Page 78 of The Vintage Dress Shop in Primrose Hill
‘What time’s dinner?What time’s dinner?’ Caroline repeated, her voice rising. ‘At least you won’t be around to treat this house like a hotel!’
Sophy knew that her mother was being entirely impossible because she was sad that her only daughter was moving ten and a half thousand miles away for an indefinite, maybe permanent, amount of time. She knew that but Sophy still stomped up the stairs like the angry, seething teenager she used to be. But even over the sound of her stomping, she could hear Caroline say to Mike, ‘I wish I hadn’t put that bloody sunbed on Facebook Marketplace now!’
Chapter Thirty-One
Avery pale, very subdued Cress was waiting for Sophy when she exited Chalk Farm station the next morning.
‘I tried to call you last night,’ Sophy began, but Cress held up her hand.
‘I don’t want to talk aboutit– Australia,’ she clarified. ‘I can’t talk about it. Iwillcry.’
‘We have to talk about it some time.’
‘I don’t see why,’ Cress said with a sniff and, much as it was annoying, especially when Sophy wanted to talk about her rising panic at the thought of Australia, she also knew that this was Cress’s usual MO when confronted by something she really didn’t want to be confronted by. Whether it was a tricky bit of invisible mending or a letter from the doctors saying she was due for a smear test, it took Cress time to face up to her fears.
Sophy could only hope that it wouldn’t take what time she had left for Cress to face up to them because she really needed to talk to someone about it.
Charles. She could talk to Charles when as they partied at the V&A because Charles, better than anyone, would understand why Sophy was both excited and completely dreading going to Australia. How odd it was to hold two opposing points of view, though both of them were valid.
‘Did Phoebe tell you I found a whole lot of Chelsea Girl deadstock yesterday?’ she asked, more to change the subject than anything.
Phoebe had and for the rest of the short journey Cress rhapsodised about a pink check maxiskirt that had been part of the haul but that they couldn’t sell because technically it wasn’t a vintage dress. ‘She said I could have it but I don’t really know if I’m the sort of person who can get away with a pink check maxiskirt,’ Cress said, and Sophy knew that she’d take the skirt because she couldn’t bear not to but would never wear it because Cress believed she was the sort of person who never did anything daring or audacious.
But Sophy wasn’t like that. Or rather she wasn’t like that any more. She could be daring. She could have adventures. She could take a flying leap of faith without worrying where she would land.
It strengthened her resolve so by the time they arrived at the shop she was calmer, more resolute.
She wasdefinitelygoing to buy her plane tickets that evening. Although maybe she should wait until she had the Australian citizenship certificate clutched in her hand. And she still hadn’t managed to talk to Jean.
It was a case of the universe deciding to come through for Sophy when it had spent the last few months treating her like the proverbial red-headed stepchild. Where had the universe’s good vibes been when she was getting locked out of the shop she’d worked at for the last ten years, then breaking up with Egan and losing the roof over her head?
The universe had a very strange sense of priorities because Phoebe was nothing but understanding about Sophy needing to visit the Australian High Commission during work hours. ‘No need for you to use your day off. I don’t mind you skipping a morning or afternoon to go and sort it out,’ she cooed when Sophy explained matters. She was practically vibrating with glee at the prospect of Sophy never darkening her door again, Chelsea Girl deadstock notwithstanding.
She stood over Sophy while she phoned the number on the email and made enthusiastic thumbs-up gestures when Sophy said, ‘Oh? So you have some slots tomorrow morning? And I just need to bring my passport, two other forms of ID, and a copy of the email from the Department of Home Affairs. Great. I’ll see you then.’
The Australian High Commission was on the Strand. It was hard to miss it, what with the serried ranks of Australian flags fluttering in the May breeze. Sophy wasn’t sure what she was expecting but, when she finally gained admittance after showing her paperwork and having her bag and her person searched, it was very grand. Beautiful marble work on the floor and the walls, ornate pillars marking her way as she followed the directions she was given, impossibly grand chandeliers lighting her footsteps.
There was a short wait in a not so grand corridor and then, with little ceremony, Sophy reached the head of a queue, stepped into an office, showed her documentation and was handed her certificate of Australian citizenship.
She hadn’t expected the moment to be so emotional; she’d been fretting about getting back to work, about buying her plane tickets, about what she was going to say to Charles tomorrow. Now all that noise quietened as Sophy stared down at the fancy piece of paper. It was less paper and more parchment, with a crest featuring a kangaroo and an emu; at the bottom was an official wax stamp.
There had been a time, not so long ago, when Sophy’s life had been safe and small. But with this one piece of paper, a whole new life full of possibilities was hers.
‘Congratulations on receiving your citizenship,’ said the middle-aged man who’d handed Sophy her certificate. Probably to hurry her along because she was standing there, mouth hanging open, slightly bewildered by events.
‘Wow, thank you,’ Sophy said. ‘I’m going to spend timewith my grandparents. They have a sheep station a couple of hundred miles outside of Adelaide. On the coast.’
She must have bored the poor man rigid as she launched into a garbled speech about the wonders of Queensville, the fibreglass shrimp at the entrance to the town and how she was pleased that it wasn’t going to be too hot: ‘Because one of my school friends lived in Brisbane for a couple of months and she says it reached forty degrees plus in summer. I couldn’t deal with that.’
‘Well, you’re going to a lovely part of the country,’ the man said, his eyes drifting past Sophy to the impatient queue behind her. ‘Good luck and safe travels.’
‘I haven’t even got my plane ticket…’
‘You’ll need to follow the signs to the exit, instead of going back the way you came,’ he said a little desperately and Sophy finally took the hint.
Tucking her documents carefully into the plastic wallet, she walked down a back staircase, which wasn’t as grand as the one she’d gone up. It seemed like a metaphor, though she wasn’t sure what for, but then she was back on the Strand and stepping straight into Johnno’s arms.
‘Oh my God, what are you doing here?’ she asked and, though they didn’t usually hug, it felt like the most familiar and comforting sensation when he folded her up in his embrace.
