Page 99 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

Quite a lot of people, in fact, if this queue is anything to go by.

‘I said, have you read it?’ the man says, jolting her from her thoughts.

‘I have, yes.’

‘What did you think?’

‘I don’t know. Thor dying like that. That took me by surprise. I wanted him to live, didn’t you?’

‘I know what you mean,’ the man says. ‘But it wouldn’t be realistic, would it? That’s what I like about Sheila’s books. She doesn’t do the obvious, does she? It isn’t all neat and tidy, happy-ever-after fiction. She keeps it real. Lesser authors wouldn’t dare kill off one of the main characters like that, but Sheila… well, Sheila has guts as a writer.’

‘She certainly does.’

More guts than her editor.

The queue shuffles forward a foot or so. This is going to take forever. Because that’s one of the best things about Sheila – she has time for her readers. She doesn’t just scribble her name and move on to the next person. She talks to them. Is genuinely interested in what they think.

Sheila knows her readers.

She knew what she was doing when she killed off Thor. She knew that the vast majority of readers would understand.

‘The way she portrays James’s grief,’ the man says. ‘Incredible. I mean, you imagine that these police dog handlers are tough guys, don’t you? Working with these big dogs, day in, day out. Putting themselves in dangerous situations. It was…’ he pauses and Louise thinks for a second that he’s going to cry, but he seems to pull himself together ‘… it was very powerful.’

‘It was,’ Louise says simply.

It was powerful. It had moved her to tears when she read the first draft. Perhaps her doubts were misplaced.

‘I might go and get a coffee. Come back later,’ she says suddenly. ‘When the queue’s died down.’

‘Rather you than me,’ he says. ‘This queue’s only gonna get longer. I’ve brought all my Sheila Penhaligons to be signed.’ He holds up a plastic carrier bag.

‘Okay, well, enjoy,’ she says, then, with a little wave, she crosses the street and goes and sits at a window table in the café opposite the bookshop. She can’t believe there are so many people. It would seem that Sheila is as popular as ever. More, even. Louise hasn’t checked the reviews in a while, hasn’t looked to see how the book is doing on the Kindle charts. She’d preferred not to know. She gets out her phone, and is surprised to see it’s reached the top ten, and most of the recent reviews have been glowing.

Three lattes later, and the queue has finally dwindled. Louise pays her bill and hastens over the road to the bookshop, taking a deep breath before entering.

There’s still a small line of people in front of the signing table. Louise watches as Sheila poses for photos with some of her fans, signs a few books, exchanges pleasantries.

And then it’s her turn.

‘Louise!’ Sheila practically jumps out of her chair.

‘How are you?’ Louise says, a little stiffly, still nervous. She wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans and offers a hand to Sheila, but the author pulls her in for a hug instead.

‘I’m… exhausted. Even after all these years, I’m always surprised at how tiring it is to sign your name over and over again. Still, I can’t complain. Sales are rocketing, which is brilliant after… you know. The slow start.’

‘Yes, about that—’ Louise begins but they’re interrupted by one of the bookshop staff.

‘We’re locking up now, Sheila. But by all means finish off with the signings.’

‘This is my brilliant editor,’ Sheila says. ‘Louise Dearnley.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Louise says, offering her hand again though her palms still feel clammy.

After the usual conversation with the member of staff thanking Sheila for her time, saying she’s welcome back with the next novel, Louise and Sheila are left alone again.

‘I don’t know how I… I’ve felt terrible… I always have been a bit hopeless with organising files and documents. I should have double-checked. I thought I had checked. Anyway, I can never apologise enough. I thought I’d ended your career. I thought…’ Her voice breaks. She swallows hard.

‘Take a deep breath.’ Sheila puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘The book I wanted to publish was published. And yes, sales were dreadful to begin with and some of the press articles weren’t exactly kind. And don’t get me started on the early reviews.’