Page 11 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop (Vintage Dress Shop Romance #3)

T here was a rushing in her ears to match the rushing of her limbs as Phoebe flew at Rosie, snatching up the dress en route.

‘Look what you’ve done!’ She thrust the dress in Rosie’s face. ‘It’s almost a hundred years old and you’ve damaged it. You can’t treat the dresses like that. What kind of monster are you?’

Other words were pouring out of Phoebe’s mouth but she hardly knew what she was saying over the sound of Rosie shouting back at her, Coco Chanel barking in distress and Sophy trying to calm everyone down.

Then there was a firm but uncompromising grip on Phoebe’s arm and she was pulled away by Cress, who marched her to the workroom and shut the door behind the two of them.

‘Sit down,’ she said sharply and Phoebe, suddenly aware that she was shaking, actually shaking, collapsed onto the tall stool Cress used when she working on the overlocker, which was perched on a high counter.

She was still clutching the dress, which she held out for Cress’s inspection. ‘Look! Look!’

‘I know! But, Phoebe, you can’t get so aggy with someone.’ Cress lowered her voice. ‘If you’d got even a centimetre closer, technically I think it would have been assault.’

‘What she did to that dress was assault!’ Phoebe knew that she shouldn’t have manhandled that creature .

But she also knew that this wouldn’t have happened without the rental scheme bringing the wrong type of people to the shop.

The type of people who didn’t care for the dresses, not properly.

They just wanted a cheap thrill then to be done with them . . .

They both jumped as the door opened but it was only Sophy. Her face was so red that it looked as if it hurt. She was furious. Of course, they were all furious with Rosie Roberts and . . .

‘I am so angry, Phoebe, that I can hardly look at you,’ she snapped. Which was completely unjust. However, there was a look in Sophy’s blue eyes that was a little scary. Still, when it came to fight or flight, Phoebe chose fight every time. She stuck out her chin.

‘I can’t believe you did that,’ Sophy continued. ‘She’s kicking off. Threatening to go to the police. You need to apologise now .’

‘Me, apologise? Have you been sniffing glue? She’s the one who needs to apologise for damaging my dress . . .’

‘It’s not your dress,’ Sophy pointed out, which was neither here nor there. ‘All her horrible mates were filming the whole thing and I really don’t want this to go viral.’

‘She wouldn’t dare! I’d sue her!’ Freddy was a qualified solicitor. That meant he could sue people. He’d got Phoebe out of very hot water before and he’d do it again, if he had to. Thinking of Freddy, Phoebe could hear his voice in her ear. ‘You’re at a twenty, Pheebs; I need you to be at a four.’

Then she thought of other things Freddy had said recently when it was just the two of them, his hand holding hers, smoothing the back of her knuckles in a way that almost always calmed Phoebe. Even the time when he very gently asked about the shop’s recent Google and TripAdvisor reviews.

Someone, well, quite a few someones, had slated them.

Or rather, slated Phoebe for ‘the absolute bollocking she gave me for putting a dress back in the wrong place’.

And: ‘We’d come all the way from Wales to visit the shop but she refused to let us through the door because we had takeout cups of coffee and then she checked to see if our hands were clean.

’ Then there was the one that said, ‘OMG, the woman who works here is a joy-sucking demon in heels. No dress is worth having to deal with her.’

Phoebe had insisted, quite strongly, that there were two sides to every story.

Also how would they like it if she went to their workplaces and even though she knew nothing about their jobs, still marked them out of five stars?

But she had agreed that she’d dial it down because she hated when Freddy was angry with her.

Not angry, disappointed. She didn’t like disappointing Freddy.

Even though he wasn’t the boss of her, though technically now that Johnno was in Australia, he kind of was.

This was what happened when you let yourself get close to someone. You forgot your principles. Made yourself a little bit less so they’d like you more.

But still, she’d never hear the end of this from Freddy or Sophy who did love to go on and on about things. Like Coco Chanel when she got hold of one of her beloved squeaky balls.

Phoebe stood up. ‘All right, I’ll apologise,’ she said magnanimously. She stalked back into the atelier where Rosie and her entourage were sitting stony-faced on the couches.

‘I’m very sorry if you feel like I’ve hurt your feelings,’ Phoebe said, which was the absolute best she could do under the circumstances.

