left, the mums had taken their toddlers home for their naps, the estate agents who always came for lunch were back in their office across the road. Only Fat Don remained in his usual place on a stool by the bar, slowly making his way down his fourth pint of the day, which would extend to five or six more by closing time.
But he wasn’t our only customer. Alone at a table next to the shelf of board games was someone I’d never seen before, a man about my age, with a dark beard and glasses. He was drinking coffee and reading. Nothing new there – mostly, people who came into the pub in the mornings and afternoons had laptops with them and spent their time intently focused on those, but sometimes people read books or magazines or whatever.
But this guy was reading something different. My hand was already on the door when I noticed, and I paused. He was engrossed in one of the books that had come with the Dungeons & Dragons set – the thick, heavy one. The Dungeon Master’s manual. The box was open on the table in front of him and dice were scattered around.
I thought for a second. I needed to get to the gym; I only had a couple of hours before I was due back in the kitchen to get cracking on the evening meal. But I’d promised Alice to try and find someone to be the Ginger Cat’s Dungeon Master, and this bloke, with his fancy watch and his leather sandals and his T-shirt that had an algebra equation printed on it, certainly looked the part. He was right out of nerd central casting.
I turned and walked over to his table.
‘Hi,’ I said, wondering if I should add, ‘Live long and prosper,’ or something.
He started like I’d poked him with something. ‘Uh… hi.’
‘My name’s Zoë,’ I carried on. ‘I’m the chef here.’
I extended my hand, and he hesitated a second, like touching me was the last thing he wanted to do, then shook it briefly.
‘I’m Adam.’
I saw his eyes flicker back to the page he’d been reading, before turning back towards me.
‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ I said, because it was as clear as anything that I had, ‘but I couldn’t help noticing you were looking at our D&D set.’
‘It was right there on the shelf,’ he said defensively.
‘I know, it’s cool – people browse through the games all the time,’ I soothed. ‘But I was wondering – do you play at all?’
‘Only online.’
Again, there was that flicker of his eyes, that slight tightening of his face into a reluctant half-smile, which quite clearly said, ‘I wish this woman would leave me alone.’
‘Only we’re starting a group, here at the Ginger Cat,’ I burbled on. ‘We’re looking for someone to be our DM. Well, I’m meant to be looking, but I’ve got nowhere so far.’
Admittedly, that was because I hadn’t tried particularly hard. But I wasn’t going to admit that to him.
‘There are forums,’ he said. ‘Boards on Reddit where you could ask. Or you could try the Orcs Nest – you know, the shop in the West End?’
‘But you’re here,’ I persisted, with my best attempt at a winning smile. ‘And you know how to play.’
‘I might not be here long,’ he said. ‘I’m waiting to view a flat round the corner. I haven’t made up my mind. Mostly I’ve been looking in Hackney, where I live now.’
‘Oh, you should totally move here! The area’s so fun, there’s loads going on and the Ginger Cat is a real community hub.’
‘Why’s it called the Ginger Cat?’ Adam asked.
Finally – a question. Perhaps I was getting somewhere with this grumpy, frankly quite rude stranger.
‘It’s actually named after my cat,’ I said proudly. ‘He’s called Frazzle. He lives with me in the flat upstairs, but he hangs out in the pub sometimes, when it’s quiet.’
Right on cue, Frazzle came padding in through the door that led to the tiny beer garden outside. His tail was held high, and the breeze was ruffling his long fur. I was biased, obviously, but he did look utterly gorgeous. He strolled over to us and miaowed a greeting.
‘Hello,’ Adam said, with far more enthusiasm than he’d displayed when I approached him. ‘You’re a handsome boy.’
He bent down, and Frazz pushed his face into Adam’s hand for a fuss. Seconds later, he’d jumped up onto his lap, and I heard thunderous purring.
‘He likes you. He never normally does