asked. ‘It doesn’t seem to fit.’

  Suddenly my own phone bleeped twice. I fished it out of my pocket and saw a number I didn’t recognize.

  HI A, CAN I CUM RD 2 YRS 2NITE 4 THE W.I.T.H. FILMING. GEORGE XXX

  I stared at the screen in disbelief. We’d texted and called some friends yesterday evening to invite them to the filming, but George Botley was not one of them.

  ‘George Botley has my mobile number?’ I roared. ‘How – what – who?’

  I homed straight in on Jazz, who was looking ever so slightly sheepish.

  ‘Yes, it was me,’ she admitted.

  ‘Oh, how amusing,’ Geena said with glee.

  ‘Jazz, you know the rules,’ I said savagely. ‘George Botley does not get my mobile number. Ever. I don’t want the trauma of knowing that Dad or Auntie can pick up my phone and see a message from George which might be incriminating.’

  ‘Oh, chill out and stop using long words.’ Jazz yawned again. ‘I only gave him the number yesterday, and he donated some money to our Mum Fund in return.’

  ‘How much?’ I demanded.

  ‘Three quid,’ Jazz replied.

  ‘Oh, great,’ I said. ‘My privacy and peace of mind have been sold down the river for three pounds. How reassuring.’

  ‘It’s three pounds more than we had before,’ Jazz replied, looking not one whit ashamed of herself. ‘Why don’t we let George come? The more the merrier – and we can pass round a collecting tin tonight too. Those TV people should be good for a few quid.’

  ‘Great idea, Jazz,’ Geena approved.

  Jazz whisked my phone out of my hand and began texting a reply to George. I made a feeble attempt to stop her but I was really too tired to fight it out. At that moment we were joined by Kim and Kiran, who both looked rather glum. Seeing as Kim was Mr Grimwade’s slave for the day and Kiran was cleaning out the trophy cabinet for Mr Morgan, I could hardly blame them.

  ‘Sure you won’t change your mind and come along tonight?’ I asked Kiran.

  She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I came to the school after Molly Mahal was here so I never met her. Anyway, my mum’s working this evening so I have to look after the kids.’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Kim chimed in. ‘How many people will be there?’

  ‘About twenty,’ Geena replied.

  ‘And George Botley, apparently,’ I said bitterly. I was feeling grumpy, I admit, because I still hadn’t come up with a plan to exploit the potential of our TV appearance. Maybe the news people would let me ask for donations to our Mum Fund on air. On the other hand, if Molly Mahal didn’t win Who’s in the House? we might not even make it onto the TV. The only other alternative was to ask Dad for more cash. I really didn’t want to do that.

  And there, in front of me, right under my nose as we walked into the school playground, was another of the mysteries that were driving me up the wall at the moment. Gareth Parker and his merry band of interfering nosy parkers (the sixth-formers) were buzzing busily around the playground again, annoying quiet, law-abiding pupils with their nonsense.

  ‘So why did Gareth bid for us at the auction?’ I mused aloud, watching him zoom over to chastise Darren Plummer for not tucking in his shirt.

  ‘Oh, I would have thought that was obvious.’ Geena shrugged. ‘To wind us up.’

  ‘Quite an expensive wind-up if he’d happened to win the bids though,’ Jazz remarked.

  ‘I’m going to ask him,’ I decided, and marched over without further delay.

  Gareth was lecturing Darren about his shi
rt, and Darren wasn’t taking it lying down. Good for him. Although his counter-argument might have been more effective if he hadn’t used quite so many swearwords. I tapped Gareth on the shoulder, quite hard actually, and he spun round. Darren, meanwhile, sloped off to join in a football game, leaving his shirt still hanging defiantly out.

  ‘Good morning, Gareth,’ I said briskly. ‘I’d like to know why you bid for me and my sisters at the auction yesterday.’

  Gareth immediately turned the colour of a beetroot. ‘Why not?’ he snapped. ‘It’s a free country, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, apparently not here at Coppergate School,’ Geena retorted, staring pointedly round at the sixth-formers on patrol.

  ‘Maybe he fancies us,’ Jazz said, a wicked glint in her eye.

  Gareth snorted derisively. ‘As a matter of fact, if any of my bids had been successful, I was going to make you patrol the playground in the mornings with me and see how difficult the sixth-formers’ job is. Oh, and get you collecting litter. Useful things like that.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ I said. I was sure there was something else going on. But I didn’t know what.

