Page 64 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

Ras frowned slightly – Jo could have kicked Gemma – but then he smiled and said, ‘Nice to meet you,’ and Jo watched as her oldest friend shook the hand of her newest.

‘I’m sure that knowing you, Jo,’ said Gemma, ‘everything will already be organised, but is there anything I can do? When does it all start?’

‘Less than an hour to go,’ said Ras. ‘And my car boot’s full of Scrabble boxes.’

‘Then what are we waiting for?’ said Gem.

Somehow the sight of all the Scrabble boxes in Ras’s boot made the whole thing real. They were doing this. Actually doing this. All those plans that she’d spent weeks making in her Filofax were about to become reality. Ras must have been thinking along similar lines because he put an arm round her and gave her a squeeze. ‘I can’t believe it, Jo. It’s actually going to happen.’

‘Aye, aye,’ said Gemma, when Ras had disappeared into the school hall with an armful of boxes. ‘He seems touchy-feely.’

‘We’re just friends, Gem.’

‘And the rest.’

Jo shook her head. ‘I said I’d stay single, unless the Universe gave me a sign…’

‘Do you need a sign to know that he’s right for you? There’s chemistry, Jo. And you share a hobby. You could try trusting your instincts.’

‘My instincts? I don’t have good instincts when it comes to men. You know that, Gem. Anyway, let’s forget about romance. I’ve a festival to run.’

The next hour was frantic. The school hall – the main venue for the festival – was used by the after-school club until five o’clock so could only be set up then. Jo, Ras and Gemma began putting up tables. The spring mechanisms on the legs of the school’s large fold-up tables were so vicious that Jo came close to losing a finger on one or two occasions. Mr Morgan, nobly assisted by one of the PTA mums – who, judging by the way she laughed at everything he said, seemed to have a bit of a crush on him – put up the letter tile bunting all around the walls. Jo had been worried about the bunting: the cheap cream curtain lining fabric cut into rectangles, with the letters drawn on with black marker pen, had seemed rather crude. But now it was hanging up, each rectangle did look like a Scrabble tile; she had to admit the whole thing was rather effective.

Sal was busy filling helium balloons in loads of bright colours with Mrs Woods, the Year 4 teacher who happened to love anything arty-crafty, standing beside her drawing letter tiles on each one with another black marker. There were already two bouquets of them in the far corners of the hall. The splash of colour gave the place a touch of festivity.

‘The whole place looks amazing,’ said Gem. ‘Jo, you’re so clever.’

‘She certainly is,’ said Ras.

‘I can’t claim credit for the balloons or the letter tile bunting,’ Jo said. ‘Mrs Woods thought of those.’

‘Well, it looks beautiful whoever thought of it,’ said Gem. ‘Everyone’s going to love it, Jo. You’ll see.’

*

Mr Morgan tapped the microphone and began to speak. It squeaked, causing piercing feedback to reverberate round the hall and two children to clamp their hands over their ears.

He looked into the wings of the small stage.

After a brief pause whilst Mr Timms, the caretaker, adjusted the PA levels, he began again. ‘Welcome, everyone.’

By everyone, he meant Gemma and four mums with seven children between them who were hovering at the back of the hall.

‘Please, do take a seat,’ he said.

There was some discussion and the families sat down, squashing onto the two tables at the back of the hall. A bit of shuffling ensued as children changed their minds about who they wanted to sit next to. Eventually they were all settled and Mr Morgan began his speech.

‘Thank you so much for coming. We have so much on offer this weekend.’ He looked down at the programme Jo had given him and began to outline everything that was happening.

She glanced around the huge, almost empty hall, then over at Ras. He looked deflated, like a broken man. Her heart ached for him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to stroke his hair, to console him.

‘Ras, did you want to say a few words?’ said Mr Morgan from the stages.

Ras shook his head. ‘Let’s get on with the Scrabble,’ he called back.

They set up four boards between the eleven attendees.

‘Fancy a game?’ Jo said to Gemma.