Page 29 of The Vintage Dress Shop in Primrose Hill
Sophy put her own bagel down. ‘I don’t understand why anyone would want to fork out serious money on an old dress when you could have a lovely brand new one. And yes, I still believe that chances are someone’s died in at least one of them. There! I’ve said it.’
Charles gasped like he’d just stubbed his toe. ‘Blasphemy!’
‘I’m just saying.’ Sophy shrugged, then picked up her bagel again. ‘Some of those dresses come in withstainson them and I know they all get sent out to be laundered, supposedly, but—’
‘No! I’ve heard enough!’ Charles actually dared to cover Sophy’s blasphemous mouth with his hand. ‘You don’t find the dresses even a little bit soul-stirring?’
There was no denying that some of the dresses were beautiful. But they also felt a lot like school. Each one came with a long lecture full of terminology that Sophy didn’t really understand, especially when Phoebe was wanging on about voided velvet chiffon or foliate motifs. Then there were bishop sleeves and Bermuda collars and chemical lace.
‘It’s just a lot to take in and what’s the point when I’m going to Australia in a few months,’ Sophy said firmly. Just the thought of having to go to work tomorrow was giving her a leaden feeling in the pit of her stomach, which had nothing to do with the quantity of carbs she was in the process of consuming. ‘In fact, I’ve already told Phoebe that I’m going to leave.’
Charles raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh. Have you lined up another job?’
Sophy shook her head and couldn’t help but sigh. ‘No, but I will.’
‘Because I saw on the news last night that unemployment figures are at a five-year high,’ Charles said not at all helpfully. ‘Have you told Johnno you’re leaving the shop?’
Sophy sighed again. Deeper. Much deeper this time. ‘No,’ she admitted. She hadn’t thought about Johnno’s feelings but then, it wasn’t as if Sophy was one of his number-one priorities. Though he had given her the job in the first place and apparently spent quite a lot of time talking her up to his friends and acquaintances. Added to that, Sophy needed to chivvy Johnno into handing over his birth certificate and passport and that would be much easier to do if she saw him regularly enough to remind him. It was the seeing Phoebe regularly that was the real problem. ‘I don’t want to tell tales or moan but me and Phoebe, we just rub each other up the wrong way. For some bizarre reason she seems to be threatened by me, which is ridiculous because we both have very different skill sets. I’m very good with the customers…’
‘And Phoebe’s very good with the vintage dresses as long as none of those customers want to go near them,’ Charles finished for her. ‘Or, heaven forfend, actually take them off the rails and try them on.’
Sophy wanted to nod and sigh again but she settled for shrugging her shoulders instead. ‘Though, weirdly, the one time that we did seem to get on was when she spent an afternoon teaching me about vintage fashion. I can hardly remember any of it now though.’
It was true; apart from the bit about the poor old wartime ladies having to replace their knicker gussets with stockinette, Sophy couldn’t remember the difference between a box pleat and a kick-pleat or tell her Hardy Amies from her Norman Hartnell.
‘It does seem rather silly to look for another job when you already have one,’ Charles pointed out gently.
‘I know but I don’t want to work in a place where my line manager hates me because…’
‘She doesn’t hate you. Phoebe just has a very… unfortunate manner,’ Charles said, because for someone who happily wore a lilac suit in public he was the king of understatement. ‘And you get to work with your stepsister, so that’s a plus point too.’
‘I suppose,’ Sophy grudgingly agreed, and she knew that despite her best intentions to find a new job the fire in her belly after that argument with Phoebe had all but fizzled out and she’d end up doing what she always did: taking the path of least resistance. ‘It is convenient too. Only a few stops on the tube, and I don’t have to work Sundays.’
‘Phoebe will warm up eventually,’ Charles said and, though Sophy was being her most Eeyore-like, there was nothing but kindness and concern in his expression. ‘Luckily for you, I’ve just enrolled you in an immersive course on vintage fashion.’
Sophy narrowed her eyes. ‘You have? When did you do that? While I was in the bathroom? It’s very kind of you, Charles, but you should have asked first. I haven’t got the money to—’
‘Not another word!’ Charles held up one elegant hand. ‘It just so happens you’ve been awarded a scholarship to the Charles Radley Institute of Vintage Fashion. It’s a very exclusive establishment.’
‘It sounds like it.’ Sophy couldn’t help but smile. And she couldn’t help that her crush on Charles was threatening to upgrade to full-on unrequited love. ‘You really don’t have to do this.’
‘It’s my pleasure,’ Charles said smoothly. ‘Now, what are you doing next Wednesday? Actually, I don’t care what you’re doing. Cancel all your plans, school will be in session.’
Chapter Ten
There were no more major blow-ups with Phoebe over the next few days, as if they’d both agreed, without actually speaking about it, to keep to their respective patches.
Charles had been right about the start of wedding season. They’d also had three different but all very well-heeled women come into the shop wanting a show-stopping frock because ‘I’ve actually been invited to one of the garden parties at Buckingham Palace. For my charity work, you know,’ so they were suddenly very busy. Thankfully, it was only March and far too soon for teenage girls needing prom dresses to descend on them as well.
‘So much busier than I ever was at the museum,’ Cress marvelled when they all decamped to the pub on Friday night. There was no Johnno, but apparently he put money behind the bar for them every week, and there was no Charles, though every time the door opened Sophy sat up like Coco Chanel (the dog) did whenever anyone opened a bag of pork scratchings.
It seemed to take an age for next Wednesday to arrive but finally it did, along with a text message from Charles asking her to meet him at South Kensington tube station at two that afternoon.
The station was rammed, mostly with children of all shapes and sizes and nationalities, there to visit the Natural History Museum or the Science Museum. Every single one of those children was wearing a cumbersome backpack, all the better for bumping into people.By the time Sophy got through the ticket barriers, she felt like a skittle in a tenpin bowling alley.
Charles was already waiting, leaning against a poster advertising oat milk. He was wearing his lilac tweed suit with a black shirt, which even in central London made people look twice as he caught sight of Sophy and waved at her.
She’d also stayed true to type and was wearing another sack dress, although, again, this was one of Caroline’s because they had slightly more of a waistline than her own sack dresses. This one was black with tiny green polka dots, but she’d managed to forsake her trainers in favour of black tights and black ankle boots because it had been raining on and off all day.
