She held out the envelope towards me. Auntie gave me a little push and I stumbled forward, almost blinded by the cameras flashing again. My hands were shaking so much, it took me ages to open the envelope, and I was shocked to see that the cheque was for fifteen hundred pounds.
‘Smile, Amber,’ Molly whispered, turning me slightly sideways so that we could pose together. ‘You look like you’re about to keel over.’
She raised her voice again. ‘And if anyone else here would like to contribute a donation, however small, I’m sure that the girls would appreciate it.’
‘Ah, Miss Mahal . . .’ Mr Grimwade, looking completely discombobulated, moved to our side. He held a couple of photos in his hand. ‘Thank you for coming. Do you mind?’ He held out his hand for the microphone and then addressed the crowd.
‘It has just been brought to my attention that last night, despite our stringent security measures, all of the contestants managed to break out of the school.’ Mr Grimwade glared down at the crowd and I saw George Botley grinning up at me. ‘I have the proof here.’ And he held up the photos. ‘I believe that one of our local businessmen has offered a reward of one thousand pounds?’
‘Me!’ Mr Gill was bowling his way through the crowd at great speed, staring adoringly up at Molly Mahal. ‘It was me!’
Mr Grimwade handed Mr Gill the photos as he bounced onto the stage, but he was too enraptured by Molly to even look at them.
‘Oh, well, now, I’m sure a lovely kind man like you could offer the girls just a teeny-weeny bit more,’ Molly suggested, grabbing the mike from Mr Grimwade again and fluttering her outsized eyelashes. ‘Especially as not one but all of the contestants managed to escape.’
‘Two thousand pounds!’ Mr Gill declared, puffing out his chest expansively.
‘Thanks!’ I gasped, but my voice was lost in the general celebration.
‘And now I must be going,’ Molly announced. ‘It was wonderful to see you all again.’
She gave everyone on the stage a quick smile and a wave, and then her minders were helping her down from the stage. They whisked her through the playground, stopping only to sign a few more autographs, and then she was inside the limo.
I glanced at my watch as the car moved away. Molly Mahal had been there for just eight minutes, in total. But what a difference she’d made. Mr Grimwade was now directing a group of sixth-formers, including Gareth and Soo-Lin, who were moving through the crowd collecting donations in plastic buckets. I could hear the sweet sound of coins clinking and, even more promisingly, the rustle of notes, over and over and over again.
‘I can’t believe Molly came!’ Jazz kept saying over and over again. ‘She’s huge after Who’s in the House?!’
‘It was very good of her,’ Auntie agreed. ‘But don’t forget it’s publicity for her too.’
‘Yes, great publicity as well,’ Geena added. ‘I can see the headlines now. Superstar Molly makes time to visit old friends. That kind of thing.’
I smiled. ‘I don’t care,’ I said.
And really, I didn’t. Molly Mahal’s life was all about getting in the newspapers and celebrity magazines, and being on TV, and I didn’t mind if she’d only come to Coppergate today because it made her look good to her adoring public. Thanks to her, we’d made a whole heap more money than we would have done otherwise.
And for that I was grateful.
‘I have been privileged to hold several naming ceremonies at Coppergate since the school was built.’ Mr Morgan looked round at the small but select audience standing in the corridor outside the library doors. ‘But I have to say that this one gives me more pleasure than any of them. I would now like to invite Geena, Ambajit and Jasvinder Dhillon to unveil the new name of our library.’
My knees were trembling slightly as I stepped forward. I’d been waiting for this moment for the last six weeks. Christmas had come and gone, and so had the New Year. We’d had a brilliant time, as always, but this was what we had been looking forward to, ever since the end of term.
‘Don’t cry, Dad,’ Jazz warned, joining me and Geena at the doors. A small red velvet curtain was lightly tacked up there, covering the precious plaque.
‘Auntie’s already got her hanky out,’ Geena whispered.
‘When you’re ready, girls,’ said Mr Morgan.
I glanced round at the assembled crowd. Uncle Jai, Baby, Kim, Rocky and Mr Hernandez were there, as well as some of the other teachers and the sixth-formers, including Gareth and Soo-Lin. Mr Gill, Mr Attwal and a few of the other local business people who’d donated money were there too. A photographer from the local newspaper was hovering, preparing to take our picture, along with Martha Rigby and her news crew. Oh, and George Botley, by special invite. Ahem. Well, I couldn’t leave him out, could I?
‘Thank you for coming, everyone,’ Geena said. ‘We name this library the Anjleen Dhillon Library.’
‘Dedicated to the memory of our lovely mum,’ Jazz added.
