Page 100 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘And the hate mail?’

‘There was a bit of hate mail. A few nasty letters and emails. But then the other letters and emails started arriving…’

‘Other letters?’

‘From people who loved the book. From people who were gutted that Thor had been killed, but wanted to thank me for showing the grief that a toughie like James feels for his dog. Men especially.’

Louise remembers the man she’d spoken to earlier. ‘Yes, I met a man in the queue who said that.’

‘I had letters from men who said they felt silly being so bereft that their pet had died, that they were sick of putting on a brave face. People expect you to be upset if you lose a parent or a spouse, but they don’t expect you to be floored when Fido passes.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘And you know the best thing?’

‘Go on.’

‘I had several from actual police dog handlers too. Quite a few. Two had sadly lost their dogs in violent circumstances similar to Thor, and they said it was like losing a human colleague and how cathartic it was to read about James’s grief.’

‘They really wrote to you?’

‘They did. And I’m on Breakfast TV next week with one of them. His new dog is coming along too. Can you believe it? And then the following week, I’m doing a radio phone-in and there’ll be a psychologist on too, talking about grieving for pets. I’ve never had such good publicity for a book.’

Louise can’t quite take this in. Is this real? Have people actually found comfort in the depiction of James’s sadness?

‘The book you published was the book I wanted to write from the start,’ Sheila is saying now. ‘I wouldn’t want to question your judgement as an editor – you really are the best, Lou, and I understood why you thought Thor shouldn’t die – but the books have always been about the closeness between Thor and James, and the ultimate depiction of that was showing him falling apart when Thor is killed. And then the next book is about the slow recovery from that and forming that new bond with his next dog, but still loving and remembering Thor. That was always my intention. Us dog lovers – we know that our animals won’t live forever and that’s tough. So incredibly tough. That’s what I wanted to write about. It’s like the Universe knew and stepped in and nudged you into muddling up the manuscripts.’

Louise laughs cautiously. She doesn’t believe in all that Universe stuff, not really, but she knows Sheila does. ‘I’ve been beating myself up about it. I felt I’d let you down and that no apology would ever be enough.’

‘You didn’t let me down,’ Sheila says. ‘And even if sales hadn’t picked up, even if it hadn’t turned out well in the end, it was just a mistake.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘People make mistakes, Louise. We’re all only human.’

Louise gulps. For months, she’s been carrying this huge lump of shame around with her. She presses her fingers to her eyes, trying not to cry in the middle of the shop. ‘Thank you,’ she croaks.

Sheila squeezes her hand. ‘I bet you’ve been torturing yourself about this, haven’t you? But really, there’s no need. Let it go.’

Louise nods, not trusting herself to speak for a moment.

Sheila is smiling at her, her face full of warmth. ‘So what are you doing now? You left Austen and Green rather abruptly. Are you freelancing?’

Louise shakes her head. ‘I ran away. Pathetic, I know…’

‘Not pathetic.’ Sheila’s tone is kind, reassuring.

‘No, it was. Anyway, I’m opening a bookshop.’

‘A bookshop? Wow. That’s wonderful.’

‘Yeah, I went back home to Applethwaite where I grew up. My mother was hoping I’d take over her bakery, continue the family tradition. But I’ve always wanted to run a bookshop. So we’re compromising. It’s going to be a bookshop bakery.’

‘A bookshop bakery? That’s different.’

‘Yeah, it’s very different. I’ve had loads of sheds built in the garden. My book nooks. A beach hut for the holiday reads. The Crime Scene shed for the thrillers. The Love Shack for the romances. A children’s section complete with a wardrobe you walk through into Narnia. And a stained glass dome for the religion and spirituality and self-help stuff.’

‘It sounds enchanting! Is it open yet?’