Page 120 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

She wanders back through to the bakery. A few minutes ago, there was hardly anyone in here, but now the place is full. There’s even a small group outside wondering whether to come in.

What on earth?

Anna is taking orders and her mother is making drinks. It feels as if the whole of Applethwaite is gathered here – some of Elizabeth’s friends are having afternoon tea, the GMGs have bagged the prime spot in the window, and Richard and Jack are chatting at the table nearest the counter – and it feels like the ideal time for Louise to make her announcement.

Louise stands by the till and clears her throat. ‘Er, good afternoon, everyone.’

Only Jack reacts, looking up at her questioningly. Everyone else continues with their conversations.

‘Er, hello?’ she says, but again, the customers keep on talking.

She bangs a knife against the pot they use to collect tips. One or two customers turn to look at her and, as she clears her throat for the second time, an expectant hush falls across the room.

‘Hi, everyone. Sorry to interrupt your tea and cakes,’ she says, her voice at least three tones higher than usual. Elizabeth and Anna pause what they’re doing, stepping to one side and standing by the bookshelves. ‘My mother and I – and Anna too – have been giving this a lot of thought, and we’ve decided to close the bookshop side of things and run this place just as a bakery.’

She glances at Jack, who can’t hide his disappointment. She’d warned him that this was coming.

‘I thought it was a bakery?’ a man at the back calls out.

‘It’s a bookshop bakery,’ Louise calls back. ‘But from now on, it’s going to just be a bakery.’

‘Like it always was,’ the man shouts.

Honestly. This was hard enough without interruptions.

Beside her, Anna whispers, ‘Keep going. You’ve got this!’

‘Some of you tried to warn me. Running an independent bookshop is hard work. This is a small village. People read eBooks. They borrow from the library. They listen to audiobooks.’

‘And Amazon’s cheaper,’ the man calls out again.

‘Some folk ’round here don’t read at all,’ another person shouts.

‘Some of ’em can’t!’

Seriously?! She hadn’t expected any heckling.

‘Anyway, running a bookshop was my dream, and I’m glad I gave it a go, but it clearly isn’t going to work, so I’ve – we’ve – decided to…’ she’d been about to say ‘admit defeat’ but stops herself just in time. ‘Focus on the bakery side of things and continue the family tradition that my grandmother started in this very building.’

There. She’s ended it on a positive note. Nobody moves.

Louise feels like saying, ‘Okay, as you were,’ but doesn’t.

‘Well, I for one think that’s a shame. You always did give up too easily, Louise Dearnley.’

Trust Miss Anderson to stick her oar in.

Louise bites her lip. Trying to keep her tone even, she says, ‘I can’t run a bookshop if I’m not selling books.’

In the silence that follows, Louise is aware of everyone looking from her to Miss Anderson and then back at her again.

And then Miss Anderson stands up and goes over to the shelves. It’s like a scene from a film, where everyone is freeze-framed except for one person. They all watch as the retired English teacher pulls out a book, turns it over and reads the blurb. She tuts and puts it back, then she runs her fingers along the spines on the same shelf and pulls out another. Again, she reads the blurb. Again, she tuts and puts it back. And still, everyone watches. Silent. Motionless.

Finally, Miss Anderson pulls out a book and doesn’t tut as she reads the blurb. She nods to herself, walks over to the till and hands it to Louise.

‘I’ll take this, please.’

Louise looks at the book. It’s a Tracy Chevalier. A Single Thread. One of her best, in Louise’s opinion.