  ‘That is entirely up to you, Amber,’ Gareth said pompously, and strode off with dignity. Unfortunately, Darren Plummer now decided to take his revenge by belting the football straight at the back of Gareth’s knees.

  ‘Sorry,’ Darren called, smirking, as Gareth buckled and almost fell. ‘Accident.’

  I couldn’t help smirking myself until George Botley sidled up to me out of nowhere.

  ‘Hey, Amber.’ He winked at me. ‘Thanks for the cute text.’

  How appalling.

  ‘Jazz!’ I hissed. ‘What did you put in that text you sent George?’

  But Jazz had already taken off into school, laughing her daft head off.

  I’d always wondered how people managed before mobile phones were invented. However, after today, I was beginning to think that one could have too much of a good thing. Firstly I had to make it clear to George Botley that the loved-up text message with lots of kisses and hearts had been sent by Jazz and not by me. Then, of course, there was the mysterious conversation I’d heard Baby having earlier. And this was followed, at lunch time, by yet more mobile melodrama.

  ‘Don’t try to get away from me, Jazz,’ I panted, pursuing her down the corridor. ‘I read that text you sent to George and you’re going to have to pay.’

  ‘You’ve got no sense of humour, Amber,’ Jazz grumbled, dodging swiftly round the corner and outside into the playground. ‘That’s your trouble.’

  ‘I’ve decided on our next fund-raising event,’ I replied, still following. ‘We’re shaving your head.’

  ‘Ooh!’ Jazz came to a full stop and I almost fell right over her. ‘What’s Geena doing?’

  Geena was tucked away in a quiet corner of the playground, talking on her mobile. Her face was red and she was waving her free hand around a lot.

  ‘She’s arguing with someone,’ Jazz said gleefully. ‘But who?’

  ‘Silence,’ I ordered, putting my finger to my lips. ‘Follow me.’

  We edged our way across the playground towards Geena. However, we could probably have charged towards her in a Sherman tank and she wouldn’t have noticed. She was totally intent on her call.

  ‘Look, there’s no point to any of this,’ she was saying. ‘I’ve made my decision and it’s over. End of story.’

  Looking excited, Jazz gave me a great nudge in the ribs. I wasn’t expecting it and overbalanced, toppling slowly sideways, right into Geena’s eyeline.

  ‘Yes?’ Geena enquired coldly, stabbing immediately at the off button on her phone. ‘Is there something I can do for you?’

  ‘Tell us who you were talking to,’ said Jazz.

  ‘It was private,’ Geena replied.

  ‘Well, we guessed as much,’ I said. ‘That’s exactly why we want to know.’

  ‘Were you talking to your boyfriend?’ Jazz demanded.

  ‘I’m fed up with these stupid questions,’ Geena snapped. ‘I do not have a boyfriend, but I am allowed to have some sort of life away from you two, you know.’

  ‘Wherever did you get that ridiculous idea from?’ I asked.

  ‘And I don’t think Dad and Auntie would agree,’ Jazz added.

  Geena opened and closed her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say. Shoving her phone into her bag, she flounced off.

  ‘Ooh, I’d like to get a look at that phone,’ Jazz said with longing.

  ‘Forget it, she’ll delete everything,’ I replied. ‘But we’re on her case and we just need to keep our eyes and ears open. Sooner or later we’ll find out what’s going on, or Geena will crack and tell us. One or the other.’

  ‘She’ll crack,’ Jazz said confidently. ‘No one can resist my constant wind-ups if I really put my mind to it.’

  ‘Go, Jasvinder,’ I said with approval.

  It’s good to talk. Apparently. But I definitely began to question the truth behind this statement later that day. We rushed out of school as soon as the bell rang, eager to get home and prepare for the arrival of the local news crew. I was fully expecting a fist-fight to get into the bathroom first, but I’d forgotten that we were still on slave duty until 5.30, our official clocking-off time. Auntie spied us from next door as we elbowed each other to get through the gate and pushed and shoved our way up the garden path.

  ‘Hello, girls,’ she called, opening the window. ‘Geena and Jazz, I’ll be round at five thirty exactly to check that you’ve finished your lists of jobs.’

  Geena and Jazz both muttered curses very quietly. I chuckled.

