Page 48 of The Little Board Game Café

He put his key in the lock, then hesitated.

‘Look, er, this is a bit embarrassing. I wasn’t really expecting to bring you here this evening. If I’d known, I’d have…’

‘You’d have…?’

‘Never mind. You’ll see.’ He opened the door, moving aside to let her in.

As soon as she set foot in the lounge, she understood why he’d been so reluctant to bring her to his home. There were so many board games: an entire shelving unit was devoted to them; two stacks of boxes towered up on the carpet; and although there were two sofas, you could only sit on one of them because the other was piled up with yet more games.

‘It’s a bit of a mess but have a seat,’ said Ludek. ‘I never bring anyone back here. Except for Alan and Malcolm and they know what I’m like.’

So he didn’t do much dating. Interesting.

‘It’s fine,’ she said, perching on the edge of the sofa. So he wasn’t so tidy after all. Had she finally found a man who was messier than she was?

Ludek sat down beside her and something shot past her legs, past the stacks of games boxes which wobbled for a moment but thankfully stayed upright, and sprang onto his lap.

‘You have a cat?’ she said surprised.

‘Yes, have you got pets?’

She shook her head. ‘I’d never have a pet.’

‘Too much commitment? Or too much mess?’

‘Neither. Too much upset.’

‘Upset? Pets bring so much joy. And, medically speaking, pets are great. They lower your blood pressure and there’s good evidence that stroking cats can lower your cortico-steroid levels, thereby boosting your immunity. They’re good for mental health too – they calm you down. Give you an overall sense of well-being. A sense of companionship. Almost as good as having a partner.’

Almost as good. But not quite.

‘That’s just it,’ said Emily. ‘You get attached to them, but unless you buy a giant tortoise they don’t live for ever, do they? From the moment your eyes meet theirs in the rescue centre or the pet shop or wherever, and you decide they’re the one, the clock is ticking. Dogs, rabbits, goldfish…you know you’re doomed to lose them one day. The moment you become a pet owner, you’re signing up for grief. Even with cats, and they’ve got nine lives.’

‘Don’t listen to her, Catan.’ Ludek put his hands over the animal’s ears.

‘Catan? That’s his name?’

‘It’s a game.’

She rolled her eyes, punching him playfully in the arm. ‘I might have known.’

Catan began to purr really loudly as Ludek stroked him. Emily stretched out her hand to touch the soft fur, accidentally – well, not really – brushing Ludek’s hand at the same time.

‘Have you never had a pet?’ he said.

‘A rabbit. When I was little.’

Mum and Dad had bought Snowy for her when she was five. She’d lived in a hutch in the garden, but was occasionally allowed into the house. Emily had loved Snowy. As an only child, she couldn’t wait to get home from school to see her. To whisper secrets through the wire netting. To poke through the carrots and lettuce leaves that she’d sneaked from the fridge.

The little white rabbit was Emily’s best friend for about a year until, one morning, Snowy was gone.

‘It wasn’t fair to keep her caged up like that,’ Mum had said. ‘She’ll have a much nicer life living in the fields with the wild rabbits.’

She would. Even as a six year old, Emily could understand that. But why hadn’t they let her say goodbye first?

Later, when she was supposed to be in bed, but was actually sitting on the stairs as she often did, her face poking between two spindles, she overheard their conversation.

‘Did you tell her?’ Dad asked. ‘About the rabbit dying? How did she take it?’