Family Fan Club. Jean Ure

Well. Yes. I expect we can run to those. But nothing big.”

      “A kitten isn’t big.”

      “Kittens cost money.”

      “No! I know someone whose cat’s just had a litter! They’re giving them away free.”

      “Honestly!” Laurel shook her head. “You’ve already got Tink and Muffy! What do you want another one for?”

      “I just love them so,” said Daisy.

      Rose said, “She needs something to cuddle.”

      “Cats are very cuddly,” agreed Jazz. “Especially that great fat lump of a Tinkerbell.”

      “I’d sooner have Dad!”

      The words seemed to come bursting out of Daisy before she could stop them. There was a silence.

      “I thought we’d agreed,” said Jazz, “that we wouldn’t talk about Dad.”

      “I can’t help it!” sobbed Daisy. “I miss him! I want him!”

      “We all miss him,” said Laurel. But it was true that Daisy had been Dad’s girl. He had always had a specially soft spot for his little Daisy.

      “Maybe he’ll come home for Christmas,” suggested Rose.

      “Well, he won’t,” said Jazz, “’cos I asked Mum and she said it was all over between them and we’d got to get used to the idea.”

      “That needn’t stop him coming back for Christmas.” Rose could be stubborn. She also enjoyed arguing. “He doesn’t have to stay with us.”

      “No, but I don’t expect he could afford the air fare.” Laurel said it sombrely. “It costs a bomb.”

      Dad had been in the States for almost six months, now, looking for acting work. So far he’d only found what Jazz called bit parts. Bread-and-butter parts. Spits-and-coughs. Last time he’d rung he’d told them proudly that he was going to be in a Mel Gibson movie – “But it’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-me kind of thing. Know what I mean?”

      “It’s so unfair!” cried Jazz. “Dad’s a really brilliant actor!”

      “There probably aren’t that many parts for English actors in the States,” said Laurel, sadly.

      “Specially not black English actors.” said Rose. Who else?

      “Oh, don’t start on politics!” Jazz turned on her, crossly.

      “It’s not politics,” said Rose. “It’s a fact of life. It’s why he couldn’t get work over here. ’cos they don’t use black actors.”

      Jazz opened her mouth to argue — and then closed it again. If she said, “They do,” then it would be like saying Dad just wasn’t good enough. But he was good! Even Mum said so, and Mum wasn’t on speaking terms with him at the moment.

      On the other hand, if she agreed with Rose … Jazz bit her lip. That would mean there wasn’t going to be much of a chance for her when she grew up. Jazz couldn’t accept that. She was going to be an actress, she was going to be a success, she was going to be a STAR.

      “They do use some,” she muttered.

      “Oh! Some. Just a few. Just as tokens.”

      “Not always!”

      “So when did Dad ever get a real part? I mean a real part? You tell me!” said Rose.

      “Look, you two, just give it a rest!” begged Laurel. “It’s incredibly boring when you go at it like that. I get sick to death of all this political correctness stuff.”

      “It’s not p—”

      “Oh, stop it! Just stop it!” Laurel clapped her hands to her ears. “If you don’t stop I shall scream!”

      There was a pause.

      “Know what I think?” said Rose.

      Jazz rolled her eyes. “No, but go on! Tell us.”

      She would have done, anyway. There was no stopping Rose when she got on her soap box.

      “I think Mum and Dad should never have got married. I think it was doomed to failure from the word go. That’s what I think.”

      Jazz stared at her, aghast. “Now you’re being racist!”

      “I’m not being racist! All I—”

      “You are! You sound just like Nan! She’s always going on about mixed marriages.”

      “’Tisn’t what I meant,” said Rose.

      “So what did you mean?”

      “If you’d just let me talk, instead of jumping down my throat all the time, you wouldn’t have to ask. What I meant,” said Rose, “was that Mum being an actress and Dad being an actor was just a fatal combination. They almost never stay together, actors and actresses.”

      Jazz fell silent. She couldn’t think of any argument against that.

      “I suppose it wouldn’t have been quite so bad,” said Laurel, “if Dad had been the one to get into a soap.”

      Jazz whipped round. “Why not?”

      “Well—” Laurel hunched a shoulder. “Women don’t seem to mind so much. Men don’t like it when their wives get famous and make a lot of money. Something to do with male pride,” she said.

      “Especially when Nan kept going on,” agreed Rose.

      “But Mum never did!”

      “I don’t see why they had to fall out about it,” muttered Jazz.

      “People always fall out when they’re married. I’m going to stay single,” said Rose.

      Jazz resisted the temptation 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