Melissa Nathan: Pride, Prejudice and Jasmine Field

Buggery bollocks, thought Jazz and went back inside.

She sat in the corner where Jack and George were holding hands and looking dewy-eyed at each other. Everyone was squashing up together and on a communal high. She even smiled at William and then cursed herself.

“Right,” said Harry, running his hand through his hair. His thick, dark, gorgeous hair, thought Jazz. “Well done, everyone. It wasn't as pacy as I would have liked - ”

There were calls of dismay.

“ - but that's OK. I don't think anyone would have noticed. They're a very appreciative audience and we're doing very well. I've just heard from my sources that the Stalwart's critic, Sam Gregson, is bloody impressed. And I'm not surprised, quite frankly. You're all stonkingly good. William - well retrieved with the cane, Margaret - it was perfectly in character that Mrs Bennet's bonnet would do that. You coped well and you didn't get flustered.”

Margaret beamed proudly.

“Jasmin, you need to pause a bit more. Beginners on stage in five.” And he was gone.

Jazz was crushed. She started breathing so quickly from her upper chest she thought she was going to fall out of her dress. Oh God, she was going to start crying.

No one had noticed and she tried desperately to get a grip on herself. He hated her. Or worse still, he thought she hadn't paused enough.

“Don't take it too seriously,” said a friendly voice. It was William. “I thought you were excellent.” He was looking at her without so much as a twinkle in his eye.

She smiled a genuine, grateful smile at him. “Thanks.”

He put his arm round her in a chummy way and she let him. Together they walked to the wings where they could see Harry on stage, watching all the props people, including Purple Glasses, place everything in its allotted space. Harry wasn't on stage again for ages. Purple Glasses was managing to do a job of very little effort with as much bustle as she could, lots of tutting and an exasperated look at Harry which meant, “My job is impossible and you actors don't make it any easier.”

“Thanks, Fi,” Harry whispered. “Don't know what we'd do without you.”

Purple Glasses blushed and came into the wings where she started officiously tidying the props desk. On catching sight of William and Jazz, she gave them both a look of withering scorn. Jazz wished William would take his arm off her shoulder now.

Harry followed Purple Glasses' glance and, on seeing William with Jazz, he instantly looked away again. Then he walked right past them without a word and disappeared round the back to the other side of the stage.

Jazz felt totally disloyal. How could she be seen to be friends with William after Harry had told her what he'd done to his sister? She felt awful. She had to talk to him. Maybe she could catch up with him. Just as she turned round, the lights dimmed, the music started and she and William walked on to the stage, where the rest of the cast joined them from the other side.

Jazz tried so desperately hard to focus her thoughts, but was unable to rid herself of an overwhelming sense of wretchedness. Worse still, every time she came off stage, Gilbert started following her. He was only in one scene in the second half and he was now determined to convince Jazz that they were still friends. He kept popping up beside her with some crass joke and a meaningful look, which she knew meant “Do you forgive me?” The more she tried to shake him off and find Harry, the more he clung to her.

She knew the only time she would have alone with Harry was in the wings just before his second proposal scene when Lizzy finally accepts him. She had to talk to him. And the only way she could get rid of Gilbert was to tell him she forgave him. She would have to lie to the shit, pretend that it was all OK again. With a monumental effort she turned round to him and interrupted him in a story about Dame Alexandra Marmeduke.

“Gilbert,” she said.

“Hmmm?” said Gilbert with a big smile.

“It's all right. I forgive you.” And she started walking towards the wings where she could see Harry waiting. She knew she only had a few minutes.

“Are you sure, Jasmin?” said Gilbert, speeding up beside her. “Because you don't know how much it means to me and Mo that you're still our friend. Josie's little . . . escapade will go with me to my grave. I promise.”

She stopped walking and clenched her fists. “I'm sure. I love you both. I have to go on stage now.”

She couldn't make out if Harry was facing them or had his back to them.

“I never wanted to write the feature,” gabbled Gilbert. “I was just desperate.”

“I know. It's OK. I have to go now.”

To her growing frustration, Gilbert started hugging her very slowly. She patted him twice on the back.

He started swaying. She tried to move away but he didn't loosen his grip. She could see Harry standing alone in the wings. She had to get to him. Gilbert let out a deep sigh and pulled away, holding her by the shoulders. “Mo and I love you very much,” he whispered.

“That's nice,” said Jazz and ran away.

She reached Harry's side, hoping Gilbert wasn't following her. Harry was standing with his arms folded, staring out at the actors on stage. Jack and George's physical proximity was horribly anachronistic, and Jazz knew Harry would be upset. He looked down at Jazz and then back at the stage.

“Yo, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered and then cringed inwardly. Yo Fitzwilliam ?

He smiled briefly. Jack and George were almost halfway through their scene. Once Mrs. Bennet went on, Jazz would have a matter of moments. She didn't know where to start.

“I — I just had a word with Mo,” she whispered loudly. Purple Glasses tutted behind her. There was a sign just above her head that said no speaking, smoking or smooching in the wings. Purple Glasses obviously saw it as her job to ensure the sign was adhered to. Hah! thought Jazz cruelly. If she couldn't get any fun, why should anyone else? Anyway, she thought huffily, her tut was much louder than my whisper.

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.