Page 116 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

‘One of them maybe. But she was a bit too… austere. It’d be good to have someone I can get on with at the end of the day. Someone with ideas too. A bit of creativity.’

He was staring at her now. Looking into her eyes. Oh, God. He didn’t fancy her, did he? Was this why he’d asked her for a drink? But he was married, wasn’t he? She’d seen his little daughter.

‘Jo, I don’t suppose…’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Definitely not.’

‘You haven’t heard what I was going to say.’

‘I don’t have affairs with married men. Call me old-fashioned, but that’s how I am. And besides, I’m in love with someone else.’

‘I’m not asking you to have an affair,’ he said. ‘I’m offering you a job.’

Jo nearly fell off the bar stool. Her face grew hot and she rooted in her bag, pretending to look for a tissue in an attempt to conceal her embarrassment.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she mumbled, still looking in her bag. ‘I just assumed… but it doesn’t matter. You said a job?’

‘The role of school manager. I’d still have to advertise, of course. And you’d have to apply.’

A new job? Landing in her lap like that when it was only a few hours since she’d realised that she wanted to move on from Pop! Productions?

Coincidences like that didn’t really happen, did they?

Jo thought back to the Your Best Life talk where she’d first met Kate; perhaps the woman with the Marge Simpson hair had been right after all. Perhaps the Universe was listening.

But work in a school? A few months ago, that would have been unthinkable. She had promised herself that she’d never set foot in a school again after all the teasing – bullying – she’d endured, let alone work in one – schools brought back too many bad memories – but Hebbleswick Scrabble Festival had changed all that.

‘I’ve no experience of working in a school,’ she said.

‘That wouldn’t matter. I’ve seen how organised you are.’

He took a sip of his drink. Whisky, she thought, 19 points. Though it could have been brandy.

‘Ignore me, I’m being silly,’ he said. ‘It’s the drink talking. You wouldn’t want to give up your fancy job in Manchester for a little primary school in Hebbleswick. You work in TV, don’t you? Must be glamorous.’

‘It isn’t glamorous at all. I sit in an office. And as it happens, I am looking to move on to pastures new. But there’d be a condition.’

‘Go on.’

‘Could we use the hall for our Scrabble club on Friday evenings? I mean, if I was an employee and I guaranteed that I’d stay till the end every single week, that’d cover things with the insurance, wouldn’t it?’

‘I think we could arrange that. Why don’t you come and spend a morning with us? Find out a bit more about what the job entails.’

‘Sure, I’ve still got some leave to take.’

Jo reached into her handbag and pulled out her Filofax.

‘How about… next Monday?’ she said. ‘I’ll have to square it with my boss but it should be okay.’

And would get her out of attending the team meeting, she thought.

‘Sounds perfect.’

As Jo scribbled a note to remind her to ask David about taking the time off, something fell out of the back of her Filofax. Mr Morgan jumped off his bar stool and retrieved it from the floor, handing it to her.

It was the white envelope with the poppies in the corner.

The letter that the mystery woman had given to Razz, asking him to pass it on. She must have been carrying it round since their visit to Garlic ‘n’ Games but had forgotten all about it after Razz had ‘stormed’ out.