Page 2 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
When Phoebe reached the shop, she took a moment to let her eyes wander over all the little details that she loved so much. The shop name picked out in black in a pretty cursive script. The window, which – as ever – showcased one dress. This month it was an elegant black 1930s satin bias-cut evening gown with diamanté shoulder straps, because October was officially the beginning of party season.
Phoebe unlocked the door – the bell jangling was like music to her ears – then rushed to turn off the alarm, which wasn’t, and bustled to the tiny sliver of a kitchen that was off the back office.
She filled Coco’s water bowl. Opened a sachet of her gourmet dog food, then boiled the kettle to make her second huge mug of coffee of the day.
It was now nine forty. Time for Phoebe to take her coffee back into the shop and sit down on one of the two shockingpink velvet sofas that technically were strictly for customer use only. There were several prominently placed signs, stating very firmly that food and drink wasn’t allowed in the shop, but the shop wasn’t open and Phoebe wouldneverspill food or drink in the shop. Never ever!
Besides, she loved this quiet time before the rest of the staff arrived to simply appreciate the shop and, more importantly, appreciate the dresses.
Just as the bright pink sofas looked good on Instagram, so did the colour-coordinated dresses. A rainbow of rails of beautiful frocks. The green dresses that journeyed from the softest, sherbet mint to a gothy bottle green so deep and dark that it was almost black. Every hue of blue: sapphire, cerulean, duck egg, royal, French navy. A sunshine selection of yellow frocks nearest to the window that seemed to shimmer in the beams of mellow autumn sunlight. Reds, oranges, pinks, purples . . .
Phoebe stiffened as she noted that someone, probably Sophy, her least favourite colleague, had mixed up the lavenders and the lilacs. Goodness, she had to doeverything. Couldn’t even enjoy her cup of coffee but had to get up and put the dresses in their correctly coloured order.
Talking of Sophy, taking up valuable shop real estate from proper dresses for proper paying customers was a rail of rented dresses. A new development for The Vintage Dress Shop and one that Phoebe had protested most vehemently. Not surprisingly Sophy had sourced an inferior selection of dresses. It hurt Phoebe’s eyes just to have to look at them hanging on the one rail, which was all the space that she was prepared to give this hare-brained scheme.
It went against the entire ethos of the shop. Customers could now rent a frock like they were hiring a carpet steamer. Inevitably, they’d treat the dresses as something temporary and throw-away and, yes, the dresses were insured and yes,they had to pay a deposit, but Phoebe knew they’d be returned with stains on them, crumpled, maybe even damaged.
No! She wasn’t going to think about it. This was Phoebe’s special time as she surveyed what she knew the staff called her empire but what she thought of as her safe space.
Phoebe sat back with a contented little sigh. The solid warmth of Coco Chanel’s body pressed against her as they both took a moment to just be before the busyness of the day began.
Chapter Two
Their reverie was interrupted by the tinkle of the shop bell. Sophy, responsible for the rail of rental dresses, and a thorn in Phoebe’s side ever since she’d started working in the shop, had arrived, bringing the damp, chilly air in with her along with the scent of a bacon sarnie. It was one minute before ten, when the shop opened. Technically Sophy should be here at quarter to ten so she’d be ready, breakfast eaten, when Phoebe turned the shop sign from open to closed.
And where were Anita and Bea? They should be here by now too. If Phoebe had her way, if her power was absolute, then she’d have them all on timecards and make them clock in because they were mickey takers.
Phoebe couldn’t help but scowl again.
However, Sophy was followed by Cressida, her stepsister; they called each other ‘sisterfriend’, which always made Phoebe feel faintly nauseous, but Cress was her favourite colleague – in fact she counted Cress as one of her close friends, so she managed a smile.
‘Morning! Love that tote bag, Cress.’
As well as being The Vintage Dress Shop’s seamstress and alterations goddess – Cress could transform a frock fallen on hard times from literal rags to riches – she had a related side hustle where she repaired and sold vintage frocks that didn’t measure up to Phoebe’s exacting standards for shop stock. Yet another side hustle involved embroidering slogans on tote bags. Her latest creation proclaimed: ‘My Other Bag Is A Birkin.’
‘It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?’ Cress agreed. Her smile lit up her already pretty face. Her glossy brown curls seemed to bounce with every step she took and, once again, Phoebe’s nostrils were assaulted by the scent of bacon . . . and coffee.
She expected nothing less from Sophy but Cress should really know better. Still, it was Sophy, who’d balanced her wrapped yet still stinky bacon sarnie on the art deco display desk where the till sat, whom she addressed. ‘You know the rules! No food and drink in the shop! Out to the patio!’
Now Cress’s smile was more apologetic than radiant. ‘Sorry. Won’t happen again.’
It would happen again. Phoebe was very sure about that.
Sophy sighed. ‘But we have to gothroughthe shop to get to the patio.’ She tossed back her jaunty ponytail of red hair in a gesture of defiance.
Phoebe would never forget that awful day nearly two years before when Sophy had turned up, out of the blue, claiming that Johnno had offered her a job in the shop.
Technically and well, biologically, Sophy was Johnno’s daughter. But he’d split up with Sophy’s mother when she was just a baby and they’d never had much to do with each other.
Unlike Phoebe who’d known Johnno since she was sixteen and had started working for him as a Saturday girl in his previous shop, Johnno’s Junk. She’d known him for half her life and he was one of her favourite people.
Phoebe had been delighted when Sophy announced she was moving to Australia. Johnno had gone with her, but Sophy had then returned a year later, minus Johnno. Now, she was back at The Vintage Dress Shop for what Phoebe had hoped was a stopgap until she found another job but so far, Sophy didn’t seem to show any signs of wanting to leave.
On the contrary, with her rental dress nonsense, it felt like Sophy was staking her claim on the business. On Phoebe’s beloved shop.
It was imperative that she didn’t let Sophy get any more notions. Fortunately, Phoebe wasn’t the type to let anyone, but especially Sophy so-called Stevens, walk all over her.
‘Your start time is ten o’clock. It’s past that now so I’m paying you to eat your breakfast,’ Phoebe persisted. Next to her Coco Chanel whimpered in agreement, though Phoebe suspected that the whimper really meant that Coco would quite like a bacon sandwich too. Especially when she jumped down from the sofa and tried to follow Cress and Sophy through to the back office, but Phoebe reached down and scooped her up.
