Bea’s Book Wagon

Chapter 1

‘Bea!’ a voice boomed through the flimsy partition wall of Bea Miller’s office cubicle.

‘I said two sugars!’ it continued, becoming gradually louder.

Bea could hear Brendan’s footsteps getting closer as he marched towards her desk in the dreary, uninspiring office space she shared with a dozen other lacklustre staff.

The fluorescent tube-lighting strip buzzed above Bea’s head and she blinked, attempting to refocus her gaze in its harsh glare.

‘Sorry, I must’ve given you Dave’s,’ she said, flashing a half-smile at the pasty, thirty-something man standing in front of her, wearing a cheap nylon suit.

He placed a chipped ‘World’s Best Boss’ mug – the irony of which wasn’t lost on her – down on Bea’s desk.

The milky, beige, determinedly sugarless liquid slopped over the sides, spilling onto her workstation.

Bea grabbed a tissue and began mopping up diligently.

‘How long have you been here now, Bea? Five months?’ asked Brendan, tapping his foot against her desk.

‘Five months too long,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘Sorry?’

‘About that, yep,’ said Bea, nodding absentmindedly as she threw a sodden tissue into the bin.

‘And is it really too much to ask that you know how I take my tea?’

Bea hesitated. What she really wanted to tell Brendan was that he should be making his own damn tea.

She was pretty sure ‘general dogsbody’ wasn’t in the job description the temp agency had sent across when she’d signed up for a job as a PA in the sales department of Hobbs she was so far out on the Central Line it didn’t even count as London – to look for a job in publishing. It had always been about books for Bea, ever since she was tiny. If her mum, Carol, was to be believed, she was reading as she soon as she could talk.

Carol had worked at Rye library for close to thirty years and Bea had lost track of the hours she had spent there as a child, her nose buried in a book.

It was the place that had first ignited her love of stories, and when her mum had been diagnosed with cancer when Bea was ten years old, it was books she had turned to, to help her through those dark days.

The time she’d spent in Narnia, Wonderland and at Hogwarts had helped her cope.

And, when Carol had recovered, books had remained Bea’s sanctuary; they were the place she retreated to when the real world got too much, and she knew that, whatever she ended up doing, it would have to involve literature in some way.

It hadn’t been as easy as that, though. Bea had lost count of the number of applications she’d submitted to publishing houses during her time in London, although it must fall somewhere in the thousands.

She’d had a few interviews, which got her hopes up, but they’d all come to nothing.

She’d been pipped at the post by candidates with ‘more experience’ or ‘a better fit’… whatever that meant.

It was soul destroying.

How was she supposed to get experience if she couldn’t even get a foot in the door?

Last year, she’d been offered an internship at a small independent house, but when she’d crunched the numbers, she’d realized living on a budget of zero in London wasn’t practical, so she’d had to turn it down.

Where did these companies find people who could afford to work for free, anyway?

‘Hey, coming back home isn’t a failure. You were there almost four years, it’s not like you gave up easily,’ said Jess.

‘I had no idea how competitive it was going to be. I’ve lost count of how many interviews I went to. Hundreds? Thousands?’ she said, shaking her head. ‘There are only so many rejections I could take.’

‘It’s tough out there. Even tougher in creative jobs. Remember how long it took for me to get that first gig in graphic design, even with my degree? It’s hard to catch a break.’

‘It really is. I floated from one temp job to another, getting nowhere fast. It doesn’t help that Archie’s totally killing it either; he’s raking it in in that IT job. He’s got his own place and a mortgage – it’s hard not to feel like I’m coming up short.’

Archie, Bea’s older brother, had bought a house at Meadowgate Mead, a new-build estate on the outskirts of Blossom Heath, a couple of years ago.

‘IT jobs pay well, it’s no surprise that he got that mortgage,’ said Jess. ‘And, anyway, it’s not a competition.’

‘It feels like it is.’

‘You’ve got savings, though, haven’t you? Could they tide you over for a bit, until you find something else?’

‘I could probably make them stretch for a couple of months, but after that, I’m screwed…’

‘Oh Lovely,’ said Jess, rubbing her friend’s back. ‘To be honest, I’m amazed you lasted this long with Brendan. He sounded horrendous.’

‘He really was,’ Bea groaned, rubbing her temples.

‘And you’ve still got that volunteer job at the library, right? You’re enjoying that?’

‘Yeah,’ said Bea, mustering a weak smile. As soon as she’d arrived back in Sussex, Bea had wasted no time in signing up to volunteer at her local library. Her three-hour weekend shift there was the highlight of her week.

‘That’s something, then,’ said Jess with enthusiasm.

‘I guess,’ said Bea, downing another shot.

‘Hey, go easy,’ said Jess. ‘You don’t want to do something you’ll regret.’

‘I already have,’ said Bea, her voice hollow, ‘I’ve quit my job, remember?’

‘Good point,’ said Jess, nodding. ‘Well, you don’t want to do anything else you’ll regret. I think the job thing is enough for one day. Why don’t you give the temp agency a call? I’m sure they can find you something else.’

‘Good idea,’ said Bea, squinting at her phone before dropping it onto the floor with a thud.

‘Maybe,’ said Jess, scooping up the phone, ‘wait until the morning, when you’re more…’

‘Sober?’

‘Exactly. There’s no rush, is there?’

‘No, it can wait. Brendan’s probably already told them I’m useless.’

‘Do you want to come back to mine and we can make a plan? You can figure out what to say to your parents?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Bea, fishing the keys out of her purse. ‘Can we stop off for supplies?’

‘Supplies?’

‘If we’re making a plan, we’ll need the essentials: wine, crisps and chocolate!’

‘Whatever you say.’

‘You have to eat the chocolate and the crisps at the same time, though. And it has to be cheese and onion.’

‘If I have to,’ Jess nodded, helping Bea up from her seat. ‘Maybe we should get you some coffee too?’

‘I knew there was a reason I liked you, Jess Harrison,’ Bea slurred, taking her friend’s arm. ‘You’re one of the good ones.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, I know,’ said Jess, steadying Bea as she stumbled towards the door.