Page 94 of The Sugar and Spice Bookshop Bakery

And there it was. In black and white. The original version.

Thor howled and fell to the ground, blood already oozing through his thick brown and black fur. Without a thought for his own safety, James dropped to his knees, his focus on his partner. He half expected to feel the blade in his own flesh next, but when he looked up, Kevin Logan was already backing away. A second later, he dropped the knife, turned on his heels and ran into the darkness.

‘Thor!’ James mumbled, crouching over him.

Was it a superficial wound? Judging from the sheer amount of blood, probably not.

Thor whimpered.

‘It’s okay, buddy, I’m here.’ James looked round frantically. Where was backup when you needed it?

He pressed the button on his radio. ‘I need a vet,’ he shouted, all professional protocol suddenly forgotten as he realised the truth: his partner lay dying, his blood pooling on the forest floor, seeping through the pine needles.

And now readers are baying for Sheila’s blood.

And hers.

Bloody marvellous.

And she’s stuck here in Applethwaite, on her own, about to open her bookshop bakery. It felt like such a good idea a few weeks ago, when Maddie first came up with it.

A bookshop and a bakery.

Novels and nibbles.

Lattes and literature.

Muffins and mysteries.

It won’t be as much fun without Maddie.

Or without Jack.

They’ll both be in London, and she’ll be here.

And she’s going to miss them both.

The thought crosses her mind that she could go back to London too. She could email Austen and Green, ask for her old job back.

She shakes her head. Not a chance. They wouldn’t want her.

She could work as a freelance editor perhaps.

Anna could run the bakery side of things. They could probably find someone to take care of the bookshop.

She pours herself a mug of tea, but one taste and she realises it’s already stewed. She tips it down the sink.

Her phone pings. A text from Maddie.

Sorry. You know I hate goodbyes. There’s a big part of me that doesn’t want to leave you. Or Applethwaite. I’ve had the best time xx.

*

Louise watches Anna that morning as she scuttles round the shop, taking orders and delivering drinks. She’s a natural with the customers, serving everyone – even the GMGs – with kindness and pleasantries. She juggles this with mixing cakes for the following day, the timer on her phone pinging at intervals to remind her to remove something from the oven, and somehow she still finds the time to get out her phone to show people photos of her daughter.

‘Yes, that’s Robyn.’

‘Yes, she is Helena Botham’s granddaughter. I’m Helena’s daughter.’