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!’
With the wagon set up and ready for visitors, Bea took a deep breath and walked up the steps to the village hall.
She’d been watching people steadily pouring inside for the last fifteen minutes, the queasy sensation in her stomach increasing, but as she opened the doors she was instantly met with a reassuring hum of conversation and laughter.
The hall felt like it was literally buzzing with anticipation, and the cake table seemed to be the most popular place in the room, with scones, cupcakes and flapjacks being served alongside mugs of tea and cups of squash.
‘Bea!’ cried Maggie, who was sat in the front row next to Beth.
‘Hiya,’ said Bea, relieved to see a few familiar faces.
‘It’s packed in here tonight,’ said Maggie, looking around the room. ‘It’s never usually this busy,’
‘Really?’ said Bea, the knot in her stomach tightening again. ‘There’s definitely more people than I expected…’
‘Oh, don’t worry, love. You’ll be great. And we’re so excited to see the book wagon, aren’t we, Beth?’ said Maggie.
‘Absolutely! There’s a few things I want to add to my Tbr list…’ said Beth, encouragingly.
‘Thanks,’ said Bea, forcing a smile.
‘Here we go, Bea,’ said Jean, handing her a paper plate with a huge slice of Victoria sponge. ‘Take a seat just there,’ she said, pointing to a chair at the side of the stage. ‘We’ve got some WI business to get through first, so just relax and tuck into that.’
‘Okay, great,’ said Bea, taking a huge bite. Jam and cream oozed down her chin.
God, that was delicious.
She could see why Jean had won at the fête; the sponge was so light it could give the Cosy Cat a run for its money…
Bea listened attentively as Jean explained the order of events for the evening.
She even joined in with the chorus of Jerusalem, mumbling her way through the verses she didn’t know, and, before she knew it, she heard Jean say, ‘Please give Beatrice Miller a very warm, Blossom Heath Belles’ welcome …
’ Bea sucked in a breath and took centre stage.
The first person she spotted in the audience, sitting in the middle of the front row, was Violet Davenport. She hoped it wasn’t a bad omen…
Bea tried to get the audience on side early by promising to be more entertaining than the recycling man, and she distinctly heard laughter ringing around the hall.
She talked about her lifelong love of literature, the hours she’d spent in the library with her mum as a child, the years she’d spent trying to get a job in publishing, and how she’d come up with the idea of opening a mobile bookshop after spotting a horsebox coffee shop in Rye market.
She’d left out the part about quitting her job on impulse and getting drunk as a lord before buying her wagon on eBay: there was only so much she had to share, surely?
The audience had been full of questions: did the wagon still smell of horses? Where did she get her design ideas? Had Nathan really built all the shelves by hand?
She finished the talk by giving the audience two book recommendations, The Women Who Wouldn’t Leave by Victoria Scott, a heart-warming story about the power of sisterhood and community that she felt was perfect for WI members, and A Force To Be Reckoned With: A History of the Women’s Institute by Jane Robinson, which showcased the movement’s past as a force for change, from the suffragettes right through to its current campaigns.
She remembered to let them know that both books were available to purchase from the bookshop.
As everyone gathered their bags, Jean took to the stage to remind them all that the wagon would be open for browsing for the next hour. Bea slipped out of the hall to turn on the fairy lights.
The bookshop looked magical; the dusky evening sunlight was the perfect backdrop.
‘Oh, look at these totes,’ said Joyce, putting one that declared, ‘There is no such thing as too many books,’ over her shoulder to show her friend, Clara.
‘I’ll take that!’ said Clara, popping a selection of books inside. ‘I’ll take these, too, thanks, Bea. That should keep me going for a while.’
‘Excellent,’ said Bea, turning on the card machine. ‘Don’t forget the Blind Date with a Book boxes are inside the hall, you might want to check those out too.’
‘Come on, Clara, let’s see what we can find,’ said Joyce.
‘I’ll take this,’ said a booming voice. Bea looked up to see Violet Davenport standing by the door, waving a book over her head impatiently.
‘Miss Davenport, lovely to see you again,’ said Bea, as politely as possible.
‘Have we met?’ Violet asked.
‘Yes. At the village fête, you were kind enough to help direct me when I was struggling to park.’
‘Ah, that’s right, you were going against the flow of traffic if I remember rightly?’
‘Yep, that was me,’ said Bea, nodding awkwardly. ‘Actually, I’m glad I caught you. I took the liberty of putting a book aside for you…’
‘For me?’ asked Violet, clearly baffled.
‘I’ve seen you in the café a few times; you’ve been reading the latest Kate Fisher book, right?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘It’s great, isn’t it?’ said Bea. ‘I loved it!’
‘You’ve read it?’
‘Of course! Kate’s a brilliant writer. Have you read The Forgotten Heart?’
‘It’s her best, in my opinion,’ said Violet. Was Bea mistaken or could she detect a slightly warmer tone in Violet’s voice now?
‘Oh, you’re absolutely right. I assumed you’d want to read the next one, The House by the Bay.’
‘Yes, but it’s not out until—’
‘Tomorrow?’ said Bea, reaching to pull a copy of the book from a shelf marked ‘Reserves’ behind her.
‘How have you managed—’
‘Technically it’s not publishing until tomorrow, but my stock has already arrived…’ said Bea, glancing at her watch. ‘As long as I don’t put the transaction through the till until the morning, I can’t see a problem if you’re happy with that?’
‘My lips are sealed,’ nodded Violet in agreement.
‘We’re going to be reading this at our first book club, if you’d like to come?’
‘A book club,’ said Violet, ‘what an interesting idea.’
‘I’ll add you to my list, I just need to confirm a venue first,’ said Bea, flashing her best smile in Violet’s direction. ‘Actually, that might be something you can help me with. I think I heard you’re on the parish council?’
‘I’m the new chair,’ said Violet, standing taller.
‘It’s just, I think I might need a permit to use the village green? Perhaps you might be able to—’
‘I’m sure there’s something I can do to help,’ Violet whispered, conspiratorially.
‘And, sorry, while I’ve got you, Miss Davenport,’ Bea continued, pushing her luck.
‘I wondered if I might be able to open a free library on the green as well? It would be the perfect location, and I’d put up the box and stock it with books, so it wouldn’t cost the council a penny,’ Bea explained, hoping she wasn’t testing Violet’s good will too much.
‘I’ll put it to the committee. We’re always looking for new initiatives, and I’m sure a book swap would help foster some community spirit. Leave it with me, dear,’ said Violet, patting Bea’s hand.
Dear? Had Violet really just called her ‘dear’? Miracles really could happen, Bea thought, as she carefully wrapped Violet’s purchases with extra ribbon and an especially flouncy bow.