I tugged at the curtain and it came away, revealing the shiny brass plaque. THE ANJLEEN DHILLON LIBRARY was engraved on it.
It was all quite emotional, and Auntie had to hand round tissues.
Mr Morgan flung open the library doors and we all went in. The change was amazing. All the rickety old furniture had gone, and there were modern chrome and beechwood chairs and tables in its place. Some of the bookcases had been replaced too, and there were shelves and shelves of brand-new books. I felt very proud of us. In the end we’d managed to raise nearly twelve thousand pounds, so we’d given the rest to the hospital where Mum was a patient.
‘Isn’t this amazing?’ Jazz sighed with satisfaction as we wandered around the library a little later, taking it all in. We’d been photographed with the plaque and with Dad, and we’d been interviewed by Martha for the local news programme that evening. ‘I always knew we’d raise that money somehow.’
‘Oh, excuse me,’ I said. ‘I thought you said it was impossible. “As impossible as England winning the World Cup or climbing Everest in high heels” were your exact words, I do believe.’
‘Face it, Jazz.’ Geena shrugged. ‘Only someone like Amber could have pulled all this off so spectacularly. I mean, getting Molly Mahal to turn up was a masterstroke.’
Jazz grinned. ‘I guess so.’
‘Thank you,’ I said modestly. As predicted, Molly had got loads of good publicity, and everyone thought she was super-fab for making time in her hectic schedule to do a favour for little old me. Well, good for her. I didn’t mind a bit.
I glanced around the library. Baby was talking animatedly to the news crew, detailing her dreams of Bollywood stardom. I don’t think they were filming her or even listening, but that didn’t stop Baby. Gareth was pretending to talk to Soo-Lin but kept glancing at Geena every so often. George was telling Mr Grimwade in great detail how he’d broken us all out of school on the last night of the contest. Judging by the look on Mr Grimwade’s face, he didn’t really want to hear it. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do about George. I obviously owed him a big favour for helping us and I was pretty sure that, at some time or another, he would call that favour in. Help.
Auntie and Uncle Jai were chatting to Dad. They were fine again, and everything was back to normal. Australia, indeed! I mean, they’d be totally bored without us living next door.
‘There’s one thing we do need to talk about though.’ I lowered my voice a little. Turning, I checked to see where Kim was but she was over the other side of the library, browsing through some bookshelves. ‘We haven’t had much time over Christmas.’
‘Ooh, you mean Geena and Gareth Parker,’ Jazz said gleefully. ‘Yes, we still don’t have the full story.’
‘There is no “full story”,’ Geena replied. ‘I’ve told you a million times. We went out twice. We split up. But we’re going to be friends, just for now.’ She glanced down at her fingernails a bit too casually. ‘Dad said I can invite him round for tea.’
Jazz and I goggled at her for a
second and then we collapsed into hysterical laughter.
‘He won’t come,’ Jazz predicted confidently.
‘We’ll see,’ Geena said.
‘Just tell us if he was a good kisser,’ Jazz pleaded.
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ Geena retorted with an annoying smile.
‘Anyway, I didn’t mean Geena and Gareth,’ I said quickly as Jazz prepared to argue further. We’d had this conversation so many times over the last six weeks. ‘I was talking about Dad. And his mystery lady friend.’
‘I didn’t think we have anything to worry about there,’ said Geena. ‘After all, he’s never mentioned her since, and he hasn’t been working late either. I just thought it had all fizzled out.’
‘Maybe she was just a friend,’ Jazz pointed out. ‘Or maybe she was keener on Dad than he was on her.’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe. But this might just be the start. There might be others in the future.’
‘Others?’ Geena raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re making Dad sound like Casanova.’
‘All right,’ I said impatiently. ‘There might be someone else. One woman. Someone special. Someone he wants to marry. Who then, may I remind you, becomes our stepmother.’
Jazz shuddered. ‘What a horrible thought.’
‘Exactly,’ I agreed. ‘So there’s only one thing for it.’
‘And what’s that?’ asked Geena.
‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?’ I replied. ‘If Dad is going to get married again, it has to be to someone we like. After all,’ I went on with a smile, ‘we got Auntie and Uncle Jai together, didn’t we? So now we need to start looking around for a suitable girlfriend for Dad . . .’
Also by Narinder Dhami:
BINDI BABES
BOLLYWOOD BABES
BHANGRA BABES
SUNITA’S SECRET
DANI’S DIARY
SUPERSTAR BABES
AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 9781448100316
Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,
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This ebook edition published 2012
Copyright © Narinder Dhami, 2008
First published in Great Britain
Corgi Yearling 9780440867296 2008
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Superstar Babes Page 18
