Page 39 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

‘But we’re mid-game,’ said the spiky-haired lad.

‘Sorry, Cosmic,’ she said and tottered out on her heels.

‘Cosmic?’ said Jo.

‘Nickname,’ said Ras. ‘His name’s Ray.’

He turned to the group. ‘Is this a good time for a tea break, perhaps? And some of Annie’s cakes?’

Annie’s cakes were like something you’d get at a fancy French patisserie: huge mille-feuilles oozing vanilla custard and tiny tarts filled with shining, glazed fruits.

‘These cakes are amazing,’ Jo said to Ras, as she tucked into her second tart.

‘Annie’s a pro,’ said Ras. ‘She works at the (Not So) Little Board Game Café in Essendale,but says Scrabble’s the only game she likes.’

Teacups drained and cake tin emptied, they resumed their games. In the end, the scores on Jo’s table were pretty close. Ras narrowly beat her with Florence coming in third place, and Mr B a few points behind her.

‘Would either of you like the score sheet?’ Jo said. ‘I can rip it out. Or I can leave it in there and we can write next week’s scores on the back.’

‘Save it for next week,’ said Florence. She stood up and went over to Sylvia,who was waiting near the door.

‘See you on Monday with my ankle, Doctor Ras,’ called Sylvia as they left. ‘Mind you’ve got that prescription pad ready.’

Cosmic appeared at their table.

‘Did you say you’re coming next week?’ he said to Jo.

‘Yeah, hopefully,’ she said.

‘Great. I was getting fed up of being called the new member. I’ve been coming for five months now.’

He headed towards the door, whistling atonally to himself.

When everyone had gone, Ras looked at Jo and said, ‘So you’re coming next week?’

‘I think so.’

He had a look on his face now that Gemma would have described as ‘pretty chuffed with himself’.

As they stacked the chairs and folded up the trestle tables, Jo couldn’t help wondering about what Florence had said. Think you might have found the perfect person for…

For what exactly? Jo had to know.

‘What was it Florence meant earlier?’ she said.

Ras looked blank.

‘When she said, “Think you might have found the perfect person.” The perfect person for what?’

‘Oh, that,’ he said. ‘Tell you what. I’ll explain over a drink.’

16

As Rasmus stacked the chairs away, as he did at the end of every Scrabble evening, he pondered on the strange coincidence that Jo of all people had turned up here.

Hebbleswick wasn’t a large town. It was the sort of town where everyone knew everyone else. Furthermore, Rasmus was the local GP so he, more than anyone, tended to meet most of the local residents. He’d always known that sooner or later, their paths were bound to cross. That was fine. He was hoping that it would be later.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. The opposite, in fact. He liked her a lot. There was something about her dating profile that had resonated with him, even though on the face of it, they had nothing at all in common. He normally didn’t go for adventurous women, not because he didn’t think he’d like them but because he was pretty sure they wouldn’t like him. If someone had written that their ambition was to climb Everest or they enjoyed skydiving, he scrolled on by. What was the point in doing otherwise? Rasmus wasn’t tall, dark or conventionally handsome. He didn’t have a particularly outgoing personality either; on a date, he couldn’t dazzle a woman with his charm and charisma. He couldn’t do comedy either. He enjoyed a laugh as much as the next person but telling jokes wasn’t his forte.