Page 41 of The Little Board Game Café

‘Go on,’ said Ludek, ‘just one more roll.’

‘You can do it, Em,’ said Kate.

She rolled the dice again, but couldn’t make five, seven or eight with the numbers she’d rolled, so lost all the progress she’d made that turn. And it was the same every turn: either she played it safe and stopped rolling the dice too early, hardly rising up the columns, or she risked it and kept rolling, which invariably led to her losing everything. She was surprised to realise that despite doing so spectacularly badly, she had actually enjoyed the game.

Kate won, thanks partly to a streak of lucky rolls and partly to her willingness to take a gamble and keep rolling when the odds were against her. She glanced at her phone.

‘I think I’m going to head off,’ she said. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Em?’

‘You can’t leave now,’ said Alan. ‘Not when you’re on a roll.’

‘Good pun, Al,’ she said, giving him a friendly punch in the arm. ‘But I’m afraid I’ve got to go. Bit tired.’ She yawned, but Emily knew when she was faking. ‘Malcolm, Alan, lovely to meet you both. And to see you again, Ludo.’

They watched her go, then Malcolm said, ‘Right, what are we playing next?’

‘What do you normally do in your spare time, Emily?’ said Alan.

‘Cooking. Baking. Eating. Anything food-related. I’ve bought a café.’

‘A café?’ said Malcolm. ‘I hope you’ve sorted your business insurance out. You need proper cover. Public liability insurance for a start in case anyone…’

‘I know the perfect game for you, Emily,’ said Alan. ‘Ludek, I don’t suppose you’ve brought A La Carte?’

‘I have, as it happens.’ Ludek reached down and unzipped a large rectangular bag, pulling out a box.

He took off the lid and Emily almost squealed with delight when she saw what was inside: small cardboard stoves and tiny frying pans, one for each player. They were like something from a doll’s house. There were four miniature jars of ingredients: oregano (tiny green cylinders), lemons (tiny yellow ones), pepper (black) and paprika (red). In each jar, there were also little white cylinders representing salt. If too much salt got in the frying pan, the dish would be spoiled and no points would be scored.

Alan was right – this was the perfect game, Emily thought, as she took a tile with a recipe from the pile and placed it in her pan. She had to add two peppers and a lemon to make a tarte flambée which would score her three points. She didn’t like to mention that those weren’t the correct ingredients for a real tarte flambée; if only French cuisine was that simple. On her turn, she took the jar containing the lemon and opened it over her pot. It was against the rules to shake it. A salt fell out rather than a lemon. She had two more ‘actions’ so tried again but another salt fell out. For her third action, she rolled the dice, desperate to score three or more so she could raise the temperature of her stove a little - her dish needed to be cooked at between three and five on her little stove - but she only rolled a two.

‘There’ll be no customers in your café,’ laughed Malcolm. ‘Your food’s still raw. And far too salty.’

Ludek gave him a hard stare.

It was Alan’s turn next. He managed to get two paprikas and a pepper into his pan without getting any salt. What the game lacked in culinary accuracy, Emily thought, it made up for in fun. It was really exciting, though they must look ridiculous - four adults tipping tiny ingredients out of tiny jars. Play passed to Ludek and Emily realised she was actually holding her breath, as she watched to see if he could tip a lemon into his pan.

By the end of the game, Emily had managed to make four dishes and ruin another three, but she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself and didn’t mind losing to Alan, who’d made the grand total of seven dishes.

After the game, she watched as Ludek began to pack it away, fascinated by how he meticulously sorted out all the pieces. Everything had its place: little plastic bags, one for each of the different coloured ingredients; perfectly sized compartments for all of the tiles.

Oh god, he was a tidy person, she thought as he put it back in the bag. Why did she always fall for the tidy ones, when she was so messy herself?

Hang on. Was she falling for him?

Malcolm saw her watching. ‘He looks after his games,’ he said, ‘the way other people look after their children. Honestly, if his house caught fire – I hope you’ve got adequate contents cover, Ludo? – he’d try to save them all.’

Ludek shot him a withering look. ‘Don’t tell her that, Malcolm. She’ll think I’m crazy. And we want her to come back next week, don’t we? Expand our little group and get more people in Essendale into board games?’

He wanted her to come back next week, Emily thought, with a flutter of excitement.

Although…was that just because he wanted to expand his board games group?

Mind you, she wanted to return, and not just to see him, but to play more games. There’d been loads of games in that bag of his, she’d noticed. It was like a whole new world. So many different ones to discover, all with different themes.

The Dungeons and Dragons guys all shook her hand as they left and said, ‘Lovely to meet you.’ They hadn’t exactly met her, but it was a nice gesture. The Trainspotters, as she’d decided to nickname them, were a little more reticent, mumbling variations of ‘See you next week.’

Later, when Malcolm and Alan had driven away in Malcolm’s car, Emily and Ludek stood outside the pub.

‘Did you enjoy the evening?’ he said. ‘I don’t think your friend Kate reckoned much to it.’