Page 85 of Bea's Book Wagon
‘Wow, it’s epic in here, Miss,’ he said, his eyes wide as he looked around. ‘These lights are sick,’ he said, pointing to the fairy lights Nathan had installed.
‘Glad you like them,’ said Bea, smiling. ‘My friend Nate put them in. They’re powered by a car battery,’ she continued, ‘because there’s no electricity in the wagon.’
‘No way! That’s awesome,’ the boy said.
‘He made all the bookcases too.’
‘He built all of this?’ said the boy, reaching out to touch one of the shelves. ‘I wish I could do woodwork. Mrs Connolly says I have to wait until I go to secondary school, and that’s ages away.’
‘How old are you now?’
‘Nine,’ he said, puffing out his chest.
‘Wow, nine. Well, you’ll go to secondary school at eleven, so not too long to wait.’
‘It’s two years, Miss,’ he replied, incredulous. ‘That’s forever.’
‘It might seem like that now, but it’ll fly by.’
‘It will not,’ said the boy, kneeling down to fuss Bertie, who had settled himself in the corner and was happily snoring away.
‘Is that Bertie snoring?’ Bea asked.
‘Yeah, he does it all the time, Miss,’ the boy giggled. ‘Mrs Connolly said it’s because he’s old and needs more sleep.’
‘Why don’t we let him get some rest, then, and I’ll help you choose a book? What’s your name by the way?’ Bea asked, hoping he might be named after a character from a book she could recommend.
‘I’m Billy, and I told you, I don’t like reading,’ said Billy, the confidence in his voice vanishing. ‘It’s boring.’
‘Okay, so if you don’t like reading, what do you like doing?’ Bea asked.
‘Well, I like horses and football, Miss. I’m in the school team. We’re playing Rye Primary next week and I bet we’ll thrash them,’ he said, excitedly.
‘Hmmm… horses and football. Have you heard of an author called Michael Morpurgo, Billy?’
‘No, who’s he?’
‘He wrote a book I think you might actually like. It’s called Billy the Kid, and it’s about a football player called Billy who played for Chelsea. He also wrote a very famous book called War Horse, about a horse called Joey. It even got made into a film. I think you might like both of them. Here you go,’ she said, scanning the shelves and finding a second-hand copy of War Horse.
‘I like the cover,’ said Billy, gazing at the black and white image of Joey’s face above a line of soldiers. ‘Can I take it home?’
‘Yes! Of course.’
‘Cool, thanks, Miss!’
As Billy jogged back across the playground to class, his book tucked safely under his arm, Bea couldn’t help feeling a warm sense of pride. She hoped Billy would enjoy War Horse, even though it was very sad, and that it might change his mind that all books were boring.
* * *
By the time the school bell rang, signalling the end of the school day, Bea was exhausted. She didn’t know how Rose managed it; answering questions from chatty children for just one afternoon had wiped her out. The busiest part of the day was, however, just about to start, if the queue of parents forming at the door was any indication. Bea just hoped they were all actually here to buy books, as she’d ended up giving away many more to other reluctant readers than she’d planned to. She spotted Mrs Connolly bustling through the crowd, Rose at her side.
‘Lovely to meet you, Beatrice,’ said the headteacher, shaking her hand. ‘Thank you so much for coming to see us today. Rose tells me the children have loved it.’
‘They really have,’ Rose agreed.
‘Now, it turns out your visit has been more popular with the parents than anticipated, as you can see,’ Mrs Connolly said, pointing towards the queue, which was now snaking around the playground. ‘So, Rose and I are going to be on the door, managing numbers – think of us as your bouncers if you will,’ Mrs Connolly chuckled. ‘No more than eight people in at any one time, if that works for you?’
‘Perfect, thank you,’ said Bea, gratefully.
