Page 24 of The Little Board Game Café

Peter.

Emily wondered how he was doing. Perhaps she shouldn’t have let their relationship drag on for so long. She’d ignored that nagging feeling that they weren’t quite right for each other, even – she was ashamed to admit – as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

And now the relationship was over. But the ring was still on her finger. Firmly on her finger.

She’d pulled. She’d tugged. She’d wrestled.

She’d tried soap. She’d tried Vaseline. She’d tried butter.

She’d tried Google. Then dental floss (Kate’s). Then some out-of-date lube that she found in the bathroom cabinet.

She’d soaked her hand in iced water until she couldn’t stand the pain, but that platinum solitaire remained stubbornly in place.

And now she felt a sudden impatience to get rid of it. She didn’t want it sitting there, reminding her that she’d agreed to marry someone then broken her promise.

If you couldn’t remove a ring yourself, what were you meant to do? Ask the fire brigade to cut it off? Go to A&E perhaps?

Or…what about the health centre? Surely a GP would know how to get it off?

*

‘And why do you need to see the doctor?’ the receptionist said.

‘I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t get my engagement ring off.’

‘Why do you want to take it off?’

Emily wasn’t sure that was any of her business, but she didn’t feel in a position to argue. ‘I’m no longer engaged.’

‘Surgery’s over for the morning. The only appointments left this afternoon are strictly for emergencies. And it’s hardly an emergency, is it? In fact, it’s not a medical problem at all.’

‘Perhaps tomorrow?’

‘Emily,’ came a voice from behind.

She turned round to see Ludek. ‘Oh, hi,’ she said, feigning surprise. ‘It’s you again. Essendale running club’s favourite lollipop man.’

Oh god. Lollipop man? Why had she said that? It had sounded funny in her head.

But he didn’t seem offended; his eyes were twinkling at her. ‘Ha ha. You’ve forgotten my name.’

As if.

She hadn’t forgotten. Not his name. Nor his perfect knees. His smile. His beautiful mop of curly hair. He was wearing jeans today and an open-necked shirt, but she couldn’t help thinking of him in that tight outfit that he’d worn at the running club.

‘Of course not, Ludek.’ She emphasised his name, raising her eyebrows, hoping she looked cheeky and fun, rather than just plain weird.

He laughed. ‘What are you doing here? Is it the ankle?’

Damn. The ankle. That might have been a better excuse to come to the surgery. Although if she’d said her ankle was still hurting, he’d have insisted on her going to the hospital and that was never going to happen.

And she really did want that ring removing. It wasn’t just an excuse. Not really.

‘I was trying to make an appointment,’ she said.

‘Come through. I was going to buy a sandwich, but I can spare you a few minutes.’

Emily followed him down a long corridor. He opened a door, and stepped aside, letting her enter first. It was your usual doctor’s consulting room with a desk, three chairs, an examination couch and a variety of posters extolling the virtues of a healthy diet, but a pair of fluffy dice – the kind you’d normally see suspended from the rear-view mirror of a car – hung at the side of the computer screen.