Page 42 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

‘Or a people person.’

‘I’m sure you…’

‘Or a natural born leader. Besides, I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘I have every confidence in you. I’m sure you could do it.’

I have every confidence in you.

David had said that once. Back before she’d lost that spreadsheet.

It was a good feeling, having someone believe in you.

And organising an event for the Scrabble club would ensure she felt like a real part of the group, rather than being the ‘new member’. She didn’t fancy bearing that title for the next five months like Cosmic Ray had.

Not to mention the fact that it would give her something to do with her time now she’d given up dating.

And would distract her from thinking about what a complete mess her life was.

‘Okay, I’ll do it,’ she said.

Ras’s face lit up with a huge smile. ‘Honestly?’

‘Yeah, it might be fun.’ She took out her Filofax and turned to a blank page. ‘First things first. What’s going to happen at this event?’

He took a sip of his drink. ‘We play Scrabble.’

‘You already do that,’ she said, ‘on Friday nights. How will this be any different?’

‘I thought if we did something on a Saturday afternoon, families might come along. We could put up some flyers.’

‘But you said you wanted to do more than put up a few flyers?’

‘We could offer Junior Scrabble perhaps, as well as the adult game.’

This was disappointing. If it was going to distract her from her failed love life and all the nonsense going on at work, the Scrabble event needed to be big, not a pimped-up version of what he was already doing. It needed to be something that would give her something to sink her teeth into. Something that would need so much organising that it’d fill all the hours she used to spend scrutinising men’s profiles on Buzzz. Something that would occupy her mind and stop her dwelling on the fact that she was a complete failure when it came to relationships and was doomed to be single forever.

Putting up a few flyers to attract more people wasn’t going to do that.

Jo fiddled with her Filofax, absentmindedly clicking the metal rings open, then clicking them shut again. ‘If all you want to do is hold an afternoon of Scrabble in the church hall on a Saturday, I’m not sure why you need me. I thought you wanted to do something a bit more ambitious.’

‘I definitely need you,’ he said, and his eyes met hers.

‘Let’s think big. Think outside the box.’

‘I know. We’ll have a brainstorm.’

‘You can’t say brainstorm. It’s not PC. It’s offensive to people with epilepsy. We say “thought shower” at work.’

Ras harrumphed. ‘An epileptic fit is nothing like a storm. It’s the opposite of a storm. In a storm, everything happens chaotically, whereas it’s the synchronous firing of neurons that causes an epileptic episode.’

‘Okay, Doctor, enough science. Let’s jot down our ideas.’

She wrote Scrabble Event at the top of a blank page, and looked at him expectantly, her pen poised.

‘We… play Scrabble,’ he said.

Was it her imagination or were his eyes twinkling at her? The last thing she needed when she had resolved to give up dating was twinkling eyes.