Page 55 of Bea's Book Wagon
‘Today’s going to be great. It’s going to be sunny all day, so it should be really busy, and I’ll be there to help out, so will Jess.’
‘Thanks, Arch. Mum and Dad are bringing Wordsworth, and Matt said he’ll be there too. He’s been great, actually, telling everyone who comes into the library about it. He even put some flyers up for me.’
‘Great. And Nate? He’s coming, right?’
‘Yep, he’s got to work first, but he’ll be there at some point. Lochlan’s coming as well.’
‘Cool, he seems like a nice guy.’
‘Yeah, he is,’ Bea said with a nod. ‘Right, I’d better get ready, thanks for breakfast.’
‘No problem. Do you need a hand getting the wagon hitched?’
‘Nope, I’m good, I did it last night. Thanks for letting me leave it on the driveway, Arch. It’s so much easier than going back and forth to the farm all the time. Now all the work’s been done, there’s no reason to keep it there, really.’
‘I guess not.’
‘Are you okay to tidy up?’ asked Bea, turning to leave. ‘I’ve got a grand opening to get ready for.’
* * *
Bea made the short drive to the village green alone. Archie had offered to ride along with her, but she wanted some time by herself to get her head straight. It was her opening day, and she was determined to make the business a success. When she arrived at the village green, she could see that lots of stallholders were already setting up.
She glanced at her watch. She was right on time – why were so many people early? She’d hoped to have plenty of room to reverse the wagon into place, but she could see that, wherever she was told to park, it was going to be a tight squeeze.
She followed the signs marked ‘Exhibitors’ and was met by a stern-looking woman in a tweed suit, wearing a fluorescent tabard.
‘Name?’ the woman barked.
‘Oh, hi, I’m Bea Miller. Bea’s Book Wagon,’ said Bea, lowering the car window.
‘Let me see,’ said the woman, scanning the clipboard in her hands. ‘Ah, yes. You’re next to Tony’s Tex Mex, over there on the right,’ she said, pointing in the distance towards where a scruffy silver trailer was parked.
‘Ah, yes. Got it,’ said Bea.
‘You need to turn left and follow the arrows,’ said the woman, jerking her thumb furiously.
‘Left? But I’ll never be able to reverse in from that angle,’ said Bea, panic rising in her chest. ‘If I go right I can just back straight in.’
‘That’s impossible,’ said the woman, haughtily. ‘Health and safety – vehicles can only flow from one direction.’
‘But I can’t make that turn,’ said Bea, ‘look at what I’m towing!’
‘Like I said, traffic must flow from one direction only, there’s nothing I can do about it, it’s all in the risk assessment,’ the woman said, puffing out her chest.
‘For God’s sake,’ Bea huffed, closing her window. If there was one thing she hated more than petty rules, it was the petty bureaucrats who enforced them.
As Bea circled around the green, which was far bumpier than she’d anticipated, she took some deep, calming breaths. It was going to be fine. Okay, it might be harder to reverse into her pitch from this angle, but she could totally deal with it, and she needed all the practice she could get.
At least that’s what she thought. But after several attempts, Bea’s arms were aching from heaving the steering wheel round, and sweat was starting to pour down her forehead.
‘You want to get more swing on it, love,’ the man at the next pitch – who she assumed was Tex Mex Tony – yelled.
‘You don’t say,’ Bea muttered under her breath, while throwing him a half-hearted wave of thanks. If he thought it was so easy, he was welcome to give it a try himself.
‘Turn your wheel hard-right,’ another vendor piped up.
‘You’re never going to make it from that angle,’ someone else shouted, helpfully.