  ‘Baby’s gone to the hairdresser’s,’ Auntie went on. ‘She expects her list to be finished too, Amber. Or she wants her money back.’

  ‘Oh, blast it,’ I muttered as Geena and Jazz sniggered.

  Baby’s list seemed longer than I remembered. I was sure she’d added a few more jobs to it when I wasn’t looking. Sullenly I whizzed through them as fast as I could until I came to the last one. Clean my bedroom. OK, so I would push the vacuum cleaner around the room for a few minutes and that would be it. Downstairs I could hear Geena and Jazz arguing about kitchen cleaners like two housewives in a TV ad. It was still only quarter to five so they’d have to wait for Auntie to come over and OK their work. So, with any luck, I’d make it into the bathroom first and get to beautify myself before the news crew arrived, ha ha!

  The front door slammed as I went out onto the landing. Was that Baby returning from the hairdresser’s? This could ruin all my carefully laid plans. I jumped forward and peered over the banister, only to see the top of Dad’s head. Of course, he’d come home early from work to take part in the filming.

  ‘I don’t think that’s going to be possible. It would be quite difficult at the moment.’

  For a minute I thought Dad was talking to me. I could only just hear him though, because his voice was very low. Then I realized he was on his mobile.

  ‘Thanks very much but I can’t,’ he went on. ‘Really. Maybe some other time. No, I can’t talk right now.’

  Another mysterious mobile moment! Well, maybe I was exaggerating just a teeny-weeny bit. It was more the way Dad was acting. He looked so secretive, standing there in the hall, shoulders hunched over and speaking in such a low voice. And he kept casting anxious glances at the kitchen, where Geena and Jazz were still arguing.

  ‘Dad!’ Jazz bellowed, charging into the hall. ‘Geena’s hogging the Cillit Bang and won’t let me have a spray!’

  Dad was so unnerved, he fumbled to switch off his phone and dropped it instead. It clattered to the wooden floor and came apart.

  ‘Geena, let your sister use the Silly Bang!’ he called, scrabbling around on his hands and knees to retrieve the bits.

  ‘Cillit Bang, Dad,’ Jazz informed him. ‘You know, Bang and the dirt is gone!’

  ‘Er – right,’ said Dad, looking completely flustered. Clutching the bits of his phone to his chest, he bolted in
to the study and closed the door.

  I frowned. Was I the only sane and sensible person around here? The only one who could see really weird things going on all over the place? Or was I just making up mysteries where none existed?

  Feeling a bit unsettled by it all, I abandoned Baby’s list and went to find someone I could talk to.

  ‘This is a surprise,’ said Auntie as she let me in next door. ‘I thought you’d be locked in the bathroom by now, getting ready for tonight.’

  ‘I just thought I’d come over and say hello.’ I wandered into the living room, where a pile of brightly coloured brochures on the coffee table caught my eye. I picked one up. ‘Discover Australia and New Zealand,’ I read out. ‘Are you and Uncle Jai going on holiday?’

  ‘Well, we haven’t had a proper honeymoon yet,’ Auntie replied. ‘I know we went away at half-term but that was only for a few days.’

  ‘Australia’s a long way away,’ I remarked, flipping idly through the pages. It looked beautiful, though.

  ‘Nine or ten thousand miles, actually.’ Auntie scooped up the brochures and put them away in the magazine rack. ‘What’s the matter, Amber?’

  ‘Oh.’ Now that I was here, I didn’t exactly know why I was here. Sure, there were lots of things I thought were going on but I couldn’t mention some of them to Auntie. I couldn’t ask her if she and Uncle Jai were getting along better now (I did not have a death wish), although maybe they were, as they were planning their honeymoon. And I didn’t want to drop Geena in it. Not without proof, anyway!

  ‘Um,’ I said. ‘Ah.’

  ‘You’ll have to give me a bit more of a clue than that,’ said Auntie.

  ‘Well . . . is Dad all right?’

  ‘Amber, you asked me this before,’ Auntie replied patiently. ‘As far as I know – and although this may seem astounding to you, I don’t know everything – your dad is fine. Fit and well and enjoying life.’

  ‘He seems a bit on edge,’ I said cautiously. I didn’t want Auntie to know that I’d been listening to Dad’s private conversations.

  ‘You know what your trouble is, Amber,’ said Auntie. ‘You’re a little too nosy for your own good.’