“Ah yes, the working actress,” cooed Gilbert, standing up and kissing George on both cheeks. He was obviously impressed by what he saw, although he did manage to say the word "working" as though it was an insult.

Jazz explained to her sister how she knew Gilbert and hoped that George would have forgotten the many midnight conversations she had bored her with over her crush on him at her first job on a local paper. She also hoped George would vanish until her work here was done. Gilbert, luckily, adamantly refused to move from Jazz's side, leaving a polite George no choice but to sit down next to him, rather than edge past him to the free seat on her other side. Gilbert seemed to have no idea that he was in any way unwanted company for George. Instead he made lots of comments to the purpose of being a thorn between two roses, a comment he felt sure would delight Jazz.

Jazz winked at George and worked on Gilbert.

“So,” she said, forcing herself to look him in the eye, “it would be worth a fortune, would it, this piece of gossip?”

Gilbert smiled. It was rather charming having Jasmin Field's attention. Made him feel rather warm, rather nostalgic. He decided he didn't want to let go of it just yet.

He pretended to look at her afresh. “You know, I can't believe it's been so long,” he said, shaking his head at her.

“You should have called me. We could have done lunch.” A pause. “Or something.”

With a fixed smile on her face, Jazz turned to the church door while racking her brains for a way to get the subject back to Harry Noble and his aunt. She knew that it probably wasn't ever going to be usable in her magazine, but she couldn't quell her natural journalistic instinct to try and get to the bottom of this. She loved to know more about people than they supposed she knew.

Just then, she saw her flatmate Mo walking towards her, looking unusually sullen. It was only when Mo got nearer that Jazz could see that it was, in fact, terror written all over her face, and not moroseness.

“Hi,” grimaced Mo, when she reached Jazz. She didn't notice Gilbert, who had in any case turned his attention to George. Mo squeezed herself past Gilbert and George and sat down heavily next to Jazz. She looked awful. After a long, deep sigh, she turned to Jazz.

“You haven't got a Portaloo on you, by any chance?”

“I knew I'd forgotten something,” smiled Jazz. “You'll be fine. Just pretend you're teaching.”

“Oh — and that doesn't terrify me?”

Mo got up immediately and went to find the toilet. Jazz started to read the script, intrigued to see how Pride and Prejudice had been transformed into a play. The Jane Austen classic had been her all-time favourite book as a schoolgirl, and the young heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, was, without doubt, one of her favourite fictional heroines. Like many a sensitive, intelligent teenage girl, she had spent countless oppressive afternoons in a stuffy English classroom, dimly aware that a teacher was explaining Austen's use of plot, while fantasising that she was Lizzy Bennet - feisty, pretty, proud and poor.

They just don't write 'em like that any more, she thought to herself wistfully as she read the scene.

The excerpt chosen for the auditions was the explosive scene in which the hero, Mr Darcy, stuns Elizabeth by proposing to her for the first time. Jazz read it through and started to feel her heart pound against her ribcage: it was very well-written.

“It's a classic tale of intrigue, money and notorious family pride,” said a voice next to her. Jazz tried to look up, but couldn't tear herself away from her script.

“I said it's a classic tale of intrigue, money and notorious family pride. And it's yours for one smile.”

Gilbert was back on-line.

With an effort, Jazz looked up and gave him her best "I'm listening" smile. It worked.

He inched closer. “There was this massive Marmeduke and Noble family row years and years ago. Aunt Alexandra wanted our Harry to leave home and live with her instead of his parents when he was a child.”

Jazz frowned. “Why?”

Gilbert paused. It was the first time he'd ever considered this to be an unusual thing for an aunt to do. Eventually, he shrugged. “Because she's barking. Wealthy luvvies, you know,” he enlarged, gaining in confidence enough to start philosophising about something he knew nothing about, “do bizarre things like that.”

Jazz nodded briefly.

“Anyway,” said Gilbert, “she offered to pay for the best tuition in the country, give him everything money could buy - everything that his parents couldn't give him.”

Jazz was beginning to enjoy this.

