Acting Up (23 page)

Harry leant his elbow on the bar, turned to face her and tried not to make too much fuss of sitting down on the stool behind him. It lowered him enough to make their faces almost level. Smooth, thought Jazz, and started playing with the napkin that was now lying between them.

With a look of intense concentration, Harry started speaking.

'I'm sorry I called you an unknown hack,' he said very slowly. 'It was a stupid, insensitive, arrogant thing to say. Will you ever forgive me for being a prize dickhead?'

'Of the highest order,' completed Jazz.

'Of the highest order,' he repeated obediently.

'Well,' she said, heaving her shoulders. 'On one condition.'

'Hmm?' He tried not to smile. He failed.

'You forgive me for all the horrendous things I said to you that night.'

'I deserved every single one.'

'No, you didn't!'

'I did. You were absolutely right – I
was
an obnoxious prat. I deserved all of it. Although perhaps the shoving part was a bit hard. I still have a bruise.'

They grinned briefly at each other then both seemed suddenly fascinated by their footwear. Jazz was about to thank him for saving her career when he started talking.

'You see, even when I was a little boy, my parents were already famous. We'd get stopped in the street by people asking for their autographs,' he said gravely. 'You can't help but think you're superior, and in all honesty, my parents loved the adoration they got and never taught me how to keep it in perspective. I suppose they never really got anything else out of acting – certainly not any money – so they saw it as their payment.' He sighed heavily and shook his head. 'Then at drama college, I was treated like a star in the making, by teachers
and
students, and that did my head in. And if that wasn't enough, the media then put me on a pedestal. By the time I got to Hollywood I didn't stand a chance.'

Jazz was nodding. It was a miracle he remembered how to talk to normal people at all.

He kept going.

'I'm not trying to make excuses – well, I suppose I am – look, all I'm trying to say is,' he paused and looked at her intently. 'I had totally lost my perspective. Until I met you.'

Jazz's body went hot. She stared at the napkin. It was white and square.

'And you taught me in no uncertain terms that I would have to
earn
your friendship. Jazz, this may sound big-headed, but I can honestly say that no one has done that for years. That's why I try to only mix with people I really know well, like Matt, my sister Carrie, and Jack. Anyone else I have always treated with downright suspicion and contempt. Which I'm bloody ashamed of now.'

'What about Sara?' said Jazz.

Harry grinned foolishly. 'Ah, Sara,' he nodded. 'Or Pinprick as I call her.'

Jazz tried not to grin too widely. Life just got better and better.

'The fact is, you've given me back my faith in human nature,' he went on. 'I really enjoyed directing the play, once I started treating everyone as individuals and not just as hangers on. I came to realise that the more you treat people like equals, the
less
they expect of you, so you can be more fallible – and the more confident they are in themselves, so the more interesting they are. It's so simple really. And,' he gave her a minuscule bow with his head, 'it's all down to you.'

'And all because you called me ugly. Aren't I something?' Jazz smiled.

'No, it's not just because of that. It's because I was such a complete and utter idiot. And I'm truly sorry. You'll probably never know how sorry.'

'Oh, I think I will,' she said, thinking of how crap she'd been feeling for the past month. 'I've learnt a lot recently, too,' she told him.

Harry looked at her keenly.

She gave out a long, loud sigh. 'I've spent my life judging everyone. That's a far worse crime than just ignoring them, as you did. You may not have liked people much but you didn't constantly criticise them, as I did. And what's more, I've learnt that I'm very often wrong in my judgements, too.' She paused. 'I was wrong about you.'

Harry shook his head. 'No, there you were right. And it's entirely down to what you said to me that we're even having this conversation. What did you call me? "Repulsively arrogant and self-obsessed" . . .'

'Oh no, don't,' cringed Jazz. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Please don't be sorry,' he said, giving her an eloquent look. 'I'm not.'

They were both static, staring at each other, for what seemed like a couple of light years. OK, now this is getting embarrassing, thought Jazz.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. 'By the way,' she asked quickly, looking briefly away from him while inching nearer. 'How come Jack has suddenly decided that focus is one thing but George is quite another?'

Harry smiled. 'Well,' he inched closer. 'I – I sort of – reminded him that work is work but love is love,' he said. 'And I've never heard him talk about anyone the way he talks about George. She is definitely The One for him.'

Jazz just raised her eyebrows at him, amazed and rather concerned at how easily influenced Jack could be by Harry.

'We'll see,' she said simply, too scared to hope. 'We'll see.'

Jazz looked round the room as a slow track started. Jack and George were slow dancing, their eyes shut and dreamy smiles on their faces. Maddie was leading Mark confidently by the hand to their first slow dance together. William had cornered Watery Eyes. With one hand leaning against the wall at her back and the other casually on her waist, she was well and truly stuck. He was whispering in her ear and she looked like the cat who'd got the cream. Jazz watched with distaste. She didn't like the woman, but she certainly wouldn't wish
that
on her.

