Free Acting Up by Melissa Nathan Page A
Authors: Melissa Nathan
room was dark and warm. The only sound was of everyone's breathing and Harry Noble's deep, mellow voice, which seemed to float through the heavy air. Jazz was aware that he could bring out different depths of his voice for different words. It was a language in itself.
'You're feeling sleepier and sleepier and sleepier,' he lulled. 'Your limbs are like lead and your head is floating on a cloud. You're in a garden. Somewhere in the distance you can hear a dog barking. You are sitting in your favourite part of the garden, enjoying the feel of the sun on your face.'
Despite herself, Jazz was relaxing – on a floral hammock wearing a matching summer dress.
'Now I'm going to go round asking you nice, simple questions that you must answer without a pause. Any pause and it will be ruined.'
Lying on the floor, Jazz started drifting off. Her Doc Martens made her feet so blissfully heavy, Harry's voice seemed to be inside her head.
'What's your first memory, Jasmin?'
Why did he always start with her?
She spoke quietly so as not to wake herself too much out of her trance. 'I'm not sure whether this is from my memory or from a snapshot I once saw,' she told him, keeping her breaths deep and slow. 'I'm in the garden shed in my pram and I'm crying because I want to come in.'
'You must have been very young.' Harry's voice was inside her head.
She half-smiled. 'About fifteen.'
Drowsy laughter went round the room.
There was a big sigh from Harry and then a very different voice. 'Ha Ha, Ms Field.'
'Yes, I must have been very young,' said Jazz quickly, realising she had spoilt the whole ambience.
His voice was now coming from her level. It was as if there were only the two of them in the room.
'What scares you most about dying?'
Bizarrely, Jazz felt a quick welling up of emotion.
'Not being able to talk about it afterwards.'
'Who to?'
Slight pause.
'You paused,' said Harry impatiently.
'I have to think. These are big questions.'
Harry hid a smile.
'Mo. George. Dad. Mum.'
'Did you have a happy childhood?'
Tiny pause.
'Most of the time.'
'What made you unhappy?'
How was this going to make her acting better?
'Is this really necess––'
'Yes,' said Harry wearily. 'If you can't be honest now, how can you be honest on stage?'
'I'm hardly being honest on stage – I'm reading a script. I hate to be the one to break it to you but I think the audience knows that.' It was so much easier arguing with him with her eyes shut.
She could almost feel him frowning at her, without having to see him. Isn't this emotionally naked enough, she thought? Lying with my eyes shut being watched by you while you ask me stupid questions?
There was a long pause. What was he doing?
She opened her eyes and fixed him with a questioning gaze. He was sitting next to her, elbow on knee, hand in hair, frowning intently at her face. She rested herself on her elbows and frowned intently back.
'Would it save time if I just sent you my autobiography?' she asked.
'I didn't know you'd written one,' he said.
'I haven't yet.' She lay down again.
She thought he'd gone and so started a slow, secret smile.
'Why are you so scared to let go?' he almost whispered from next to her. Then he jumped up and walked quickly to the other side of the room.
Wazzock, thought Jazz.
The truth was that no sooner had Harry told everyone that he had given himself his biggest challenge yet in casting an unattractive Lizzy Bennet than he began to realise that he had in fact made life very easy for himself. When he'd first set eyes on Jasmin Field, he had marvelled that her sister could have all the lucky genes while she had none. Then during her impressive audition piece he had realised that while Jasmin didn't have her sister's easy prettiness, she could be beautiful. Then at that first rehearsal, when she had proved to be such a concentrated pain in the backside, he had begun to notice just how well cast she was. Her face was indeed rendered uncommonly intelligent by
'You're feeling sleepier and sleepier and sleepier,' he lulled. 'Your limbs are like lead and your head is floating on a cloud. You're in a garden. Somewhere in the distance you can hear a dog barking. You are sitting in your favourite part of the garden, enjoying the feel of the sun on your face.'
Despite herself, Jazz was relaxing – on a floral hammock wearing a matching summer dress.
'Now I'm going to go round asking you nice, simple questions that you must answer without a pause. Any pause and it will be ruined.'
Lying on the floor, Jazz started drifting off. Her Doc Martens made her feet so blissfully heavy, Harry's voice seemed to be inside her head.
'What's your first memory, Jasmin?'
Why did he always start with her?
She spoke quietly so as not to wake herself too much out of her trance. 'I'm not sure whether this is from my memory or from a snapshot I once saw,' she told him, keeping her breaths deep and slow. 'I'm in the garden shed in my pram and I'm crying because I want to come in.'
'You must have been very young.' Harry's voice was inside her head.
She half-smiled. 'About fifteen.'
Drowsy laughter went round the room.
There was a big sigh from Harry and then a very different voice. 'Ha Ha, Ms Field.'
'Yes, I must have been very young,' said Jazz quickly, realising she had spoilt the whole ambience.
His voice was now coming from her level. It was as if there were only the two of them in the room.
'What scares you most about dying?'
Bizarrely, Jazz felt a quick welling up of emotion.
'Not being able to talk about it afterwards.'
'Who to?'
Slight pause.
'You paused,' said Harry impatiently.
'I have to think. These are big questions.'
Harry hid a smile.
'Mo. George. Dad. Mum.'
'Did you have a happy childhood?'
Tiny pause.
'Most of the time.'
'What made you unhappy?'
How was this going to make her acting better?
'Is this really necess––'
'Yes,' said Harry wearily. 'If you can't be honest now, how can you be honest on stage?'
'I'm hardly being honest on stage – I'm reading a script. I hate to be the one to break it to you but I think the audience knows that.' It was so much easier arguing with him with her eyes shut.
She could almost feel him frowning at her, without having to see him. Isn't this emotionally naked enough, she thought? Lying with my eyes shut being watched by you while you ask me stupid questions?
There was a long pause. What was he doing?
She opened her eyes and fixed him with a questioning gaze. He was sitting next to her, elbow on knee, hand in hair, frowning intently at her face. She rested herself on her elbows and frowned intently back.
'Would it save time if I just sent you my autobiography?' she asked.
'I didn't know you'd written one,' he said.
'I haven't yet.' She lay down again.
She thought he'd gone and so started a slow, secret smile.
'Why are you so scared to let go?' he almost whispered from next to her. Then he jumped up and walked quickly to the other side of the room.
Wazzock, thought Jazz.
The truth was that no sooner had Harry told everyone that he had given himself his biggest challenge yet in casting an unattractive Lizzy Bennet than he began to realise that he had in fact made life very easy for himself. When he'd first set eyes on Jasmin Field, he had marvelled that her sister could have all the lucky genes while she had none. Then during her impressive audition piece he had realised that while Jasmin didn't have her sister's easy prettiness, she could be beautiful. Then at that first rehearsal, when she had proved to be such a concentrated pain in the backside, he had begun to notice just how well cast she was. Her face was indeed rendered uncommonly intelligent by