Page 29 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

‘Well, actually, it isn’t—’ Louise begins.

‘Never mind,’ the woman says. ‘We’ll make do with coffee.’

*

‘So does that happen every day?’ says Maddie later. ‘People coming in like that, thinking it’s still a bakery?’

It’s nearly midday, and Louise has turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’ – a sign she shouldn’t need since the bakery isn’t open anyway – and bolted the door. There are several five- and ten-pound notes and a pile of coins on the counter, and even more coins in the old tips jar.

They retreat to the commercial kitchen, out of sight of any passers-by who might peer in. Louise hoists herself onto the stainless-steel worktop and Maddie springs up beside her, swinging her legs.

‘Every day. If only I had a pound for every time I’ve said, “We’re not open yet, and it’s going to be a bookshop, not a bakery.” No one seems to hear me. Not even Mum, and she knows full well what the plan is.’

‘And they give you money,’ says Maddie, ‘without you even saying how much they owe you? It’s weird.’

‘Yep, it certainly is. Only in Applethwaite. I’m starting to think maybe I should run the bakery. The locals love the place. Is a bookshop commercially viable in such a small village? Maybe. Maybe not.’

They sit in silence for a minute, Maddie still swinging her legs, Louise staring at the opposite wall, her eyes unfocused. She’s torn, her mind going round in circles, unable to decide what she should do. Pursue the dream even though she might fail? Or give in and run the bakery after all?

Suddenly, Maddie jumps off the worktop and turns to face her stepmother. Her eyes are bright. ‘What your bookshop needs is a USP.’

‘A USP?’

‘Unique Selling Point. Something that makes it a little bit different from all the other indie bookshops out there.’

‘Like what?’

‘What if it’s a bookshop and a bakery? Not a café. No all-day breakfasts or soup of the day or anything like that. Just good coffee and a few bakes. And a fantastic selection of books expertly curated by a woman with a lifelong love of literature.’

Nice alliteration there, Louise thinks. Ever the editor.

And then she thinks, Actually, that’s not a bad idea.

Although… a bookshop and a bakery? That’s effectively two businesses. Twice as difficult. Twice the opportunity for failure.

But Maddie is seemingly oblivious to Louise’s lack of response and ploughs on regardless. ‘Books and baked goods. The perfect combo.’

‘Oh, Maddie, I—’

‘Stories and sustenance,’ says Maddie smugly. ‘Novels and nibbles.’

No, too much alliteration now. Far too much. The key is in knowing when to stop, when to draw the line.

Could it work?

Louise pictures the front of the bakery: there’d be fewer chairs and tables to make room for walls of bookshelves. The smell of ginger cake would mingle with the scent of new pages. Her two favourite scents. People might come in for a book, browse the shelves then settle in with a latte and enjoy their purchases, losing themselves for an hour or two. And people who come in for a coffee might find themselves drawn to buying a book.

It could work.

It really could.

‘Maddie, I love it,’ Louise says. ‘It’s a brilliant idea.’

Her stepdaughter responds by raising her hand above her head and flicking her fingers open, like a firework going off. ‘Er, hello! Lightbulb moment! What if we called it… The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery?’

Eleven

A bookshop and a bakery.