Not far from them, Mo was shouting at Gilbert and he was making a great show of surprise at her anger. Near the door, Josie and Michael were standing motionless, hugging each other. Michael's lips were touching the top of Josie's head and his arms were squeezing her tight. Her face was hidden in his chest, but from the movement of her body, Jazz could tell she was sobbing. And Jazz gasped and prodded Harry as she saw Matt shyly put his arm round a smiling Carrie.

'Excellent!' said Harry. He looked at Jazz with an enormous grin. One of his teeth had a tiny chip in it. 'He's been in love with her for years.'

Jazz raised her eyebrows. Of course he had. That's why she'd missed it.

They smiled happily at each other. They were so close now, she could feel his breath on her cheeks. The sentimental lyrics were beginning to get to her. Oh God, this was excruciating. What to do? What to do?

Jazz put her life in her hands. 'I lied to you actually,' she said quietly.

Harry looked at her questioningly.

'I – I don't prefer blonds.'

He smiled. Please please please, she thought, do something. Anything.

'Thank God for that,' he said, and looked at her seriously.

Tell me I'm beautiful, she thought. You think I'm beautiful.

He spoke so slowly that each word could have had a sentence spoken around it.

'I think you're . . .'

Jazz held her breath.
Beautiful. You think I'm beautiful
.

'. . . beautiful,' he whispered.

TADA! went Jazz's stomach. Open Sesame! went her heart.

She beamed and, unable to stop herself, she leant over slowly and whispered in his ear: 'You can kiss me now.'

Harry laughed but didn't move away. 'I'm afraid I can't,' he whispered in hers.

Jazz's body locked. Oh God, why? I'm not beautiful enough? I'm not the right kind of beautiful? I'm
too
beautiful? Terror gripped her. I'm not as beautiful as Sara?

'Oh,' she said simply. 'OK.' She wanted to die.

Just before she started to move away, he whispered quickly, 'I'm too scared.' His cheek was now touching hers and his eyes were closed. The faint trembling sensation coming from his legs convinced her he wasn't lying. 'I've tried before, remember?'

Jazz smiled as she felt his soft, uneven breath on her neck.

'Well, we'll have to work at getting over that fear, won't we?' she whispered.

As she edged her body fractionally closer to him, he slowly moved his long legs apart so she could get nearer. His arms tentatively enveloped her as she softly kissed his perfect lips for the first time.

He was delicious.

Remember this feeling, she thought, as her body melted and her stomach fizzed. Remember this feeling. It doesn't get any better than this.

'So when did you realise just how tasty I really was?' asked Jazz, stretching out, making herself comfortable.

Harry smiled at the memory and leant up on the pillow, his head resting in his hand. He put his other arm round her bare waist.

'I don't know,' he prevaricated.

'I do,' grinned Jazz. 'It was when I was so rude to you all the time. You like a challenge. Otherwise you wouldn't be such a stunningly successful actor.'

He looked into her eyes and kissed her gently on her forehead. She had never noticed that it was an erogenous zone before.

'It wasn't just because of that,' he said. 'It was also your – your . . .' He thought hard, picturing her at rehearsals. Her eyes, her smile, her strength, her vulnerability, her humour, her gravity, her passion, her indifference, her . . . her. Her.

'I think I realised just how tasty you were moments before I realised I was in love with you,' he said as calmly as he could. Could she tell he was trembling?

Jazz was too moved to ask when, exactly, that was. She'd ask another time. She was too busy adding earlobe, neck, collarbone and shoulder to forehead in a new list she was compiling.

* * * * *

Harry had turned out to be a whizz at cooking. Which made up for his complete lack of ability at DIY. 'It's all right,' Jazz had said. 'We can get a man in.' But it meant that Sunday brunches were a gas.

'Do you need any help in the kitchen?' called Mark from the patio. Mark probably wouldn't have asked anyone else, but seeing as it was Harry Noble, he didn't mind. Kitchens were strictly out of bounds for him, usually. Luckily Maddie loved to cook. Anyway, Jack and Harry were enjoying themselves too much in there together to need any help.

'No thanks, just help yourself to wine,' shouted Harry back.

Maddie, George, Jazz, Mark, Carrie and Matt did as they were told, and enjoyed the last of the summer sun as it nudged behind the growing conifers.

It was perfect. It might have been even more perfect if Mo had been there, thought Jazz, but there was no way she was inviting Gilbert Valentine into their home. She saw less of Mo these days, especially now little Tarquin Valentine was on the scene, but she had finally realised that there had to be a price for happiness, and the loss of Mo was her price. And such a realisation had helped to make that loss more bearable.

The television was on.

* * * * *

'Ooh, look – it's whatsisname'

'Kevin Atkinson'

'he's brilliant. Have you ever worked with him?'

'yup. He's a bit dull actually'

'really?'

'yeah. And he's got four children by four different women'

'you're kidding'

'and those are contact lenses'

'bloody Nora. Who'd have guessed it? Kevin Blinking Atkinson'

'Kevin Blinking Atkinson'

'You know everyone, don't you?'

He smiled and kissed the head of the only person he thought worth knowing.

'uhhuh'