Bea's Book Wagon, page 1
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To Mum and Dad
For always encouraging me to follow my dreams.
Love you lots xx
CHAPTER 1
‘Bea!’ a voice boomed through the flimsy partition wall of Bea Miller’s office cubicle. ‘I said two sugars!’ it continued, becoming gradually louder. Bea could hear Brendan’s footsteps getting closer as he marched towards her desk in the dreary, uninspiring office space she shared with a dozen other lacklustre staff. The fluorescent tube-lighting strip buzzed above Bea’s head and she blinked, attempting to refocus her gaze in its harsh glare.
‘Sorry, I must’ve given you Dave’s,’ she said, flashing a half-smile at the pasty, thirty-something man standing in front of her, wearing a cheap nylon suit. He placed a chipped ‘World’s Best Boss’ mug – the irony of which wasn’t lost on her – down on Bea’s desk. The milky, beige, determinedly sugarless liquid slopped over the sides, spilling onto her workstation. Bea grabbed a tissue and began mopping up diligently.
‘How long have you been here now, Bea? Five months?’ asked Brendan, tapping his foot against her desk.
‘Five months too long,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘Sorry?’
‘About that, yep,’ said Bea, nodding absentmindedly as she threw a sodden tissue into the bin.
‘And is it really too much to ask that you know how I take my tea?’
Bea hesitated. What she really wanted to tell Brendan was that he should be making his own damn tea. She was pretty sure ‘general dogsbody’ wasn’t in the job description the temp agency had sent across when she’d signed up for a job as a PA in the sales department of Hobbs & Partners. Brendan Fuller was head of the sales team, and he possessed a totally skewed sense of self-importance for someone who was essentially managing a team of cold callers, most of whom were barely out of school.
The power really had gone to his head.
‘And Bea!’ shouted Brendan, even louder, this time slamming a pile of papers down on her desk. ‘I asked for the February sales figures, not January.’
‘Really? I could have sworn you said January—’
‘Oh, you could, could you?’ he grunted.
‘Well, yes…’ Bea knew she was right, she knew the mistake was Brendan’s, not hers, but it wasn’t worth antagonizing him further, not while he was in this mood.
‘How about you stop questioning me and get things right for once? Is that really too much to ask?’
‘Actually, yes it is!’ said Bea, loudly. She’d had enough, she wasn’t taking any more of Brendan’s abuse. She might need the money, but no temp job was worth this every day.
‘What did you say?’ said Brendan, staring at her, eyes wide.
‘I said, I’m sick of taking this from you, Brendan. The way you talk to me isn’t okay and I’m done,’ she said, folding her arms.
‘You’ve had enough?’ replied Brendan, incredulous.
‘Yes, I have!’ she swallowed hard, the entire office was looking at her now. She saw Kieran, the new trainee, throw her a thumbs-up from across the room. ‘You can stick your job, Brendan, I’m worth more than this,’ she continued, pulling on her jacket and grabbing her bag from under the desk. ‘I quit!’
‘Yes, Bea!’ yelled Kieran, clapping wildly.
‘Too late,’ said Brendan through gritted teeth, ‘you’re fired.’
‘Whatever,’ Bea shrugged, ‘you’re not my problem anymore, Brendan,’ she said, turning on her heels and walking out of the office for what would be the last time, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She’d finally done it, she was free.
* * *
‘What have I done?’ said Bea, as she sat slumped at the bar in Lagoon Lounge two hours later. She’d walked straight into the first place on Hastings’ High Street that served alcohol, and the tired-looking bar, decked out in blue velvet upholstery, was the closest to the office. She’d immediately ordered a shot of tequila and then called her best friend, Jess, to come and help her drown her sorrows.
Bea and Jess had met on the first day of secondary school, and the pair had been firm friends ever since. Jess lived in the nearby village of Blossom Heath, just five miles from Rye, where her parents, Ted and Maggie, ran the village store. Despite the fact that the journey from the village took nearly thirty minutes, in true best-friend style, Jess arrived at the bar in record time.
