Melissa Nathan - Pride, Prejudice and Jasmine Field

Fascinated though Jazz was by the conversation, she noticed Harry come over to the bar near where they stood and get himself a drink. Her palms started to sweat. Mo noticed too and without so much as a glance at Jazz, she rushed headlong on to the dance-floor. Jazz almost wished she hadn't gone. Almost.

Harry was standing just too far away for Jazz to be able to speak to him without moving, yet too near for her to pretend she hadn't seen him. He took long, slow gulps of his beer. Jazz watched his Adam's apple as he gulped. She'd never noticed before how masculine an Adam's apple was. She looked at it in the mirror behind the bar for a while and then realised he was watching her. She felt herself go crimson with embarrassment. She forced herself to smile at him. He tried to smile back while still drinking and beer dribbled down the side of his mouth.

“Nice!” mouthed Jazz at him in the mirror. His shoulders started shaking with laughter and he wiped his face with his hand. He looked so much nicer when he smiled.

She picked a napkin off the counter and handed it to him. She was now standing next to him. “Still a bit of work to do on the old hand-to-mouth co-ordination, eh?” she asked with a grin.

He laughed again. “And I thought I'd just got that sorted,” he said, using the napkin.

He ran his hand through his hair and coughed. Jazz's insides tried valiantly to steady themselves. She just stood there, leaning against the bar, looking up at him. How long did she have before Bambi-legs appeared by his side? She'd better get her apologies out as fast as possible.

“Listen,” she started, “I'm really sorry my family weren't very warm to you.”

“You can stop saying sorry any time now,” he said.

“No, I mean it. I must explain. You see, they have no idea how much they owe you. The only thing they know about you is that you once called me The Ugly Sister. Naturally, they feel protective.”

Harry looked at her blankly. "When did I call you that?”

“At the audition.” She looked a bit sheepish. “I was standing outside. I overheard you.”

Harry clapped his hand to his head. “Jesus, no wonder you acted like I'd raped your mother.”

“Well, something like that, yes,” said Jazz, recoiling from the image. Had she been that bad? Was she really as terrifying as Mo had said? She'd had no idea. Perhaps Mo was right. Perhaps Mo should have the column instead of her. It was becoming more and more obvious to her that whereas she thought she knew everything about people, she did in fact know less than nothing.

Harry leant his elbow on the bar, turned to face her and tried not to make too much fuss of sitting down on the stool behind him. It lowered him enough to make their faces almost level. Smooth, thought Jazz, and started playing with the napkin that was now lying between them.

With a look of intense concentration, Harry started speaking.

“I'm sorry I called you an unknown hack,” he said very slowly. “It was a stupid, insensitive, arrogant thing to say. Will you ever forgive me for being a prize dickhead?”

“Of the highest order,” completed Jazz.

“Of the highest order,” he repeated obediently.

“Well,” she said, heaving her shoulders. “On one condition.”

“Hmm?” He tried not to smile. He failed.

“You forgive me for all the horrendous things I said to you that night.”

“I deserved every single one.”

“No, you didn't!”

“I did. You were absolutely right - I was an obnoxious prat. I deserved all of it. Although perhaps the shoving part was a bit hard. I still have a bruise.”

They grinned briefly at each other then both seemed suddenly fascinated by their footwear. Jazz was about to thank him for saving her career when he started talking.

“You see, even when I was a little boy, my parents were already famous. We'd get stopped in the street by people asking for their autographs,” he said gravely. “You can't help but think you're superior, and in all honesty, my parents loved the adoration they got and never taught me how to keep it in perspective. I suppose they never really got anything else out of acting — certainly not any money - so they saw it as their payment.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Then at drama college, I was treated like a star in the making, by teachers and students, and that did my head in. And if that wasn't enough, the media then put me on a pedestal. By the time I got to Hollywood I didn't stand a chance.”

Jazz was nodding. It was a miracle he remembered how to talk to normal people at all.

He kept going.

“I'm not trying to make excuses - well, I suppose I am - look, all I'm trying to say is,” he paused and looked at her intently. “I had totally lost my perspective. Until I met you.”

Jazz's body went hot. She stared at the napkin. It was white and square.

“And you taught me in no uncertain terms that I would have to earn your friendship. Jazz, this may sound big-headed, but I can honestly say that no one has done that for years. That's why I try to only mix with people I really know well, like Matt, my sister Carrie, and Jack. Anyone else I have always treated with downright suspicion and contempt. Which I'm bloody ashamed of now.”

“What about Sara?” said Jazz.

Harry grinned foolishly. “Ah, Sara,” he nodded. “Or Pinprick as I call her.”

Jazz tried not to grin too widely. Life just got better and better.

“The fact is, you've given me back my faith in human nature,” he went on. “I really enjoyed directing the play, once I started treating everyone as individuals and not just as hangers on. I came to realise that the more you treat people like equals, the less they expect of you, so you can be more fallible — and the more confident they are in themselves, so the more interesting they are. It's so simple really. And,” he gave her a minuscule bow with his head, “it's all down to you.”

“And all because you called me ugly. Aren't I something?” Jazz smiled.

“No, it's not just because of that. It's because I was such a complete and utter idiot. And I'm truly sorry. You'll probably never know how sorry.”

“Oh, I think I will,” she said, thinking of how crap she'd been feeling for the past month. “I've learned a lot recently, too,” she told him.

Harry looked at her keenly.

She gave out a long, loud sigh. “I've spent my life judging everyone. That's a far worse crime than just ignoring them, as you did. You may not have liked people much but you didn't constantly criticise them, as I did. And what's more, I've learned that I'm very often wrong in my judgements, too.” She paused. “I was wrong about you.”

Harry shook his head. “No, there you were right. And it's entirely down to what you said to me that we're even having this conversation. What did you call me? "Repulsively arrogant and self-obsessed . . ."”

“Oh no, don't,” cringed Jazz. “I'm so sorry.”

“Please don't be sorry,” he said, giving her an eloquent look. “I'm not.”

They were both static, staring at each other, for what seemed like a couple of light years. OK, now this is getting embarrassing, thought Jazz.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. “By the way,” she asked quickly, looking briefly away from him while inching nearer. “How come Jack has suddenly decided that focus is one thing but George is quite another?”

Harry smiled. “Well,” he inched closer. “I - I sort of - reminded him that work is work but love is love,” he said. “And I've never heard him talk about anyone the way he talks about George. She is definitely The One for him.”

Jazz just raised her eyebrows at him, amazed and rather concerned at how easily influenced Jack could be by Harry.