Page 75 of The Little Board Game Café

And kissing me, she wanted to add. For kissing me and making my insides melt.

‘You’re welcome.’

She walked up the path and found her key – which seemed to take an absolute age as it had worked its way down to the very bottom of her handbag and was hiding under a load of detritus. She knew he was watching her, as she unlocked Kate’s front door. He was being chivalrous, making sure she got inside safely, before he walked away.

She closed the door behind her and leant against it, like women always do in films, contemplating the kiss. But then the back of the letterbox began to dig into her back, so she relocated to the sofa.

That kiss.

She couldn’t quite decide if he’d wanted it too.

He hadn’t responded.

At least not initially.

Then he had responded. Really responded.

But then again, he’d pulled away.

And before that, he had declined to come in for a coffee but perhaps he was being thoughtful. Considerate. He knew she’d been working flat-out to prepare for the launch event and he’d seen how upset she’d felt afterwards. Ludek wasn’t the type who’d take advantage and seduce an exhausted woman in an emotional state. Even if he really wanted her. And Em loved that about him.

Although… Well, it would have been nice.

Perhaps not seduction. Not yet. But she would have liked him to hold her some more.

Next time, she decided. She would invite him over for dinner again. And this time, she’d light some candles.

Although board games, alcohol and candles? Perhaps not a good combination. Could result in yet another spillage, or, worse still, a fire. Board games were mostly cardboard. Highly flammable.

Anyway, she was sure Ludek liked her. He’d hardly have lent his board games to her café if he didn’t, would he? Perhaps candles wouldn’t be necessary.

*

Emily lay awake, reliving the evening’s events, both the highs – Ludek lending his games and frying the pierogi, the unforgettable sight of her little café full of people enjoying themselves and that kiss, the highlight of the entire night - and the lows. She shuddered recalling Kate and Freddie’s interruption and Marjory choking on that nut. She fell asleep just as it was beginning to grow light, and awoke late, to a soggy Yorkshire Sunday. It didn’t pour with rain and it wasn’t dry either. But it kind of matched her mood. Now that the launch event was over, she felt flat. Incredibly flat.

Kate wasn’t home. Emily wasn’t surprised by this; her friend was hardly ever home and Emily imagined she’d be sleeping off her hangover at Freddie’s. With nothing else to do, Emily decided she’d go to the café.

She put the key in and the door swung open, but she stood on the threshold, shocked by the sight that awaited her. She’d forgotten what a state she’d left the place in; dirty plates and cups everywhere. The projector was still plugged in, but must have turned itself off. That was one piece of luck anyway. She might have arrived to find the café had burnt down because the projector had overheated. Or might that have been a relief? She’d be rid of the café then and could claim on the insurance. Malcolm would be proud.

On autopilot, she collected the crockery and stacked the dishwasher, remembering Ludek’s face when she kissed him. Had he wanted that? She didn’t know anymore.

As she straightened all the tables and chairs, the other events of the evening played on a constant loop in her mind. Kate and Freddie coming in. The angry exchange of words. The pool of liquid on the game board. Leaving the makowiec on the counter and telling everyone to help themselves. Mr B’s soporific commentary. Drooling on Ludek’s shoulder – that would have been bad enough in itself without what happened next. Marjory’s stricken face as she struggled for air.

And if she’d died, well, it would have been Emily’s fault. She was the one who hadn’t chopped all the nuts properly. How did anyone live with themselves if they were responsible for someone else’s death? The guilt. The shame. The thought that you’d deprived another human being of life itself. How had the driver whose stones had fallen on her mum coped with the knowledge that he’d killed her?

Emily sat down at one of the tables, her head in her hands, overwhelmed by the images in her head of both the previous evening and that day all those years ago. She had never longed for her mother more than she did right now.

The door rattled and Emily looked up, hoping it was someone coming in. Okay, so her mum would never walk into the café, but she craved company right now. If only her dad would appear, apologising for his absence yesterday. Or Kate, apologising for her presence. Or Ludek, pulling her into his arms for a hug. But the door rattled again, and Emily realised it was just the wind.

*

Emily didn’t expect Kate to be home that evening, but was still disappointed to find the little terraced house was empty. In all their years of friendship, yesterday had been the closest they’d ever come to an argument. Emily tapped out a text: Hope you’re not too hungover. Can we catch up tomorrow? Xx Then she pressed send, and hoped she wouldn’t have to wait too long for a reply.

*

The following morning, at five to eleven, Mr B arrived in a salmon-pink bow-tie and sat down at his usual table.

‘No Marjory? Is she okay?’