Page 72 of Love Letters on Hazel Lane

‘I said, since you’re now a participant, I’ll do the timing and ring the bell at the end of each round. Ten minutes, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, that’s fine,’ said Jo. ‘Thanks.’

‘Of course, the power might go to my head. If I see a couple are getting on, I might give them an extra five minutes.’

‘No, don’t do that,’ Jo said quickly. ‘Please.’ The last thing she needed was Sal giving Razz and Zoey more time. ‘I’ve worked it all out so it ends at half ten exactly. Then you’ve half an hour to sell – I mean, serve – a few more drinks and get a bit more cash before we close at eleven like we agreed with Mr Morgan. He doesn’t want complaints from the neighbours…’

‘Relax, it’ll all be fine. This is the most exciting event the school hall has seen since Year 6 put on Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and persuaded Mr Morgan to play the Child Catcher. The reception class was terrified.’

Jo managed a smile. ‘I bet they were.’

Jo and Sal climbed the steps onto the stage. By now, Jo wasn’t in the slightest bit nervous about standing in front of a crowd. She was getting used to it, and besides, she had more things to worry about. On the same day that she’d discovered that Ras was Razz and decided that this was the sign she’d been waiting for and it was time to confess her feelings, she’d also realised she had competition in the desirable form of Zoey. From her high vantage point, Jo could see Zoey standing beside Razz, unable to take her eyes off him. She was fiddling with her long hair in a coquettish kind of way. Definitely flirting, Jo decided. What she couldn’t quite ascertain – 11 points – was whether Razz was flirting back.

Jo rang the little bell that she’d bought from the hospice shop especially for this evening. The room fell silent.

‘Welcome to Scrabble speed-dating,’ she said. ‘When we start, please take a seat at the table with your number on it and start playing Scrabble and chatting to your date. Sal is doing the timings tonight. She’ll give you ten minutes with each person – that should be enough time to play five words each. When she rings the bell, ladies, stay at your table and reset the board. Men, move to the next table. So, if you’re man number one, go to table number two next. If you’re man number twelve, go to number one.’

She looked round at the audience, trying to make sure everyone understood.

‘Please remember it’s not about the Scrabble,’ she continued, looking pointedly at Dictionary Man. ‘The idea is that whilst you’re playing, you suss each other out like you would at conventional speed-dating. The Scrabble is an ice-breaker, so you’re not stuck making small talk and wondering what on earth to say next. We’ve all been there on dates. I know I have, anyway.’ She tried to catch Razz’s eye at this point but Zoey was whispering something to him. Razz and Zoey. Zoey and Razz. She had to admit that their names went well together.

‘I’m not running things tonight as I’m taking part to even up the numbers.’ She hesitated. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. The men might feel they were being cheated, not getting a proper date. But she wanted Razz to know that she wasn’t looking for anyone. At least, not looking for anyone else.

‘I’ll hand my little bell over to Sal,’ she continued. ‘Don’t forget to tick the box if you’d like to see someone again.’

Sal rang the bell and Jo made her way down the steps and over to table eleven. She opened her Scrabble box.

Razz was Number Twelve, so he’d be her last date of the evening. She glanced over at him; he was shaking hands now with a young woman whom Jo presumed was Sal’s niece.

He caught Jo’s eye and held up crossed fingers for luck.

What did that mean? Fingers crossed that she’d meet someone? Or that he did? Or fingers crossed that the event would be a success?

Man Number Eleven slid into the seat opposite her.

‘I’m Zach,’ he said.

‘Jo.’

‘This is a brilliant idea,’ he said.

‘Actually, it was my idea.’

‘Seriously? Well, that’s a tick in your box already.’

A few weeks ago, she’d have been thrilled by this. Zach’s name scored an impressive 18 points. He wasn’t bad-looking: dark hair, albeit receding a little, a kind face and chocolate-brown eyes. But he wasn’t Razz. She was only interested in Razz.

‘Come on, let’s play,’ she said. ‘Can I start? GAMES on a double word score. I make that 16 points.’

They’d only played seven words between them when the bell rang and it was time for him to move on. Dictionary Man sat down opposite her next. He was tall and dark-haired, with round glasses. Good-looking in a grown-up, Harry Potter kind of way.

‘This is great. I won the last game.’

Jo refrained from reminding him that it wasn’t about the game and concentrated on making sure that he didn’t win this one.

Numbers Nine and Eight were both pleasant, but Jo couldn’t help glancing over between turns to see how Razz was doing. She was relieved to see that he was engrossed in the game every time, rather than in the woman opposite him.

Number Seven was the surfer dude whom Zoey had said was Kate’s type.