4. No. 17 Buy more books
four
Bea
Cas and I have been busy, my new kitchen in the little café has been fitted, it’s small so didn’t take too long, but I can make cakes and fresh food for when I open.
The brand-new commercial sized espresso machine arrived, and Cas and I sat like good students as the guy showed us how to use it.
Even though Cas won’t be staying, they’ve said they’re going to visit as much as they can and want to be able to help me in the café when they’re here.
I, of course, got teary eyed and trapped them in a too tight hug for thirty whole seconds before they griped at me to let them go.
Then there was the furniture for the café.
We found this incredible junk shop online and caught a bus out to it.
It’s a giant shed overspilling with more things than you can imagine from tiny knick-knacks to a huge horse from a one-hundred-year-old carousel.
We spent hours looking around and I found so many tables and chairs that are both mis-matched but quirky enough they sort of fit together.
The lovely old man who ran the place helped us put them all together and when we said we were travelling by bus, he told us we were better hiring a van to move them.
We sheepishly had to tell him neither of us drive as we’d both grown up in central London and had absolutely no need to.
He chuckled like he found us adorable and said he’d drop the items off to us when his day was done, which he did, and he didn’t even ask for any money.
I gave him some anyway and kissed his grey beard in thanks, causing him to blush adorably and give me his business card if I was looking for anything else for the café.
Everyone around here has been so nice. Bradley Baker, the butcher, stopped by while Cas and I were loading the books into the café and gave us a pack of sausages for our tea, telling us to come by his shop if we needed anything.
Not half an hour after he left, Nick Butcher, the baker, came by with a loaf of incredible smelling sourdough and told us Brad’s sausages would make a great breakfast sandwich the next morning.
People had been popping their heads in any time we were around.
Everyone smiled and welcomed us with open arms, the general reaction when I told them I was opening a café was of excitement and I am feeling pretty good about everything right now.
Cas keeps muttering under their breath about this being the British Stars Hollow and I keep telling them the reference is outdated and they need a new obsession.
Cas leaves tomorrow and I’m nervous to do things on my own, not that I’m not a strong independent woman with high capabilities and access to Google, but Cas and I have been just a tube ride away for most of our lives.
They’re my person and I’m going to miss them so much it’s already starting to ache at my chest. I also have a heightened awareness of my own heartbeat, feeling it thump in my chest, which is always the first sign of my anxiety creeping in.
It’s okay, I can usually breathe my body back into submission and make the feeling go away without anyone being any wiser, and I absolutely won’t be telling Cas.
I can’t have them feeling guilty for going home because I’m an anxious mess.
“So, your mum is coming next week?” Cas asks casually as they flatten the last of the boxes we’ve manged to unpack in the cottage. But I know this isn’t casual, I know exactly where this question is heading and I kind of wish we didn’t have to have this conversation this time.
“Yep,” I say, rearranging the kitchen cupboards until I’m happy with everything’s placement.
“Right.” They nod their head, looking at the pile of cardboard at their feet. “And she’s getting a train?”
“That’s what she said.” To be fair, I can’t imagine my mother on public transport either, so I don’t blame Cas for their disbelieving tone.
“Okay. Listen, just don’t be—”
“I know, Cas,” I sigh.
“I just don’t like the idea of you getting upset when she doesn’t actually—”
“I know,” I say more firmly. “I get it, she’s flaky and even though it’s never a surprise when she bails, I still sulk about it.
But I’ve moved away this time. If she doesn’t make the effort, she won’t see me at all and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want that.
She’ll come.” I can see Cas is still sceptical, so I busy myself, wiping the already immaculately clean kitchen worktop.
“And if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. Not a lot to be done about it. ”
“Okay,” Cas says quietly.
“Right,” I say with a clap. “I want to get the books out on the shelves next door this morning because I think that’s something fun we can do together before you leave me tomorrow.”
“Oh yes, thrilling,” Cas agrees without a hint of excitement. I throw a dish towel at them, and they laugh.
The two of us head out the door and go straight to my little café, but I stop short when I see the door is open a couple of inches.
