Page 92 of The Little Board Game Café

She took a sip and almost spat it out.

‘Why’ve you put sugar in?’ she said, but she knew. They’d given her sweet tea when Mum died. Sweet tea meant something bad had happened. Something really bad.

Greg had collapsed on the football pitch. It was his heart. He was okay, Dad said. The ambulance had reached him in time. Dad would drive her over to see him in the hospital when she was ready.

‘But he’s only twenty-four,’ Emily said.

‘I know, love. It doesn’t make sense.’

Hypertrophic obstructive cardiomyopathy, the doctor said. It was, if she understood correctly, the way his heart had developed as he was growing up. He’d need to take medication to prevent it happening again.

Again? It could happen again?

‘Might want to go easy on the football pitch for a while,’ the doctor said.

Things were never the same after that. And Emily did the most shameful thing she had ever done in her entire life; she ended things. Told him she wasn’t ready, that she was too young, that things had moved too quickly between them. Greg said he would wait; that given time, they might rekindle their relationship. But after three months, he’d met someone else and Emily didn’t see him much after that.

Dad still saw his aunt sometimes in the park with the Labrador. Probably a different one by now. Apparently Greg was now happily married with four children.

*

‘That was different with Greg,’ Emily said to Kate. ‘I was too young.’

‘Too young? You didn’t feel too young until he had a heart problem and then you couldn’t get out of there quick enough. Why would you leave someone you loved because you found out they were ill? It was mean, Em, and you’re not a mean person.’

‘I didn’t leave him because of that. Things changed. He changed. It felt different. It made me think about things. Made me realise I was caught up in the romance of it all – the ring, the dresses, the thought of a big wedding. But the reality – the whole “til death do us part” stuff. I suppose it scared me.’

‘Yet “til death do us part” didn’t scare you when it came to marrying Peter?’

‘That was different.’

‘You’re right. It was different. When you talked about Peter, your face never lit up the way it did when you talked about Greg. Or the way it lights up now when you talk about Ludek. I never saw Peter make you laugh till you almost wet yourself like Greg did. When you told me Greg had proposed, you were glowing. You were very matter of fact when you told me about Peter.’

‘I’m not sure what point you’re trying to make. Greg was my first love. I was older when I met Peter. It was a…more mature love.’

‘Okay, don’t listen to me. I’m not an expert…’

‘No, you’re not.’

‘…but you seem to steer clear of getting too emotionally involved.’

Emily was irritated. Who on earth did Kate think she was, with her amateur psycho-babble? That gift subscription to Psychologies magazine last Christmas had been a mistake.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Kate had no right to tell her that she hadn’t been in love with Peter. No right to bring Greg up after all these years. She didn’t know what she was talking about.

‘I would love,’ Kate said suddenly, ‘would absolutely love, to meet someone who makes my face light up when I talk about them. I’ve been looking for that my whole adult life. I watched you walk away from Greg and now I’m watching you walk away from Ludek. Twice you’ve had a shot at the kind of relationship I’d give anything for. The kind of relationship your parents had.’

‘Yeah, and look how that ended? Not exactly a happy-ever-after for Dad, was it?’

‘And that’s the problem,’ she said. ‘You’re scared. You watched your dad fall apart when your mum died – and he’s never recovered, has he? – and now you’re scared that if you love someone the way he loved her, you might end up losing them too. I didn’t much like Peter, but I felt sorry for the guy. You always kept him at arm’s length.’

Arm’s length? How dare she?

And bringing Mum’s death into this? Who did Kate think she was?

‘Okay, Dr Freud.’ Emily stood up. ‘Interesting though this has been, I’ve got to go to work.’

‘You don’t open on Sundays.’