Page 98 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

(Please see Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway. You’ll find it in Jack’s stained-glass dome with the other self-help titles!)

So where was I? Oh yes.

Keep going, my darling stepmother.

Stack the shelves with loads of lovely books.

I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with the place when I come to the grand opening.

Maddie xx

Louise’s eyes well up. Yes, she thinks. Yes, I am going to do it.

She looks back at the letter. There’s a PS.

Go and see Sheila.

Apologise in person.

I’m sure you’ll feel a lot better if you do.

Louise puts one hand on Aslan’s head to steady herself, and the other to her face, wiping her tears on the back of her hand so they don’t drip on the fake snow on the floor.

Thirty-Three

Brave, Louise thinks. Brave like Aslan.

She can do this.

She’s going to do this. What’s more she’s going to do it in a public place too, figuring that Sheila is less likely to explode at the mere sight of her if there are other people around. Although there probably won’t be that many people. Not after the backlash in the press against the novel.

She’s in a small northern town heading to a very well-known indie bookshop where Sheila is doing a signing. Her intention is to say hi and if Sheila doesn’t seem incandescent, she’ll suggest a coffee. And then she’ll apologise.

Her mouth is dry. Her legs don’t seem to want to function either, and she thinks she might be about to throw up.

She takes a deep breath. Best to get this over with as quickly as possible.

What was she thinking? Sending the wrong manuscript? Every editor’s worst nightmare.

She checks Google maps, turning her phone upside down as she would a conventional map, trying to orientate herself. It is just around this corner. Less than fifty metres away. Just one minute’s walk, according to the app.

She rounds the corner to see a queue snaking out of the door of the bookshop.

‘Are you waiting to see Sheila Penhaligon?’ she asks the man at the end.

He seems surprised at the question. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘And all these people…?’ She gestures at the people in front.

‘…are also waiting to see Sheila Penhaligon.’

‘Oh. I didn’t expect there to be so many. You know. After the stuff in the paper about A Deadly Scent. The reviews and…’ Her voice trails away.

‘But it’s her best yet,’ the man says. ‘Haven’t you read it?’

Just once or twice, Louise thinks. Several versions of it, in fact. Including the version that was meant to be published, the one where Thor is saved by a gallant vet – Louise had quite a crush on that fictitious vet – and is awarded a medal for his bravery. Privately, James thinks medals for dogs are a bit silly; it’s not like Thor knows he’s got a medal and he’d probably prefer a bone, but people seem to like that kind of thing.

Readers would have liked that version of the book, Louise thinks. That’s the one everyone was supposed to read. Can it really be true that some people like this one?