to have a lot to prove in his one-off reincarnation as one of the most romantic fictional heroes in English literature. Jazz smiled. This was going to be fun.
Mo had come straight from work and George would be coming straight from doing a play on Radio 4. Jazz didn't think she'd tell Mo that she was the only person there not involved in the arts. She'd only end up in the toilet throughout the entire rehearsal interrupting herself with offers of Mintos.
She barely noticed that Sara Hayes and her friend Maxine were there, but she instantly recognised their friendly, blond companion – George's next conquest – who seemed to recognise her and greeted her with a warm smile. She didn't know anyone else. There were lots of ridiculously handsome people taking their seats and hiding their nerves behind self-conscious airs of indifference or weariness. Jazz watched them all keenly.
Mo came and sat next to her. As the seats filled up, Jazz realised that William Whitby wasn't there. How could he not have been given a part? He was so . . . watchable. Just as her stomach was deflating with disappointment, the door opened and there he was. Maybe it was because she was so obviously aware of him, maybe it was because there was a spare seat next to her and their eyes had met as soon as he had walked in, she didn't know why, but he saw her, grinned and came to sit down next to her.
'Hi,' he smiled, proffering his hand to be shaken. 'I'm Wills.' Jazz nodded. It would have looked stupid to pretend she didn't know his name. His openness of expression and large, brown eyes that crinkled at the edges when he smiled, were even more endearing in the flesh than on television. Jazz almost had to stop herself from bear-hugging him.
'Hi,' said Jazz, shaking his hand vigorously and grinning like a moron. 'Jazz.'
'Short for?' he questioned.
'Men over six foot four. My only restriction.' Dear God, had she really said that?
He chuckled. 'Who are you playing?'
'Lizzy,' she said, wondering if her pupils were dilating so much that her eyes were now just two black holes.
His grin widened and he touched her arm affectionately.
'Hey wow, congratulations,' he said. 'You must be really good.'
Impossibly, she warmed to him even more.
'Must I?' she said as coyly as she could. 'Who are you playing?'
'Terribly Wicked Wickham,' he said wickedly.
'Ooh, how exciting,' she said, noticing that he had several freckles on his nose and golden flecks in his eyes.
'Yes, it'll be a laugh,' he agreed. 'And from a professional point of view, it's a great opportunity to play a baddie. I don't want to be typecast as a priest for ever, you know.' A heart-blisteringly wide smile. 'Of course, you realise we'll have to learn how to flirt with each other.'
With considerable self-control, Jazz managed not to cheer. Maybe this acting business was going to be more enjoyable than she'd anticipated.
Just then, she became aware of a blurred image behind William's head and, with some effort, drew her eyes towards it. It was a beaming Gilbert.
'Jasmin!' he exclaimed. 'You made it, I knew you would!' He kissed her smack on the mouth. She was too shocked to move. Thankfully there wasn't a seat next to her and with an affectionate squeeze of her shoulder, Gilbert had to go and sit somewhere else. As she watched him go, she wondered idly what part he could possibly have got.
Wills turned back to Jazz. 'That's Gilbert Valentine, Theatre Hack, isn't it?' he whispered to her.
'No,' whispered Jazz back. 'It's Gilbert Valentine, Pathetic Twat. We used to work together.' She wondered why life was never perfect.
Wills, meanwhile, was laughing with delight.
The atmosphere cooled as soon as Harry Noble entered the room. He walked over to where the chairs were stacked, his eyes fixing on no one. He picked up a chair and stood silently behind two people in the circle. Without a word being said to either of them, they made room for him. Jazz was so preoccupied watching the remarkable
Mo had come straight from work and George would be coming straight from doing a play on Radio 4. Jazz didn't think she'd tell Mo that she was the only person there not involved in the arts. She'd only end up in the toilet throughout the entire rehearsal interrupting herself with offers of Mintos.
She barely noticed that Sara Hayes and her friend Maxine were there, but she instantly recognised their friendly, blond companion – George's next conquest – who seemed to recognise her and greeted her with a warm smile. She didn't know anyone else. There were lots of ridiculously handsome people taking their seats and hiding their nerves behind self-conscious airs of indifference or weariness. Jazz watched them all keenly.
Mo came and sat next to her. As the seats filled up, Jazz realised that William Whitby wasn't there. How could he not have been given a part? He was so . . . watchable. Just as her stomach was deflating with disappointment, the door opened and there he was. Maybe it was because she was so obviously aware of him, maybe it was because there was a spare seat next to her and their eyes had met as soon as he had walked in, she didn't know why, but he saw her, grinned and came to sit down next to her.
'Hi,' he smiled, proffering his hand to be shaken. 'I'm Wills.' Jazz nodded. It would have looked stupid to pretend she didn't know his name. His openness of expression and large, brown eyes that crinkled at the edges when he smiled, were even more endearing in the flesh than on television. Jazz almost had to stop herself from bear-hugging him.
'Hi,' said Jazz, shaking his hand vigorously and grinning like a moron. 'Jazz.'
'Short for?' he questioned.
'Men over six foot four. My only restriction.' Dear God, had she really said that?
He chuckled. 'Who are you playing?'
'Lizzy,' she said, wondering if her pupils were dilating so much that her eyes were now just two black holes.
His grin widened and he touched her arm affectionately.
'Hey wow, congratulations,' he said. 'You must be really good.'
Impossibly, she warmed to him even more.
'Must I?' she said as coyly as she could. 'Who are you playing?'
'Terribly Wicked Wickham,' he said wickedly.
'Ooh, how exciting,' she said, noticing that he had several freckles on his nose and golden flecks in his eyes.
'Yes, it'll be a laugh,' he agreed. 'And from a professional point of view, it's a great opportunity to play a baddie. I don't want to be typecast as a priest for ever, you know.' A heart-blisteringly wide smile. 'Of course, you realise we'll have to learn how to flirt with each other.'
With considerable self-control, Jazz managed not to cheer. Maybe this acting business was going to be more enjoyable than she'd anticipated.
Just then, she became aware of a blurred image behind William's head and, with some effort, drew her eyes towards it. It was a beaming Gilbert.
'Jasmin!' he exclaimed. 'You made it, I knew you would!' He kissed her smack on the mouth. She was too shocked to move. Thankfully there wasn't a seat next to her and with an affectionate squeeze of her shoulder, Gilbert had to go and sit somewhere else. As she watched him go, she wondered idly what part he could possibly have got.
Wills turned back to Jazz. 'That's Gilbert Valentine, Theatre Hack, isn't it?' he whispered to her.
'No,' whispered Jazz back. 'It's Gilbert Valentine, Pathetic Twat. We used to work together.' She wondered why life was never perfect.
Wills, meanwhile, was laughing with delight.
The atmosphere cooled as soon as Harry Noble entered the room. He walked over to where the chairs were stacked, his eyes fixing on no one. He picked up a chair and stood silently behind two people in the circle. Without a word being said to either of them, they made room for him. Jazz was so preoccupied watching the remarkable
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