Page 96 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

Her fingers touch fabric.

Her hands trembling – although with excitement now, rather than fear – she runs her fingers along the fabric and finds what seems to be an opening, fastened with Velcro. She steps into the wardrobe, praying the base of it will take her weight. Then she rips open the Velcro and steps through the opening and into…

Narnia.

Well, into what Narnia would look like if it were a bookshop.

Narnia with beanbags.

She stands still for a moment, trying to take it all in.

Oh, Maddie.

Never has Louise felt quite so proud of her stepdaughter. Or quite so in awe of her.

The missing two-thirds of the shed have been magically transformed into a winter wonderland. The walls and bookshelves have been painted white. Fake icicles – how on earth has she made those? – hang from the shelves like frozen tears. Huge paper snowflakes dangle from the ceiling on invisible threads, slowly spinning. The windows have been sprayed with fake snow, and there’s more snow on the floor, and on the branches of the two trees which stand in each corner. There’s an old-fashioned lamp-post too.

But the star of the show is undoubtedly Aslan the lion. He’s golden and regal and utterly magnificent. His face is wise and kind. Louise feels as if he’s looking at her, as if she’s intruding somehow into his kingdom. She fights the urge to apologise, and instead reaches out to touch him, by way of greeting. His skin feels papery, not furry. Of course! The old newspapers. The chicken wire. Maddie has made him out of papier mâché. The trees too, by the look of them.

She turns around, taking it all in, and gives an involuntary shiver – the wintry scene is so realistic that she actually feels cold.

Then she looks again at Aslan. Looks into his kind eyes.

‘I’ve screwed everything up,’ she tells him.

Maddie’s Narnia feels so magical that she half expects him to speak back.

Of course, he doesn’t. But her eyes are drawn to something underneath one of his paws. A plain, white envelope.

Louise picks it up. On the front of it, in Maddie’s distinctive curly handwriting, is one word: Louise.

Her fingers still trembling, she opens the envelope and pulls out the paper inside. She unfolds it, expecting to find a letter, but there’s no ‘dear Louise’. Maddie has set out her thoughts like a poem.

Books aren’t like other things that you buy. They aren’t just entertainment.

Books lift your spirits when you’re down.

They comfort you.

They bring joy and hope.

They tell stories that help you make sense of the world.

And a bookshop – especially a bookshop like this – it’s not just a shop.

It’s a safe space.

A special place.

Where people can come to escape for an hour or two.

And this one is extra special because they can escape with a coffee and a slice of your lovely ginger cake.

I mean, what could be better than that?

You’re probably wondering if you should just give up.

You’re not sure you can do it on your own.