Rosie glared at her. ‘That is a bullshit apology. You clearly have anger-management issues and you shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the public.’

‘Well, that’s rich coming from someone who lacks even the most basic good manners,’ Phoebe said and somehow the apology descended into a slanging match.

Not that Phoebe was doing the slanging. Not when she could embark on an impassioned rant about vintage dresses and how unique and precious each one was and to disrespect them was to disrespect her, her job, the shop, the planet.

‘These dresses aren’t boring. These dresses represent so many different women’s lives.

They capture and preserve a magic moment in time.

Their hopes and dreams on the day that they wore their wedding dress.

It doesn’t matter whether they were a war bride or a debutante or a sixties dolly girl.

’ Phoebe clasped her hands together as she warmed to her theme.

‘These women all had something in common, a shared sisterhood, as they slipped on the dress that they’d chosen so carefully.

Sometimes a dress they’d scrimped and saved for.

A dress that made them feel beautiful and special and like the best version of themselves because that’s the alchemy of a good dress.

‘It’s not like buying some ten-quid scrap of fabric from a fast-fashion manufacturer, which pollutes the planet and exploits their workforce in some horrible sweatshop in . . .’

‘That is enough!’ said a sharp voice from behind Phoebe. It wasn’t coming from Rosie who was opening and shutting her mouth like a goldfish though thankfully no more words were coming out of it. ‘For Christ’s sakes, Phoebe, enough!’

It was Freddy.

‘I called him,’ Cress said uncomfortably, wilting at the look Phoebe gave her. It wasn’t enough that she’d been keeping secrets from Phoebe and not naming a dress after her. Now she was getting Freddy involved when Phoebe was perfectly capable of handling this situation herself.

‘I can’t believe this,’ Freddy said, his face set in tight lines, no sign of his usual grin or the spark in his eyes.

Phoebe was glad that Freddy appreciated the severity of the situation. He did have a tendency sometimes to make light of things, usually when Phoebe was kicking off despite her very valid reasons for kicking off.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he continued. ‘I can’t apologise enough. This is not the kind of behaviour we tolerate here.’

Phoebe folded her arms and allowed herself a smug smile. She couldn’t wait for Freddy to banish Rosie from the shop and maybe he’d banish the whole stupid rental dresses thing while he was at it.

Then Freddy sent her, not Rosie, a scalding look that seemed to remove Phoebe’s top layer of skin, before turning his attention to Rosie, who also had her arms folded.

‘She was shouting right in my face and then she grabbed me,’ she said, holding out her arm as if there should be a huge bruise on it, which there wasn’t because Phoebe hadn’t laid a finger on her. She was pretty sure about that.

‘I didn’t grab you, I grabbed the dress, which you damaged,’ Phoebe pointed out with what she hoped was an icy dignity.

‘She was literally attacking me. She was bullying me, wasn’t she?’ she enquired of her gang of horrible little mates who all agreed.

‘Totally disrespecting you,’ one of the romper twins said.

‘So triggering,’ added the other one.

‘Again, I can only apologise,’ Freddy said, sincerity oozing from every pore. ‘As a gesture of goodwill, we can offer you a free dress of your choosing and, Sophy, maybe another bottle of champagne while you and Rosie hammer out the details.’

‘You’re going to give her a dress?’ Phoebe couldn’t believe what her own ears had just heard. ‘What is wrong with you?’

Freddy’s blue eyes weren’t sparkling so much as flashing a warning. His polite smile was a mask, a flimsy copy of his usual smile. ‘Phoebe,’ he said thinly. ‘A word, please. Let’s take this downstairs.’

Then Freddy’s hand was at the small of Phoebe’s back, pushing her firmly towards the stairs. She tried to dig her heels in but it was no use. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ Freddy whispered fiercely in her ear as if he knew that Phoebe still had plenty to say to and about Rosie.

Maybe it was better to do that in a second location. Then Freddy could explain just what the hell he was playing at by offering Rosie a free dress. Over Phoebe’s dead body was that going to happen.

Neither of them said a word as they went down the stairs, Coco Chanel bringing up the rear.

‘You’ve got some explaining to do,’ Phoebe said as they walked through the busy shop.

