Free Family Fan Club by Jean Ure Page A

and see if I can find her.”
    Jazz tore out into the rain. “Daisy!” she cried. “Daisy, where are you?”
    She ran up the road one way, she ran up the road the other way. The rain lashed down; within seconds she was soaked.
    “
Daisy!
” she screamed.
    Mum and Dad would never forgive her if anything happened to Daisy. Jazz would never forgive herself! Daisy was fragile; she needed someone to take care of her.
    “DaiZEE!”
    From out of an alleyway, a small figure emerged: sodden and trembling, clutching a bundle of fur.
    “Daisy!” Jazz ran towards her.
    “I found him!” Daisy smiled tremulously at Jazz through her tears. “He was in someone’s garden!”
    Sheltering from the rain, thought Jazz. He would have come home, in his own good time – but not before Daisy had sobbed herself into a state of exhaustion.
    She put an arm round her sister’s shoulders and hurried her back up the road. They arrived at the house at the same moment as Rufus White pulled up in his car, with a subdued Laurel sitting beside him.
    “Here you are!” he said. “All safe and sound!”
    And Jazz with the rain running in rivulets down her face, and her feet squelching in her shoes …
    But who cared about squelchy feet? Who cared about Rufus White? Daisy was the main concern!
    “Quick, quick!” Jazz hustled her sister up the path. “Someone run a bath!”
    “Why? What’s happened?” Laurel raced after them, tottering perilously on her high heels. “Why are you all wet?”
    “They’ve been out in the rain,” said Rose, snatching Tink away from a shivering Daisy. “Looking for
this.
”
    “Without an umbrella?” shrieked Laurel. “Without a raincoat? Without—”
    “Daisy – take – your – clothes – off – I’m – going – to – run – a – bath!” cried Jazz, pelting up the stairs.
    “Mum’s going to be furious,” said Laurel. “Letting
Daisy,
of
all
people—”
    “Oh, shut up!” snapped Rose. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one evening!”
    They had just the time to bundle Jazz and Daisy’s clothes into the dryer and out again before Mum arrived back. Daisy, fresh from her bath, all warm and pink in her dressing gown and nightie, was happily cuddled on the sofa with Tink.
    “What a picture of bliss,” beamed Mum. “All’s well, I take it? No problems while I’ve been away?”
    “No problems,” said Jazz.
    “One, two, three … where’s number four?”
    Number four was upstairs in her bedroom, frantically hiding Mum’s dress and shoes in the recesses of her wardrobe. It wasn’t until they had all retired for the night that she appeared, like a wraith, at the side of Jazz’s bed.
    “Now what’s the matter?” said Jazz.
    “Something awful.” Laurel’s face crumpled. “I’ve lost one of Mum’s earrings!”

“Where’s laurel?” said Mum. It was eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, and Laurel hadn’t yet put in an appearance. “Why is she still in bed? What’s she been up to?”
    “She went to a party,” said Rose. “
With Simon.
”
    “Oh,
did
she? I hope she hasn’t been drinking again.”
    Daisy giggled.
    “It’s not funny,” said Mum. “We’ve all been there, we’ve all done it – but not at fourteen years old, thank you very much!”
    “It’s all right,” said Jazz. “She swears she’s never going to touch drink again, ever.”
    “Yes, I’ve heard that before,” said Mum.
    “I think she means it,” said Jazz. Laurel was in enough trouble as it was. “I’ll go and wake her!”
    Jazz galloped up the stairs in her usual fashion and burst unceremoniously into Laurel’s bedroom.
    “Wake up, wake up, you lazy slug!”
    Laurel ungummed a bleary eye.
    “I’ve only just gone to sleep,” she said. “I’ve been awake all night, worrying.” She wriggled into a sitting position, clutching the duvet round her. “How am I going to tell Mum?” she whispered.
    “I don’t know.” Jazz regarded her sister with a mixture of exasperation and