Page 32 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

For a second, Jo wondered if the two men were right. Perhaps she had a low sex drive. Had she led Tarquin on?

No, she decided. She’d agreed to a date, not a shag. ‘You could have been honest,’ she said. ‘If casual sex was what you wanted, you could have said that.’

He turned to look at her. ‘Jo.’

‘Yes?’ she said, wondering if he was about to do the decent thing and apologise.

‘I can smell burning.’ he said. He clicked his key fob and his car chirruped back from further down Hazel Lane.

Jo watched him walk away, then channelled all her anger, all her frustration into one almighty shove against the front door, closing it with a bang that seemed to shake the entire row of terraces. She put the chain across. He was right; there was a burning smell. She went back into the kitchen, opened the oven door and removed the blackened remains of the cinnamon bread.

She opened the window to let the smoke out of the tiny kitchen and scraped the charred mess into the bin. The ducks could have had that bread. They’d missed out for what? Because she’d been stupid enough to believe that the scent of cinnamon might make a guy like Tarquin fall in love with her. He had only ever been after one thing: to get her into bed.

All that spiel about wanting a serious relationship – that had just been a line. No, make that a lie.

Gemma had warned her about men like him; at least two articles on the subject had pinged into Jo’s inbox when she’d first announced she was signing up to Buzzz. She should have paid more attention.

At least he had stopped. She shuddered; it could so easily have turned out differently. But it had taken the threat of screaming; he hadn’t taken ‘no’ for an answer. Still, she was used to that; Si had never taken ‘no’ for an answer either.

She sat down on the stained sofa. Her legs were still shaking but her heart rate was beginning to return to normal. Perhaps she wasn’t ready. Yes, it had been years since she’d split up from Si, but one incident like this brought it all back to her, as if it had happened yesterday.

How could you know? How could you know when you met someone on a dating app or at speed-dating whether they were a decent guy or whether they’d turn out to be a Si or a Tarquin? That was the trouble; she just couldn’t tell.

She wiped her damp cheeks on her sleeve. Tarquin hadn’t wanted a relationship with her; he had wanted her for sex. Ras hadn’t wanted her at all. Nor ¡Tapas! ¡Tapas! man nor Dan before him, come to think of it.

Men made her feel bad about herself.

No, make that people. Other people made her feel bad about herself, she thought, and the unwelcome image of Leona came into her mind.

(Okay, not everyone. Gemma didn’t. Nor Kate. Although she did sometimes feel a little inferior looking at how immaculately groomed her new friend was.)

She couldn’t avoid people altogether, appealing though that thought was at this moment in time, but she could give up dating.

Yes, that was what she’d do. She’d give up dating. She’d give up men.

Unless the Universe gave her a sign – and it had to be a big one and not something that could be explained away as a mere coincidence – that a man was right for her, then Jo Knox was going to stay single.

14

The first person to learn of Jo’s decision was Mona.

‘I’ve given up dating.’

Mona looked decidedly unimpressed.

‘Well, I was never going to find anyone, was I? You know that. I know that. I was kidding myself. Signing up to Buzzz. Agreeing to be Kate’s wingman. It was never going to work.’

For all she yearned for company, Jo relished the mornings when she was first to arrive at work. When she could make a mug of coffee before anyone else arrived, check her emails and chat to Mona, before the open-plan office filled with the chatter of Leona regaling the others with the fantastic night out she’d had the previous evening and David marching down the corridor talking loudly on his mobile, as he invariably did.

‘So yeah, I’ve given up dating.’

Mona stared at her phone.

‘Rude,’ said Jo. ‘Plain rude. Looking at a mobile when someone is talking to you. I might start talking to them instead.’

She gestured at the other two canvases. Maybe the anguished figure in The Scream would be a better listener than Mona. Jo could identify with him. Perhaps he was screaming with frustration after another bad date from Tinder or being ghosted by someone on Buzzz.

The second person to learn of Jo’s decision was Gemma.