Harry glanced down at Jazz and then looked back at the stage. Oh God, he was going to make this difficult.

“She told me about you and your aunt.” Her whispering was getting louder. Purple Glasses tutted again, louder still. Jazz flinched, but tried not to react. Purple Glasses was only doing her job. It wasn't her fault Jazz found her ridiculous.

This time Harry looked at Jazz and held his look. She wished it wasn't so dark, she couldn't make out what his face was doing.

“Oh,” he whispered almost inaudibly, nonplussed.

“Yes. And I wanted to say thank you.” Her voice was hoarse. “I'm so grateful, I don't know what to say. You've,” here she gave up whispering and started speaking in a hushed, excited voice, “you've saved my life. And I can only guess how hard it must have been for you to do. And I -I - it's wonderful.” The words seemed so insignificant compared to how totally indebted she felt to him.

Purple Glasses tutted once more. Before thinking, Jazz whirled on her and demanded: “Is there anything wrong? Or have you got food stuck in your brace?” Purple Glasses stalked off, insulted. Jazz was mortified. Where did all her anger come from, for Christ's sake? She'd have to apologise later. Oh God, how hideous. After a moment of valuable time spent feeling guilty, she turned back to Harry; his wide smile was hidden by the darkness.

“And I wanted to tell you how dreadfully sorry I am for acting like a complete twat,” she concluded.

“There's no need to say sorry,” he breathed. “It was done for purely selfish reasons.” He cleared his throat.

Further down in the wings, Mrs Bennet was adjusting her bonnet and straightening her cleavage. Jazz seriously contemplated tripping her up.

“What do you mean?” asked Jazz urgently, as Mrs Bennet trotted on stage.

Harry turned to her and she heard him take a deep breath. “I couldn't very well fall head over heels in love with someone whose family was in a sex scandal, could I? I've got my career to think of too, you know.”

And in the darkness, she could see his eyes were bright with emotion.

“That's your cue, Jazz.”

Jazz almost ran on stage and stood there, blinking in the light.

*  *  *

When Harry joined her on stage five minutes later, looking like a great big solid hunk of loveliness, Jazz felt herself almost burst with emotion. She wanted to laugh out loud, it was killing her not to. She did make a couple of funny sort of gasping noises that Elizabeth Bennet probably wouldn't have made, but she didn't think anyone noticed. And anyway, her performance was set alight by the intensity of her emotions. She was Elizabeth Bennet: she felt sure of it. And Harry was her adoring Mr. Darcy. The chemistry between them would have been embarrassing if it wasn't what was required.

It was wonderful. The scene they were playing now was when Mr. Darcy proposed to his Lizzy a second, successful time. In the book, the characters had been walking behind the lovers, Jane Bennet and Mr Bingley. In this adaptation, Lizzy and Darcy had to stop by a make-believe bench while Jack and George were off-stage, supposedly walking up ahead. Or snogging in the toilet, thought Jazz happily.

When Harry said the line, “My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” with such affection in his eyes, Jazz thought she was going to have to sit on her hands to stop her flinging them around his neck.

She didn't, of course, and tragically she was on stage all the way until the end of the play, except for a moment while the set was changed for the joint wedding and then she and Harry came on from opposite entrances.

Harry had worked it that there should be no final snog as such, but that the lights would dim as they all started to go for the clinch. Jazz was suddenly terrified. Should she? Shouldn't she? Would he? Wouldn't he? She searched his eyes for clues and got none. As she felt the lights start to dim, they slowly started to hug. It was a full-bodied, long hug that she never wanted to end. Harry's body was damp with sweat and his heart was pumping.

Before she knew it, the sound of applause started echoing and the rest of the cast came on stage in orderly lines and she, Harry, George and Jack exited sharpish.

They got into the wings where George and Jack started snogging furiously. She watched as Harry observed his cast. She might as well not have been there.

“Right, we're off,” he said and they all went to take their bows.

