Acting Up (4 page)

She sighed a deep sigh. She just couldn't start her column. The longer it took to get going, the worse the column was. Why couldn't she focus her mind?

There was a squeal from the corner of the open-plan office, followed by some raucous laughter.

'Listen to this, it's priceless . . .'

It was Sandra, the agony aunt, reading another of her letters out to the eager office. Usually Jazz would tune in, but with a monumental effort she stared at her screen. Focus, focus, focus. She spread her fingers out on the keyboard as if about to plunge into a piano concerto . . . and stared hard at the blank screen. She started her favourite daydream puzzler, wondering which Baldwin brother she'd most like to get stuck in a lift with.

Her machine bleeped. Excellent, an e-mail. She scanned her messages. The one at the top said Stop Press. She double-clicked it.

AARRGGH!! I've worked out how to use the e-mail. I'm so excited, I can't write any more.

Write back NOW. My address is Maureen-Harris @loughborough.co.uk. But if you ever call me Maureen to my face you're a dead woman.

Mo.

Excellent! It had only taken one year. Mo must be using the one staff computer. Maybe one of her four-year-olds had showed her how it worked. She started tapping.

Gold star!! Ten out of ten!! Etc!!

Jazz.

PS. What's for dinner?

Then she tried to concentrate. Another bleep on her computer. Bloody hell. She double-clicked.

AARRGGH!! I've worked out how to use the e-mail. I'm so excited, I can't write any more.

Write back NOW. My address is Maureen-Harris @loughborough.co.uk. But if you ever call me Maureen to my face you're a dead woman.

Mo.

Oh dear. She'd write back and then she'd start her work.

Mo hon, you just sent me the same message twice. You've managed to do what some people can never do. Be boring on e-mail.

Love, Jazz.

Another bleep. Mo again.

I know I sent it twice. I didn't think you were listening the first time.

PS. It's your turn to cook tonight. I cooked last month.

Jazz smiled. Thank God for modern technology.

Maddie had finished reading the papers. She was now standing up, sorting through her filing tray.

'Mark, your
100 Things You Didn't Know About Wicked
Willy
piece is outstanding.'

Jazz saw Mark grin widely, his eyes warm with pleasure. 'Cheers, babe.' He winked at her.

'No, Mark,' said Maddie. 'It's
outstanding
. It's late.'

'Oh. Yeah. Well, you see, there's a bloody good reason for that.'

'Yes?'

'Bloody good . . .'

Maddie and Jazz watched him try and get out of this one.

Jazz's phone rang. 'Bloody hell, I can't get a thing done,' she muttered before picking it up.

'I'm going to do it,' said a voice that sounded as if it was in a mangle.

'Do what?'

'Chuck Simon, like you told me,' said George almost inaudibly.

'Jesus,' whispered Jazz in awe. 'When? Where?' For the first time she realised that a single George was as unknown territory to Jazz as it was to George herself.

'Do you think that blond bloke at the audition really liked me?' asked George.

'I'm sorry, I fail to see the significance,' said Jazz in her favourite pompous tone.

'Never mind,' answered George. 'Will you come round tonight? We can talk tactics.'

'Of course,' said Jazz sincerely. She just stopped herself from saying, 'It will be my pleasure.'

'Thanks,' whispered George.

'We'll be nasty about Simon together,' promised Jazz. 'It'll be fun.'

'There isn't anything nasty to say about him,' said George pathetically, remembering his broad shoulders and forgetting his broad rump.

'Oh, I'm sure we'll find something,' said Jazz. 'I seem to remember he only has one eyebrow. I always meant to ask you if it goes all the way round his head.'

Jazz could hear her sister smile. 'See you tonight,' she said.

Jazz put the phone down and started her piece. Title –
Taking Control
. She finished it forty minutes later, and then read the dailies.

The doorbell rang at number 5, Winchester Road, Hampstead and Sara Hayes took a last look at herself in the gilt-framed mirror.

The doorbell rang again and she went to answer the front door. She smiled at her welcome guests.

'Hello, popsie,' she said to Maxine and the two gave each other air kisses. The affection bordering on gratitude that Sara felt for her new confidante, Maxine, was as much to do with the fact that she was married, as it was to do with the fact that she was unquestionably less attractive than her. Next to Maxine, Sara looked even more stunning. Happily, Maxine's fondness for Sara was based on her friend's amazing good looks and daring single lifestyle. Next to Sara, Maxine didn't feel so married and dull. Nothing bonds some women together more than their differences.

'Charles!' exclaimed Sara as warmly as she could to Maxine's husband, whose shoulders sloped at such a sharp angle she wondered that his blazer didn't fall off.

Expensive wine was handed over and surprised delight expressed. Then they all went into the lounge, where the lights were dimmed and some carefully selected dinner jazz was playing quietly in the background.

