Page 81 of The Vintage Dress Shop in Primrose Hill
‘Mum!’
‘…it would have been better if he’d stumped up for new school shoes or money for some of your dance costumes,’ had been Caroline’s savage summing-up and she was right; Sophy knew that she was right, which didn’t make her feel any better.
Especially as, when she finally managed to escape up the stairs, Caroline called after her, ‘I hope you’re about to make a list of all the things you needto take with you. They don’t have M&S in Australia, or Boots, so don’t forget to write down knickers and tampons.’
The next day wasn’t much better. Sophy delivered her news to Cress on the way to work, despite Cress’s protests that she didn’t want to know because she would cry. Cress was as good as her word. She sobbed so hard that she couldn’t even drink her coffee and, when they got to the shop, she immediately raced up the stairs still hiccupping and gasping for breath.
It was a little bit validating that Beatrice and Chloe were aghast at the new departure date and said all the right things about how much they were going to miss Sophy.
Of course, the only person who was truly happy at this latest development was Phoebe. ‘No problem,’ she said airily, when Sophy explained things. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to manage without you again.’
Yet still Sophy’s misery wasn’t over, because she was seeing Charles that evening for the V&A opening-night party and then going back to his place for a nightcap that wasn’t really a nightcap. She’d been so excited about both events, but especially about being with Charles again and becoming the Sophy that he believed her to be, the Sophy that she was starting to think that she might actually be too: smart, funny, sexy.
She debated telling him her news by text message, but it really was the kind of news that she had to deliver in person. So, despite the fact that she’d been crying almost as much as Cress, Sophy wanted her person to look as good as possible.
After work, she changed into the 1960s forest green metallic brocade dress that she’d worn for that magical day in Bath when she and Charles had confessed that they both fancied the pants off each other. Even the prospect of literally fancying the pants off each other later that night couldn’t cheer Sophy up as she freshened up hermake-up in the little shop bathroom.
Then she wiggled into her silver wedge sandals, gave her hair one last brush and stepped out into the shop, which was empty apart from Phoebe, who was waiting with Coco Chanel to lock up.
‘You look nice,’ she said, sounding faintly surprised. ‘Going somewhere fancy?’
‘There’s an opening-night party at the V&A,’ Sophy muttered as she grabbed her overnight bag and handbag.
Phoebe’s eyes missed nothing. Not the shadows under Sophy’s own eyes or the fact that she was taking an overnight bag with her to a party.
‘You haven’t told Charles yet?’ she asked.
Sophy shook her head. ‘It’s on the agenda for tonight.’
Phoebe opened the door to usher Sophy through it, her face sympathetic for once. ‘Poor, poor Charles,’ she said. ‘I knew that it would end in tears.’
Sophy was sure that the moment she saw Charles she’d immediately start weeping all over again.
But when he caught sight of her crossing the road, he stopped lounging elegantly on one of the benches outside the V&A in favour of jumping to his feet, his lovely, angular face transformed by his brilliant smile. He looked so pleased to see her that Sophy couldn’t help but smile back.
‘It feels like ages,years, since I last saw you,’ he said when Sophy reached his side.
‘It was only last week,’ Sophy said, trying for light but actually sounding very heavy.
‘Well, last week seems like a lifetime ago.’
His words were horribly prophetic but Sophy wasn’t able to dwell on them, because Charles’s hand was gently cupping her cheek and hiskiss was light but lingered in a promise of what was to come.
He took her overnight bag from her and they joined the queue of people waiting to gain admittance to the party; a cross-section of ages, the women in brightly coloured summer dresses, the men in suits, an air of anticipation hanging in the air along with the traffic fumes.
Sophy didn’t want to blurt out her awful news right away, though she was desperate to get it off her chest. But she knew it would cast a dampener over the evening, and the evening was set to be quite special.
Once Sophy’s bag was in the cloakroom, they walked past the closed gift shop, across the long sculpture gallery and through the open doors into the John Madejski Garden, a beautiful open space bordered by the red-brick splendour of the museum, its green lawns dominated by an oval pool where, in summer, small children (and big children too and even adults) paddled.
Tonight, no one was paddling. They were mostly crowded around the champagne bar that had been set up in one corner. In the opposite corner was a seafood bar where people were guzzling oysters and beyond that was a dessert station, but Charles guided Sophy forward, only pausing to take two delicate flutes of champagne from a passing waiter.
He didn’t stop until they’d reached a cluster of white wicker sofas and chairs on the far side of the garden, which was a lot less populated than the high-traffic areas around the food and drink.
Sophy sat down on a sofa, Charles sitting next to her so his thigh brushed against hers. ‘Don’t you have people you should be schmoozing?’ she asked, gazing around at the other partygoers, who all looked impossibly glossy and glamorous.
Charles took Sophy’s hand so he could press a kiss to herknuckles. ‘I have a theory that if you stay in one place at a party, eventually everyone you want to talk to will find you. Besides, the only person I want to schmooze is you.’ It was such a lovely thing to say and was going to make Sophy’s own speech that much harder.
‘You don’t need to schmooze me,’ she told him, entwining his fingers through hers. ‘I’ve already fallen for your charms.’
