Page 27 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
‘It’s not a date, Freddy,’ she said not-very-sternly. ‘It’s one quick drink.’
One quick drink was actually three drinks and then dinner at a Thai restaurant and the whole time they didn’t stop talking. First they talked about what they thought they had in common – the shop, Johnno – and then they discovered that they had a lot more in common than that. They both loved living in London, Regent’s Park on spring mornings, summer evenings in Soho, watching the firework displays across London from Primrose Hill in early November and in winter, hunkering down in a repertory cinema in Notting Hill, to watch a 1950s musical or a 1960s avant-garde film.
Maybe it was because Phoebe had been caught off her guard and maybe it was because Freddy really was an enigma, as Johnno often said. But she’d realised that there was more to him than she’d imagined.
Especially when he’d seen her home, all the way to her front door in Tottenham. ‘I know that this was only a quick drink,’ he’d said, eyes dancing in the streetlights. ‘But I’m still going to kiss you goodnight.’
Also, Freddy was very daring to make a statement like that and then actually take Phoebe in his arms. But she hadn’t protested, she’d even kissed him back because his first, tentative kiss had made her swoon like the time she’d found an Ossie Clark dress in a Cancer Research shop.
What would Phoebe’s life have been like if she’d never encountered that awful drunk man that one December evening? Well, she’d be Cocoless for one thing. She might not love Coco Chanel, but yes, she spoilt Coco Chanel rotten because if anyone deserved to be spoiled rotten after her awful start in life it was Coco Chanel, who’d now overcome her tragic beginnings to transform into the beautiful, sassy and salty little princess she was always meant to be. And Phoebe and Freddy . . . ?
It had taken five years but he’d let her down as Phoebe always knew he would. Eventually.
As the day dragged on and time seemed to have slowed down without any customers to match with their perfect dresses, Freddy didn’t call. That evening, he didn’t even send his usual ‘goodnight’ text and Phoebe was damned if she was going to message him.
Like Mildred had always said,‘Sooner or later a person will reveal their true colours.’
Chapter Eleven
It wasn’t until the next day that Freddy finally deigned to put in an appearance.
It was late enough that they were open (Sophy had managed to arrive only five minutes late and had also managed to work out how to turn off the alarm) but still too early to have any customers.
Everyone was very subdued, even Coco Chanel who had left half of her breakfast, which was unheard of. The thought of spending another day toiling away in the basement filled Phoebe with despair. The basement had never been so tidy, the stock so well organised, everything so neatly labelled. There wasn’t much else for her to do and then Freddy walked in, looking like he didn’t have a single bloody care in the world.
‘Glad you’re all here,’ he said, even though where else would they all be? He was also making sure that his gaze skirted over Phoebe, even though Coco scampered over to him and stood on her hind legs, front paws on his knees. Freddy didn’t pick her up, but gave her a very perfunctory scratch under the chin. So, as well as not having Phoebe’s back, now he was shunning her dog too.
Clearly, he was still angry with Phoebe, which was no match for how angry she was with him. He’d not listened to her side of things; he’d demoted her and threatened to sack her even though he knew that the shop, the dresses, were her whole world.
Phoebe felt her lips tighten. Her everything tighten, especially her heart.
‘I won’t be long. I need to talk to Phoebe about having some training,’ he said airily, like none of this was causing him any anguish at all.
Whereas the word ‘training’ caused an icy sensation to trickle down Phoebe’s spine. ‘Training?’ she echoed in a croaky voice.
Freddy looked her straight in the eye, his face impassive. ‘If you return to managerial duties then you need to have a better handle on the admin side of things. You can’t just leave it all to Sophy and Bea.’
‘Admin?’ Phoebe echoed in an even croakier voice. ‘If?’
‘But we’re happy to do the admin,’ Bea said quickly. ‘I like doing the admin. I have a system.’
It was true, Bea did have a system. While Phoebe might have a near photographic memory for every single dress that passed through the shop, or had passed, including its provenance, price, fabric and approximate age, Bea took all that knowledge and put it into some kind of stock inventory program on the computer then added it to the website. Plus she ordered things that they needed: till roll, their stationery and bags, coffee. She’d even recently dealt with some women who’d come round from the council to do a health and safety survey.
‘I never mind doing the cashing up. Can’t have all those years at BelleGirl going to waste,’ Sophy said of the decade she’d spent at a horrible high-street fashion chain, which had gone bust forcing Johnno to give his biological daughter a job. ‘Plus, I’m very busy with my rental dresses.’
‘I hear you, but there’s no point in having a manager if they don’t manage,’ Freddy said firmly because once his mind was made up about something, he would not be convinced otherwise. Whether it was wearing Phoebe downuntil she went on a date with him or deciding that a suitable punishment for her crimes would be to spend the day on the phone to Camden Council with a query about their business rates. ‘So, Bea, I think a good plan for today is if you walk Phoebe through the website and the ecommerce side of things. Which will mean that she doesn’t have to deal directly, or indirectly, with any of the customers.’
‘You’re beingsounfair!’ Phoebe hissed because she couldn’t hold her tongue a moment longer. In fact, she was amazed that she’d managed to hold out for, oooh, at least ten minutes.
‘What if Phoebe is walking through the shop and a customer asks her something?’ Cress wanted to know, in a manner that suggested that she also thought Freddy was being completely unreasonable. ‘And what about the brides and the customers who are looking for a really high-end dress? I’m not cut out to deal with those women. They’re very demanding. Very high maintenance and Phoebe has a magic knack for . . .’
‘I think you need to have a little faith in yourself, Cress,’ Freddy said in a much softer tone than he’d used so far. ‘I’m sure you can cope admirably.’ He surveyed the staff with a keen glance that had something of the head teacher about it. ‘No one here is irreplaceable. If a customer does approach Phoebe, then Phoebe will direct them to another member of staff and be on her way. Talking of which, I’m going to have to love you and leave you.’
He touched the side of his head in salute, gave Coco Chanel a little pat on her head as she stood in the doorway and tried to block his passage, and then he was gone.
The shop was still empty of customers so no one moved from their slumped positions in the back office. Although Phoebe liked to think that she always had her fight face readyto go, she was the most slumped of them all. She really would end up with a dowager’s hump at this rate.
‘I can’t believe Freddy is being like this. To me,’ she muttered. ‘I thought we’d cleared everything up on Saturday night and he was fine . . .’
