Page 37 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘Yeah, maybe. I could work on some ideas.’ He doesn’t sound enthusiastic. Not even remotely.

Louise pulls his jacket tighter around her. The night air is cold. Or maybe it’s just the atmosphere between them that’s chilled.

‘Right. Well. Thank you for your honesty.’ She takes a step back towards the door. ‘I should probably think about all this.’

‘Louise—’

‘It’s fine. Really. You’ve given me a lot to consider.’

They walk back through the kitchen, through the bakery, neither of them speaking. Jack helps her lock up, and they stand awkwardly on the pavement outside.

‘I’ll see what I can come up with,’ he says.

‘Sure. No rush.’ She slips the jacket off and hands it to him.

‘Goodnight, then.’

‘Goodnight.’

Louise watches him walk away, his hands shoved in his pockets. When he’s out of sight, she lets herself into the flat, climbing the stairs slowly.

She doesn’t turn on the main light, just stands by the window looking down at the dark garden.

Sheds!

For heaven’s sake!

The worst part is, she can’t tell if he genuinely believes in his shed idea or if this is his way of telling her he doesn’t want the job. She turns away from the window and heads to bed, knowing sleep will be a long time coming.

Thirteen

Sheds.

You approach a hot-shot London architect – or rather, a hot London architect - to design your dream building for your brilliant new business idea and he comes up with sheds.

It doesn’t make sense.

She gets that it would be a quick and presumably cheap way to get her new business up and running, but quick and cheap isn’t what she’s after here. When she thinks of her bookshop bakery, she imagines a big, light space filled with beautiful wooden shelves laden with books, the sort of place where you can peruse for hours. She’s thinking cosy corners with comfy armchairs and plump cushions, where customers can chill out with a coffee and a cake.

And Jack is thinking sheds.

Louise wipes down the counter for the third time that morning. It’s been busy. As usual, half of Applethwaite seem to have popped in this morning for a brew and a bake. She’s struggling to keep up with demand and could have done with Maddie’s help, but her stepdaughter still hasn’t surfaced. Louise has alternated between worrying if there’s been more upset with Theo and whether Maddie is okay, and wondering what she’s going to say to Jack when she sees him.

Eventually, her ‘customers’ drift away. There’s still no sign of Maddie, so Louise makes herself a mug of strong Yorkshire tea, takes out her phone and types ‘Jack Greenwood architect’ into Google.

Nothing comes up.

Nothing comes up for ‘Giacomo Greenwood architect’ either.

She knew he wasn’t famous, but even so, she assumed he’d have some kind of online presence. Didn’t everyone these days?

Has he googled her? And, if so, what did he find? Does he know all the details about Sheila Penhaligon and Louise’s monumental cock-up?

She types her own name and Sheila Penhaligon into the search bar, but doesn’t press Enter, closing her laptop lid instead. What does it matter? What’s done is done. It was one mistake. Admittedly a big one. But she’s moved on.

Although she hasn’t really. Until she speaks to Sheila, until she apologises properly, she can’t draw a line under the whole sorry episode. Whatever she’s doing, it’s always there – that terrible feeling that she’s let someone down. And then there’s the fear that she’s about to do that again, that she’ll mess up this new project, and let her mother down. And the whole of Applethwaite. It’s become very clear that everyone loves this bakery.

It’s almost half past two when Jack arrives. He walks in looking kind of awkward. Which is similar to how she’s feeling.