The Wedding Countdown Read Online Free PDF Page A

McCartney.’
    ‘Then you’d better stop pulling sickies and wax a few more legs,’ mutters Roma.
    ‘I don’t pull sickies,’ protests Fizz. ‘I can’t help being ill.’
    ‘Every Monday,’ I grin.
    ‘Girls! Girls!’ says my father. ‘Stop squabbling!’
    What is it about being in with your family that always makes you revert to the old patterns and behaviours of childhood? I’m twenty-two and the twins are seventeen but stick us in the car together and back ten years we go quicker than you can say time machine .
    ‘Just as well Qasim had to drive back to university,’ adds my mother. ‘Imagine, Ahmed, all four of them bickering in the back.’
    Daddy- ji groans theatrically and rolls his eyes but we all know he doesn’t mean it. There’s nothing he likes more than the times when all of us hang out together and have some quality family play time. Sometimes we go and see a movie or engage in a bowling match where the family guys try to outdo the girls. Not that they stand a chance against Fizz, who’s horrendously competitive. As we all pile out of the car and make our way into the house I feel lucky to have such a great family, even if they drive me nuts most of the time.
    There’s a gnawing in the pit of my stomach. Will I lose them over GupShup ? Are my dreams and hopes really worth the upset I know they’ll cause?
    ‘Such a pity my bechara Qasim had to drive to Bristol,’ my mother is saying as she kicks off her shoes. ‘It’s a long, long drive.’
    ‘His studies are very important,’ Daddy- ji reminds her. ‘Qasim is committed to medicine, Hamida. He’s a good boy.’
    Here we go again. Saint Qas of Saltaire. I pad behind them into the kitchen, my feet slipping on the laminate floor, and listen to more of the same. Life is so unfair. I know for a fact that Qas isn’t anywhere near Bristol but only nine miles away from here all snuggled up with Lizzie in her student flat. It’s so unjust. Qas doesn’t think twice about doing whatever he bloody well wants.
    But whoever said life was fair?
    While my parents make tea so strong it could moonlight as varnish and Fizz slopes off to make a call on her mobile, Roma and I take a packet of Hobnobs into the sitting room and switch on Big Brother . Our bemused parents loathe the show but my sisters and I are hooked. I know I’ve taken my obsession too far when I find myself transfixed by the housemates brushing their teeth. This is proof that I need to prise myself off the sofa and get stuck into my career.
    We’re just enjoying a particularly heated exchange between the lesbian with three nose piercings and the scientologist, when my parents join us. Roma switches channels expertly and our parents are impressed to find their daughters glued to the Pakistani news. Roma pleads exhaustion and goes upstairs to continue her viewing, which leaves me with my parents.
    This is it, the chance to tell them about GupShup and my golden opportunity to really make it as a journalist. I can’t let it slip through my fingers. I’m going to have to be brave.
    Oh Allah- ji , pretty please give me strength.
    Taking a deep breath I open my mouth only to discover Daddy- ji looking at me rather oddly. His eyes are misty.
    ‘Amelia, beti ,’ he begins, perching on the arm of the sofa. ‘Your mother and I need to have a talk with you.’
    Oh crap. I know exactly what my father wants to talk about and somehow I don’t think it’s my plans for ripping up the laminate and investing in marble floors with subterranean heating, which is a shame, because that would really put Auntie Bee’s nose out of joint.
    They want to discuss the dreaded S word.
    Shaadi .
    ‘Tara’s shaadi was good, wasn’t it?’ asks my father. ‘Did you enjoy it?’
    I nod.
    ‘It must have been nice to see your cousins again,’ he ploughs on, seeming to find the contents of his cup fascinating all of a sudden. ‘They’re all engaged now, of course, and soon to be married.’
    I say nothing.