Page 46 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

‘Quiet. Kind. I felt… I dunno… comfortable with him.’

‘And he likes Scrabble. You said he was at the club?’

‘He’s the organiser of the club.’

‘He sounds like he’s exactly what you need.’

‘How d’you make that out?’

‘Because he likes Scrabble and – now I know you won’t like me bringing him up – but Gaping Gill man sounds like the complete opposite of Si.’

Jo paused. ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘Don’t hang up,’ said Gemma. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned him. Tell me about the festival.’

‘Later. Tomorrow. The library’s only open till two on a Saturday.’

Gemma was right, Jo thought after she’d hung up.

That date with Ras… it was as if she’d asked the Universe to bring her a man who was the complete opposite of her ex-husband and the Universe had listened, just as Marge Simpson aka the Bouffant had promised it would.

And it had delivered Ras.

The two men couldn’t have been more different.

For one thing, with Si, there’d been instant attraction.

Jo was bowled over when she first met Si. He’d come into the solicitor’s offices where she worked, looking for legal advice: some boundary issue with a neighbour, she seemed to remember. She wouldn’t have thought that a man like him would look twice at a woman like her. Or even once.

And he didn’t just fancy her; he fell in love with her. It seemed too good to be true. (And in hindsight, it was.)

He flattered her, telling her within three weeks of meeting her that he thought he’d met The One.

‘Do you feel that too?’ he asked. ‘Please, Jo. Put me out of my misery. Tell me it’s mutual.’

If truth be told, Jo would have felt more comfortable if they’d taken things a wee bit slower. But she hadn’t liked to put the brakes on; he might have thought she wasn’t interested. She didn’t dare risk losing the best thing that had ever happened to her. So she’d smiled and said that yes, she felt the same and mumbled, ‘But let’s take things slowly. I want to savour every moment.’

He’d ignored her and proposed a few weeks later. A flash restaurant, an ostentatious solitaire. Jo had put her doubts aside, intoxicated by the feeling that someone wanted her this much. And not just any old someone but someone like Si: attractive, successful, confident.

For a while at least, all the gifts, the engagement ring on her finger and, a few months later, the lavish wedding had made her feel – for the first time in her life – that she was, to quote that shampoo advert, ‘worth it’.

But once they were married, it hadn’t taken long for things to change. Pretty soon, Si began to make Jo feel worthless.

19

Sunday morning. Jo’s phone pinged. Gemma.

Sorry if I upset you yesterday.

Don’t worry. I’m fine.

Tell me more about this festival you’re organising. Sounds like a mammoth task. But if anyone can do it, you can.

Jo smiled. Hebbleswick Library hadn’t had a single book about organising festivals, but it didn’t matter. She knew exactly what her first task should be: finding a venue. There were several conference-type hotels nearby that would be ideal – a large room for the Scrabble tournament and smaller rooms for casual games and the craft activity – but they were too expensive. And out of town. She knew Ras wanted the event to happen in Hebbleswick itself. That was the whole point: it was for the community.

I need to find a venue. And it needs one large space where the main tournament will happen and smaller rooms for other things. And preferably facilities for catering – we’ll have to serve tea and coffee at least.

Church hall?