Page 38 of The Little Board Game Café

‘Shit. Is that all? Three customers in an entire day?’

Emily nodded.

‘You need to have a launch event,’ Kate said. ‘Put up some posters. Let everyone know there’s a new place in town. Things will pick up then – you’ll see.’

‘A launch event? But I’ve already opened,’ Emily said, putting two portions of lasagne into two bowls and popping them into the microwave. ‘It’s a bit late. Anyway, enough about me. How are things going with Freddie?’

‘He’s gorgeous, Em. We’ve been seeing each other rather a lot.’

‘Yes, I had noticed. You’re never here.’

Kate put on a mock frown. ‘I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? I’m so sorry, Em. Can you forgive me?’

‘Course I can. I’m really pleased for you. I know how much you want to find The One.’

‘And I really think he might be. Isn’t that perfect, Em? I meet my dream man at the same time as you buy your dream café.’

Much as Emily liked her new little business, she wouldn’t have described it as her dream café, exactly. It had more been a case of the only one she could afford. But she didn’t want to dampen the mood, so she just smiled.

Kate looked wistful. ‘We’ve been practically inseparable from the moment we met. Like you and Greg were.’

Emily ignored the mention of her first love and tried to put aside her growing unease about her friend’s new man. Inseparable? After only a few days?

‘Are you officially an item? Has he asked you to be exclusive?’

‘Well, not exactly.’

The warning bells were ringing in Emily’s head now, even louder than the smoke alarm had been a few minutes earlier. How could they not be ringing in Kate’s? She’d only been seeing him for eight days, but had spent almost every spare minute of those eight days with him. And yet they weren’t exclusive. Kate had been here before. So many times.

‘Where’s Freddie now?’

‘A work thing. I’m meeting him in…’ The microwave pinged and Kate glanced at her watch. ‘Actually, I need to go. It’s been lovely catching up.’

‘What about the lasagne?’

‘No time,’ said Kate, picking up her handbag. ‘And it isn’t keto! Laters!’

And with that, she was gone. Emily spent the evening on the sofa alone, worrying about her friend, eating too much lasagne and watching Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares. It didn’t seem nearly as interesting now she was having a kitchen nightmare of her own.

Chapter Fourteen

On Wednesday, Emily opened the door with a heavy heart, but, to her surprise, she had a grand total of five customers that day. Five!

If anyone had told her when she first opened, that she’d be excited over five customers, she’d have thought they were crazy, but right now five customers – that was including Mr B – felt like a triumph.

The day would have been even better if she hadn’t spilled the soup of the day – still chicken and vegetable – over one of those five customers, and then discovered that the toilet was blocked. Calling out an emergency plumber had blown five times her total takings in one fell swoop.

On Thursday, she felt a buzz of excitement every time the door opened. Who would come in? What would they order? Maybe this would be the person that ate a two-course lunch: the hot special then a pudding. They might even stay for a coffee. Maybe someone would have soup and sandwiches. Or even order afternoon tea, the full works. Might this next customer be the person who’d tell all their friends how marvellous her little café was so that gradually word would spread and people would be beating a path to her door?

But aside from Mr B, the only customers that day were a man wanting a bacon butty to take out, an older lady wanting a cup of tea to pass the time whilst she waited for her bus and a long-haired youth who plugged in his laptop and his phone for the entire afternoon, but only bought one lemonade.

Emily stayed late that evening, rather than returning to an empty house. She baked a batch of chocolate muffins, ever hopeful of a few more customers next day. She swept the floor even though there was virtually nothing to sweep. She wiped tables where no one had sat. She ate two bowls of the soup of the day; roasted red pepper and tomato now. Thank goodness she hadn’t spilled that one on a customer or there’d have been dry-cleaning to fork out for on top of the plumber.

On Friday, her only customer was Mr B.

After he’d left, Emily found herself watching the door. Watching through the window. Every time someone came into view, her hopes were raised a little, then dashed again when they walked straight on by. Not that many people went by.

Three o’clock came and went. Hours on her feet and all she had to show for it was a paltry sum in the till, three Tupperwares of chicken soup for Kate’s freezer and a tin of chocolate brownies. She hadn’t sold a single one. She sat down at one of her own tables with a coffee and two cream scones; well, she hadn’t had any lunch.