“Wow,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” smiled Gilbert, “it's good, isn't it? You see, Alexandra had made her fortune as an actress and she'd always hated the fact that her little sister, Katherine - Harry's mother - had given up her career to become Wife and Mother. Alexandra was an early feminist. Told you she was barking.” He corrected himself. “Wonderful, of course,” he said quickly, “but eccentric, shall we say.”

Jazz's teeth began to grind.

“And she resented Harry's father Sebastian even more for being an excellent actor,” continued Gilbert, in full flow, “but one who was never in anything that made him or his family any money. Alexandra felt he should have provided better for her baby sister - accepted TV ads as well as RSC roles, that sort of thing - but Sebastian would never stoop to it. So, she thought they were irresponsible parents and she'd do a much better job of bringing up their child.”

“What made her so amazingly arrogant?” asked Jazz, fascinated.

“Well,” sighed Gilbert sympathetically, “she was almost fifteen years older than Katherine and had rather mothered her during her childhood. Katherine had always idolised her older sister, and had gone into acting to be like her. Alexandra couldn't quite get used to the fact that little Katie could give it all up - and hence, give up idolising her - for a mere man. Took it as a big rejection. Never forgave Sebastian — never.”

He paused dramatically.

“Minto, anyone?” came a voice from behind Jazz.

Jazz turned to Mo and shook her head impatiently. Mo was nervous, she knew the signs. Frequent trips to the loo, witless interruptions and offers of Mintos. She should try and calm her down, but Gilbert's story was getting good. She loved a good yarn.

When Gilbert had her attention again, he explained: “Adopting little Harry would have been a way for Alexandra to recapture control of Katherine's life, you see. She was a complete control freak - still is.”

“And did it work?” asked Jazz.

“Nope. Sadly, it had exactly the opposite result. It sounded the death knell for Alexandra and Katherine's relationship.”

Jazz nodded. That made sense.

By the time Mo had returned from another trip to the toilet, Jazz was so engrossed in Gilbert's story that the distant sound of female screams from outside the church made no impact on her.

Harry Noble had arrived.

By the time she'd noticed the hush and looked up, Harry Noble had already walked past her and was on his way to a big black door leading to the audition room. Every head in the room was turned towards him. Jazz didn't get much of a chance to watch him go, but she caught a quick glimpse and it was enough for her to spot the same manner of striding past his fans, the same jeans, the same jacket. It made her feel she knew him somehow. He put his hand on the door handle, turned round to the room and spoke in a deep, clear, velvety voice.

“The first two in five minutes,” he said. And with that he was gone.

There was silence for a moment and then everyone started talking at once.

“I think I need the loo again,” said Mo.

Chapter 2

“Who's that girl with Georgia Field?” asked the actress in the leather jacket, Sara Hayes, to her new bosom friend Maxine.

Maxine looked over. “Which one?”

“The pretty one. Next to Georgia.”

“I don't know,” said Maxine. “The other two can't be actors. Unless they're character actors.”

They smirked.

“Do you think she's Georgia Field's sister?”

“The one who's a journalist? I think she may be. They've got the same nose.”

“Ye-es,” said Sara thoughtfully. “Although she just doesn't have It like Georgia does. Maybe if she were blonde . . . She'd vanish in a snowstorm, she's so pale. And she's fatter than Georgia.”

“Oh, she's not that bad,” said Maxine. “She's just curvy. Some men like tits and arse.”

“Yes,” said Sara, “but they're all over sixty.”

Maxine smiled. “She's got fuller lips than Georgia.”

“Mmm,” nodded Sara. “Very eighties.”

Happily unaware that she was being scrutinised by the actress and her friend, Jazz was busy observing their smiling, blond companion. His large blue eyes, which were admittedly flitting around a fair bit, seemed to alight on George rather often. And while there, she saw in them that dazed expression she so often noticed in men watching her sister. It was like a friendly rabbit caught in the headlights. She liked him, she decided instantly.

*  *  *

Every time two more people had gone inside to audition, Mo had told herself that she'd go in next. Every time they had come out, her body had told her not to be so rash. Jazz finally forced her in with the threat of making her do the washing-up for a month.

Seven minutes later she re-emerged, a pack of unfinished Mintos still visible in her tightly clenched fist.