‘Oh, you hated that job anyway,’ said Jess, setting another round of drinks down at their table. ‘Brendan sounds like a total arse.’
‘Oh, he is, but I still shouldn’t have walked out like that. I’ve only just moved back to Rye… to Mum and Dad’s.’ Bea said, dropping her head into her hands. ‘What are they going to think? I’ve already failed in London and now I can’t even hold down a job here.’
It was almost four years since Bea had left university, finishing her degree in English Literature from Birmingham with honours. To say things hadn’t exactly gone to plan since then would be an understatement.
She’d moved to London – Essex to be exact; she was so far out on the Central Line it didn’t even count as London – to look for a job in publishing. It had always been about books for Bea, ever since she was tiny. If her mum, Carol, was to be believed, she was reading as she soon as she could talk.
Carol had worked at Rye library for close to thirty years and Bea had lost track of the hours she had spent there as a child, her nose buried in a book. It was the place that had first ignited her love of stories, and when her mum had been diagnosed with cancer when Bea was ten years old, it was books she had turned to, to help her through those dark days. The time she’d spent in Narnia, Wonderland and at Hogwarts had helped her cope. And, when Carol had recovered, books had remained Bea’s sanctuary; they were the place she retreated to when the real world got too much, and she knew that, whatever she ended up doing, it would have to involve literature in some way.
It hadn’t been as easy as that, though. Bea had lost count of the number of applications she’d submitted to publishing houses during her time in London, although it must fall somewhere in the thousands. She’d had a few interviews, which got her hopes up, but they’d all come to nothing. She’d been pipped at the post by candidates with ‘more experience’ or ‘a better fit’… whatever that meant.
It was soul destroying.
How was she supposed to get experience if she couldn’t even get a foot in the door?
Last year, she’d been offered an internship at a small independent house, but when she’d crunched the numbers, she’d realized living on a budget of zero in London wasn’t practical, so she’d had to turn it down.
Where did these companies find people who could afford to work for free, anyway?
‘Hey, coming back home isn’t a failure. You were there almost four years, it’s not like you gave up easily,’ said Jess.
‘I had no idea how competitive it was going to be. I’ve lost count of how many interviews I went to. Hundreds? Thousands?’ she said, shaking her head. ‘There are only so many rejections I could take.’
‘It’s tough out there. Even tougher in creative jobs. Remember how long it took for me to get that first gig in graphic design, even with my degree? It’s hard to catch a break.’
‘It really is. I floated from one temp job to another, getting nowhere fast. It doesn’t help that Archie’s totally killing it either; he’s raking it in in that IT job. He’s got his own place and a mortgage – it’s hard not to feel like I’m coming up short.’
Archie, Bea’s older brother, had bought a house at Meadowgate Mead, a new-build estate on the outskirts of Blossom Heath, a couple of years ago.
‘IT jobs pay well, it’s no surprise that he got that mortgage,’ said Jess. ‘And, anyway, it’s not a competition.’
‘It feels like it is.’
‘You’ve got savings, though, haven’t you? Could they tide you over for a bit, until you find something else?’
‘I could probably make them stretch for a couple of months, but after that, I’m screwed…’
‘Oh Lovely,’ said Jess, rubbing her friend’s back. ‘To be honest, I’m amazed you lasted this long with Brendan. He sounded horrendous.’
‘He really was,’ Bea groaned, rubbing her temples.
‘And you’ve still got that volunteer job at the library, right? You’re enjoying that?’
‘Yeah,’ said Bea, mustering a weak smile. As soon as she’d arrived back in Sussex, Bea had wasted no time in signing up to volunteer at her local library. Her three-hour weekend shift there was the highlight of her week.
‘That’s something, then,’ said Jess with enthusiasm.
‘I guess,’ said Bea, downing another shot.
‘Hey, go easy,’ said Jess. ‘You don’t want to do something you’ll regret.’
