Page 23 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
Phoebe’s heart didn’t lift at the sight of him. His face was set in grim, forbidding lines, so her heart actually sank even lower.
‘Well, this is a complete balls-up,’ he said, rather than shouted because shouting was never Freddy’s style. ‘We’re going to have to issue a statement on our social channels. An apology.’
That was a step too far. ‘I’ve already apologised!’ Phoebe insisted. ‘This is ridiculous.’
It was odd how Freddy’s blue eyes, which this morning looked as stormy as the sea in winter, could say so much when he wasn’t uttering a single word.
Phoebe sat back down with an aggrieved little huff. Freddy went to stand behind Bea, who was sitting in front of the shop computer, fingers poised over the keys.
‘Shall I start with something about how there are several videos circulating on social media about a recent occurrence . . .’ Bea made no move to start typing but instead looked imploringly at Freddy, who nodded tersely.
‘The staff and management of The Vintage Dress Shop would like to apologise unreservedly,’ he said with heavy emphasis and a meaningful glance in Phoebe’s direction. ‘We absolutely cannot condone our employee’s behaviour andthey have since been removed from customer-facing duties until they’ve completed some sensitivity training.’
‘You what?’ Phoebe barked, her brain unable to process what her ears were hearing. ‘Removed? Training?’
‘Put in a line or two about the shop’s ethos,’ Freddy continued either unaware or unconcerned that Phoebe was about to have a rage blackout. ‘Then finish with something like while we love our dresses and the stories they tell, we value our customers and their experience at The Vintage Dress Shop even more. Blah blah blah.’
‘Blah blah, bloody blah!’ Phoebe echoed incredulously. She’d never ever, not even once, valued the customers over the dresses. The customers were a necessary evil but she didn’t point that out. Mostly because she’d reached the non-verbal stage of being furious by now.
On one level, she supposed that Freddy had to do this; but on another level, it was unjust and unfair. And why was Freddy so angry? His mouth was a tight line, which sucked in his cheekbones and he was standing there with arms crossed, his posture so rigid that even Mildred wouldn’t have been able to find fault with it.
‘A word, please, Phoebe,’ he said, like actually it was going to be a lot of words and she wouldn’t like any of them. ‘Out on the patio, I think.’
Phoebe stood up, practically quivering with rage, and Freddy ushered her out of the back office and onto the terrace where it was as cold and frigid as the atmosphere between them. The trees that overhung the canal had lost most of their leaves and their bare branches looked stark against the greyish white sky.
‘I don’t know what—’ Phoebe began to say.
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ Freddy said, cutting her off. ‘It’s not like this is an isolated incident, is it? It might be the most serious one yet but we’ve been here before and I don’t knowhow many times I have to tell you that your way of dealing with conflict is completely unacceptable . . .’
So, Freddy was going to tell her off. He was right. They had been here quite a few times. Freddy being very stern and Phoebe remembering that stern Freddy was also very sexy Freddy.
‘. . . at the end of the day, Pheebs, they’re just bloody dresses!’
It was like he was going out of his way to deliberately antagonise Phoebe. But again, they had been here quite a few times before, so Phoebe did what she always did when Freddy was reading her the riot act.
She pouted.
She sulked.
She sighed long and heavy.
And she shivered because it was far too cold to be standing outside being lectured without a coat on.
When Freddyfinallycame to the end of his rant, Phoebe said what she always said when she found herself here again. ‘Yes, yes, whatever. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways,’ she drawled in a bored tone, because while stern Freddy was quite hot, she wasn’t amused at being told off like some naughty schoolgirl who’d been caught smoking behind the bike sheds.
Did schools even have bike sheds anymore?
Also, her ways didn’t have any errors. Phoebe was in the right. And if she didn’t stick up for herself, then no one else was going to. She hadn’t even needed Mildred to impart that particular piece of wisdom. She’d learned that lesson from a very young age and in the hardest way possible.
It was Freddy’s turn to sigh as he realised that all his angry words had been for nothing. ‘God, it’s like talking to a brick wall,’ he muttered.
‘I thought we’d cleared all this up on Saturday when I explained that . . .’
‘I hadn’t seen the video on Saturday. I just let you talk me round the way I always do . . .’ Freddy sighed as if he was cross with himself, but then when he looked at Phoebe, she saw something in his expression that she’d never seen before. And never wanted to again. ‘The way you went for her. Your anger. It was uncomfortable to watch.’
Phoebe knew that. She really did. But . . . ‘I didn’t touch her though,’ she reminded Freddy in an effort to make him feel better. Or to make herself feel better, she wasn’t sure.
‘I’ve said what needed to be said.’ Freddy shrugged, his movements quick and jerky. ‘For all the good that it’s done. Let’s go back inside.’
