Bollywood Babes

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Book: Read Bollywood Babes for Free Online
Authors: Narinder Dhami
did think about this one. But it was, very possibly, still stupid. I see that now.
    “Well …,” I began again.

“T his is a great day, Amber,” Geena said. “It's got to rank as one of your best ideas yet. It's almost as good as when you persuaded Jazz that if you cut off her hair and sold it, you'd be millionaires.”
    “I was only five at the time,” Jazz said in an aggrieved voice. “I had a bald patch for months.”
    “Yes, all right,” I said. I was already regretting my impulsive action. The train was lurching and rumbling its way back home, where I could only assume that even more abuse would await me. But what else could I have done?
    “I had to do
something
,” I pleaded. I lowered my voice. “We couldn't leave her
there
, could we?”
    We glanced across the aisle. Molly Mahal was curled up next to the window on the seats opposite. Her eyes were closed, feet in cheap, worn trainers resting on her suitcase. Even though there was an empty seat next to Jazz, she wasn't sitting with us.
    “What's Auntie going to say?” Geena demanded. “We're about to arrive home with a woman who was a film star, and now appears to be a half-dead vagrant, and tell Auntie that we've invited her to stay?”
    “
We!
” Jazz repeated. “
I
didn't have anything to do with it. I wasn't even in the room.”
    “All for one and one for all,” I reminded her.
    “That's such an overrated concept,” Jazz retorted. “It just means we all get to share the fallout.”
    “There won't be any fallout,” I said, pretending confidence. “Auntie likes helping people. She'll enjoy the challenge.”
    “And it's quite a challenge,” Geena said smoothly. “Miss Mahal wasn't exactly grateful when you invited her to stay, was she?”
    “She was,” I said defensively. I hadn't mentioned the Bollywood party when I'd blurted out my invitation. I'd said that we were big fans of Molly's, and we'd be honored if she'd come and stay with us.
    Molly didn't seem to think there was anything odd about that, despite the fact that not even Geena had been born when she'd made her last film. She'd stared at me unsmilingly for a moment, then muttered, “All right.”
    “Either I'm going deaf,” Geena remarked, “or she never even said thank you.”
    “She didn't have to,” I said, trying to appear unconcerned. “I could read it in her face.”
    “And could you read her face when you told her we'd have to walk to the station because we didn't have the money for a cab?” Jazz inquired. “I don't think it said
thank you
then.”
    “Yes, all right,” I mumbled, flexing my aching fingers. I'd had to carry the suitcase all the way to the station.
    “She could sell that gold bangle she's wearing to raise some money,” suggested Jazz. “It looks quite expensive.”
    “And what does she do when the money runs out?” I demanded. “It looks like she's already sold almost everything she owns. Anyway, the bangle must be important to her if she's kept it.”
    Silence for a moment.
    “And where is she going to sleep?” Geena returned to the attack.
    “I thought she could have Auntie's room,” I replied.
    Geena's eyes flashed a warning. “And what about Auntie?”
    “I thought she could move in with you,” I said bravely.
    “Then you must be mad,” Geena snapped. “That is never going to happen, Amber.”
    “Well, Auntie can't move in with me and Jazz, can she?” I pointed out in a reasonable voice.
    “Thank God,” Jazz said with feeling.
    “Forget it,” Geena retorted. “But with any luck, Auntie will get rid of her as soon as we arrive.”
    “How can you be so mean?” I said furiously, as the train rattled its way into our station. “Look at her. She's got no money and nowhere to live. Why can't you try and have a bit of compassion for a change?”
    Geena looked uncomfortable. “Amber,
of course
I feel sorry for her,” she said at last. “But she's not our responsibility. Her own family should be looking out for

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