That’s weird, I swear I locked it when we left yesterday.
Looking through the front window of the café, I can’t help the pained gasp that leaves me, my hand coming to slap over my mouth as tears burn at the back of my eyes.
“What’s the—” Cas stops next to me looking through the glass to see what I see. “Motherfucker!”
The shelves Cas had built have been toppled over, some laying broken and splintered, too much damage from a fall.
But more than the broken and battered Ikea shelving unit, my eyes take in each of the paperbacks pulled from the boxes and scattered over the still dusty floor.
Some have the covers ripped from the pages, some have dirty shoe prints over the printed words.
The remains of my pride and joy confetti the floor of my dream business and a loud, wet sob leaves me.
“Oh Honey Bea.” Cas spins me to them and wraps their arms around me. “I’m so sorry, babe.” They rub my back and I cry into their neck for a moment before they pull back and stroke up and down my arms. “Come on, let’s go assess the damage."
We step into the café and it’s just as bad in here as it looked from outside, all the boxes that had held my books are empty, every single one of the books inside have been tossed to the floor.
“Should we call the police?” Cas says, frowning at the wreckage.
“Not a lot they could do,” I say wobblily. “I don’t have cameras or anything, and the door looks like it was unlocked, they’ve not even broken in.” I sniff, chin trembling. “Plus, I don’t want to be the girl who moves in to the village and starts causing a fuss.”
“Babe,” Cas starts, clearly wanting to argue but I just shake my head and survey the books at my feet.
I see one that doesn’t look to be damaged and pick it up to inspect it closer.
It’s salvageable, so I place it on the brand-new countertop and search for others.
Cas silently does the opposite, finding all the broken pieces of the books beyond saving and trying to put all the shredded pieces together.
I see them pluck my copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from the ground, the pages scattering back to the floor as the cover comes loose and I cry again, burying my face in my hands.
I hear a knock at the door, but I don’t look up, concentrating on keeping air flowing to my lungs and trying to stop the intense race of my heart as my body starts to shake.
What the hell am I doing? I thought I’d open a book café in the middle of sleepy Somerset, and everyone would just love my collection of nearly five hundred paperbacks.
“Hey,” a deep voice says softly. “We were just passing, and I wanted to check in; you guys look to be in a bit of a—oh.”
It’s Eli, I think. We’ve spoken a few times over the week as he takes his morning jog the same time I’m usually up and leaving the cottage for errands.
He’s been super kind and friendly and for some reason hearing his gentle voice and surprised gasp has my tears coming thicker and my cries coming out louder.
“Yeah, someone broke in,” Cas says with nothing short of anger.
There’s a beat of silence before another voice says, “That doesn’t happen around here.”
August. I recognise the deep rumble of his grumpiness that seems to be his default, even though I haven’t seen him since I asked him to check my panties for spiders.
And oh God, now the shaking starts, it’s in my hands but I know it’s going to spread, I know there’s nothing I can do to stop it now.
Because I’ve moved away from my comfortable flat and my well-paying job to live in a strange place with people I don’t know to run my own business, which I’ve never done before and now my comfort hobby has literally been ripped to shreds and I don’t know how to handle it. Any of it.
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, mountain man,” Cas says with a sharp edge to their voice. “But we certainly didn’t do all of this.”
But it’s my fault, I think to myself. It’s my fault for moving the books over here, for moving my life to the country, for thinking I could do this.
And that’s when my knees give way, unable to hold myself up anymore, I drop suddenly to my haunches and concentrate on trying to breathe when each breath suddenly feels like sucking cement through a straw.
“Is she alright?” Eli sounds concerned, but I still don’t take my hands from my face, not wanting to see the way these two strangers must be looking at me like I’ve completely lost the plot.
“Ah fuck,” Cas curses and I hear the heavy stomp of their boots approach. Warm fingers wrap around each of my wrists and gently pull my hands from my eyes. “Hey, hey, hey,” they say gently. “Sit down, Bea, come on, bum on the floor.”