‘I already have,’ said Bea, her voice hollow, ‘I’ve quit my job, remember?’
‘Good point,’ said Jess, nodding. ‘Well, you don’t want to do anything else you’ll regret. I think the job thing is enough for one day. Why don’t you give the temp agency a call? I’m sure they can find you something else.’
‘Good
‘Maybe,’ said Jess, scooping up the phone, ‘wait until the morning, when you’re more…’
‘Sober?’
‘Exactly. There’s no rush, is there?’
‘No, it can wait. Brendan’s probably already told them I’m useless.’
‘Do you want to come back to mine and we can make a plan? You can figure out what to say to your parents?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Bea, fishing the keys out of her purse. ‘Can we stop off for supplies?’
‘Supplies?’
‘If we’re making a plan, we’ll need the essentials: wine, crisps and chocolate!’
‘Whatever you say.’
‘You have to eat the chocolate and the crisps at the same time, though. And it has to be cheese and onion.’
‘If I have to,’ Jess nodded, helping Bea up from her seat. ‘Maybe we should get you some coffee too?’
‘I knew there was a reason I liked you, Jess Harrison,’ Bea slurred, taking her friend’s arm. ‘You’re one of the good ones.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I know,’ said Jess, steadying Bea as she stumbled towards the door.
* * *
‘What shall we have next? Bea asked, looking at the selection of bottles lined up on Jess’s kitchen counter. ‘Tequila or vodka?’
‘God, not more tequila, it’s disgusting,’ said Jess, pulling a face.
‘We should eat something,’ said Bea, pulling apart a family-sized bag of crisps and throwing them into a bowl. ‘Line our stomachs.’
‘I think it’s a bit late for that,’ said Jess, lying back on the sofa. ‘The damage is well and truly done.’
‘It can’t hurt,’ laughed Bea, setting the crisps on the coffee table and sitting down. ‘I’ve seen a TikTok that will change your life,’ she continued, opening a slab of Dairy Milk. ‘The trick is to eat it at the same time, like this,’ she said, shoving a couple of squares of chocolate into her mouth along with a handful of crisps. ‘It shouldn’t work, but it does,’ she said through a mouthful.
‘Here, let me,’ said Jess, doing the same. ‘Oh my god, that’s amazing,’ she said, closing her eyes. ‘How have we never done this before?’
‘I know, right?’ Bea nodded, taking another handful.
‘Who came up with this idea?’
‘Who knows? But it’s all over TikTok.’
‘Well, whoever it was, it’s delicious. Good spot, Bea, you’re a genius!’
‘I am, aren’t I? Far too good for the likes of Brendan!’ said Bea, puffing out her chest.
‘Exactly,’ said Jess, raising a glass.
‘You know, he reminded me a bit of Trunchbull…’
‘Trunchbull?’
‘Miss Trunchbull? From Matilda?’ said Bea, nudging her friend gently. ‘The awful headmistress, remember?’ Bea loved comparing people to characters from the stories she adored, especially the horrible ones.
‘Ah, yeah! God, he sounded awful!’ said Jess.
‘I know, I should have quit ages ago…’ said Bea, thinking about how much Jess reminded her of Amy March from Little Women: artistic and kind, sassy and fiercely loyal. Yes, Jess was definitely an Amy through and through.
‘Well, you’ve done it now, that’s the main thing.’
‘I have, haven’t I? It feels…’ Bea paused, trying to find the right word, ‘liberating.’
‘God, I wish I’d been there. I’d have loved to have seen the look on his face.’
‘It was priceless,’ said Bea, smiling. ‘He tried to fire me, but I’d already quit – in front of the whole office, too!’
‘That took guts, Bea, I’m proud of you,’ said Jess, pulling her into a hug. ‘You were too good for that job.’
‘I was.’ She slumped back into the sofa cushions and took another sip of her drink. ‘Although…’
‘What?’
‘What am I going to do now?’ she said, panic rising in her chest.
