Chapter 31
It took Bea days to get over the shock of seeing the wagon fully restored, but there was one person she owed a debt of gratitude to more than most: Nathan.
It had been his idea to rope everyone into helping, he’d co-ordinated the whole thing and had been at the centre of all it, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. To stop thinking about him.
They were just friends, she knew that, and, anyway, she was with Lochlan now. Any confusing feelings that she had for Nathan were simply driven by a sense of nostalgia, nothing more. Things had been over between them for years, and she was fine with that. More than fine.
The Cherrydown fête had gone well. Luckily, Jess and Archie had gone with her, and she’d needed their help more than she’d realized.
Lifting and carting stock around was a challenge while her ribs were healing, and Matt and Harry had surprised her by turning up to give them a much needed lunchbreak.
They had all mucked in to help her set up and pack away and, by the time she made it back home, she was exhausted.
Exhausted, but elated.
The bookshop had been as much of a hit in Cherrydown as it had in Blossom Heath, and she was back doing what she loved.
She had confirmed a date for her first book club in Cherrydown, too, as well as regular visits to Cherrydown and Appleton primary schools.
It felt like those dark clouds that had descended in the days after her accident had finally lifted.
‘Bea!’ said Tori, as she returned to the Cosy Cat for her first shift since the accident. ‘It’s great to have you back! How are you feeling?’
‘Good, thanks,’ Bea replied, ‘I really missed this place.’
‘Aw, that’s good to hear,’ said Tori.
‘So, what’s been going on?’ Bea asked, tying a Cosy Cat apron around her waist.
‘Well, Amos and Treacle have both gone off to new homes, so we’ve got a couple of new additions from Izzy,’ said Tori, scooping up a ginger cat that was circling her legs meowing loudly. ‘This little fella is Gizmo.’
‘Aw, hello, Gizmo,’ said Bea, stroking him gently.
‘And that’s Ginny, asleep on the windowsill,’ said Tori, nodding towards a small, black cat who was snoring loudly. ‘But other than that, it’s just same old same old. Oops, here’s Anya, right on time,’ continued Tori, popping Gizmo back down on the floor.
‘Hi, Anya!’ Bea said brightly, before noticing Anya’s tear-streaked face. ‘Oh my god, what’s wrong? What’s happened?’
‘It’s my Mum. She’s had a fall,’ said Anya. ‘It sounds like she’s going to be okay, but we’re definitely going to have to move back to Scotland now.’
‘Oh, Anya,’ said Bea, resting a hand on her arm, ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘I just don’t want Mum to be on her own anymore,’ said Anya, in a quiet voice. ‘It’s as simple as that.’
‘I’m so sorry, that’s tough,’ said Tori.
‘Is there anything we can do to help? If you need someone to mind the shop for a while—’ asked Bea.
‘Thanks, that’s kind of you, but no. We’ve made the decision,’ said Anya. ‘We’re going to shut the shop permanently at the end of this week and head straight back to Scotland at the weekend. Mum still lives in our family home; it’s huge, so we can move in with her.’
‘It sounds like you’re doing the right thing, but I’m sure that doesn’t make it any easier,’ said Tori. ‘Let me get you a coffee. What do you fancy?’
‘Something sweet, thanks’ said Anya.
‘I’m going to really miss you, you and Simon have been so kind to me since I moved back here,’ said Bea. ‘And I’ll miss the shop, too.’
‘Thanks, Bea. Maybe we can find another shop to open in Scotland. But I’m gutted to be leaving Blossom Heath, I love it here,’ sniffed Anya.
‘There you go, one vanilla latte,’ said Tori, handing Anya a takeaway cup and brown paper bag. ‘And a couple of cinnamon buns, on me.’
‘Oh, thanks, Tori,’ said Anya, ‘that’s really kind of you.’
‘And if there’s anything we can do to help, just shout, okay?’ said Tori.
‘Actually, there is something…’ said Anya. ‘Could you spread the word that we’re having a closing down sale?’ she continued wryly, heading for the door. ‘Starting today.’
‘God, that’s such a shame,’ said Bea, once Anya had left.
‘I know, I can’t quite believe it,’ replied Tori, exhaling.
‘I wonder who’ll take over the shop?’
‘Hmmm… I don’t know, but I bet it’ll go pretty quickly. There’s not been a vacant lease come up for a few years. I think the last time was actually when Simon and Anya opened the Pink Ribbon, and that’s got to be five years ago now.’
‘What was there before?’ Bea asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
‘Erm… let me think,’ said Tori, drumming her fingers on the counter.
‘Oh, it was an old-fashioned haberdashery store, you know the ones. Mum used to get name tags and new buttons for my school uniform from there. Then Mrs Simpson, the old lady who ran it, retired, and there was no one else to carry it on, so the lease came up. She’d been there donkey’s years, I think, since before I was born. ’
‘I guess we’ll just have to wait and see…’ said Bea, an idea starting to form in her mind.
Bea couldn’t stop thinking about the Pink Ribbon.
It was still early days for Bea’s Book Wagon, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was an opportunity here for her.
She’d only just got the wagon back on the road, but the business was thriving.
The online store was already turning a profit and she’d had loads of sign-ups for her subscription boxes, but…
a shop? There was so much more to consider: rent, utilities, taxes, fitting it out…
it was much more involved than a mobile bookshop, so much more of a risk.