'Are Harry and Jack here yet?' asked Maxine, as she sank into the soft, deep plum-coloured sofas and looked round appreciatively at the large room.

'No, they're keeping us waiting, naughty boys,' winked Sara affectionately and poured out two gin and tonics.

She couldn't help but be excited. It had been two weeks since the audition and Harry was bound to reveal what parts he had given her and Maxine. She was on tenterhooks to know. She was in danger of being typecast as a bitch, which as every actor knows, is good for the short term, but if you had real ambitions, like Sara, it had to stop. This would be a golden opportunity for her to be seen to work for charity, and it could also be the chance she'd been waiting for, for over ten years, to finally work with Harry Noble. She had been desperate to work with him ever since her brother Jack had made friends with him at RADA.

Maxine cared only slightly less passionately about getting a part in the play. She used to be an actress too before she had become big in celebrity fundraising. Her little black book now had more names in it than
Who's
Who
. But it would be nice for her to get a bit of exposure again, just like the good old days, when she and Charles Caruthers-Brown had met.

Charles had first seen Maxine in the chorus of a West End production of
Forty-Second Street
, and he'd been so bowled over by her that he'd sent her an enormous bouquet of red roses backstage that night. After that, he had come and seen every performance for a fortnight until she had agreed to go out with him.

It certainly wasn't love at first sight for Maxine. Charles courted her very cautiously, and eventually, after seven months, a holiday in the Bahamas on his private yacht and a diamond necklace with matching tiara, she fell head over heels in love with him. After they married, her career had taken a back seat while they did up their London home and their country home, and she'd been only too happy to get involved in some high-profile fundraising work. She was to be involved in the fundraising aspect of this production too, but had auditioned with the hope of getting back into the limelight – and of adding the great Harry Noble to her little black book. In fact, she couldn't quite believe that she was going to be in the same room as him tonight. Neither could Charles. Even he was a bit tense.

The doorbell rang again and the men arrived.

Everyone stood up and said, 'Ah,' as they came into the lounge. Jack Hayes's smiling face appeared round the doorframe first, followed almost immediately by his tall, slender frame. He ambled in, all jollity and eagerness to please. His cheeks were as rosy as ever and his eyes shone with warmth and interest. He was a tall man, but next to Harry, he looked slight, and beside Harry's crow-black hair, his blondness looked almost silly.

The genuine pleasure that Jack exhibited at being there would have eased the tension somewhat, had it not been for Harry's seeming indifference. Jack greeted them all warmly, kissing his sister and her friend on the cheeks and shaking Charles's hand vigorously. Harry stood in the corner and nodded his greetings to them, without a smile. Everyone was delighted by him. He made no reference to having met Maxine or Charles at the auditions and, as general conversation began, he let Jack do all the talking, preferring instead to study the various ornaments in the room. Sara grew more and more irritated with her brother. Why wouldn't he shut up, so that Harry could talk? After twenty tense minutes, the hired butler came in and announced that dinner was served.

The dining room was vast and decked out in rich red and gold with sumptuous velvet curtains swept up at the sides of the sash windows. A suit of armour occupied the corner of the room, somewhat unnerving those with sensitive dispositions. Sara had arranged the place cards so that she was sitting opposite Harry. Maxine and Charles were facing each other and Jack was at the head.

As they ate the gazpacho soup, Sara could wait no longer.

'The last time we were all in the same room, Mr Noble, we were all desperate for your approval,' she said, with pretence at a coy smile. She had insisted on calling Harry
Mr Noble
ever since he'd won the Oscar. He had never expressed displeasure at it, so she had kept it up whenever she was trying to be more intimate with him.

'Oh yes,' said Maxine, affecting surprise at the subject. 'Can you put us out of our misery and tell us if any of us made the grade?'

She and Sara laughed in amazement at the idea and Jack joined in willingly. Charles was now preoccupied with his soup. The food had taken away what nerves he had felt at the thought of meeting Harry Noble. Harry Noble was just a man but soup was soup. Even if it was cold.

'Oh, you can assure yourselves I approved heartily of you all,' said Harry, and continued to eat.

Sara tried again.

'Did any of us spring to mind when you cast the part of . . . say . . . Elizabeth Bennet?'

Harry kept on drinking his soup.

'Perhaps that girl – now what was her name?' Sara laughed gently, 'You called her the Ugly Sis––'

Harry interrupted. 'Jasmin Field.'

'Yes, that's right – I think she's Georgia Field's sister,' said Maxine.

Jack looked up.

'Oh yes,' pretended Sara. 'She was petrified, poor thing, I felt mortified for her. Mind you, she made a sterling effort, I thought, didn't you?'

Harry put his spoon down and wiped his mouth with his well-pressed serviette.

