evil. And anyway, he’d already won his Oscar, so what possible motive could he have for damning Wills’ reputation?’
‘Jealousy? Small-mindedness? Arrogance? Haven’t you often said actors are the most petty people on earth?’
‘Not all of them,’ said George loyally. She and Jack were going out for a lunch ‘rehearsal’ the next day. Which meant she had to finish with Simon tonight. It was enough to stop her eating any birthday cake.
‘Face it, George,’ said Jazz. ‘Harry’s a supremely arrogant bastard and he’s done a fine actor out of a brilliant career.’
‘You don’t know that, Jazz.’
‘Yes I do, I heard it from the horse’s mouth,’ she said, taking another bite of her cake. ‘One with exceptional flanks.’
Mo walked over. She was the only person not eating any food.
‘Aren’t you eating, Mo?’ asked Jazz.
‘No thanks,’ she beamed. ‘I ate before I came.’
‘You’re looking fabulous,’ said George. Mo had lost a stone in just a month. Jazz seemed to be the only one who preferred her before.
‘Not as fabulous as this cake though,’ said Jazz, biting into the rich chocolate and mocha cake Josie had baked. Another of her weekly columns was forming in her head. Josie had had a successful high-flying career before she became a mother, now had a busy social life and, like most of her friends, bought convenience foods, but when it came to her child’s birthday cake, she was expected to make it from scratch. Ben was only two, but already Josie felt that a shop-bought cake would mean Mummy didn’t love him enough. Where do they pick up these things? she wondered. She looked over at her sister.
Josie was laughing politely at Great-Aunt Sylvia’s joke. You’d never guess Josie was pregnant again.
Jazz and George followed her into the kitchen with piles of dirty dishes. All the men were sitting in the lounge easing the uncomfortable feeling of having eaten too much, while the women were in the kitchen, tidying up from tea, trying to take their minds off not having eaten as much as they would have liked.
Jazz had long stopped complaining about the men not offering to help with all the work on these occasions. But it still enraged her that she knew her brother-in-law’s kitchen better than he did. She had served him meals in his own home ever since he and Josie had first married. Oddly enough, he had never served her in her home. The very idea seemed preposterous.
‘You OK?’ she asked Josie lightly, picking up a tea-towel, while Martha and George presided over the sink, talking loudly.
Josie just laughed bitterly as she stood on tiptoe and put all the crockery into the cupboards that were
built too high for her.
‘Come round for dinner one night,’ pleaded Jazz for the hundredth time. She’d stopped taking Josie’s rejections personally. ‘Without Ben or Michael. Like the good old days.’
‘I can’t. Ben won’t go to sleep unless I’m there and once he’s off, Michael wants his dinner and I’m too pooped to do anything.’ Josie said gently, ‘When will you realise the good old days don’t exist any more?’
Jazz felt blind fury at her stupid brother-in-law. She wanted to slap her sister and tell her to stop being so pathetic. Instead she just said, ‘Has Michael’s life changed at all since he’s become a father?’
Josie took this calmly. ‘Sometimes he gets up in the night,’ she said quietly. ‘And he’s very good at weekends. He’s knackered too, you know. He’s been working very hard since his promotion.’
Jazz looked at her kid sister and felt a wave of longing for the old Josie she knew and loved. She vowed for the trillionth time never to marry.
Mo joined them in the kitchen. She clapped her hands loudly and then rubbed them together.
‘Right, what can I do to help?’
‘Eat cake,’ shouted Jazz, and threw her a tea-towel.
‘Never again,’ Mo swore. ‘I feel wonderful.’
Martha turned round. ‘Mo? Is that you? I thought
‘Jealousy? Small-mindedness? Arrogance? Haven’t you often said actors are the most petty people on earth?’
‘Not all of them,’ said George loyally. She and Jack were going out for a lunch ‘rehearsal’ the next day. Which meant she had to finish with Simon tonight. It was enough to stop her eating any birthday cake.
‘Face it, George,’ said Jazz. ‘Harry’s a supremely arrogant bastard and he’s done a fine actor out of a brilliant career.’
‘You don’t know that, Jazz.’
‘Yes I do, I heard it from the horse’s mouth,’ she said, taking another bite of her cake. ‘One with exceptional flanks.’
Mo walked over. She was the only person not eating any food.
‘Aren’t you eating, Mo?’ asked Jazz.
‘No thanks,’ she beamed. ‘I ate before I came.’
‘You’re looking fabulous,’ said George. Mo had lost a stone in just a month. Jazz seemed to be the only one who preferred her before.
‘Not as fabulous as this cake though,’ said Jazz, biting into the rich chocolate and mocha cake Josie had baked. Another of her weekly columns was forming in her head. Josie had had a successful high-flying career before she became a mother, now had a busy social life and, like most of her friends, bought convenience foods, but when it came to her child’s birthday cake, she was expected to make it from scratch. Ben was only two, but already Josie felt that a shop-bought cake would mean Mummy didn’t love him enough. Where do they pick up these things? she wondered. She looked over at her sister.
Josie was laughing politely at Great-Aunt Sylvia’s joke. You’d never guess Josie was pregnant again.
Jazz and George followed her into the kitchen with piles of dirty dishes. All the men were sitting in the lounge easing the uncomfortable feeling of having eaten too much, while the women were in the kitchen, tidying up from tea, trying to take their minds off not having eaten as much as they would have liked.
Jazz had long stopped complaining about the men not offering to help with all the work on these occasions. But it still enraged her that she knew her brother-in-law’s kitchen better than he did. She had served him meals in his own home ever since he and Josie had first married. Oddly enough, he had never served her in her home. The very idea seemed preposterous.
‘You OK?’ she asked Josie lightly, picking up a tea-towel, while Martha and George presided over the sink, talking loudly.
Josie just laughed bitterly as she stood on tiptoe and put all the crockery into the cupboards that were
built too high for her.
‘Come round for dinner one night,’ pleaded Jazz for the hundredth time. She’d stopped taking Josie’s rejections personally. ‘Without Ben or Michael. Like the good old days.’
‘I can’t. Ben won’t go to sleep unless I’m there and once he’s off, Michael wants his dinner and I’m too pooped to do anything.’ Josie said gently, ‘When will you realise the good old days don’t exist any more?’
Jazz felt blind fury at her stupid brother-in-law. She wanted to slap her sister and tell her to stop being so pathetic. Instead she just said, ‘Has Michael’s life changed at all since he’s become a father?’
Josie took this calmly. ‘Sometimes he gets up in the night,’ she said quietly. ‘And he’s very good at weekends. He’s knackered too, you know. He’s been working very hard since his promotion.’
Jazz looked at her kid sister and felt a wave of longing for the old Josie she knew and loved. She vowed for the trillionth time never to marry.
Mo joined them in the kitchen. She clapped her hands loudly and then rubbed them together.
‘Right, what can I do to help?’
‘Eat cake,’ shouted Jazz, and threw her a tea-towel.
‘Never again,’ Mo swore. ‘I feel wonderful.’
Martha turned round. ‘Mo? Is that you? I thought
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