that while she had been ogling handsome lead actors, she had been wantonly ignoring many actors' lifetimes' achievements just because they had less pleasing features. She felt profound sympathy for the man who was doomed to always have the smaller, instantly forgettable parts just because his nose was too bulbous, his eyes too close together and his mouth too far over to the left. Her sympathy for him didn't last long though. She watched him for a while. He was unexpectedly self-obsessed and so blusteringly affected that she started to admire his lifetime's work of modest, humble characters afresh. He was obviously a far better performer than she had ever given him credit for.
Lizzy's three younger sisters were to be played by young fairly well-known personalities – one a novelist whose debut novel Monarchy, My Arse had had rave reviews, another a young photographer who had exhibited twice to rapturous reviews, and the other almost an 'It' girl – cable TV presenter, party-goer. Even they were quite obviously flustered in the company of Harry Noble. So Jazz had been right. The second day of auditions had just been a publicity stunt. There was no one here who was a complete unknown. Apart, perhaps, from Mo and from Maxine's other half, Charles.
Just looking round the room at all the hopeful, determined faces was enough to convince Jazz that she had made the right decision never to try acting as a profession. She'd toyed with the idea for a week or two at the age of eighteen, but realised that she'd rather scrutinise the world than emotionally strip in front of it.
She was relieved to find out that her new friend Wills didn't think less of her after her tête à tête with Mr Noble. In fact, it was rather the opposite.
As soon as Harry and Jazz had finished their spar, Wills had turned round to her. 'May I be the first to congratulate you,' he murmured. 'You have answered back the great Harry Noble.'
'Is he always this pretentious?' she asked.
Wills tried not to laugh out loud. 'Believe me, you'll get used to the bastard.'
Jazz snorted. 'What, like I got used to PMT?'
At this he did laugh out loud. A great, manly bellow of a laugh. Jazz couldn't help but join in. She was hooked. Nothing was as attractive to her as a man laughing at one of her jokes. Except a crowd of men laughing at a string of her jokes.
'Probably,' he said finally. 'Perhaps that's why women seem to get on better with him than men.'
'Most women,' reminded Jazz, 'only want one thing.'
She looked over at Jack and George, already deep in conversation. When she glanced back at Wills, she actually blushed to find he had stopped laughing and was studying her.
7
The first rehearsal had been just a read-through of the play. Jazz thoroughly enjoyed it. The adaptation had been very cleverly done – there was even a hint at a final snog with Darcy and Elizabeth, which didn't feel too anachronistic. However, every time Jazz looked at her Darcy, she felt seriously concerned. She certainly wouldn't be resorting to method acting with Brian Peters.
As soon as she and Mo were back in the flat, Jazz made a tape-recording of her part with long pauses for the other parts. Harry wanted everyone to be off scripts within a fortnight. She vowed to play the tape at every single opportunity. It took her three exhausting hours to make it.
Afterwards she and Mo met up in the lounge for their usual late-night tipple. Thank goodness Mo hadn't yet realised that her diet might be affected by alcohol. They were discussing George.
'There goes Action Man out the window,' sighed Jazz, feeling almost nostalgic.
'Oh? Why?'
'Haven't you been watching George at rehearsals? Talking to the blond guy with NEXT stamped on his forehead. The bloke called Jack who's playing – wait for it – her lover.'
'Really? I didn't think she liked him.'
'Oh come on, she was practically salivating all over him.'
'Actually, I thought she wanted me to come over and save her at one point,' said
Lizzy's three younger sisters were to be played by young fairly well-known personalities – one a novelist whose debut novel Monarchy, My Arse had had rave reviews, another a young photographer who had exhibited twice to rapturous reviews, and the other almost an 'It' girl – cable TV presenter, party-goer. Even they were quite obviously flustered in the company of Harry Noble. So Jazz had been right. The second day of auditions had just been a publicity stunt. There was no one here who was a complete unknown. Apart, perhaps, from Mo and from Maxine's other half, Charles.
Just looking round the room at all the hopeful, determined faces was enough to convince Jazz that she had made the right decision never to try acting as a profession. She'd toyed with the idea for a week or two at the age of eighteen, but realised that she'd rather scrutinise the world than emotionally strip in front of it.
She was relieved to find out that her new friend Wills didn't think less of her after her tête à tête with Mr Noble. In fact, it was rather the opposite.
As soon as Harry and Jazz had finished their spar, Wills had turned round to her. 'May I be the first to congratulate you,' he murmured. 'You have answered back the great Harry Noble.'
'Is he always this pretentious?' she asked.
Wills tried not to laugh out loud. 'Believe me, you'll get used to the bastard.'
Jazz snorted. 'What, like I got used to PMT?'
At this he did laugh out loud. A great, manly bellow of a laugh. Jazz couldn't help but join in. She was hooked. Nothing was as attractive to her as a man laughing at one of her jokes. Except a crowd of men laughing at a string of her jokes.
'Probably,' he said finally. 'Perhaps that's why women seem to get on better with him than men.'
'Most women,' reminded Jazz, 'only want one thing.'
She looked over at Jack and George, already deep in conversation. When she glanced back at Wills, she actually blushed to find he had stopped laughing and was studying her.
7
The first rehearsal had been just a read-through of the play. Jazz thoroughly enjoyed it. The adaptation had been very cleverly done – there was even a hint at a final snog with Darcy and Elizabeth, which didn't feel too anachronistic. However, every time Jazz looked at her Darcy, she felt seriously concerned. She certainly wouldn't be resorting to method acting with Brian Peters.
As soon as she and Mo were back in the flat, Jazz made a tape-recording of her part with long pauses for the other parts. Harry wanted everyone to be off scripts within a fortnight. She vowed to play the tape at every single opportunity. It took her three exhausting hours to make it.
Afterwards she and Mo met up in the lounge for their usual late-night tipple. Thank goodness Mo hadn't yet realised that her diet might be affected by alcohol. They were discussing George.
'There goes Action Man out the window,' sighed Jazz, feeling almost nostalgic.
'Oh? Why?'
'Haven't you been watching George at rehearsals? Talking to the blond guy with NEXT stamped on his forehead. The bloke called Jack who's playing – wait for it – her lover.'
'Really? I didn't think she liked him.'
'Oh come on, she was practically salivating all over him.'
'Actually, I thought she wanted me to come over and save her at one point,' said
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