Page 17 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
‘Yes, but I think we have very different definitions as to what constitutes damage,’ Freddy said like someone who had actual legal qualifications.
‘Well, I think we’d both agree that ripping a 1930s dress and getting fake tan on it when you shouldn’t even have been trying it on is the dictionary definition of damage,’ Phoebe pointed out, trying not to puff up in rage again but keep herself collected and cool. Freddy responded much better when Phoebe wasn’t breathing fire. Even if, in this instance, she had every right to breathe fire ‘That woman is a menace and, quite frankly, if anyone is at fault besides her, it’s Sophy for not doing her research.’
‘That’s very unfair on Sophy. She was only trying to get some publicity for the shop and launch the rental business . . .’
‘We don’t really need any publicity. Our stellar reputation in the vintage community comes from word of mouth,’ she said grandly. She liked to think of The Vintage Dress Shop as a well-kept secret. That way they appealed to the more discerning customer. Even then, there were still far too many randoms who visited for Phoebe’s liking. ‘Also, I don’t just blame Sophy, I blame you too, Freddy. What were you thinking?’
Attack was always the best form of defence. Always. Freddy flushed. ‘I was thinking about our year-on-year takings and our profit margins,’ he said, because although Phoebe was very fond of Freddy, there were times, like at that very moment, when she had to confront the fact that they had very little in common.
‘I would have expected you to do better due diligence,’ Phoebe told him though she wasn’t entirely sure what due diligence meant but it sounded legal and like something Freddy should have done to check that Rosie Roberts was the right fit for The Vintage Dress Shop and not an actual dress-ripping monster.
‘I know what you’re doing, Pheebs, by trying to turn this back to me, but it won’t work,’ Freddy said, his jaw still set, because they might not have much in common but they knew each other very well. ‘Cress said that your reaction was completely disproportionate to . . .’
‘Oh yes, your good friend, Cress,’ Phoebe said bitterly. ‘While you were on the phone, did you take time to talk about your secret plans to go into business together? To flood the market with cheap reproduction copies of vintage dresses?’
She folded her arms and waited for Freddy to reply but he refused to be drawn. ‘We’re not talking about that right now.’
‘Only because I bet you hoped I’d never find out about it.’ She was about to really give him a piece of her mind whenthey heard a noise behind them and they both looked around to see Sophy opening the door. Her face was still very red.
‘Rosie’s gone now,’ she relayed heavily. ‘She took a really expensive dress from the designer room too.’
The absolute bloody audacity! ‘Which one?’ Phoebe snapped.
‘The black satin midi dress with the lace sleeves,’ Sophy said.
‘The Marcel Fenez?’ Things just went from bad to worse. ‘I had that priced at four hundred and fifty pounds.’ Phoebe turned back to Freddy. ‘This is all your fault! Why did you say she could have a free dress?’
‘Because I was trying to apologise for your unwarranted behaviour,’ Freddy pointed out.
‘Not unwarranted. Entirely warranted,’ Phoebe persisted as Sophy left the office with a grateful sigh. ‘I can’t believe you’re not on my side.’
‘I am on your side. I’m always on your side,’ Freddy said hotly. ‘You don’t make it easy sometimes though. Honestly, if this was anyone else, they’d be on a written warning.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ If Freddy dared to give her a written warning or any other kind of warning, come to that, she’d laugh in his face. And also be very, very angry.Angrier.Besides . . . ‘You’re not the boss of me, Freddy,’ Phoebe said. ‘Johnno is.’
‘And he left me in charge . . .’ Freddy shook his head and he was frowning now. ‘I have to go now. We’ll talk about this later.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about. That horrible woman has gone now and taken a precious, one-off designer vintage dress with her,’ Phoebe reminded him because she wasn’t going to be over that any time soon.
But Freddy was already walking away from her.
‘Later,’ he snapped and this time, he really did slam the door behind him.
Chapter Seven
When Phoebe returned to the shop floor, everything seemed to be under control. Then she saw a woman eyeing up a mustard-coloured dress, which did absolutely nothing for her (no judgement, mustard was a very hard colour to wear) and Phoebe decided that maybe she shouldn’t have to deal with the general public when she was feeling so out of sorts.
The general public could be so trying. Thank goodness there was only an hour to go now until closing.
With Coco Chanel in her arms, she navigated the small but perilous flight of stairs that led down to the basement. There was a stockroom and beyond that a small anteroom where Bea shot all the dresses when they came in, so she could upload them to the website. Phoebe was never exactly sure how things got on the website, but Bea seemed to know what she was doing so Phoebe left her to it.
Though the same couldn’t be said for the stockroom. At the end of August, as they did every year, they’d changed over the shop’s stock. Swapping out the summer frocks in their light and gauzy fabrics and bright colours for a more seasonally appropriate selection of winter dresses and party looks.
The summer dresses had been consigned to the basement and someone, probably Sophy, had done a very poor job of arranging them on the rails. Just hanging them any which way so that the hangers weren’t even facing in the same direction.
After switching on the space heater and settling Coco in one of her many baskets, Phoebe got to work.
As she rearranged dresses, righted hangers and checked each frock to make sure that buttons, zips, and fastenings were in working order and there were no loose seams or drooping hems, Phoebe could feel her blood pressure returning to more normal levels.
