Page 121 of The Little Board Game Café

‘Yes, but you’re with Mr B. I don’t want Dad getting his hopes up and then being hurt.’

‘I’m not with Mr B,’ said Marjory. ‘It’s true, we have had a little…dalliance. But he was just my back-in-the-saddle man as your friend Kate would say.’

Her back-in-the-saddle man? That was one mental image Emily could have done without.

‘What about Mr B? I don’t want him getting hurt either.’

‘I think you might find that Mr B also has his eye on someone else.’ Marjory opened the hatch and nodded in the direction of the table in the corner, where Mr B and Florence were playing what seemed to be a rather intense game of Scrabble. There was obviously an argument going on, but they both looked to be enjoying it.

*

Now that everyone had had a drink and something to eat and no one was off galivanting round the Yorkshire countryside in the Austin, Emily banged a teaspoon against a glass.

‘A huge welcome to you all,’ she said, ‘at this, the launch party of The (Not So) Little Board Game Café. I hope you’ve all enjoyed the punch and Annie’s delicious cakes and biscuits but now I’d like to invite you all to take a seat, if you haven’t already. It’s time to pull off the shrink wrap and open the boxes: we’ve a whole heap of brand-new board games waiting to be played.’

There was a smattering of applause, a flash as the photographer from the local paper snapped her picture and an exchange of smiles between Emily and Ludek.

‘Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind washing your hands if you’ve got sticky fingers,’ she added as an afterthought. Ludek gave her a thumbs up.

The experienced boardgamers strategically placed themselves at different tables, so they could suggest suitable games to people who were more accustomed to Cluedo and Monopoly, and explain the rules. Emily sat down with Mrs Scott and Mrs Sinclair and wondered for the umpteenth time which one of them was which.

‘Have you bought Frustration yet?’ one of them asked.

Emily shook her head, kicking herself for forgetting. She made a mental note to order it on Monday.

‘There’s plenty of other games, Mrs…er… Actually, this is ridiculous. How many times did I serve you in the other café? And I still don’t know which of you is Mrs Scott and which of you is Mrs Sinclair.’

‘It might be easier if you call us Sylvia and Helen,’ said one of them.

‘Okay, I will,’ said Emily. Then it dawned on her that she was none the wiser: which one of them was Helen? And which Sylvia? She’d have to ask Florence later. ‘So what would you like to play, Helen? Sylvia?’

‘Cluedo,’ they said in unison, before one of them added, ‘We’re not sure about those new-fangled games you’ve got.’

‘Not sure they’re our sort of thing,’ said the other.

It didn’t take them long to work out that Colonel Mustard had done the dirty deed in the dining room with the dagger.

‘Shall we try something else?’ Emily suggested. ‘How about Carcassonne? You have to build a map. It’s no more difficult than doing a jigsaw. And it’s based on the famous French city which is a UNESCO Heritage site.’

She knew that was bound to impress them.

Having finally persuaded them to try something new, she laid out all the little tiles face down, stealing a glance at Ludek. He was at a neighbouring table, with George and his parents, playing Scotland Yard. The three adults were hunting George, who was ‘Mister X’, across the city of London.

As Helen – or was it Sylvia? – debated where she should place a tile with a crossroads on, Emily glanced round the café – round her café – and counted the faces she couldput names to. Six months ago, she’d walked round Essendale wishing she knew more people. And now she knew Malcolm and Alan, Rob and a couple of his colleagues, George, Julia and her husband Steve. She knew that George’s best friend was Jack and that Jack’s sister was called Alice. The Trainspotters were Harry, Tom, Simon and Martin and that the Dungeons and Dragons crowd were Mike, Andy, Dave and Freddie. She knew Mr B. And, of course, she knew Ludek. All these people had come into her life either because of board games or because of the café. These days, she couldn’t walk down Essendale’s high street without seeing someone she knew. And she suspected – hoped – that over the next few months, as her business grew, she’d come to know more names still. And they would know hers.

*

The games had all finished by ten forty-five and most people had drifted away. Julia and Steve dragged a very tired George home to bed. Peter was driving Marjory home with the promise that he’d ‘go the long way round’. True to his word, he’d arranged to pick both Dad and Marjory up again in the morning and planned to take them to the shores of a nearby reservoir for a picnic; he was still plucking up courage to ask Annie out for a drink later that week.

Kate had given Rob a chaste kiss goodnight, then sent him on his way. ‘I’m not rushing it this time,’ she’d said to Emily. Then she gestured towards the corner table where Mr B and Florence were arguing over yet another game of Scrabble. ‘Our Mr B is a bit of a Romeo, isn’t he? Hats off to him.’

‘I thought you didn’t like him. All that arguing over paint colours.’

‘Course I like him. He’s a wonderful chap. We argued because we both wanted the same thing: everything at the café to be one hundred per cent perfect, Emily. We want you to succeed because we both love you.’

‘Oh, Kate.’ Emily’s eyes filled with tears and she wiped them away with the heel of her hand.

‘Your dad and Annie are tidying up the kitchen, and Ludek’s packing away your new board games as carefully as if they were his own. All for you. And now, I suggest you go and help him whilst I go and clean the toilets. Someone’s got to do it and I look rather good in a pair of Marigolds.’