Page 72 of Bea's Book Wagon
‘Why’s that?’ asked Leo, puzzled.
‘Convincing the new head of the parish council to give Bea a permit to use either the green or the hall,’ said Tori.
‘Who is it, then?’ asked Nathan.
‘Violet Davenport,’ said Tori with a sigh.
‘Well, I think I might have come up with a plan to win her over,’ said Bea, with a knowing look. ‘If I play my cards right, I think getting the permit might be easier than you think.’
CHAPTER 19
Bea reversed the wagon into the village hall car park right on time on Monday evening, ready for the Women’s Institute meeting.
‘Bea!’ said Jean, who was loitering at the entrance to greet her. ‘Welcome to the Blossom Heath Belles.’
‘Hi, Jean, thanks again for having me,’ said Bea, climbing out of the car.
‘Well, doesn’t this look wonderful?’ said Jean, stepping back to admire the wagon. ‘I can’t wait to hear all about how you transformed it from a horsebox to a bookshop.’
‘Thanks. I’m actually a bit nervous,’ said Bea, opening up the back doors to the horsebox. ‘I’ve never given a talk before…’
‘Oh, don’t worry, we’re a nice bunch, we’re just grateful to have any special guests at all, really. In fact, I think we’re going to have a few more than usual turn up tonight.’
‘Do you know how many exactly?’ Bea asked, swallowing hard.
‘Well, we always get a few people drop out at the last minute, but there should be at least forty—’
‘Forty?’ Bea repeated, her mouth turning dry.
‘Listen, you can’t be any worse than the chap we had last month from the council, who talked about the new recycling scheme. He had the charisma of a plank. Terrible evening, and lots of people left halfway through,’ said Jean, shaking her head.
‘Oh God, did they?’ said Bea, her nerves jangling. ‘Well, I might start with this then,’ she said, grabbing a crate from inside the book wagon.
‘What’s this?’ asked Jean, peering into the box, which was full of brown paper packages tied up with string.
‘It’s called Blind Date with a Book,’ said Bea. ‘You choose a book from the box and there’s a description of what it’s about on the gift tag, but the title and author are a mystery…’
‘Ooooh, what a lovely idea,’ said Jean.
‘This one,’ said Bea, flipping its cardboard tag over, ‘is an enemies-to-lovers romance, with strong community dynamics. Whereas this,’ she continued, selecting another package, ‘is a thriller, published in 2020, set in London, with dark humour.’
‘These will go down a treat,’ said Jean, her eyes glinting with excitement.
‘I was thinking of pricing them at a pound each? They’re all second-hand, so—’
‘A pound!’ said Jean, waving a hand, ‘No, that’s silly, I suggest you make it at least two pounds.’
‘If you don’t think that’s too—’
‘It’s a bargain, dear, and such a novelty,’ said Jean, confidently. ‘In fact,’ she continued, pressing two pound coins into Bea’s hand, ‘I’ll take that thriller myself,’ she said, ‘before anyone else can get their mitts on it.’
‘Okay, great,’ said Bea, handing her the book. ‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, and you must make sure you get some of my Vicky sponge before you start, don’t wait for the break. It won Best in Show at the fête, you know,’ said Jean, turning to leave. ‘I’ll put a slice aside for you.’
‘Thanks, Jean, that sounds lovely!’
* * *
