Page 6 of Bea's Book Wagon
She rubbed her eyes and looked again. It must be a mistake, it had to be. She hadn’t been that drunk last night, surely?
Bea refreshed the page. It made no difference, the purchase from yesterday was still there, clear as day.
11.37pm Vintage Double Horsebox Trailer in need of refurbishment / Perfect for food truck conversion. £2500.
No, no, no, no, no! It had to be a mistake. An amount like that would wipe out her savings; she’d have almost nothing left. She didn’t even own a car to tow the damn thing, for God’s sake! She’d have to email the seller and get the transaction cancelled, get her money back. It’d be fine. No need to panic.
But just then, a scene from last night flashed in her head. She was sat on the sofa with Jess, who was telling her what a great idea it was: a mobile bookshop she could take on the road…
A mobile bookshop? Is that what she’d intended the horsebox for? Sure, she’d thought about it after she’d seen that converted one at the farmer’s market, but she wouldn’t actually buy one. That would be crazy, wouldn’t it?
She pushed the laptop away and sank back into her pillows. Her head was thumping; she couldn’t think.
Exasperated, she hauled herself up and padded down to the kitchen, found a box of paracetamol and swigged a couple down with a glass of water. If she could just clear her head, perhaps that would help her to remember exactly what had happened last night.
Her mum had left a note on the kitchen table: Gone to bowls, see you later. Can you unload the dishwasher?
She’d have to call Jess. Hopefully, she could shed some light on the eBay situation.
Bea refilled her glass with water and headed back upstairs, settling herself under the covers. Jess picked up after a few rings, sounding even worse than Bea felt.
‘Hello?’
‘Jess, it’s me,’ said Bea.
‘Why are you awake already? I feel terrible.’ Jess croaked. ‘How much did we drink last night?’
‘Way too much judging by my purchase history on eBay.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Did I say anything last night about a horsebox?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Jess, slowly, ‘you were going on about that for ages. You’d seen a food truck in Rye, and you said it would be the perfect way to sell books. I thought it was a great idea—’
‘I’ve bought one.’
‘What?’
‘A horsebox.’
There was silence down the line.
‘Jess? Are you still there?’
‘Bloody hell, Bea!’
‘I know.’
‘How much was it?’
‘Two and a half grand.’
‘How much?’ Jess gasped.
‘That’s nearly all my savings gone.’
‘Christ! What are you going to do?’
