Page 66 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
‘Well, use a different one then,’ Cress said sternly because in the eighteen months since she’d come to work at the shop, she’d transformed from mouse to a mouse with quite the attitude when she was riled up.
As Phoebe knew to her cost. It was all very well making new friends but she also had to maintain her existing friendships. She was still cross with Cress, or more hurt than cross, but now wasn’t the time, not when Cress was sitting down next to her to scritch Coco behind her ears.
‘We can send the really damaged stuff off to the charity we use,’ Phoebe said because any dud stock from their suppliers or pieces that even Cress couldn’t resuscitate got boxed up and shipped to an ethical textile recycling charity so it wouldn’t end up as landfill. ‘The clothes you’re not going to wear, I’d sell. I’ll have the three black dresses, which were always going to be too small for you, for the shop. Let Sophy have dibs on the other dresses for her rental thing and then, I don’t know, don’t you swap the dresses you’re tired of with your friends?’
‘Did someone say my name?’ Sophy poked her head round the door. ‘And what are you saying about my rental dresses?’
‘It was nothing bad,’ Anita said, from her cross-legged position on the floor, which was now no longer covered in a fine coating of clothes. ‘Phoebe, of all people, is telling me that I should get rid of the dresses that I no longer wear.’
‘Oh my God, the hangover has addled your brain,’ Sophy said, squeezing her way into the room.
‘My brain is far from addled,’ Phoebe snapped but it was a very tame kind of snapping. ‘Clothes swapping is the lifeblood of the vintage community. There’s no point in hoarding dresses you’re never going to wear. It’s not fair on the dresses. They deserve to be worn.’
‘This from the woman who has point-blank refused to sell dresses to customers on occasion,’ Cress said, but she said it affectionately and nudged Phoebe with an elbow.
‘Only when I suspect that their intentions aren’t honourable,’ Phoebe protested, as George was the last person on the premises to force his way into Anita’s room. ‘Maybe in January, when we’re not so busy, we could have a little unofficial clothes swap at work.’
‘A lot can happen between now and January,’ Sophy said. ‘In fact, come Monday morning, when you’re firing on all cylinders again, you’ll forget that we shared Korean fried chicken and retail horror stories.’
Was she really that much of an ogre? Phoebe wondered. Although she already knew the answer. Yes, yes she was. Prided herself on it. Because when you made yourself vulnerable, you made yourself weak. Mildred had been quite vocal on the subject of how people would prey on your kindness and take advantage.
So, yes, Phoebe was nobody’s fool but she liked to think that she was only an ogre during work hours. ‘I’m sure come Monday morning, I won’t have forgotten at all but I will be taking my managerial duties as seriously as ever,’ she said.
‘Too late. We’ve seen your softer side now,’ Anita said. She levered herself upright with a groan. ‘Now, let’s go through my options for the ball. I was considering the red taffeta gown but is red too Christmassy? I don’t want to look like I’m wearing fancy dress, though one of my other options . . . hang on . . .’ she dived into her wardrobe, which was now much better organised but still, alas, had dresses hanging on wire hangers ‘. . . is this gold dress, which is more slinky but I’m not sure I can dance in it.’
‘What’s the other option?’ Phoebe asked and once she’d advised Anita to wear a black strapless dress shot through with gold lurex thread, she then went through Sophy’s options. Or rather it was one option: a stunning, 1930s halter-neck, bias-cut mossy green silk dress very reminiscent of the dress Keira Knightley had worn inAtonement.
‘Charles bought it for me,’ Sophy said, which wasn’t a surprise because Charles had absolutely exquisite taste. ‘But is it too much?’
‘It’s just enough,’ Phoebe assured her, ignoring the pang of envy at not just the dress but that Sophy had Charles. A man who didn’t just have an unerring eye for picking out vintage clothes but who seemed to adore Sophy without rhyme or reason. Although she and Sophy were on much better terms, Sophy could be annoying. Very, very annoying indeed.
Much more annoying than Phoebe and yet Phoebe had no man. Not that she wanted just any man. She wanted one particular man even though he was too intimidated to buy her vintage dresses, but he did have a knack for picking out delightful vintage pyjama sets.
Phoebe didn’t even know why she was bothering to check her phone. Of course Freddy hadn’t messaged her. He could manage without her very well. And she could manage without him. After all, here she was on a Saturday night, bondingwith her workmates. Or maybe they were her out-of-work-hours mates too.
It was hard to know. By the time they’d drunk the red wine and eaten the crisps that they’d ordered on Uber Eats and planned an ambitious charity clothes swap for the New Year, which would involve renting out a church hall, sorting out a bar and possibly a raffle, it was very late and the thought of having to put her shoes back on for the journey from Hackney to Primrose Hill made Phoebe want to cry.
Also, she’d had enough to drink that she couldn’t be sure that she’d avoid detouring via Freddy’s flat and begging him to take her in. To take her back, no matter how much she’d tried to harden her heart.
‘It’s too late to be waiting for buses and too expensive to get an Uber. You might as well stay the night,’ Anita said when both Phoebe and Bea made very unenthusiastic noises about being on their way.
And so it came to pass that in a pair of Primark pyjamas borrowed from Sophy, Phoebe, Bea and Coco slept in Anita’s bed while Anita slept with George (‘but keep your hands to yourself, Neeta, I know what you’re like’) and Sophy and Cress doubled up as they’d planned to all along.
It wasn’t how Phoebe had ever thought she’d spend a Saturday night but it hadn’t been terrible. Not in the slightest. In fact, it had been the most fun Phoebe had had in ages.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was only slightly awkward on Monday morning. Mostly because Phoebe had to return Sophy’s trainers, which she’d borrowed the day before because drinking two nights on the trot had meant she was hungover again and couldn’t do heels.
‘It will be our little secret,’ Sophy said. She cast her eyes to the ceiling of the back office. ‘But only because I didn’t have the foresight to take a picture of you yesterday morning in your tight little black dress with a pair of green Adidas Gazelles on your feet.’
‘I hate you,’ Phoebe told her but Sophy just laughed because Phoebe’s power was no longer absolute. Her authority had been completely undermined with very little chance of ever returning.
‘Actually, you don’t. In fact, I think I’m growing on you,’ Sophy said, which was sort of true but Phoebe just rolled her eyes.
‘Stop talking nonsense and let’s get the Monday morning meeting done and dusted,’ she said and soon they were all gathered on the pink sofas to plan the week ahead.
The plan was much the same as ever: to sell dresses. A lot of dresses. It was now just touching December, their busiest month, and time for Phoebe to broach the subject of the shop opening late night Wednesday through Saturday and even opening on Sundays too.