'Yes, sterling,' he said, placing his serviette on the table. 'So sterling that she is our Elizabeth Bennet.'

There was a stunned silence.

'Marvellous!' said Jack genuinely.

'
Elizabeth Bennet
?' gasped Sara. '
Lizzy
?' she tried, hoping that she might have misheard.

'Yes,' said Harry simply. 'Delicious soup, by the way.'

Sara struggled to keep her voice composed. 'I must say I am most surprised,' she managed. 'After all, when you first saw her you called her an Ugly Sister. Aren't you at all concerned that that's what the audience will think too?'

'No.'

'Surely you can't have a short, busty,
ugly
Lizzy Bennet? It will spoil everything.'

'When I first saw her,' corrected Harry, 'she was standing in the shadow. I couldn't see her face properly from there. Especially her eyes.'

'Her eyes? What have they got to do with anything?' demanded Sara, her own eyes shrinking in anger.

'You didn't notice them?' asked Harry.

'No, I did not,' shot back Sara. 'But I did see that she is far less attractive than her sister, Georgia.'

'Mmm, I agree,' conceded Harry. 'Convincing the audience that she is a real beauty will definitely be the biggest challenge I've ever had. But I've given the part of Jane Bennet to her real sister, Georgia Field, which should add authenticity.'

'Excellent!' said Jack, even more genuinely.

'
What?
' cried Sara.

'Well, as you just said,' explained Harry calmly, 'Georgia Field is more instantly attractive than her sister and as you recall, Jane Bennet was the reputed beauty of the family.'

'They were
all
reputed beauties.'

'Well I can assure you that all of Jane's sisters are very pretty girls, and when we tog them up in their dresses, they'll all look just the job.'

Sara controlled her anger but she seethed into her soup.

Harry didn't feel it necessary to add that Jasmin Field's acting had a raw vitality and depth that he couldn't wait to work on.

Sara stood up, took his plate before the waitress had time to do so, and walked out of the room.

Maxine wondered if it would be tactless to ask if she'd got a part. Charles belched loudly. Jack looked round the room and beamed happily at them all.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sara stood leaning on the marble-topped counter. She ignored the cook when asked whether she wanted the crêpe suzettes cooked on the mobile stove in the dining room or the kitchen. She was too busy hatching a plot.

Jazz hopped off the bus in East Finchley and walked briskly along the road towards her parents' house. As she drew near, she could see Josie, her younger sister, and her brother-in-law, Michael, getting out of their car. Ben, their twenty-two-month-old, was holding Josie's hand. He'd only been walking for a few months and it still gave Jazz a jolt of excitement to see him upright on his two fat legs. He was wearing a nappy the size of a small suitcase. Josie had known Michael since her college days and Jazz had long since got over the shock of her baby sister becoming an old married woman three years before.

Jazz ran up to greet them.

Josie hugged Jazz absent-mindedly while locking the car door and checking she hadn't left any vital toys in the car. She looked very tired. Michael was carrying all Ben's paraphernalia. He had temporarily placed the multicoloured furry teddy bear on his head, while steadying his grip on various other bits and pieces, and Jazz managed not to laugh as he greeted her with his usual intense expression. Jazz picked Ben up and he just about stayed still long enough for her to give him a very loud kiss. He giggled and said her name, filling her with pride.

As she put him down, she spotted Simon's shiny red MX5 parked in her parents' drive. So George still hadn't done the dirty deed, even after a whole evening of helpful hints, courtesy of herself. And that would mean that the entire family tea would take place under his cold eye. Damn.

The door opened wide. 'Darlings! Come in, come in!' Martha, their mother greeted them. She hugged them all fiercely, her bosom making contact first. 'Everything's ready, you must be famished.' Martha always assumed that none of her children ate in between their visits to her.

In the lounge sat George and Simon with the nominal head of the family, Jeffrey. Jeffrey was delighted to see his other daughters. He'd been stuck talking to Simon about rugby, a sport he detested, while George had stared vacantly into the middle distance. Everyone shot up, grateful for the intrusion and there were noisy greetings all round.

Tea was an informal, loud affair. Jazz waited for a lull to tell the family about the impression she'd made on the famous Harry Noble. She had to wait a while.

'He called you
what
?' asked Jeffrey, outraged.

'The
Ugly
Sister,' grinned Jazz, enjoying the reaction it received. She wished now that it had been a stronger insult to have got her more of a dramatic response. She also wished Simon wasn't there, because she knew he would assume that secretly she had been greatly offended by the slight. Which she found greatly offensive.

'Has he seen Josie?' asked Martha.

'Oh, cheers, Mum,' said Josie.

'I can't believe that,' said George, shaking her head. 'Are you sure you heard right, Jazz?'

