Page 72 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
Cress still looked unconvinced. ‘Everyone changes. Because life and whatever it throws at you, good and bad, has an effect on the person you are. Look at how much I’ve changed since I’ve been working here. What with finding myself creatively and ending a relationship that I’d been in for half my life and meeting Miles . . .’
‘Yes but . . .’
‘Look how much Sophy has changed too,’ Cress continued.
Sophy was still as annoying as she’d been the first day she arrived at The Vintage Dress Shop. Or maybe notquiteas annoying and at least she wore the right size bra now, which was all of Phoebe’s doing . . .
‘Those are minimal changes for the better while Freddy fundamentally wants to change who I am,’ Phoebe said as she thought of the way he seemed to sigh so frequently over the last few months, the flat way he looked at her.
‘You said that he’s rejected you but that’s a very strong word. A very negative word,’ Cress said. ‘I think really he just wanted you to be the best version of yourself. We’re all happier when we’re the people who we’re really meant to be.’
Phoebe wasn’t convinced. ‘If Freddy can’t handle me at my worst then he doesn’t deserve me at my best.’
Cress had the audacity to roll her eyes. ‘Pheebs, I’m so glad that we’re friends again and I’m saying this as a friend and also from a place of love but no one, not even the most devoted of boyfriends, could possibly handle you at your worst.’
There was no point in wasting breath on arguing about it. ‘Well, it’s something to think about, I suppose,’ Phoebe said grudgingly. Although Freddy had seen her at her worst, those evenings when it was just the two of them, he’d definitely seen, if not the best version of Phoebe, then a much softer side. It hadn’t been enough for him though.
She sighed and hoisted herself out of the depths of the chair. ‘It’s so late. We should both be getting home.’
‘I’ll work on Holly’s dress in my lunch hour tomorrow,’ Cress agreed, stretching tiredly.
‘If you haven’t got much on workwise, I don’t mind if you work on it during the day,’ Phoebe said and Cress nodded.
But five minutes later, as they bustled out of the shop as the alarm beeped out its warning, Cress didn’t immediately start walking to the station but lingered as Phoebe locked the door.
‘I think you should talk to Freddy at the ball,’ she said. ‘It’s neutral territory and you’ll be looking gorgeous in a fancy gown and he’ll be in his best suit, plus there’ll be a fifty-piece orchestra and it will be romantic.’
At the mention of the ball, Phoebe felt sour all over again. ‘I haven’t even decided if I’m going yet,’ she said.
‘Oh Phoebe!’ Cress’s tone was of pure exasperation. ‘Because of Freddy?’
So, then Phoebe had to tell her about Coco Chanel’s ban. The very unfair, the very unjust ban. ‘She wouldn’t do that. She would never disgrace herself like that.’
Cress pressed her lips together tightly almost as if she were trying to suppress a laugh.
‘Was there something you were wanting to say?’ Phoebe asked, her eyebrows raised.
‘She does fart a lot though,’ Cress said with a hiccup, again as if the giggles weren’t far off. And, besides, Coco’s occasional flatulence had nothing to do with anything.
‘She hasanxiety, Cress,’ Phoebe reminded her.
‘I have never in my life met a creature so secure in herself as Coco,’ Cress said fondly, looking down at the Frenchie.
‘She’s just putting a brave face on when actually I think you’ll find that she has severe PTSD from her sad life before me so all the more reason not to leave her on her own while I dance the night away.’
‘Yeah, OK.’ Cress nodded but her face was saying something else.
Phoebe put her hands on her hips. ‘What? Come on, out with it!’
‘Oh, it’s nothing. But goodness, if you treated Freddy half as well as a dog that you claim you’re only fond of then it would be the love affair of the century,’ Cress said.
‘You’re just being ridiculous now, Cress,’ Phoebe said a little crossly. She was all for Cress being the best version of herself but the Cress of last year would never dare say these . . . these . . . silly, unfounded things to her.
‘Sorry,’ Cress said though she didn’t sound that sorry. ‘It’s late. I need my dinner. Let’s discuss your outfit options for the ball tomorrow.’
‘I really think I’m not going,’ Phoebe said but Cress was already walking away.
She lifted a hand to wave casually and her jaunty ‘Whatever!’ carried in the chill night breeze.
