Page 8 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
‘Not a business drink,’ Freddy had stated calmly and clearly, his blue eyes fixed on her face, which felt hot again but she’d blame that on the two gin and tonics she’d had. ‘I like you. I’d like to get to know you a whole lot better.’
Phoebe’s first instinct had been to say yes, because even though he wasn’t her usual type, there was something about Freddy . . . She wanted to get to know him a whole lot better too.
But her second, much stronger instinct, had been to ignore her first instinct and her fluttering, racing heart. ‘That’s very kind of you but I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Phoebe had said sharply. ‘I think it would be unprofessional given our working relationship and I’ve only just become manageress of the shop and the staff knowing my private business . . . you and I going out for a drink. Well, it would just undermine my authority.’
There’d been a couple of moments of awkward silence as they stood by the pelican crossing on Chalk Farm Road. Freddy had looked down at his feet, then looked up again, his face serious.
‘It is just one drink. You might decide that you hate me,’ he’d pointed out with a shrug and Phoebe knew in that moment that she could never hate this charming, cheery man who was brave enough to ask her out. She’d been told, more than once, that most men found her utterly terrifying.
‘I really do prefer to keep my work life and my private life separate,’ she’d said with just a trace of regret in her voice. Not that she had much of a private life. She really did live for her dresses.
‘Oh well.’ Another shrug. ‘You can’t blame a bloke for trying.’
‘You can’t,’ Phoebe had agreed.
Freddy had respected Phoebe’s decision. But every few months or so, he’d ask her out again. Not in a horrible, douche-y ‘I never take no for an answer’ sort of way, like those awful, gym bro men on TikTok who claimed they were dating coaches.
‘I just wondered if anything had changed in the last few months,’ Freddy would say like it was no big deal. ‘And that you might want to grab a drink sometime.’
Phoebe had always turned him down. Very firmly. Brutally, Freddy had later said but she didn’t want to give him any false hope or encouragement.
In the end, it had been Phoebe who’d sought Freddy out and now here they were. Of course, Phoebe still didn’t want her authority in the shop undermined, so nobody at the shop knew about them. Well, apart from Cress who’d bumped into the two of them at a vintage fair in south London. Phoebe had thought that she and Freddy were OK to hold hands if they were on the other side of London but apparently not. Cress was sworn to secrecy though Freddy had said that it was a sign that they should go public but with Sophy and Anita as impossible as they were, it seemed to Phoebe that there were days when she was clinging on to her authority by her fingernails.
Freddy had sighed in a way that never failed to make Phoebe feel guilty, but not enough to make her relent. Anyway, what was the point in ruining a good thing? And itwasa good thing.
Freddy opened a small tin of gourmet, grain-free salmon dog food and put it into Coco Chanel’s food bowl as Phoebe put the kettle on.
‘Do you want a herbal tea?’ she asked, because unlike Phoebe who was about to have her seventh coffee of the day, Freddy couldn’t process caffeine after six o’clock. Not if he wanted to sleep that night.
‘Can you make me a chamomile?’ Freddy held up his phone. ‘Shall we do Thai tonight?’
Phoebe nodded her agreement. She made their drinks while Freddy studied the menu from their favourite Thai restaurant.
‘What do you fancy?’ he asked as Phoebe took her mug of coffee and headed out of the kitchen.
‘You know what I like, babes,’ she said. ‘Have I got time for a bath first?’
‘Yeah, as long as it’s not one of your epic soaks, I can hold off ordering for half an hour.’ Freddy looked plaintive for a second. ‘Though I am starving.’
‘But you’re not going to wither away in the next thirty minutes,’ Phoebe pointed out. ‘I’ll make it a quick bath but I do need to wash my hair too.’
‘Sometimes I think you only want me for my abundant hot water,’ Freddy called after, which wasn’t true. Well, maybe it was three per cent true.
Phoebe headed for Freddy’s bedroom where she had a lot more space than just one drawer. Then she moved to the spare room or rather her overspill wardrobe where her special occasion dresses and her big winter coats and also her huge collection of vintage handbags lived.
An hour later, Phoebe was showered, hair washed, and she’d done her big Friday night ten-product skincare regime and Freddy was collecting their takeaway from the delivery driver who’d just rung the bell. Phoebe got a bottle of wine from the fridge and assembled glasses, napkins and the chopsticks that Freddy had taught her to use. Cutlery was much easier but Phoebe could appreciate the aesthetics of the set of black lacquered chopsticks that she’d bought Freddy for his birthday.
For her last birthday, Freddy had bought Phoebe the set of vintage silk pyjamas that she was now wearing. They were jade green and decorated with pink flamingos. Freddy would never dare buy Phoebe outside clothes or accessories or make-up. It wasn’t worth the pain or Phoebe’s little sigh even though shetriedto look grateful. Though to be fair, Phoebe wouldn’t have a clue where to start if she wanted to buy Freddy a pair of trainers oryet anotherFred Perry shirt to add to his vast collection.
So, it had become a tradition that Freddy bought her pyjamas for her birthday. Gorgeous vintage pyjamas in silks and satins and so far he’d done an excellent job.
‘I am actually quite hungry,’ Phoebe said when Freddy arrived with a plastic bag that bulged promisingly and smelt enticing. ‘You know that I said I wasn’t going to do noodles because carbs . . . Well . . .’
‘Babes, I got you noodles,’ Freddy said as this was a game they always played.
‘I’ll just have a few then,’ Phoebe decided, and soon they were sitting cross-legged on Freddy’s Danish forest green mid-century sofa, which was stylishandcomfortable, with a Thai feast laid out before them on the coffee table andMad Menon Freddy’s obnoxiously huge wall-mounted TV because they were rewatching it from the beginning.
Every now and again, they’d have to pause the feasting and the bingeing to put Coco Chanel in air jail, even thoughshe knew that spring rolls and popcorn shrimp violently disagreed with her.
