Page 72 of The Vintage Dress Shop in Primrose Hill
‘Well, then.’ Freddy gave her one of his lazy grins, which always seemed to send Phoebe into a huffing fury, though she was still all smiles tonight.
The band struck up a new number, something faster and brassier this time so Sophy had to raise her voice. ‘But if I’m the reason Johnno decided to bail—’
‘Oh, Johnno never comes to these things,’ Phoebe butted in, leaning against Freddy to adjust Coco Chanel’s collar. ‘Notsince the time they wouldn’t let him in wearing yellow dungarees – he refuses to ever wear a suit. He’d much rather be down the pub.’
‘Besides, he said he had to go and see a man—’
‘About a dog,’ Sophy finished for Freddy with a roll of her eyes and a relieved smile. One day Johnno would be hoist by his own petard and actually end up coming home with a dog.
Then there was a touch on her shoulder and she turned round, a smile ready for Charles, but it was a man she didn’t know, in a midnight blue velvet jacket, with quiff and sideburns, dark, soulful eyes and a chiselled jawline that in the ordinary way would have had Sophy giggling and blushing.
But not this time, because he wasn’t Charles.
‘Can I help you with something?’ she asked with a smile, though she couldn’t think what he wanted with her. He’d probably mistaken her for someone else.
‘I hope so,’ he said smoothly with a smooth smile to match. ‘Would you dance with me?’
Sophy gave a little start at that. ‘Oh…’ She looked past him to see where Charles was but he’d disappeared and the band had upped the tempo again to something fast and swingy and…
‘Go on, Soph.’ Cress nudged her. ‘I bet it’s like riding a bike.’
It was just a dance and Sophy really wanted a dance. ‘Thank you, I’d love to,’ she said, taking the man’s offered hand. ‘I’m Sophy.’
‘Christian,’ he said, pulling Sophy to her feet and into his arms and then swinging her round before she’d even had a moment to catch her breath.
Cress was right. She hadn’t danced in someone’s arms on a sprung ballroom floor for years, but her muscle memory kicked in and she matched Christian step for step in a fast jive, and even added in some new moves of her own.
There was something so freeing, so liberating about dancing, being governed by the beat, the melody and the rhythm. Sophy danced another jive with Christian until someone cut in and for a second she thought, hoped, it might be Charles, but it was an ageing rockabilly who danced a mean foxtrot. Then the bandleader announced that he expected everyone to join in with the ‘Lambeth Walk’ and she found herself bookended by Chloe and Anita for a very frenetic version of the old music hall favourite.
Sophy was hot, breathless and desperate for a drink as she returned to their table, where Phoebe was looking at her as if she’d sprouted three heads. Charles was back too and as Sophy approached he gave her a round of applause and a proud smile.
‘Such hidden depths, Sophy,’ he said, pouring her a glass of champagne. ‘You suddenly turned into Ginger Rogers.’
‘Hardly,’ Sophy said, ducking her head to hide her pleased smile. ‘Though me and my partner, Steve Maltby, were placed second in the Greater London under-16s Ballroom Dancing Championship for three years running.’
‘You decided not to pursue it professionally?’ Charles asked, which was very sweet of him but there was a reason why Sophy and Steve had always been second place rather than champions. Besides…
‘Sophy discovered boys and Steve tore his meniscus playing football right about the same time,’ Cress recalled. ‘Which was a bit of a relief because every weekend was another dance competition.’
‘Cress made my dresses,’ Sophy explained. ‘Also, at right about the same time she discovered boys too. Or rather, she started going out with Colin.’
As if Sophy had acquired some freaky magical ability to summon up demons, at the mention of his name Colin appeared.
Unlike Johnno, he was wearing a suit. A very ill-fitting suit with a Bob Dylan t-shirt instead of a beautifully crisp shirt and tie. His long hair was greased back from his pale, uneasy face but Cress, who’d been sitting there pretending to be having a good time (because Sophy knew the difference between Cress pretending to have a good time and Cress actually, genuinely enjoying herself), lit up like Bonfire Night fireworks.
‘You came!’ she said.
‘Said I would, didn’t I,’ he muttered, looking round for a chair. There wasn’t one and so Colin stood awkwardly behind Cress, arms hanging limply, and now Cress was frowning…
‘You can have my chair, Col,’ Sophy said, jumping up because much as she didn’t really like Colin – even though she’d known him for half her lifetime he hadn’t improved with time – Cress liked him and Sophy loved Cress, who now shot her a grateful look.
‘And you can sit here,’ Charles said and before Sophy could ask where he pulled her down onto his lap.
Even though everyone knew about them, though evidently not Colin because he hissed to Cress, ‘I thought she was emigrating; why has she got a new bloke?’, it still felt a tiny bit wrong to be sitting on Charles’s lap in public surrounded by her colleagues.
Then Sophy realised that they were perfectly placed to kiss without her having to stretch up and Charles having to lean down. She wound her arms round his neck and pressed her forehead against his.
‘Are you trying to take advantage of me?’ Charles said in an affronted voice, which was at odds with the twinkle in his eye.
