Free Gone Missing by Jean Ure Page B

television while I ate, hopping madly through the channels in case there was any news about me and Honey, but there didn’t seem to be. I guessed it was still too soon. I once read that you had to be gone forty-eight hours before you were officially classed as missing. Iwondered if Dad would even have contacted the police yet or whether he would be fuming at home, waiting to chew me out. Of course, he might still be at Auntie Claire’s and not even know that I had gone. Honey’s mum would be asleep, and even when she woke she’d just think that Honey was round at my place. I thought that perhaps, after all, Honey had been right and Sunday was a good day for leaving home.
    Halfway through the evening the baby started up again. Honey cried, “Oh, the poor little thing!” and went rushing off in a frenzy to see to it. I went on channel hopping. Babies weren’t my scene, so if Honey wanted to play nursemaid that was fine by me. Just so long as I didn’t have to! A few minutes later, she reappeared, bringing the baby with her.
    â€œI changed it,” she said.
    I said, “What for? A different model?”
    â€œIts nappy ,” said Honey.
    She sat down next to me, on the saggy sofa. I zapped to yet another channel.
    â€œSooner you than me.” Secretly, I thought it was quite brave of her. Catch me changing babies’ nappies! I guess I would if I had to, but it wouldn’t exactly fill me with joy.
    â€œIf this was my baby,” said Honey, “I wouldn’t gooff and leave it.”
    â€œPeople have to be allowed to get away sometimes ,” I said.
    â€œNot just to go off with a bloke.”
    â€œWhy not? What’s wrong with it?”
    â€œTrusting someone like Darcy ?”
    â€œShe seems to have managed OK so far.”
    Honey looked at me, reproachfully. “She went out and left it!”
    â€œOnly for a couple of hours. If people can go out and leave dogs, I don’t see why they can’t go out and leave babies.”
    â€œBecause babies aren’t dogs,” said Honey.
    â€œHo! Well. That’s a brilliant observation,” I said.
    I zapped back again, through the channels. Honey retreated, with her bundle, to the far corner of the sofa. I’d obviously upset her.
    â€œYou don’t have to get all in a huff,” I said. I leaned across, trying to think of something nice to say aboutthe baby. Nothing came to me. “It’s not very pretty,” I said, “is it?”
    â€œPoor little thing,” said Honey.
    â€œIt’s actually quite ugly.”
    â€œThat’s all the more reason for loving it!” Honey cradled it, protectively.
    I shook my head and went back to my channel hopping. Honey had always had a tendency to croon. Mostly over little furry things, such as fieldmice and moles, but sometimes not so furry things, as well. She was the only person I ever knew that rescued slugs. I wished I’d hardened my heart and gone with Darcy.
    After a bit the baby started to crumple its hands and cry again.
    â€œGod, what’s the matter with it?” I said. “It surely can’t have done something else?”
    â€œI think it’s hungry,” said Honey. “Look!” She stuck a finger in its mouth and it immediately started sucking. “It is, it’s hungry! Poor little thing. It needs its bottle.”
    â€œIt can’t do,” I said. “Darcy would have told us.”
    Honey said, “ Her ? What would she know?”
    â€œMore than we do! She’s the one that’s looking after it. Where are you going?”
    â€œI’m going to feed it,” said Honey.
    She headed off towards the kitchen. I sprang up from the sofa and raced after her.
    â€œYou can’t feed someone else’s baby!”
    â€œYes, I can,” said Honey.
    â€œYou can’t, you don’t know what to give it! You might give it the wrong stuff, you might– what are you