Page 6 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

Neil. What was his relationship number? she wondered as she sat on the toilet, remembering Gemma’s numerology dating article. She recalled the chart showing the value of each letter and did a quick mental calculation.

4. His number was 4.

Incompatible.

Funny, she thought as she walked back to their table, his relationship number was the same as the number of points his name would score in Scrabble.

She sat down. Neil was polishing off churros con chocolate. An idea occurred to Jo as she watched him wiping chocolate and sugar from around his mouth with a napkin before gesturing to the waiter.

A crazy idea.

She almost dismissed it.

But then… well, it might be fun.

What if she only dated men whose names would score highly in Scrabble?

Of course, this new approach had no scientific basis whatsoever. Names weren’t even allowed in Scrabble. It was a completely random algorithm. She’d effectively be leaving it up to fate, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea given that selecting men on the basis of a combination of their looks, profile and messages hadn’t proved successful so far. Quite the opposite in fact.

Take Dan. She liked him – a lot – but she had to face it sooner or later; he wasn’t that into her. In fact, she’d probably never hear from him again. And what would his name score in Scrabble? Just 4 points. Pathetic.

Or Neil, her date tonight. Again, 4 points.

And as for her ex-husband?

Si – 2 points.

Only 2!

You couldn’t get a lower-scoring name.

The lowest score and the worst man she’d ever had the misfortune to be involved with.

Perhaps there was something in this Scrabble dating idea.

The waiter placed the bill on their table. Over ninety quid! Her pork and orange juice were less than twenty.

‘Fifty each should cover it,’ Neil said, ‘including a tip.’

Fifty quid? She didn’t mind paying her fair share – this was the twenty-first century, after all – but fifty quid?

‘I only had…’ she began, but the waiter arrived back at the table and thrust the card machine under their noses.

Neil entered his PIN and said, ‘She’ll pay the other half.’

As soon as the waiter had torn off her receipt, Neil announced that he didn’t want to see her again.

‘No chemistry,’ he said, rubbing his belly with both hands.

Dating someone with such a large appetite would bankrupt me anyway, Jo thought, as they left the restaurant.

They stood on the pavement for a moment before he said, ‘I guess this is it.’

‘Okay, goodnight,’ Jo said.

She turned to walk away but felt his hand on her arm. He pulled her back towards him and pressed his wet lips onto hers.

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