Page 24 of The Vintage Dress Shop in Primrose Hill
Yes, she really was a people person. It was like her superpower, Sophy decided with satisfaction as she shut the door, turned round – then couldn’t help but squeak.
Phoebe was standing right behind her. Or rather looming. Her fringe was back to its usual poker-straight precision and her face was wearing its habitual enraged scowl.
‘What?’ Sophy asked tremulously. No, she wasn’t going to let herself be intimidated by Phoebe. She tried again, this time without her voice shaking. ‘What’s up?’
‘How dare you?’ Phoebe could hardly get the words out. If she’d been a cat, her back would have been arched, tail twitching.As it was, her eyes promised Sophy untold pain. ‘I had everything under control.’
‘You didn’t have anything under control. In fact, you begged me to steer her into the oyster satin.’
‘That’s not how I remember it,’ Phoebe said icily. ‘You’re not even allowedinthe atelier, much less running amok, pulling dresses off their hangers…’
‘I was hardly running amok. I wasassisting.’
Phoebe snorted like an angry little dragon. Sophy wouldn’t have been surprised to see plumes of smoke emerging from her flared nostrils. ‘Taking over, more like.’
It was typical that just when Sophy thought she might have realised what her low-key passion in life was, just when she’d started to maybe perhaps get her groove back, along would come someone to ruin it.
She was so over it.
‘Just what is your problem?’ she asked with a snarl that made Phoebe back away. ‘I’m trying really hard not to step on your toes. You’re the manageress. You know more about the shop and the stock than I ever could. You’re amazing at that. So again, what thehellis your problem?’
Phoebe drew herself up to her full height. In her vertiginous heels she towered over Sophy. The effect was impressive. Also, kind of intimidating. ‘Just stay down here,’ she bit out. ‘You’re not to go upstairs without my express permission. And remember to wash your hands before you go near the dresses.’
‘I’m fed up with you treating me like a child,’ Sophy snapped, squaring her shoulders, because why was it that everyone thought she was a pushover?
Egan.
Her mum who was still expecting her to sleep on the sofa though she’d promised to get rid of the sunbed because she never ever used it.
Her line manager at Belle Girl who’d always browbeaten Sophy into working extra hours.
The official receiver who didn’t seem at all bothered that Sophy was still waiting to be paid her last month of salary and overtime.
Then there was Johnno, who might have given her a job, which meant he was responsible for Sophy’s current hell, but for her whole life he’d just turned up when he felt like it. He’d cared nothing for Sophy’s emotional needs and also, how long did it take a fully grown man to find his bloody birth certificate and passport?
Finally, there was Phoebe, who wasn’t scowling any more but regarding Sophy with a lofty expression.
‘If you don’t like it here then no one’s forcing you to stay,’ she said. It was half challenge, half taunt.
And Sophy might be a pushover but she never backed down from a dare. ‘Maybe Iwillleave,’ she said. ‘Loads of companies would love to have me.’
Phoebe arched one exquisite brow. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really!’ Sophy insisted.
Phoebe allowed herself a triumphant smile. ‘Well, in that case don’t let the door hit you on the arse on your way out.’
PART TWO
Chapter Nine
Sophy had rarely been more pleased to have a day off, especially as the atmosphere in the shop the next day had been icy with a chance of snow.
A huge part of Sophy, at least seventy-seven per cent, hadn’t wanted to go crawling back to The Vintage Dress Shop at all. But though she’d updated her profile on LinkedIn and looked to see if Selfridges (no harm in aiming high) were taking on new staff (they weren’t), she wasn’t going to walk away from paid unemployment no matter how much she wanted to.
Thankfully, Phoebe hadn’t reminded Sophy that she’d kind of quit the day before; instead she’d stalked about like a villain in a Bond movie. Though it was Sophy she couldn’t stand, Chloe had also suffered the full force of her wrath when she’d been caught feeding Coco Chanel a piece of apple.
‘Her digestive system is very delicate,’ Phoebe had hissed, cradling Coco Chanel like she was a little baby and not the most ungracious gremlin to ever waddle on the Earth. ‘If she has an accident on the carpet, oh my goodness, it doesn’t even bear thinking about.’
