Acting Up by Melissa Nathan

Kitty?' he asked instead.
    Kitty looked at the script as though if she looked hard enough the words would appear. She was so terrified of saying the wrong thing that she said nothing at all.
    'Does anyone know?' said Harry painfully.
    Jazz knew she might as well answer before he asked her anyway. 'She means "It's nearly midnight, you'd better let us go home now if you want us to ever come to another rehearsal".'
    Harry looked at his watch.
    'Jesus! Yes, of course,' he said quietly, as if only addressing himself. It apparently didn't matter to him that other people might find it late, only that it was late for him. He rubbed his eyes. 'Right then,' he clapped his hands. 'See you all Wednesday. Good work.' And he picked up his coat and walked out. He didn't even notice Purple Glasses who had been waiting for them all to leave so she could lock up.
    Jazz and George dawdled getting on their coats and chatted outside the church door.
    'That was absolutely knackering,' yawned Jazz.
    'I know, he's brilliant.'
    'Is he? Wills doesn't think so.'
    'Wills?'
    'William Whitby. He's playing Wickham.'
    'Oh him. Well, he's not an Oscar-winner, is he?'
    'No, but he's got a very nice arse.'
    'Oh, and Harry hasn't, I suppose?'
    'No, Harry has. There's no denying that. It's just one of my principles not to get involved with a man who talks out of it.'
    'Want a lift home?'
    'No, I need the fresh air, I'm completely shagged.'
    'Well, phone me when you get home then.'
    'Yes, Mum.'
    * * * * *
    The night air was deliciously fresh. Jazz loved being up when most people weren't – it was the closest she felt to nature, especially in West Hampstead.
    'Want a lift?'
    She looked over to the car at the end of the road. It was a clapped-out old MG with its roof down and Harry sitting in it. Despite the appealing picture, Jazz felt no urge to go any nearer. How long had he been sitting there? Had he heard anything they'd said? Did he think she needed a pep-talk already?
    'No, thanks. I need the air.'
    'You never know what's out there,' he said gravely. 'Could be dangerous.'
    'No less dangerous than getting into the car of a strange man, I shouldn't wonder.'
    'You think I'm strange, do you, Ms Field?'
    Jazz mulled this over. 'Well, put it this way,' she said. 'I'm still making you out, Mr Noble.'
    'Well, have a lift,' he said with a touch of impatience, leaning across to the passenger door and opening it wide, 'and you'll get some extra material for your work.'
    She managed a smile. 'I think I've done enough work for today, don't you?'
    Instead of answering the question, Harry simply said, rather dramatically Jazz thought, 'I won't bite, Ms Field,' as he started to put his key in the ignition.
    Jazz walked up to him slowly.
    'Look, since you like honesty without any pauses, here goes. I would prefer to walk through the midnight streets of West Hampstead on my own than have a lift in your car.' She shut the car door and smiled at him. 'Thanks all the same.'
    And she strolled into the sweet night air.

9
    Sara had arranged to meet her brother for lunch in an exquisitely smart, bijou Hampstead restaurant that was sufficiently off the beaten track to be exclusive. Jack never said no to meeting her – he hated her guilt-trips – and she had overheard that he and Harry had planned to get together that afternoon. She knew that Jack would turn up with Harry, which was why she'd chosen this restaurant. Anywhere else and the afternoon would have been spoilt by people stopping to ask Harry for his autograph. They did it everywhere, even in Hampstead, where they really should know better. But in this restaurant, the waiters were even more condescending than their many visiting celebrities, and no one would ever lower themselves to ask for autographs. Even from Harry Noble. Naturally Maxine had been invited as well and Charles would, of course, be paying.
    'And how fares our Ugly Sister?' asked Sara, as they were all being given their menus.
    Harry scanned the hors