Page 1 of Bea's Book Wagon
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.
