bit of
her anatomy as if she were a pig up for auction. ‘But certainly not enough to tempt the likes of me.’
Jazz looked back at him, furious, humiliated. She found herself thinking ‘Thank Christ for that.’
Staring at Jazz’s expression of disgust for perhaps a little bit longer than was necessary, Harry dropped
the act.
‘Perfect, Jasmin,’ he said quietly. ‘Perfect.’
Jazz stared him out. ‘I wasn’t acting,’ she replied, just as quietly, and turned her face away.
For a moment Harry didn’t seem to know what to say. ‘Well, you should have been,’ he said finally.
‘This isn’t a free show,’ and he slowly walked back to his place.
Once there, he clapped his hands loudly, making everyone jump. ‘Now try again man, and don’t waste any more of my time.’
Brian stood up slowly, looking as happy as if he was about to be burnt at the stake.
His performance was no better but Harry didn’t seem to mind as much this time. In fact, he didn’t even seem to be watching this time. He called a break immediately afterwards.
Wills, it turned out, had forgotten to bring any food or coffee, and Jazz was only too happy to share
some of her flasked coffee with him and a precious Hobnob or two. That’s how much I like him, she thought to herself.
Harry was sitting in solitary splendour, as ever, one hand through ruffled hair, a pencil in the other, eyes in the distance. The director never lowered himself to actually mix with his cast. Only Sara and Jack Hayes, Matt and sometimes Purple Glasses (who always carried her clipboard and spoke too loudly at him in a failed attempt to cover her nerves) went up and talked to him, and Jazz was convinced that a silent fame hierarchy was at work. There was no one there on the same level of fame as Harry, so he couldn’t be seen to make the first move and talk to anyone. Jazz wondered briefly if he ever got lonely.
Just now, Sara was approaching him. Jazz and Wills loved to eavesdrop on this daily exchange while they pretended to do the crossword together - it was a ritual that happened every time Harry sat down. This afternoon it was particularly interesting.
It started as usual with Sara smiling at Harry with what she thought was her prettiest, most innocent-looking smile.
Harry raised his chin to show he was all ears.
Sara then sighed a very loud, girlish sigh, sat down next to him and asked him how it was all going.
‘Fine,’ Harry told her. Then: ‘How can I help?’
Wills and Jazz both smirked at his curt reply, their eyes focusing on the Down clues.
‘Well actually,’ said Sara, as if it was painful to bring up the subject, ‘since you ask, I wouldn’t mind your professional opinion.’ Then she lowered her voice as if it was all very sensitive. Jazz and Wills had to really concentrate hard to catch this. ‘Between you and me, I’m finding it rather hard in the scene with - with — oh, whatshername?’
‘Jasmin.’
Sara tinkled a laugh. ‘Yes, that’s right - Jasmin. How did you guess? Oh dear,’ she laughed, ‘I’ll never remember that funny name.’
Harry said nothing and she was forced to keep going.
‘I’m just finding that I can’t get enough emotion in my reactions to her and I think it might be because
…’ Sara fought hard to find the right words ‘… there isn’t enough emotion coming from her.’
Wills’ shoulders were beginning to shake. Jazz grinned, but couldn’t help feeling angered and hurt by Sara’s cunning performance that would have made even Miss Bingley proud.
Harry still said nothing.
‘I know she’s your protegee, Mr. Noble, and I don’t want…’
‘We’ll work on the emotion again after the break,’ said Harry. ‘Maybe I need to have a rehearsal with Jasmin alone. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.’
And with that, he started to pore over the script, leaving Sara no option but to leave him alone, wishing she hadn’t said anything. Wills pretended that Jazz had said
her anatomy as if she were a pig up for auction. ‘But certainly not enough to tempt the likes of me.’
Jazz looked back at him, furious, humiliated. She found herself thinking ‘Thank Christ for that.’
Staring at Jazz’s expression of disgust for perhaps a little bit longer than was necessary, Harry dropped
the act.
‘Perfect, Jasmin,’ he said quietly. ‘Perfect.’
Jazz stared him out. ‘I wasn’t acting,’ she replied, just as quietly, and turned her face away.
For a moment Harry didn’t seem to know what to say. ‘Well, you should have been,’ he said finally.
‘This isn’t a free show,’ and he slowly walked back to his place.
Once there, he clapped his hands loudly, making everyone jump. ‘Now try again man, and don’t waste any more of my time.’
Brian stood up slowly, looking as happy as if he was about to be burnt at the stake.
His performance was no better but Harry didn’t seem to mind as much this time. In fact, he didn’t even seem to be watching this time. He called a break immediately afterwards.
Wills, it turned out, had forgotten to bring any food or coffee, and Jazz was only too happy to share
some of her flasked coffee with him and a precious Hobnob or two. That’s how much I like him, she thought to herself.
Harry was sitting in solitary splendour, as ever, one hand through ruffled hair, a pencil in the other, eyes in the distance. The director never lowered himself to actually mix with his cast. Only Sara and Jack Hayes, Matt and sometimes Purple Glasses (who always carried her clipboard and spoke too loudly at him in a failed attempt to cover her nerves) went up and talked to him, and Jazz was convinced that a silent fame hierarchy was at work. There was no one there on the same level of fame as Harry, so he couldn’t be seen to make the first move and talk to anyone. Jazz wondered briefly if he ever got lonely.
Just now, Sara was approaching him. Jazz and Wills loved to eavesdrop on this daily exchange while they pretended to do the crossword together - it was a ritual that happened every time Harry sat down. This afternoon it was particularly interesting.
It started as usual with Sara smiling at Harry with what she thought was her prettiest, most innocent-looking smile.
Harry raised his chin to show he was all ears.
Sara then sighed a very loud, girlish sigh, sat down next to him and asked him how it was all going.
‘Fine,’ Harry told her. Then: ‘How can I help?’
Wills and Jazz both smirked at his curt reply, their eyes focusing on the Down clues.
‘Well actually,’ said Sara, as if it was painful to bring up the subject, ‘since you ask, I wouldn’t mind your professional opinion.’ Then she lowered her voice as if it was all very sensitive. Jazz and Wills had to really concentrate hard to catch this. ‘Between you and me, I’m finding it rather hard in the scene with - with — oh, whatshername?’
‘Jasmin.’
Sara tinkled a laugh. ‘Yes, that’s right - Jasmin. How did you guess? Oh dear,’ she laughed, ‘I’ll never remember that funny name.’
Harry said nothing and she was forced to keep going.
‘I’m just finding that I can’t get enough emotion in my reactions to her and I think it might be because
…’ Sara fought hard to find the right words ‘… there isn’t enough emotion coming from her.’
Wills’ shoulders were beginning to shake. Jazz grinned, but couldn’t help feeling angered and hurt by Sara’s cunning performance that would have made even Miss Bingley proud.
Harry still said nothing.
‘I know she’s your protegee, Mr. Noble, and I don’t want…’
‘We’ll work on the emotion again after the break,’ said Harry. ‘Maybe I need to have a rehearsal with Jasmin alone. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.’
And with that, he started to pore over the script, leaving Sara no option but to leave him alone, wishing she hadn’t said anything. Wills pretended that Jazz had said
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