Family Fan Club. Jean Ure

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СКАЧАТЬ to inform her sister that she probably wouldn’t have much choice in the matter, because what man would ever want to marry her with that mouth? Daisy was rocking to and fro with Tink cradled in her arms, and her face was puckered in distress. Mum and Dad breaking up had been harder for Daisy than for anyone. Part of the reason they had agreed not to talk about Dad was that it always ended in tears.

      “This will be the first Christmas we’ve ever had without him.” Daisy whispered the words into Tinkerbell’s fur.

      Rose frowned and turned away. Jazz and Laurel exchanged glances. They had promised Mum that if she accepted the part of Marmee, they would take care of Daisy. Mum was worried about Daisy. When Dad had left, she had wept almost non-stop for a week. Even now, if she got too wound up she was capable of crying herself into a state of exhaustion. Daisy wasn’t as robust as the others. They all missed Dad, of course they did! But life had to go on.

      “Just remember,” said Jazz, bracingly, “it’ll be far worse for Dad than it is for us … we’re at home and we’ve got each other. He’s all by himself in a foreign country.”

      “Jazz!” Laurel kicked hard at her sister’s ankle. Trust Jazz! Trying to be helpful and simply being tactless. As usual. If anyone could put their foot in it, Jasmine could.

      Jazz seemed suddenly to realise what she had done. Hastily, putting her other foot in it, she said, “Well, no, actually, come to think of it, Dad will probably have a ball! I bet he’ll be going to all the Hollywood gigs and meeting all the big stars … Mel. Al. Leonardo.”

      “Leonardo!” Laurel went into a mock swoon. Leonardo DiCaprio was the current love of her life.

      “Imagine Dad getting to meet all those famous people!” enthused Jazz. “He probably won’t miss us at all!”

      Rose threw up her hands. Laurel said, “Of course he’ll miss us! And he’ll miss Daisy more than anyone. But he’ll try not to be sad, because people shouldn’t be sad at Christmas, and he won’t want us to be sad, either. And he’ll call us Christmas Day, like he promised, and Daisy can have first talk.”

      “And last one, too,” said Rose.

      “And last one, too. So you’d just better start thinking of things to say to him!”

      “Make notes, I would,” said Rose. “In case you forget.”

      Daisy liked that idea. She scrubbed at her eyes.

      “I will!” she said. She scrambled to her feet, still hugging Tinkerbell. “I’ll start thinking straight away!”

      As Daisy left the room, Laurel looked at Jazz and tapped a finger to her forehead. “Dumbo!”

      She meant Jazz, not Daisy, but Jazz’s thoughts were already elsewhere. They never stayed still for very long.

      “Hey! Know what?”

      “What?”

      “I just thought of something!” Jazz sprang up, excitedly. “Something we could do … we could copy some of the pages from Mum’s script and act out a scene for her on Christmas Day!”

      There was a silence.

      “What for?” said Rose.

      “For fun!”

      “I wouldn’t think it was fun,” said Rose.

      “Yes, you would, you’d enjoy it! Once you got started.”

      “Don’t want to get started.”

      “Oh, don’t be such a gloom!” Jazz took a flying leap on to the sofa and sat there, hugging her knees to her chin and rocking to and fro. “Think of Mum! She’d love it! You know she’s always saying the things she likes best are the ones we’ve really worked at, like when we make our own cards.”

      “So we’ll make our own cards,” said Rose.

      “We’ll make our own cards and act out a scene. It will be like a present from us all.”

      Rose pulled a face. Laurel shook her head. There wasn’t any arguing with Jazz once an idea had taken hold of her. She bounced up off the sofa.

      “I’ll go and start copying right now!”

      “Can’t,” said Rose. “Mum’s got the script with her.”

      “Then I shall make up my own one, from the book!”

      “How are you going to copy it?” yelled Laurel, as Jazz scudded through the door. “Nobody can read your rotten writing!”

      Jazz stuck her head back in again. “Not going to write! Going to use the typewriter.”

      “That old thing!” said Rose.

      They had discovered the typewriter up in the attic, when they had moved in. It was very ancient. It had strange old-fashioned metal keys that rattled, and which you had to bash really hard, and an inky ribbon made of cotton that kept winding itself back every time it reached the end of the spool. To make copies you had to use carbon paper, which was messy, especially if you had to correct mistakes. Even messier if you put the carbon paper in the wrong way round.

      “It’s ridiculous,” said Rose. “Why can’t we have a computer?”

      Jazz’s head, which had disappeared, popped back in again.

      “’cos we can’t afford one!”

      “It’s like living in a cave,” grumbled Rose. “Sometimes I’m surprised we’ve even got a television!”

      Of all of them, Rose was the only one who was technologically minded. It was Rose who discovered how to use the video and Rose who learnt all the programmes on the washing machine. Mum was useless, and Dad hadn’t been much better. Imagine having a dad who didn’t know how to work the video!

      Imagine having a dad. Jazz blinked, rapidly, as the tears came to her eyes. Sometimes even now, when she thought about Dad, great waves of misery would wash over her. They had all tried so hard to be brave about it, when the Great Row had happened and Dad had gone storming out. They had heard it from the upstairs landing. One by one, first Jazz, then Laurel, then Rose and Daisy, clutching Tink in her arms for comfort, had come creeping from their rooms and crouched, tense and shivering, at the head of the stairs.

      It wasn’t the first time Mum and Dad had shouted at each other. Jazz had always tried explaining it to herself by saying, “Well, they’re actors. Actors are like that. They enjoy making a noise.” But this time she had known, they had all known, that this was the big one. The Great Row.

      It was about money, as usual. Before Mum had got into Icing they had rowed about the fact that they hadn’t got any. They had rowed about whether they should both continue to pay their Equity fees and their fees to Spotlight, the actors’ casting directory, or whether only one of them should. They had rowed about whether one of them should give up acting and do something else. Get a proper job. They had rowed because Mum had got her hair done for an audition and Dad had said it was a waste of money, and because Dad had a new publicity photograph taken and Mum had said it wasn’t necessary.

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