Page 3 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘Your room’s my craft room now,’ her mother says. ‘I thought you’d stay in the flat.’

‘The flat over the bakery?’

‘Yes. I thought you’d prefer to have your own space. But if you’d prefer your old room, I can clear it out.’

‘No, no, the flat’s fine,’ Louise says, but her heart sinks. Because although nothing says failure more than sleeping in the single bed in the room you slept in as a child, suddenly nothing says comfort more than being cocooned in your old duvet, with your lovely mum sleeping in the neighbouring room.

The bakery is at the end of a long row of terraced houses, next to her mother’s house, where Louise grew up. Between the door of the bakery and the door of the house is another door, one that leads to the flat. Elizabeth unlocks that door now, and heads up the staircase. Louise lags behind, lugging one of the bags. It’s been years since she’s been in the flat; she remembers it as a cold, unwelcoming space, used as a storeroom for the bakery, and stuffed full of old tables and chairs that had seen better days.

Still, it won’t be for long. She’s going to stay a few weeks, hunker down and lick her wounds, whilst she figures out what she wants to do with the rest of her life.

She follows her mother into the flat and plonks the bag down onto the floor.

‘Well, what do you think?’ Her mother’s eyes are bright and excited.

Louise glances around her. To her surprise, the space is warm and inviting. The main room comprises an open-plan lounge and kitchen, with a small dining table by the window, overlooking the back garden. The kitchen units are old-fashioned and have definitely seen better days, but they’ve been repainted dark blue, a shade her editor’s brain immediately labels as ‘cobalt’. The sofa is almost the exact same colour, the walls pale and neutral, and there are scatter cushions in autumn tones, oranges and golds.

This is far nicer than her old bedroom.

‘It’s gorgeous,’ Louise says. ‘It must have taken ages.’

It must have taken ages.

She can’t remember the last time someone did something for her, without wanting anything in return.

And then it dawns on her.

She only told her mother she was coming home three days ago. There’s no way this flat was transformed into this delightful, welcoming space in three days.

She told Elizabeth that she’d left her job, but she didn’t explain why.

There’d been that phone call, three months ago, during that crazily busy period at work. Around the time when she made her big screw-up. Louise can’t remember exactly what they’d said. She’d been preoccupied. Her mother had mentioned how since Mrs Danes had left, the bakery was proving too much for her so she’d decided it was time to retire and…

Oh God.

Louise suddenly realises what’s going on here.

She’s come home for a bit of R and R.

To take a break from the world.

To breathe.

To hibernate.

For a few days or weeks or however long it takes to get over the shame and the trauma of her big mistake and having to leave her job.

Her mother thinks she’s come home to run the bakery.

Two

Her mother thinks she’s here to take over the bakery.

Of course she does.

The thought churns in Louise’s mind as she lies in bed that night.

Elizabeth was bound to assume that. Louise should have told her the real reason why she’s here, should have explained properly, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Still doesn’t.