Page 92 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

She recalled the words from that article that Gemma had sent: remember it’s about them, not you.

‘It’s them, not you,’ she repeated to herself.

Yes, it was about them. Those children in the playground years ago with their meanness and their cruelty were unhappy kids who resorted to bullying others to make themselves feel better.

And Si? He was one of those men who liked controlling women. You read about them everywhere these days: in newspaper articles, in magazines, online. He had done it to her. He was probably doing it to his new wife.

Her only ‘fault’, Jo realised now, was that she hadn’t seen it coming, despite Gemma’s best efforts to warn her. But even that wasn’t her fault.

Should she have known? Should she have seen it? How could you tell if the charming man who took you out for dinner and held car doors open for you and bought you gifts was, underneath the façade, controlling, bullying and manipulating?

Because men like Si were clever. They hooked you, reeled you in, literally charmed the pants off you until you were won over, and only later revealed their true colours.

She had thought she was ready for a new relationship, but was she? Seeing Si again had brought it all back: the years of feeling trapped, unable to make her own choices.

Perhaps it was a good thing that she hadn’t got together with Razz. She didn’t think Razz would ever be like Si, but could she ever be sure? She hadn’t thought that Si would be how he turned out to be. What if Razz had been duping her too? Playing Mr Nice Guy with his quiet, gentle manners and his Scrabble club. Even his fear of heights – well, that could have been an act. It had been odd, arranging that trip to Gaping Gill, ensuring that she went down first then not making the descent himself.

She didn’t know anymore. It was so confusing.

Si had got inside her head again. Made her doubt everything and everyone. Made her doubt her own mind.

What she wanted, Jo realised now with sudden clarity, was for this to stop happening to her. She wanted to become someone like… like Gemma. Or Kate. Someone who felt sure of herself. Someone who had confidence in their own judgement. Someone the bullies ignored. She didn’t want to be the centre of attention – although that had been fun at the festival. She wanted to get on with her day-to-day activities, quietly, without anyone interfering or commenting or criticising or judging. She wanted them to leave her alone. But they had always sought her out, those bullies, and would do in future. She knew that. And she couldn’t change them, so she had to change herself.

‘What is it about me?’ she asked her reflection. ‘And how can I change it?’

She took out her phone, and scrolled through her messages until she found the link to the bullying article that Gemma had sent her all those weeks ago:

How to Handle Adult Bullying

She scanned down the list of suggestions.

Avoid places and situations where the bullying might happen.

Impossible when it happened in your workplace.

Remember it’s about them, not about you. Bullying is a reflection of their insecurities, not your shortcomings.

Leona? Insecure? Hardly. She’d acted like she owned that office from the moment she’d walked in.

Surround yourself with cheerleaders.

Cheerleaders?

Jo harrumphed. Cheerleaders! Honestly. Who came up with this stuff?

Acknowledge that it’s okay to feel bad.

No. No, it wasn’t okay. She had felt bad for far too long, Jo thought.

‘How can I change it?’ she said again.

Kate. She wanted to be a life coach, didn’t she? Perhaps she’d have some advice. It would be embarrassing, shameful even, to admit all this stuff to someone she’d only know for a short time, but if there was a chance Kate could help… well, it would be worth it.

*

Jo hastily rearranged the cushions, placing one over the stain on the sofa. She’d never been to Kate’s place but assumed it would be smarter than this.

But Kate, when she arrived, didn’t seem at all fazed by the scruffy little underdwelling.