Bhangra Babes by Narinder Dhami Page A

chatting up girls here, there and everywhere.”
    Geena sighed. “Amber, don't you know anything about love? He's doing it to make you jealous.”
    “It's working, then,” Jazz sniggered.
    “Don't be ridiculous,” I said tartly, stomping out of the playground. Geena and Jazz followed me, whispering and giggling like two five-year-olds.
    Things did not improve in any way when we arrived home. No sooner had we set foot in the front door than, one by one, we were grabbed and pulverized in a crushing embrace.
    “Hello, girls!” Auntie-ji cried joyfully as my head disappeared into her large bosom. “I thought you were never coming home!”
    “So did I,” said Auntie grimly. She looked as if she'd gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer and been battered to a pulp.
    “Well, now, this is my plan.” Mr. Arora's auntie plumped down on the sofa, pulling Jazz with her. “We've got a couple of hours before the shops close. How about we go out and look for your wedding outfits?”
    The three of us turned and looked anxiously at Auntie. She'd promised to take us shopping for clothes on Saturday and round things off with a fancy
    meal at a posh restaurant. We were so looking forward to it. We waited for her to tell Auntie-ji exactly this.
    “Well, actually—” Auntie began.
    “Oh, come on, we've got time.” Mr. Arora's auntie looked eagerly at us. “It'll be fun.”
    We stared hard at
our
auntie. She was never slow to make her feelings known—oh, no—but this time she couldn't seem to get the words out. I could understand why. Auntie-ji's face reminded me of a puppy with big brown eyes, pleading to be taken for a walk.
    “I suppose we could just go and have a quick look,” Auntie agreed weakly.
    “Splendid!” Auntie-ji bounced to her feet. “We'll go right away.” And she began dragging Jazz over to the door.
    “We need to change—” Jazz began, trying to pull herself in the opposite direction. She didn't stand a chance.
    “No time!” Auntie-ji roared, flinging the front door open. “Let's get going.”
    “But we can't go to the Broadway in our school uniforms!” Geena said, aghast. “It's embarrassing.”
    “Nonsense,” Auntie-ji called over her shoulder. She and Jazz were already halfway down the garden path. “You're very smart.”
    Looking unusually flustered, Auntie hustled Geena and me out of the house after them.
    “Well, this is a treat,” I said sulkily. “What about Saturday?”
    “I feel sorry for her,” Auntie said defensively. “We
    don't have to buy anything now. We can still go shopping on Saturday.”
    “I know she's lonely,” remarked Geena, “but maybe if she was a bit less irritating, she wouldn't be.”
    “I promised Jai I'd make an effort to get on with her,” Auntie snapped. “I'd be obliged if you three could do the same.”
    She forced a smile as Auntie-ji turned and bellowed in a foghorn voice, “We'll go to Sameera's first. They have lovely styles there.”
    Auntie's smile rapidly disappeared. “Don't you think they're a little old-fashioned?” she asked.
    “Not at all.” Auntie-ji laughed uproariously. She marched on, still holding Jazz by the hand, knocking everyone on the Broadway out of their path.
    Sameera's was where the local old grannies went to buy their clothes. Auntie-ji burst in, greeting everyone in the shop by name and inquiring about their most distant relatives. Auntie stood looking depressed and staring at the racks of dull, dowdy suits and saris. Meanwhile, Geena, Jazz and I skulked out of sight behind a rail of clothes. If any of our friends or relatives saw us in this shop, we'd never live it down.
    “My hand's gone numb,” Jazz moaned, shaking it limply.
    “Bring out the wedding saris,” Auntie boomed, slapping the tiny shop owner, Sameera, on the back and almost sending her flying. “The best ones you have!”
    Unfortunately, she then spotted us lurking in the
    corner. “Come on, girls. Start looking through the racks. I'll help you