Page 106 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

There are very few reviews – understandable, given that the novel was published in the days before Amazon and Goodreads, before Booktok and Instagram, before even the World Wide Web itself. Most of them are three stars.

Competent but forgettable. Too many long-winded descriptions.

Atmospheric but the plot drags.

I enjoyed it, but found it predictable.

Ouch.

She clicks through to see if any copies are available. The novel is out of print, but there are still a few second-hand ones here and there, and they aren’t expensive. Out of sheer curiosity, Louise puts the cheapest one in her basket.

And then – and she can’t believe she’s doing this – she adds five more copies. Well, why not? She has a section for local authors in the shop, and Miss Anderson couldn’t be more local. Applethwaite’s very own published writer. There are quite a few aspiring ones about – half the village, it seems – but no one else who’s actually been published.

‘You’re smiling,’ Jack says. ‘What are you up to?’

‘I’m buying a few copies for the shop.’

‘Of Miss Anderson’s book? Why would you do that? Jack sounds incredulous.

‘She’s a local author. I should stock local authors.’

‘But not hers, surely? She stopped you being a writer.’

Louise looks at him. ‘She didn’t. Not really. I know enough about writing now to know that I don’t have what it takes.’

‘Don’t they say everyone has a book in them?’

Louise laughs. ‘Not everyone. Or at least, not everyone has a good book in them. If I’d become an author, I’d have been a mediocre one at best. Now editing, on the other hand. I was a pretty good editor.’

‘I’m sure you were. But I still don’t get why you’d want to give that woman shelf space in your lovely new bookshop.’

Louise thinks for a moment. ‘I can imagine how she felt as a young woman, holding her published novel for the very first time, thinking her dreams had come true. Then watching as nothing happened. Poor sales. No follow-up deal. I don’t like the woman, but she must have been gutted. And if I can bring a little pleasure to her by stocking her book, well, why not?’ She pauses. ‘At least, that’s partly the reason.’

‘And the other part?’

‘It looks good. Having books by an author who actually lives in this village. And…’ She grimaces. ‘And perhaps I shouldn’t admit this, but a little part of me wants to be the bigger person.’

Before she can change her mind, she types in her card details and completes the purchase. They’ll arrive in two days, just in time for the opening. She’ll rearrange things, create a little display called ‘Local Authors’ Corner’ or something.

She can’t wait to see Geraldine Anderson’s face.

Louise hands Jack his phone back.

‘I suppose I had better be going,’ he says. ‘I’ve got stuff to do. Packing.’

Packing.

He is really going.

‘When are you leaving?’

‘On Sunday.’

The day after the grand opening. He’s not hanging around then.

‘Okay. Well, goodnight, Jack.’

‘Goodnight, Luisa.’