‘Well…’
‘Jess, what the hell am I going to do?’ Bea asked, bolting upright, clutching one of the cushions desperately. ‘Mum and Dad are going to be fuming. What am I going to say to them?’ Her breathing was speeding up, her alarm evident.
‘Bea,’ said Jess, taking her by the shoulders, ‘you’re panicking. Take some deep breaths,’ she said, modelling breathing in and out slowly. Bea followed suit.
‘Okay,’ she nodded, blowing out a long, deep breath.
‘There, that’s better,’ said Jess, encouragingly. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Better, thanks. Sorry, today’s been a lot.’
‘I get it. It’ll be fine though, Bea, I promise.’
‘Actually, I had an idea recently… you’ll think it’s silly, though…’ Bea said, shaking her head.
‘Course I won’t. Go on, tell me!’
‘Okay,’ said Bea, taking another deep breath, ‘I was thinking about setting up an online shop, selling books. A bricks-and-mortar bookshop would be my dream, but I guess I never thought it was… realistic, so publishing seemed the most obvious path to take,’ she shrugged. ‘I tried applying for bookshop jobs in London, too… Waterstones, Foyles, loads of independents, but even that was super competitive.’
‘Okay,’ said Jess, sitting up straight. ‘Well, you’ve always been book-obsessed, I can totally see you doing that.’
‘Can you?’ said Bea, hesitating. She hadn’t given the idea much serious thought, but perhaps she should? ‘So, I was thinking about having a stall at local fairs…’
‘And?’
‘Well, I was at the farmer’s market the other day and they had one of those coffee bars – a converted horsebox, I think it was – and I was wondering, well…’ She breathed in deeply. ‘What if I did the same, only with books?’
‘A mobile bookshop?’ asked Jess, setting down her glass.
‘Yeah, exactly.’
Jess stared back at her for a moment.
‘It’s a mad idea, isn’t it?’ said Bea, shaking her head.
‘Mad? Absolutely not!’ said Jess, seriously. ‘I think it’s bloody brilliant!’
‘You do?’
‘God, yes! It’s a great idea! You should totally do it!’
‘Really?’
‘Definitely! There’s nothing like that around here. It would have a real novelty-factor too—’
‘That’s what I was thinking,’ said Bea, animatedly. ‘I could travel to all the local villages – none of them have bookshops – and there’d be no rent to pay, not like with a high street shop. What’s the worst that could happen?’
‘Exactly! If it didn’t work, you’d just pack up and move on to the next place. What have you got to lose?
‘That’s what I thought,’ said Bea, buzzing with excitement. ‘I’ve got some savings – how much could a horsebox cost anyway?’
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ said Jess, grabbing her laptop, ‘eBay!’
‘I could get an old one and do it up,’ said Bea.
‘I’ll help. I could design your logo and paint it across the sides; give it a proper glow-up,’ said Jess, spreading her arms wide. ‘Whatever you like!’
‘Let’s have a look,’ said Bea, tapping away at the keyboard.
‘How much are they?’ Jess asked, peering across at the screen.
‘Hmmmm… more than I thought,’ said Bea, her face falling a little.
‘Yeah, but those have already been done up, look for the ones that haven’t.’
‘Cheaper… much cheaper,’ Bea said, scrolling down the page. ‘Hang on, this one looks good,’ she continued, tilting the laptop towards Jess. ‘It needs work, but it looks pretty sturdy.’
‘There you go! It says it’s perfect for a conversion, too. Can you afford it?’
‘Barely,’ said Bea, biting her lower lip. ‘It’ll wipe out most of my savings, but I’d have a bit left to give it a revamp and buy some stock. Just think how cute it would look with a pretty, pastel paint-job and some fairy lights around the door! I could have beanbags inside and macramé on the walls. It would be dreamy,’ she swooned, lost in the picture she was creating in her mind.
‘You only live once!’
‘Exactly, and I am here for it!’ Bea said, her mouse hovering over the buy it now button.
She hesitated.
