Pride, Prejudice and Jasmine Field

Chapter 28

“So when did you realise just how tasty I really was?” asked Jazz, stretching out, making herself comfortable.

Harry smiled at the memory and leant up on the pillow, his head resting in his hand. He put his other arm round her bare waist.

“I don't know,” he prevaricated.

“I do,” grinned Jazz. “It was when I was so rude to you all the time. You like a challenge. Otherwise you wouldn't be such a stunningly successful actor.”

He looked into her eyes and kissed her gently on her forehead. She had never noticed that it was an erogenous zone before.

“It wasn't just because of that,” he said. “It was also your — your . . .” He thought hard, picturing her at rehearsals. Her eyes, her smile, her strength, her vulnerability, her humour, her gravity, her passion, her indifference, her . . . her. Her.

“I think I realised just how tasty you were moments before I realised I was in love with you,” he said as calmly as he could. Could she tell he was trembling?

Jazz was too moved to ask when, exactly, that was. She'd ask another time. She was too busy adding earlobe, neck, collarbone and shoulder to forehead in a new list she was compiling.

Harry had turned out to be a whizz at cooking. Which made up for his complete lack of ability at DIY. “It's all right,” Jazz had said. “We can get a man in.” But it meant that Sunday brunches were a gas.

“Do you need any help in the kitchen?” called Mark from the patio. Mark probably wouldn't have asked anyone else, but seeing as it was Harry Noble, he didn't mind. Kitchens were strictly out of bounds for him, usually. Luckily Maddie loved to cook. Anyway, Jack and Harry were enjoying themselves too much in there together to need any help.

“No thanks, just help yourself to wine,” shouted Harry back.

Maddie, George, Jazz, Mark, Carrie and Matt did as they were told, and enjoyed the last of the summer sun as it nudged behind the growing conifers.

It was perfect. It might have been even more perfect if Mo had been there, thought Jazz, but there was no way she was inviting Gilbert Valentine into their home. She saw less of Mo these days, especially now little Tarquin Valentine was on the scene, but she had finally realised that there had to be a price for happiness, and the loss of Mo was her price. And such a realisation had helped to make that loss more bearable.