Page 67 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
There was a collective groan as Phoebe announced the extended hours. ‘Yes, it’s a lot of extra work but it makessense to stay open longer. Not that the shop is in financial trouble, not at all, but there is a cost of living crisis and I’m sure all our outgoings will increase in the new year.’
‘Oh my God, are our jobs in trouble?’ Anita exclaimed with what seemed to be genuine panic. ‘Who else would employ me?’
It was a very good question. Who else would employ Anita, or Phoebe for that matter?
‘Everything’s good,’ Bea said firmly. ‘But they’ll be even better if we’re making as much profit as possible. Especially when it comes to our annual bonuses.’
Johnno, bless his heart, always made sure there was a decent bonus in their last pay packet of the year, which was very welcome when January seemed to last forever and they’d all overspent on Christmas.
‘Also, opening for slightly longer means that there will be overtime and the undying gratitude of a lot of disorganised women who’ve left their party outfits and Christmas presents to the last minute,’ Phoebe said.
‘I’d much rather have the overtime,’ Anita muttered, her questionable work ethic back in the room with them.
‘Well, I think that’s everything,’ Sophy said as the door opened and the first customer of the week walked in.
Except it wasn’t a customer, but Freddy.
It used to be that Phoebe saw Freddy every day. Messaged back and forth constantly.
Now, it wasn’t the case that absence made the heart grow fonder. Rather, just seeing him, standing by the door, hands in his trouser pockets, made her heart ache.
‘Don’t mind me,’ he said, although all Phoebe could do was mind him. ‘Just pretend that I’m not here.’
It was an order that Phoebe was happy to obey but Coco didn’t have to hide her feelings. She went barrelling over to Freddy and did a drop and roll to get his hands on her belly.
Over the sounds of Coco’s contented little grunts, Phoebe realised that Bea was saying something to her.
‘Sorry, Bea, I didn’t catch that.’
Bea held up her phone. ‘I was just saying we’ve hit thirty thousand followers on Instagram, which is immense but also there’s a lot of media requests coming in.’
‘What kind of media requests?’ Phoebe asked in alarm. ‘Do they want to do a piece on the shop?’
Bea’s smile drooped. ‘Actually, they want to interview you.’
Phoebe didn’t even have to think about it. She knew where her strengths lay and also what her many weaknesses were. ‘I really don’t think I should be doing interviews.’
Bea couldn’t hide her relief. Her shoulders, which had been up around her ears, went back to their usual position.
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Freddy, even though he was meant to be a silent presence.
His words were just a little more hurt to add to the pile of hurts Phoebe had already accumulated over a lifetime. Which was one of the reasons why she didn’t want to go anywhere near a journalist. Not just because she was bound to say the wrong thing. Many wrong things. As soon as she got on to her favourite topic of vintage dresses, all bets were off.
But also she didn’t want anyone prying into her life. Ferreting out all the secrets that she’d buried. It’s not as if she was Kardashian famous but people seemed to end up in the papers and all over the internet for not very much.
‘Maybe we could make a fun reel with Phoebe in it?’ Sophy suggested. ‘Give the people what they want without saying anything.’
‘Like Kate Moss,’ Cress added before Phoebe could analyse Sophy’s statement for hidden meanings then take offence at them. ‘She’s had a whole career without giving interviews.’
‘Phoebe’s hardly Kate Moss,’ Anita snorted as if the camaraderie of the weekend had already been forgotten. ‘But you are ridiculously photogenic and you wear a little black dress like nobody else.’
‘Are you after a pay rise or something?’ Phoebe asked because old habits died hard.
Anita shook her head. ‘Dude, learn how to take a compliment.’
Phoebe could feel herself blushing both from the compliment and because she was so aware of Freddy’s presence, his gaze on her. It was as if the top layer of her skin had been removed, leaving her exposed and sensitive.
‘Maybe Birdy might have some ideas,’ she mumbled and she’d never been so glad to see the door open, hear the tinkle of the bell as an actual customer came in to the shop. ‘Right, OK, I think we’re done. Great work, team!’
