Page 10 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
She almost screamed to find Sophy standing right behind her as she retreated from the cupboard where the alarm control panel was situated. ‘Don’t shout at me,’ Sophy said,which immediately made Phoebe want to grind down hard on her back molars.
‘Why would I want to shout at you?’ Phoebe asked suspiciously as she took herself and Coco into the kitchen, Sophy still right behind her.
‘When Rosie comes in . . .’
‘Rosie?’
‘Rosie Roberts, my influencer. Can I take her up to the atelier?’ Sophy asked in a garbled rush.
Phoebe clenched her fists. ‘But . . .’
‘Not to try on any of the dresses up there. She’s only going to model the rental pieces, but the shop is so busy on a Saturday and although the atelier won’t look so good on the ’gram, I checked and you don’t have any bridal appointments or bougie designer dress clients booked between three and four.’ Sophy looked to the ceiling, or rather to the heavens, as if she needed some divine assistance.
‘Our high-end clients aren’t bougie, Sophy. They’re discerning,’ Phoebe snapped, then realised that wasn’t exactly the point here. It was on the very tippiest bit of her tongue to automatically deny Sophy’s request just because it was Sophy, but really? Did it make that much difference to Phoebe’s life? Not really, though it pained her to admit that. ‘Yes, I suppose that would be all right. If you’d like me to look through the rental pieces and curate the best ones, I could also do that.’
Sophy clutched on to the edge of the counter like she wasn’t sure that her legs would hold her up. ‘You’d do that?’
Phoebe considered the question then nodded. ‘I would do that. Even if they are rental dresses and you know how I feel about that . . .’
‘You might have mentioned it a couple of times.’ Sophy’s true stubborn back-chatty nature was beginning to assert itself again, but Phoebe chose to ignore it. Just call her Mother Teresa.
‘But even if they are rental dresses they’re still ambassadors for The Vintage Dress Shop.’ Phoebe fixed Sophy with a steely stare, which only worked fifty per cent of the time with Sophy. ‘Please remember that you’re an ambassador for the shop too. Don’t do anything that reflects poorly on us.’
‘I won’t. Thanks.’ Sophy had decided, very wisely, to quit while she was ahead.
Though a sudden thought occurred to Phoebe. ‘This influencer person . . . I hope you explained to her about needing the right underwear for vintage dresses. Something to suck in the gut, and a pointy bra works much better than . . .’
‘Oh my God, no! I did not explain that to her because no sane person would,’ Sophy hissed.
Before Phoebe could take offence and also point out that Sophy had spent the first few weeks that she’d worked in the shop wearing the wrong size bra (not to mention some spectacularly dowdy sack-like dresses) until Phoebe had insisted that she go down a cup size, she fled for the safety of the little patio, the door slamming shut behind her.
Phoebe fed and watered Coco by which time Bea had arrived – Anita was lateagain– and Cress was sitting on one of the shocking pink sofas with a delicately wrapped parcel on her lap.
‘I’ve got a dress I thought you might like,’ she said, which was the sweetest music to Phoebe’s ears so she immediately forgot about being annoyed with Sophy and homed in on whatever was wrapped in the pale pink tissue paper.
‘A dress? For me?’ Phoebe put a hand to her heart. Was this what people meant when they were banging on about karma?
‘I bought a job lot of vintage dresses from eBay. They all require a lot of repair work, but this one just needs a new zip and a hook and eye and I think it’s your size,’ Cress said as she unwrapped the paper and took out a black dress.‘Form-fitting, crêpe with a Peter Pan collar. It’s quite like the one I made you to replace the one that got destroyed in the Great Moth Infestation of 2019.’
Phoebe crossed herself. ‘Bastard moths.’ She took the dress from Cress and held it up against her body. It looked as if it would fit her perfectly. ‘Thanks, Cress. That’s so kind of you.’
It was very sweet of Cress to think about Phoebe even when she was off the clock. Phoebe was so touched that she didn’t even bother to scowl at Anita who’d just arrived at twenty minutes past ten, which was taking the piss even for her.
‘I know that you have a lot of very similar black dresses, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted another one,’ Cress said but she was folding up the tissue paper, her smile pleased.
‘Cress, you know me well enough by now to realise that I can never have too many little black dresses,’ Phoebe informed her. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘Oh, no. Like I said it was a job lot. It can be a freebie. What are friends for, after all?’
‘Absolutely not.’ Neither a borrower nor a lender be. It was a lesson that Phoebe had taken to heart for many years. It was best not to have any outstanding debts because then people would think they had a hold over you. And it was best not to let people take advantage of you either, because if they did it once, then they’d keep doing it. Maybe even Cress, her soft-hearted friend.
‘Well, a new zipper and hook and eye is only going to be a couple of quid . . .’ Cress said uneasily.
‘Let’s call it twenty-five then,’ Phoebe said firmly because twenty-five pounds for what looked like an original 1930s dress was an absolute bargain. ‘I’ll give you the money after lunch.’
‘If you’re sure and no rush . . .’
‘I have to go to a cashpoint anyway,’ Phoebe insisted, handing the dress back to Cress. ‘Now before you go upstairs, shall we run through our appointments for the day?’