And then there was the question of cost. Refurbing the wagon the first time had wiped out her savings and she hadn’t been able to afford to fix it herself after the accident.
No, it was just a silly pipe dream, there was no way she could take on such a huge commitment, not yet anyway. But…
Tori had told her shops rarely became available in the village.
If she didn’t go for it now then she might not get another opportunity.
Maybe she could get a small business loan, find a backer?
A Kickstarter campaign even? Surely it couldn’t hurt to just make some enquiries?
Find out how much the rent was and if she’d have to pay a deposit?
What were the business rates? She was due to go to an antique sale in Rye with Arthur that afternoon, so maybe she could pick his brains, see what he thought of her idea. It couldn’t hurt.
Bea knocked on Arthur’s bright red front door just after lunch and smiled at his dark grey trousers and matching waistcoat, despite the heat of the warm July day.
‘Beatrice!’ he said, beaming at her. ‘Right on time!’ he said.
‘I’m so looking forward to this!’ said Bea, taking his arm as they walked down the steps from his house. ‘I’ve never been to a proper auction before.’
‘You’re in for a treat!’ Arthur replied, leaning heavily on his walking stick. ‘There’s no buzz quite like it. Even after all my years in the business, I still get as excited as a child on Christmas Eve!’
‘I wonder what treasures we’ll find?’ she asked.
‘That’s exactly the point, you never know. It could be a colossal waste of time or we could find a hidden gem,’ said Arthur. ‘I’m sure we’ll find some books, though, there always are some.’
‘I hope so,’ Bea replied, excitement fizzing in her stomach at the prospect.
When they arrived at Atkins Auction House, Bea couldn’t believe just how many antiques there were under one roof.
‘Here,’ said Arthur, picking up a copy of the auction catalogue and handing it to her. ‘This will give us a detailed description of every lot. Mark out anything you fancy and we’ll track it down and take a look. Why don’t we start with a wander first, though? See what catches our eye?’
‘Good idea,’ Bea agreed, heading straight for some boxes of books she’d spotted in the far corner.
‘Lot number thirty-two,’ said Arthur, examining the catalogue. ‘Assorted books. Fiction. Sold as seen. There’s not much to go on there.’
‘So, is that all four boxes?’ Bea asked, crouching down to rummage through the books on top of each box. ‘They’re not in great condition…’
‘Yes, looks like all four boxes make up a single lot,’ Aruthur confirmed. ‘See anything you like?’
‘Not sure,’ said Bea, as a woman pushed past her. ‘There’s too many here to see properly, but it could be worth a punt? There are some eighties editions of Dickens and Hardy, which could be interesting.’
‘But not worth much, I wouldn’t have thought. The guide price is between twenty and fifty pounds if you want to risk it?’
‘I think I might,’ said Bea, standing up, her knees creaking. ‘As long as I break even. And I’m desperate to bid on something,’ she giggled. ‘What about you? Have you seen anything you like?’
‘There’s a 1920s umbrella stand that would be perfect for my walking sticks. I’ll give it a go, see if it’s my lucky day,’ said Arthur, his eyes twinkling.
‘Oooh, looks like they’re getting ready to start, I’ll find us some good seats,’ said Bea, heading to the rows of plastic chairs that were starting to fill up.
‘You go ahead, my dear, I’m right behind you.’
Bea sat at the end of the aisle a few rows from the front so Arthur could get out easily if he needed to. As he settled himself next to her, he handed her a card with her bidding number on it.
‘You’re forty-eight, I’m forty-nine. When you’re ready to place your bid, hold up your number. If you win, the auctioneer will write it down, then we go and pay. It’s quite straightforward, really,’ Arthur explained.
‘Got it,’ said Bea, enthusiastically, getting swept up in the excitement.
The auctioneer worked through the lots one by one and Bea was surprised by the fast pace of it all.
He was a real showman, whipping the crowd up into a frenzy and tossing his gavel into the air for dramatic effect every time he closed the bidding.
Bea could see how easy it would be to get carried away and bid much more than she’d intended.
Arthur’s umbrella stand was up next and he got his first bid in early. In the end, it came down to him and just one other bidder, but Arthur snuck in a last-minute bid just before the final gavel sounded, securing the umbrella stand for ninety-five pounds.
‘That was impressive,’ said Bea, patting his arm.
‘You have to wait until the last second and just when they’re about to drop the gavel, in you pounce with your final bid,’ he whispered, tapping his nose. ‘Works every time.’
When Bea’s book lot came up, she found she was the only bidder. She raised her hand once making an opening bid of twenty pounds, and the next thing she knew it was going once, going twice, sold… to her!
‘Well, that was a bit of a let-down,’ she complained to Arthur. ‘I was hoping for a spectacular bidding war,’ she admitted, feeling a little disappointed.
‘Never mind, my dear! It’s still your first auction purchase. Let’s pay our dues and then perhaps we can stop for a cup of tea on the walk home? If you have time, that is,’ Arthur asked, looking hopeful.
‘That would be lovely, and I did want to pick your brains about something, actually,’ said Bea.
‘I’m all ears,’ he said, pushing himself up from the chair, ‘let’s go crazy and get cake too!’
‘Let’s!’ Bea agreed with a nod, taking his arm as they walked slowly to the cashier’s desk.