Page 101 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

‘What did you like about it?’

Damn. It was ages ago, and she hadn’t paid that much attention to his profile. Only his name, and the number of points that it scored. She might as well come clean.

‘Well, here’s the thing, Razz,’ she said. ‘You’ll love this, being a Scrabble fanatic. I kept choosing the wrong men, so I invented this little rule: I’d only date men whose names would score highly in Scrabble. It was a way of leaving it up to fate to decide, I suppose. But I kept getting guys called Neil and Dan. And then you came along.’

‘You only agreed to a date because my name was Razz?’

‘Actually, you said your name was…’

‘So if I’d been called… Ron or… Del, you wouldn’t have dated me.’

‘Well, no but…’

She’d been about to say that she wouldn’t date someone called Ron because could you imagine screaming Ron in a moment of passion? And Del sounded like something from an ’80s sitcom. ’90s medical dramas were one thing, but ’80s sitcoms? In her head, this all sounded funny, but judging by Razz’s face, this wasn’t the moment to be cracking jokes.

‘Razz, I…’

‘You went out with me because of my name. I went out with you because I liked you, and when I met you, I liked you even more. I wanted to make a good impression and I was gutted, absolutely gutted, when I couldn’t manage to go down that hole. And then afterwards, I was convinced I’d blown it with you. I was so embarrassed, Jo. No, more than that. I was ashamed. And that whole time, you were pretending. Putting on an act. Saying you liked adventurous activities when you didn’t. Deciding whether you liked me not because of my personality but by whether my name scored highly on a Scrabble board. Is dating some silly game to you, Jo? Because it isn’t for me. I was hoping to find someone I could share my life with.’

She’d never heard Razz make such a long speech, let alone such a passionate one. So much to take in. He’d liked her. Had wanted to make a good impression. Thought he’d blown it. She didn’t know quite where to begin. ‘But you said your name was…’

Her voice trailed off as Razz stood up and put two twenty-pound notes on the table.

Oh. He was leaving. About to make a dramatic exit unless she said something to stop him.

Only words failed her. Ironic for someone who loved words so much that when she needed them most, they didn’t come.

So Razz made his dramatic exit. Although it wasn’t actually that dramatic. He didn’t shout and throw his napkin on the table with an angry flourish, before strutting out, slamming the door behind him.

Not Razz. He’d practically tiptoed out: he pushed his chair neatly under the table, walked quietly towards the door, and held it open for an elderly couple who were coming in, before going out himself.

Gone. She thought. She had lost him. Again.

38

Jo sat by herself in the pizzeria for what was probably a couple of minutes, but it seemed like an age. She felt as if every pair of eyes were on her but when she glanced round, the other diners were all eating, chatting or playing board games and no-one appeared in the least bit bothered by Razz’s departure. She half-heartedly munched on a dough ball, but, even though nobody was paying her even the slightest bit of attention, she felt self-conscious sitting there on her own.

‘Is your friend coming back?’ said the waitress.

‘Er, no. I don’t think so. ’Fraid I’ve blown it with him. Can I have the bill please?’

‘Sure, I’ll fetch it.’

She stood up and put on her coat. She barely glanced at the bill when it arrived; the money Razz had left more than covered it, so she handed over the notes and mumbled, ‘Keep the change.’

She was halfway to the door when she thought about the pizzas. Heart-broken or not, she’d need to eat. It was a shame to leave two perfectly good pizzas to be thrown into the bin, along with eleven dough balls. Especially when her fridge was full of lentil bolognaise and overnight oats thanks to a recent attempt at following Kate’s nutritional advice. And let’s face it, when you needed comfort food, flax seeds and beluga beans didn’t cut it, whereas pizza…

She walked back to the waitress who was beginning to clear their table.

‘On second thoughts, could you box those please?’ Jo said. ‘Seems a pity to waste them.’

‘Sure.’

The waitress returned with three boxes, two square flat ones containing the pizzas, and a smaller one with the dough balls.

By the time Jo reached Hazel Lane, she’d lost her appetite. The house seemed even emptier than usual. She turned on the TV and flicked through the channels, settling on a film that had only just started. A rom-com. But she found her mind drifting off, replaying the evening’s events. Wondering if she couldn’t have handled things better, phrased things differently. Might there have been another outcome? Or were she and Razz destined not to be together? Was she doomed to stay single?

She turned off the TV. That left only two activities to help pass her Saturday evening. Eating. And WordPals.