Melissa Nathan - Pride, Prejudice and Jasmine Field

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.

Josie grinned. “Well, he said he wanted to see you in the play as you were still officially a relative of his. Then when he came to pick me up and drop off the sitter, he told me that ever since he'd known about me and William he'd been feeling ill. It had made him realise how much he loved me and how near he'd been to losing me. So you can stop feeling guilty now, honey. It looks like you might have saved my marriage.”

Jazz couldn't believe her ears. She hugged Josie till it hurt. Michael came over to them.

“Hi sis,” he said, a little nervously.

“Come here, you,” she said and gave him a hug that was only slightly less painful.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“Me too,” she whispered back, grinning at Josie over his shoulder.

And then she spotted Harry walking over very slowly. He almost stopped when he saw her hugging Michael, but as soon as their eyes met, she let Michael go. Harry reached them and no one really knew what to do.

George did the introductions. Jazz suddenly felt very guilty, remembering with a stab of horror that the only thing she'd ever told her family about Harry was how rude and arrogant he was, and that he'd called her The Ugly Sister. She wished she'd had a chance to tell them all the latest development . . . then they'd know that it was only thanks to Harry Noble that their family name wasn't mud.

She cringed inwardly when she saw how muted her parents' greeting to him was. It was also very embarrassing to see how much in awe of him they were. He must get this all the time. It was as if they were a lower caste than him or something. No wonder he had become so arrogant. It must be impossible not to. He shook all their hands and then said to her parents, “You have very talented daughters.” Martha beamed majestically at him. “Are you all coming to the party?” he asked with a little cough.

Josie and Michael said yes, Martha and Jeffrey laughed at the very idea.

“Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you,” he said, and raised his eyebrows at Jazz. “See you at the party,” he said to her and wandered off.

Just when George, Josie and Michael were finally ready to go, Jazz suddenly remembered she'd left her make-up bag in her dressing room. While the others went to get the car, she hurtled back through the auditorium, picked it up and whizzed back. As she forced open the doors into the foyer, she saw an old woman sitting on an upright chair against the wall, waiting patiently for someone, her right hand resting on an imposing-looking gilt-edged cane. The woman looked at her and gave her a beautiful smile that lit up her entire face. She must have been a beauty in her day.

“Ravishing, my dear,” she said dramatically. “Simply ravishing.”

Jazz felt embarrassed.

“Thank you,” she smiled and kept on walking.

“I've seen some chemistry in my time, believe me,” the woman continued in a rich, mellow voice, her dark eyes sparkling, “and that was some chemistry.” Then she stopped smiling and looked intently at Jazz. “Never lose that spirit, girl,” she said. “Never lose that fire.”

The old face suddenly saddened, and her eyes looked distant. “But never let it control you,” she said softly, almost to herself.

Jazz's eyes drifted to a black and white still shot, framed and displayed above the woman's head. Olivier, playing Hamlet, was holding his Ophelia - a radiantly young Dame Alexandra Marmeduke. Jazz's body went cold as she realised that the same face was before her now, in living form.

The woman saw her look and nodded graciously, closing her tired eyes.

Exhilarated, Jazz mumbled something about being ever so grateful and ran out into the cold, night air.

Five minutes later, George was driving Jazz, Josie and Michael from the centre to the north of London where the nightclub was. The windows were open, the music was blaring and Jazz felt on top of the world. But she wished George would drive faster. Every time they got stuck in traffic, she wanted to hurl abuse at the other drivers.

After an eternity, they arrived at the club. It seemed they were the last there. Suddenly Jazz didn't feel so confident. At first she couldn't see anyone from the cast and went to the bar. Mark was standing there, waiting for a drink.

“Hiya,” shouted Jazz.

He smiled at her, bought her a beer and then motioned for her to move to the door. He wanted to talk to her. Oh no, she thought. He wasn't going to embarrass himself, was he? She realised he was a bit drunk.

“Listen, I'm sorry I've been a bit of a plonker for the past ...” he paused thoughtfully.

“Year?” said Jazz helpfully, then felt guilty when she saw how taken aback he was. He was obviously more sensitive than she'd thought. She assured him it was a joke.

“I've got a bit of a confession to make,” he said. Oh no - not here, not now. Not when she had to get to Harry.

“I've been hopelessly in love for a whole year,” he said. “It's been doing my head in.”

“Oh,” said Jazz.

“She just didn't know I existed,” he was going on. “Bloody IKEA excited her more than Yours bloody truly. It's been hell, Jazz, hell.” He didn't notice that Jazz was staring at him wide-eyed. He was too busy confessing.

“Anyway, I've decided. I'm going to tell her tonight.”

“Tell who?” asked Jazz.

“Maddie, of course. Maddie,” he said, imbuing the name with heartfelt emotion, as he watched her chat to someone.

Blimey, thought Jazz. She'd managed to miss that one completely. Had she ever got anything right at all?

“Perhaps you should slow down a bit,” she said, looking at the bottle in his hand.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Thanks, Jazz. You're a pal.” And he actually hugged her. As he did so, she caught Maddie's eye. Her boss stared back with a none too friendly expression and suddenly a year's worth of office politics clicked into place in Jazz's head. Maddie and Mark!

Thinking on her feet, Jazz guided Mark to the dance-floor where he started doing a movement not unlike an epileptic hoeing. She beckoned Josie to join them, introduced them to each other and left them to it. She had to tell Maddie her latest information. Fast.

As she made her way through the bodies on the dance-floor, she saw something that made her heart sink. Sara Hayes was dancing with Harry. They made a very handsome couple. Unlike any man she'd ever seen on a dance floor, Harry didn't dance like a gibbon. He didn't move much, but what he did move looked bloody sexy. Sara kept touching him. She looked amazing. She was wearing platform heels that made her almost the same height as Harry and a mini-skirt so short you could almost see her bottom. Her legs must have reached Jazz's shoulders. The chemistry between herself and Harry felt like years away. The Harry who had stood next to her backstage was so different from the one she was watching now. Jazz almost left the party there and then. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have ever thought that she was in the same league? How could she kill Sara without witnesses?

Someone thwacked her on the shoulder. It was Mo.

“Now that is too skinny,” she yelled in Jazz's ear. Damn, had she been that obvious? They started dancing together and Jazz managed to pretend to ignore that Harry was behind her. She loved dancing with Mo, though now her smile was forced and her usual easy movements came hard. Eventually, Mo started miming drinking a beer.

As they pushed their way to the bar, a woman who looked strangely familiar appeared in front of Jazz.