Jazz had never bowed to an audience before. It was the most exhilarating moment of her life. She decided she'd audition for another play immediately. It made everything worth it. All the nerves, the rehearsals, the boredom. The clapping seemed to go on for ever. Now she could hear whooping. Harry took a step forward and the clapping got even louder. It was almost deafening. She could see that some of the audience at the left of the auditorium were standing up. She realised she was laughing. Then Harry took her hand and they were bowing together. She couldn't stop laughing, yet she couldn't even hear it over the noise.

Eventually the curtain went down and everyone started hugging everyone. Just as she was about to turn to face Harry, George appeared at her side and hugged the breath out of her. And everyone, she noticed, started hugging Harry. He got further and further away from her as people swarmed round him. He had never looked so dishevelled. As Wills took her in a firm, friendly hug, her eyes caught Harry's. He was being hugged by Sara and was drenched in sweat, his cheeks flushed and his hair messy. Jazz's stomach lurched.

“Right,” said Harry eventually and everyone shushed instantly. “Everyone in the men's changing rooms.”

There was a charge to the dressing rooms.

Once there, everyone squeezed on top of each others' laps, kissing each other and talking nineteen to the dozen. As soon as Harry spoke though, there was silence.

“What can I say?” he started and they all laughed. He tried to compose himself.

“You have surpassed even my wildest dreams.” Some of the girls started sniffing. “I can honestly say that I've learnt more from directing and acting in this play than any other piece I've ever worked on.” His voice cracked on the last few words. “And I think you know I'm not talking about just the acting. Thank you all. I'll never forget this experience and I hope you don't either.”

There was a long pause and then Mrs. Bennet started clapping and they all joined in. She gave him a big hug for which he was eternally grateful, because it wouldn't have done for them all to see he was crying. Eventually he pulled himself away and said hoarsely, “See you at the party.” And everyone started rushing to get ready.

Jazz felt totally lost. She had the party - when he'd be surrounded by his family and friends - and then she'd probably never see him again. She ran to get changed.

The dressing room was abuzz with excitement. People were sharing deodorants and shouting at each other with bright, animated faces. She had to get out of there. She had to get to the party.

George insisted she wait for her, which was so aggravating that she almost lost her high. Maybe Harry falls for all his leading ladies, she thought as she watched George dress. Maybe he'd only said it to shut her up. Oh hell, she had to see him again. But she knew that the chances of getting him alone were now minimal.

Finally George was ready. They almost ran to the audience and saw people clustered round their own family member. Harry's family were sitting high up in the dress circle, now reunited with Dame Alexandra Marmeduke. Famous people were dotted around, but most had already left. George and Jazz spotted their family at the same time. Everyone was there. Even, to Jazz's astonishment, Michael. As they hurried towards them, a few people grinned their congratulations to them both. It was wonderful. Far better than any by-line. Before she reached her family, Jazz noticed Mark and Maddie sitting near the aisle, grinning inanely. They both looked so different out of the office.

She rushed up to them. Maddie gave her a big, warm squeeze and even Mark pecked her cheek. They both seemed very happy.

“You were amazing!” said Maddie.

“Fabulous. You never told us you could act,” said Mark.

“Oh, are you sure you enjoyed it?” asked Jazz, and the question almost echoed round the room, so many people were asking it.

“Loved it,” they said together, and then started laughing. Jazz sensed something a bit strange about them, but was too preoccupied to try and work out what it meant. Outside the office, Mark had shed his bravado completely. He was effusive and charming and Jazz realised how lovely-looking he was.

“By the way,” said Maddie, “Agatha got a call this afternoon from one of her old journalist cronies — used to work with her on Gossip! Well, now she's got three children and she's desperate to come back to writing part-time. I think we may be able to persuade Agatha about you doing a job-share now. Then you can have your weekends back.”

Jazz couldn't believe it. It was all too perfect.

“Excellent!” she squealed. “You are coming to the party, aren't you? We've taken over Flamenco's in Angel Street.”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” said Maddie.

“Strictly as guests - not as press,” said Jazz firmly.

“Yip,” said Mark. “Scout's honour.”

She gave them the address of Flamenco's. Then she raced over to her family, walloping various people with her bags and baggage and apologising profusely to all of them.

Martha got to her first but it felt like they were all hugging her at once. Jazz pulled Josie aside. “What's Michael doing here?” she demanded.