Page 44 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘My angle?’ The man sounds less sure of himself now.

‘You know, what are you going to focus on, exactly?’ She looks at Jack, who nods encouragingly. ‘The architecture of these signal boxes? Their history? The stories of the people who worked in them? Or is it more of a photographic journey?’

‘I’d just describe each signal box. What it looks like, where it is, how old it is.’

‘Who’s your audience?’ Louise says. ‘Who would read this book? Railway enthusiasts? Won’t they already know about them? Or general readers? Will they care about these signal boxes?’

‘I… I hadn’t really thought about that,’ Andy says.

He looks crestfallen. And Louise suddenly remembers her schooldays, remembers what it’s like to have someone pour cold water over an idea you’re proud of. She’s doing to this poor bloke exactly what Miss Anderson did to her.

‘I’m not saying it’s a bad idea,’ she says softly. ‘But before you invest hours of your life researching and writing this book, you have to be clear about who it’s for. If you just want to write this for yourself, because you’d enjoy it, that’s one thing. But if you want other people to buy it and read it, that’s quite another.’

‘Yes, I see that.’ Andy looks as though he might cry.

‘I’d read it,’ Jack pipes up, and Louise wants to hug him.

‘Would you?’ Andy’s voice is full of hope.

‘I would.’

‘Okay, here’s a few tips for you,’ Louise says. ‘If you want other people to read your book, you have to think of a way to hook them in. You know what people love? Genuine passion. As you’re writing, try to capture why signal boxes mean so much to you. Try to convey your passion to your readers.’

Andy stands up. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

Louise watches him going over to the bar.

‘Bless him,’ Jack says.

‘No-one’s going to publish that book,’ she says.

Jack winces. ‘Harsh.’

‘Harsh, yes, but true.’

‘You were kind to him though. You gave him hope.’

‘Yeah, well. It’s not a good feeling when someone rubbishes your writing. I felt sorry for him.’

‘You’re like the best chocolate, Luisa. A hard, businesslike exterior with a soft centre.’

She grimaces.

‘Too cheesy?’ he asks.

‘Like Parmesan and Wensleydale had a love child.’

He laughs. ‘Okay, like cannoli then. Crisp pastry with a gooey middle.’

‘I’m not sure I want to be described as having a gooey middle,’ Louise says, self-consciously sucking in her tummy a little. ‘Although I do love cannoli.’

‘You do? Noted.’ He taps his forehead. ‘Poor guy, though. He’s clearly lonely.’

Jack is looking over her shoulder, and Louise turns to see Andy sitting in the opposite corner to them, nursing a solitary pint.

‘Now where were we?’ she says.

‘Ah, yes,’ Jack says. ‘I was about to tell you that I—’