'Yes, George. Just because he's won an Oscar doesn't mean he has to be a nice person,' said Jazz gently.

'I should think it probably means quite the opposite,' added Jeffrey.

There was a pause in the conversation when Josie spoke.

'We've got an announcement to make,' she smiled weakly.

Everyone gasped. She didn't need to say much more.

'I'm pregnant,' she said.

Martha and George screamed, Jeffrey hugged Michael and Jazz felt a curious mixture of envy, joy and sympathy.

Josie was only one month gone, so they were all sworn to secrecy.

'So I don't want to read about it in any magazine,' smiled Josie, wagging her finger at Jazz.

'Hey no worries, we work four months ahead,' grinned Jazz.

'I mean it, Jazz. Tempting fate and all that. I've been much more sick with this one. And we all know how bad I was with Benjy. It wasn't planned, you see.'

'Of course. You can trust me.' Jazz remembered how Josie had had to stay off work and in bed for six weeks before Ben had been born, due to complications. And how Martha had exhausted herself visiting her daughter in hospital and cooking hot evening meals for Michael every day.

Harry Noble's comment was forgotten and the conversation shifted wholeheartedly into baby mode. Then they caught up on the gossip about the rest of the family, they argued over whose turn it was to phone Great-Aunt Sylvie and they admonished Martha for making enough food for a football team. Until she started getting upset and then they all tucked into second helpings. And all the while, Jazz was aware of Simon sitting there with a very slight, fixed smile on his handsome face, not understanding any of the conversation and not caring enough to pretend that he did.

It was only when Jazz was saying goodnight to her father that the subject of Harry Noble came up again. 'Harry Noble may be a great actor,' he said softly, as he kissed her, 'but he needs his eyes testing.' Jazz wished he hadn't said that. For some reason it made her feel the slight much more.

George gave Jazz a lift home in her beloved VW Beetle. Thankfully, Simon had had to leave early, so they'd come in separate cars.

'I hope it's a girl,' George confided, as she put the key in the ignition.

'Really?' smiled Jazz, dreamily. 'How selfish.'

'Selfish? What do you mean?'

Jazz took a deep breath. 'I mean, you hope that Josie will give birth to someone who will spend up to a quarter of her adult life having painful periods, who will be susceptible to all sorts of complex eating disorders and self-confidence problems because society will be obsessed with her physical appearance; someone who will have less chance of getting the same respect and money in the workplace as her male colleagues; who will be treated as thick if she's pretty and pitied if she's plain, who will spend more time than her partner doing household chores even though they work the same hours – that is, if he doesn't beat her or abuse her mentally,' she took another deep breath, 'and someone who will have to go through the untold agony of labour if she wants to have a child and will then be pilloried by society and said child for being a mother – and all so that you can bond with your niece over chocolate and lipstick.' Jazz turned to George with a smug smile. 'I call that selfish.'

George had heard it all before.

'Yup, and you hope it's a girl, too.'

Jazz nodded. 'Mmm, tragic, isn't it?'

Five minutes into the journey George could hold the question in no longer. 'So what did you think of that blond bloke at the auditions?'

'Shame on you, you hussy. And Simon only just out of sight.'

George sighed.

'I thought you could eat him for dinner,' said Jazz. 'I hope you'll both be very happy.'

George was delighted. 'He's
so
cute, isn't he? I'll die if I don't get a part.' She started humming.

'What if you get a part and he doesn't?' said Jazz. 'Who'll die then?'

'I'll die then too,' said George definitely. She continued humming.

'Right you are,' said Jazz, watching the road contentedly.

* * * * *

As Jazz ran up the stairs into her flat, she could hear George's car drive off down the road. Mo's light was off, so Jazz went straight into her room and started getting undressed. When the phone rang she rushed to get it with her toothbrush still in her mouth.

'Hello?' she whispered

'You're Lizzy!' came a breathless squeal down the phone.

'What?'

'You're Lizzy, I'm Jane and rehearsals start next Monday. I've just picked up the message on my answerphone. You're
Lizzy
!' repeated an overjoyed George. 'I'm Jane. Rehearsals start next Monday. I've just pick––'

'Yes I heard what you said,' said Jazz. 'Bloody hell.' Excitement welled up inside her. 'Are you sure?'

George was hyperventilating.

'It was Sandie, Harry's PA,' she gasped. 'She said I was Jane Bennet and please could I phone my sister, Jasmin Field – that's you – and let her know she's got the part of Lizzy Bennet.
Lizzy Bennet
, Jazz. Oh, and Mo's got a part too. I think she's Charlotte Lucas.'

There was silence.

'Jazz? Are you there?'

'Yes. Yes, I'm here.'

'Well, what do you think?'

She smiled slowly. 'I think Harry Noble is remarkably shrewd for someone with bad eyesight,' she smiled.