Page 76 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
She couldn’t finish the sentence. It was hard enough to even think the words, never mind say them out loud.
Instead she gave a stiff Coco one last cuddle and then stood up, straightened her shoulders (‘you’re slouching, Phoebe, you don’t want a dowager’s hump, do you?’) and prepared to go out to fight for her life.
Chapter Thirty-One
Phoebe’s plans didn’t get off to a great start. It was very hard to navigate from boat to slippery-with-frost canal path in a long, heavy silk dress and very high heels, especially when she could hear Coco whimpering.
She sent a quick message to Sadie, who was far more reliable than Gunther, asking her to let Phoebe know as soon as they’d released Coco from her very cosy, very warm, very-one-hundred-of-your-favourite-toys-in-close-proximity prison.
It was the kind of chilly, damp night you felt in your bones. The kind of chilly damp that could ruin a good hairdo even with a heck of a lot of Elnett hairspray holding it in place. The Hat and Fan was only a five-minute walk but Phoebe slowed her steps down. Not just because her shoes were hard to walk in but because she didn’t know what to say when she pulled back the heavy door of the pub to see everyone, her friends, her colleagues, her . . . Freddy sitting there.
Probably she’d have to start with an apology. Possibly even grovelling. Phoebe placed a hand on her stomach, which was quivering with nerves, even as she shivered with cold, and eked out at least another two minutes by standing under a streetlight so she could scrutinise her make-up in her compact mirror.
She looked the same as she always did. But the perfect make-up – the armour of arched eyebrows, perfect cat’s eye flicks, flawless alabaster skin and the boldest of red lips – couldn’t hide the hesitation that Phoebe felt.
She could manage perfectly well on her own.
Then again, perfectly well wasn’t the same as being happy.
Full of resolve once more, Phoebe tucked her mirror back into her bag and started walking again. She took a deep breath as she turned the corner and The Hat and Fan came into view. The warm glow from its steamed-up windows was a welcome sight on a dark night.
‘Don’t slouch, Phoebe,’ she whispered under her breath as she crossed the road and even the ringing of her phone wasn’t going to distract her from her mission. It would only be Sadie to say that she had Coco.
Another deep breath as Phoebe opened the door so the still night was drowned out by the hum of lively chatter and laughter, the smell of beer and bar snacks, and in their favourite corner, the staff of The Vintage Dress Shop plus their significant others and the most significant other of them all, Freddy, were gathered.
They were all dressed up in their best, even Miles who Phoebe had never seen in a suit, and so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t even notice Phoebe approach. Then Sophy lifted her head just as Phoebe’s phone began to ring again. Not just ring but beep and chime too.
She lifted her hand to wave at Sophy who, not surprisingly, didn’t look too thrilled to see her. Phoebe reached for her phone, which had stopped ringing but, as soon as her fingers closed around it, started again.
Phoebe stopped in her tracks when she saw she had three missed calls from Sadie, plus messages from Sadie, Gunther, Emma and Sean on the other boat and . . .
‘Hi, Sadie,’ she said as she answered this latest call. ‘Have you got Coco?’
‘Phoebe!’ Sadie’s voice was shrill with panic. ‘The Sheilais on fire! We’ve called the fire brigade but . . .’
‘But Coco . . .’
‘Gunther’s using our fire extinguisher but he can’t get the flames out and I can hear Coco . . . You have to come . . .’
Phoebe didn’t need to hear any more. Panic ripped through her like an earthquake and she gasped out loud. Her bag fell to the floor as she pressed a hand to her heart, which was thumping hard and fast enough to break free.
‘Phoebe, there you are!’ said a voice behind her. As if she was in a dream, she turned around to see Charles, impeccable in black tie and tails, coming from the bar with a tray full of drinks. ‘A sight for sore eyes!’
‘I have to go,’ she said, her voice a hoarse, croaky thing. ‘Oh God, Coco! There’s a fire and she’s all alone and she must be so scared and she needs me . . .’
She pushed past Charles so the tray went flying, drinks going everywhere, people shouting and swearing, the sound of glasses breaking. Phoebe didn’t even feel the liquid soaking her hair, her cape, her dress. She stumbled through the crowd, not caring who she knocked into. Behind her, she could hear someone call her name but there was no time to stop. No time to do anything but shoulder open the door and run back out into the night.
Phoebe picked up the heavy skirt of her dress as she raced through the streets. Then she stopped only to wrench off her stupid, slippery shoes. She could still hear the echo of her name but she ignored it as she began to run again.
The pavements were hard and unforgiving under her feet. The cold, cold night snatched the breath from her lungs, but Phoebe barely noticed. She ran as if the devil himself was at her heels.
Then came the acrid scent of smoke and Phoebe was sure she could hear the crackle of flames as she came to the narrow path that led down to the canal. Finally she was on the towpath and in the near distance she could see the people gathered aroundThe Sheila, which was lit by a fierce orange glow as Gunther andSean aimed fire extinguishers at the bow of the boat where the fire was concentrated. Sadie and Emma were scooping up canal water in buckets and flinging it at the boat but . . .
‘Coco! Where’s my baby?’ Phoebe screamed as she reached the terrible scene.
Sadie said something to her, but it was lost in the commotion. Phoebe didn’t ask her to repeat it but instead ran to the other end ofThe Sheila, which wasn’t on fire but the boat was made of wood and it was only a matter of time. She might already be too late.
‘Coco? Coco?’ she shouted again. She was sure over the commotion at the other end of the boat, over the ominous hiss and roar of the fire, she could hear the sound of barking. The short, offended barks that Coco always gave like she couldn’t believe that she needed to raise her voice.
