Page 47 of Bea's Book Wagon
‘Not all at once, I know, but hopefully I’ll need lots of stock over the summer, so it made sense to bulk-order to see me through.’
‘Even so, I think you might have overdone it,’ said Archie, scratching his head.
‘Hmmmm…’ said Bea, looking around her, ‘I might have got a little carried away.’
‘A little?’
‘Okay, okay, a lot. Oh, God. I’m going to be stuck with this lot when the book wagon turns out to be an epic failure, aren’t I?’ said Bea, chewing her lower lip.
‘Hey, it’s not going to fail,’ said Archie, stepping towards her. ‘It’s going to be great, and it’s better to be prepared.’
‘God, I hope you’re right, Arch. Now the fête is getting closer, it all feels a bit…’
‘Stressful?’
‘Yep,’ said Bea, morosely.
‘There’s a fine line between excitement and fear,’ said Archie encouragingly. ‘That’s what they say, isn’t it? They’re basically the same emotion.’
‘Are they? Because I have to say, the fear thing feels a whole lot worse,’ Bea said, mustering a weak smile.
‘It’s going to be great; you’ve got nothing to worry about, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Bea nodded, opening up one of the boxes and breathing in that familiar bookish smell.
‘Are you sniffing them?’ Archie asked, perplexed.
‘Absolutely,’ Bea nodded, ‘I love the scent of new books,’ she said, holding one under his nose.
‘You’re weird,’ he laughed, batting her hand away. ‘Are you seeing Mum today?’
‘Yep. We’re going shopping. I need to grab a shower first, though, I still reek of paint,’ said Bea, holding out a strand of hair and sniffing it.
‘I can’t smell anything,’ said Archie.
‘I’m not sure you’re the best judge, to be fair. Seb’s room stank, and you couldn’t smell that either.’
‘Fair point,’ said Archie. ‘Have fun with Mum.’
* * *
Bea pulled up outside her parents’ house just as her dad was taking Wordsworth for a walk.
‘Bea!’ said Gordon, pulling her into a hug. ‘Your mum’s really looking forward to this shopping trip, you know.’
‘Me too,’ said Bea, reaching down to fuss Wordsworth, who was giddy with excitement at seeing her.
‘Have fun!’ Gordon laughed, striding off in the direction of the nature reserve, dragging a reluctant Wordsworth behind him.
‘Bea? Is that you?’ said Carol, appearing in the doorway.
‘Sure is, are you ready?’
‘Before we go, I’ve got something for you, darling.’
‘What is it?’ said Bea, stepping inside the door.
‘Just a little something for the wagon,’ she said, reaching inside her shopping bag. ‘Here,’ she said, handing Bea a small package wrapped up in pink tissue paper. ‘I hope you like it, I made it myself.’ Bea carefully unwrapped the package to reveal a string of intricate, hand-crafted bunting in pretty, pastel colours.
