The Mag Hags Read Online Free

discussed weather (‘Yes, it has been hot today. I can’t believe Mand’s in that big jumper!’), and Cat rabbitted on and on to Maggie about who would be taking who to the Year 10 formal at the end of the year (Emma O’Connor had already asked Che Bartlett, who had said yes, but he really wanted to take Sharon Bright, who didn’t know that Che fancied her, so was considering going with Paul Patten).
    Mand shoved her MP3 headphones in her ears and shut out the world, dreaming of escaping to the city,where her sister Lottie lived in a terrace house with four other uni students. Lottie wasn’t too keen on Mand visiting after the puking-in-the-pub incident, which broke Mand’s heart. She idolised her older sister and felt completely rejected by her since she had left home.
    After a twenty-minute journey, the girls got off the bus and headed towards the big black gates of the Askew mansion. Belle pushed the buzzer and spoke into it: ‘Hello, it’s Belle.’
    â€˜Would you like me to pick you up at the gate, Ms Askew?’ said the voice crackling with static.
    â€˜No thanks, we’ll walk,’ replied Belle.
    Without a sound, the heavy wrought-iron gate with fancy swirling AA initials embossed into the grate, swung open and a long, tree-lined driveway stretched out in front of them.
    â€˜Didn’t know we were going for a hike,’ said Mand as they set off down the drive, which was so long you couldn’t even see the house. ‘Is this why your chauffeur usually picks you up from school?’
    Belle ignored her and stomped ahead, the other girls following behind, accompanied by the sound of shoes crunching on the pebbles, sounding like the snap, crackle and pop of rice bubbles. Eventually the driveway led to a gigantic white mansion that resembled a huge white wedding cake. It spread skywards four levels and horizontally as far as the eye could see.
    â€˜Whoa!’ said Cat, her jaw dropping open. ‘That’s twenty-five times the size of my place!’
    â€˜Wow!’ said Wanda. ‘It looks like a hotel!’
    The front door opened and there stood Belle’s housekeeper, Mrs Biggins, a woman of about fifty-five, with a huge bust that had made her look matronly from the age of twenty-two. Her husband, the browbeaten Mr Biggins, kept the gardens and the lawns but it was Mrs Biggins who was the boss. And she kept a tight rein on ‘her’ house, as she called it.
    â€˜Hello, Mrs Biggins,’ said Belle. ‘These are the girls I’m going to be working with on that magazine project.’
    â€˜I hope you’re not going to be making a mess, Corabelle,’ said Mrs Biggins, folding her arms across her chest. ‘I’ve had the cleaners in today.’
    â€˜We’ll be very tidy, we promise,’ said Wanda, who had impeccable manners.
    â€˜There’s afternoon tea in the dining room,’ said Mrs Biggins. ‘But please be careful, I don’t want to find crumbs all over the floor.’
    The girls trooped inside, being sure to wipe their shoes on the doormat rather than face the wrath of neat-freak Biggins. Everything in Belle’s house gleamed. It looked more like a five-star hotel than a house, with its shiny wooden floorboards, delicate vases filled with freshly cut dahlias, plump white lounges, colourful paintings andexquisitely carved Indian statues. Despite its beauty, there was a certain coldness to the place, like nobody actually lived here.
    The girls wandered in stunned silence through the house as Belle led them to a huge dining room. In the middle of the room sat a grand dining table that could seat sixteen. A crystal chandelier was suspended from the ceiling, throwing speckles of rainbow-coloured light onto the pure white walls. Maggie thought about how long those white walls would remain white in her house, with her three sisters and little brother Billy, who was like a two-year-old human