Page 31 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘Marketing? On top of running a bakery and a bookshop?’ Louise says.

‘I’ll help.’

Louise bites her lip. If you’re still around, she wants to say, but doesn’t. Because that’s the other thing she’s realising about this bookshop bakery idea: not only is the building too small for her vision, she isn’t sure it’s something she can pull off on her own.

And just as the doubts are beginning to set in, her nemesis walks in. Miss Anderson.

Of all the bakeries in all the villages in all the world, she walks into mine, Louise thinks, though it’s hardly surprising since it’s the only bakery in the village and Miss Anderson lives here.

She’s not alone either. She’s accompanied by a gaggle of her former colleagues, again people Louise would rather not encounter: the PE teacher who made Louise’s life miserable by calling her the ‘weed of the week’ because she was so useless at sports; and the maths teacher who constantly berated her for her failure to understand quadratic equations; and the music teacher who never tired of reminding her that she couldn’t sing in tune.

Louise mentally reminds herself once more that she’s forty-one. She has a good degree, speaks two foreign languages, has edited several bestselling books and has no reason to be intimidated by any of them anymore.

Taking a deep breath, she goes over to their table and hears herself saying, ‘What can I get you, ladies?’

A little voice in her head whispers, ‘You don’t have to serve them. You can refuse! This isn’t a business. Not yet!’

But she doesn’t want to get a bad reputation before she’s even painted the sign over the door so she keeps smiling through gritted teeth.

‘Can you remember all that?’ the PE teacher says, after they’ve given their order.

‘Three teas, one americano, and four slices of ginger cake coming right up,’ Louise says, turning on her heel.

As she moves away from their table, she hears Miss Anderson say, ‘Waitressing! Far more her level!’ It’s said loudly too, clearly with the hope that Louise would overhear. In fact, the whole bakery overhears.

‘Wow,’ says Maddie, who’s been watching proceedings from behind the counter. ‘Mean girl energy!’

‘They’re my old teachers.’

‘Poor you!’ Maddie says. ‘School must have been hell. And now they’re the Geriatric Mean Girls of Applethwaite. Still, this village is idyllic. There had to be some downside to living here and I guess they’re it! I’ll fetch the cake.’

‘Small slices,’ Louise hisses. ‘They don’t deserve your usual generosity.’

Maddie laughs and disappears into the kitchen. Louise has just made the coffee and plonked some teabags into a pot, when she hears her name, and looks up to see Miss Anderson beckoning her over with a teacher’s finger. The gesture takes her right back to being thirteen, and being called to the front of the class to read out her short story, only for Miss Anderson to scoff at it. Nevertheless, she goes over to their table.

‘I was wondering why you don’t have your hygiene certificate on display,’ Miss Anderson says.

Louise’s heart sinks. This is actually worse than being thirteen. ‘Hygiene certificate? I don’t… you see, we aren’t actually—’

‘Isn’t it a legal requirement for food premises to display an up-to-date hygiene certificate?’ Miss Anderson says confidently. Her friends all nod in agreement.

Louise bites her lip. ‘Is it? I’ll look into that. It’s just that—’

‘Mind you do that.’ Miss Anderson wags her finger. ‘Mind you do, Louise Dearnley.’

Louise retreats to the counter, cheeks burning.

‘You okay?’ Maddie slides the plates of ginger cake onto a tray – notably smaller slices than usual – and, without waiting for Louise to answer, delivers them to the teachers’ table with exaggerated politeness.

‘She asked about the hygiene certificate,’ Louise says as Maddie returns.

They stand and watch Miss Anderson and her cronies sampling the cake as if they’re judges on a cooking show.

‘I don’t even know if there is one,’ Louise sighs. ‘Or where it would be. Or if it’s still valid. Health and safety regulations, food hygiene ratings, supplier contracts, insurance…’ She trails off. ‘I’m in over my head. I can’t do this.’

‘No, you can—’ Maddie begins but Louise holds up a hand to silence her.

‘I mean, look at it. There isn’t enough room anyway. A bookshop needs space to browse, nooks to settle into. The bakery needs a working kitchen space, seating for customers. Trying to cram both into here…’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s not the TARDIS. It’s not going to magically expand to fit everything in.’