Page 78 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

She turned round. Razz.

Why did he keep sneaking up on her like that?

‘He has…?’

‘Been fooling us,’ said Razz. ‘Stan – Mr B – is one of the pros. I met him in the (Not So) Little Board Game Café when I first moved to the area, but I’d already seen him at one or two tournaments. In fact, he gave me the idea for the Scrabble club in the first place.’

‘So why does he play all those silly words?’

‘Can’t you figure it out?’

‘No.’

‘I suspect he rather enjoys the banter with Florence.’

‘Banter? More like arguments. And I’m not sure she enjoys them.’

‘Oh, she does. She loves it. Anyway, is there some kind of announcement? Are you doing that?’

‘I could,’ Jo said, ‘but it might be nice to ask Mr Morgan. It is his school.’

She was rather wishing she’d thought to get a prize, or, at the very least, a certificate.

Mr Morgan had recovered from his defeat in the semis and was happy to announce the winner. ‘It’ll show the children that I’ve no hard feelings, because as I always say, it’s the taking part that counts, not the winning.’

He gave a speech to that effect as he stood on the stage, before finally declaring what they all already knew: that Stanisław Baranski was the winner of this year’s festival tournament.

This year’s festival tournament, thought Jo. As if there’d be another. It had been fun, but it had also been a lot of hard work.

‘And the prize,’ said Mr Morgan, ‘generously donated by one of our sponsors, the Brookfield Hotel in North Yorkshire, is a spa weekend for two.’

Sponsors? They had sponsors?

Florence shouted, ‘Well done, Stan! Jolly well done!’ as Mr B climbed the steps.

Razz was directly in front of stage, cheering and clapping. Zoey was nowhere to be seen, but Kate was standing next to Matthew. Rather close to Matthew. And as Mr B took the microphone, Jo saw Matthew lean over and whisper something in her ear.

‘I’d like to thank everyone who took part in the tournament,’ Mr B said, ‘and the PTA and Brookfield Hotel for this generous prize. I didn’t even know there was a prize.’

There was a smattering of laughter round the hall.

‘And I’d like to thank Mr Morgan for allowing us to use his school for this festival. But most of all, I’d like to thank the two people who have worked so hard to create such a wonderful festival. It wouldn’t have happened without them. Jo and Razz, everyone.’

He raised an imaginary glass as if toasting a couple at a wedding.

Jo looked over at Razz. He turned, as if sensing her, and their eyes met across the crowded school hall. And then Zoey suddenly appeared by his side and patted his back. His eyes moved to Zoey, at the same moment that everyone raised an imaginary glass as Mr B had done, and said, ‘Jo and Razz.’

But there was no Jo and Razz, was there? And perhaps now there never would be.

30

Once the tournament was over, Hebbleswick Scrabble Festival ended quickly. The spectators and participants drifted away. An army of PTA volunteers packed away chairs and tables, took down the bunting, and replaced the festival notices with the children’s paintings that had been there originally. Mr Timms began sweeping the floor, tutting over imaginary dints in the wood from the previous evening’s stilettos.

Razz was packing away his games, carrying piles of boxes out to his Ford Focus in the school car park. Matthew was on the stage, taking down the screen. There was no sign of Kate and Zoey; they must have left. Jo wondered if she should go over and help Razz. She could casually ask if he’d enjoyed the speed-dating. Maybe even enquire if he’d met someone. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d find out if he was intending to date Zoey. It’d be better to know.

Or was it better not to know?

‘Jo.’ She turned around; it was Mr Morgan. ‘It’s gone so well. You must be pleased. It’s been great for the school.’