‘You’re the one who needs to explain,’ Freddy snapped, his fingers flexing against her back as he guided Phoebe into the office and shut the door behind them with a thud so firm that it was almost a slam.

Phoebe shivered because through the patio doors she could see that the sunny, blue morning had been replaced by a damp grey afternoon. Or maybe it was because of the frosty expression on Freddy’s face.

‘Freddy, you know I would never do anything to damage the reputation of The Vintage Dress Shop,’ Phoebe began. ‘You know that.’

‘Yes, but I think we have very different definitions as to what constitutes damage,’ Freddy said like someone who had actual legal qualifications.

‘Well, I think we’d both agree that ripping a 1930s dress and getting fake tan on it when you shouldn’t even have been trying it on is the dictionary definition of damage,’ Phoebe pointed out, trying not to puff up in rage again but keep herself collected and cool.

Freddy responded much better when Phoebe wasn’t breathing fire.

Even if, in this instance, she had every right to breathe fire ‘That woman is a menace and, quite frankly, if anyone is at fault besides her, it’s Sophy for not doing her research. ’

‘That’s very unfair on Sophy. She was only trying to get some publicity for the shop and launch the rental business . . .’

‘We don’t really need any publicity. Our stellar reputation in the vintage community comes from word of mouth,’ she said grandly.

She liked to think of The Vintage Dress Shop as a well-kept secret.

That way they appealed to the more discerning customer.

Even then, there were still far too many randoms who visited for Phoebe’s liking.

‘Also, I don’t just blame Sophy, I blame you too, Freddy. What were you thinking?’

Attack was always the best form of defence.

Always. Freddy flushed. ‘I was thinking about our year-on-year takings and our profit margins,’ he said, because although Phoebe was very fond of Freddy, there were times, like at that very moment, when she had to confront the fact that they had very little in common.

‘I would have expected you to do better due diligence,’ Phoebe told him though she wasn’t entirely sure what due diligence meant but it sounded legal and like something Freddy should have done to check that Rosie Roberts was the right fit for The Vintage Dress Shop and not an actual dress-ripping monster.

‘I know what you’re doing, Pheebs, by trying to turn this back to me, but it won’t work,’ Freddy said, his jaw still set, because they might not have much in common but they knew each other very well. ‘Cress said that your reaction was completely disproportionate to . . .’

‘Oh yes, your good friend, Cress,’ Phoebe said bitterly. ‘While you were on the phone, did you take time to talk about your secret plans to go into business together? To flood the market with cheap reproduction copies of vintage dresses?’

She folded her arms and waited for Freddy to reply but he refused to be drawn. ‘We’re not talking about that right now.’

‘Only because I bet you hoped I’d never find out about it.’ She was about to really give him a piece of her mind when they heard a noise behind them and they both looked around to see Sophy opening the door. Her face was still very red.

‘Rosie’s gone now,’ she relayed heavily. ‘She took a really expensive dress from the designer room too.’

The absolute bloody audacity! ‘Which one?’ Phoebe snapped.

‘The black satin midi dress with the lace sleeves,’ Sophy said.

‘The Marcel Fenez?’ Things just went from bad to worse. ‘I had that priced at four hundred and fifty pounds.’ Phoebe turned back to Freddy. ‘This is all your fault! Why did you say she could have a free dress?’

‘Because I was trying to apologise for your unwarranted behaviour,’ Freddy pointed out.

‘Not unwarranted. Entirely warranted,’ Phoebe persisted as Sophy left the office with a grateful sigh. ‘I can’t believe you’re not on my side.’

‘I am on your side. I’m always on your side,’ Freddy said hotly. ‘You don’t make it easy sometimes though. Honestly, if this was anyone else, they’d be on a written warning.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ If Freddy dared to give her a written warning or any other kind of warning, come to that, she’d laugh in his face. And also be very, very angry. Angrier. Besides . . . ‘You’re not the boss of me, Freddy,’ Phoebe said. ‘Johnno is.’

‘And he left me in charge . . .’ Freddy shook his head and he was frowning now. ‘I have to go now. We’ll talk about this later.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about. That horrible woman has gone now and taken a precious, one-off designer vintage dress with her,’ Phoebe reminded him because she wasn’t going to be over that any time soon.

But Freddy was already walking away from her.

‘Later,’ he snapped and this time, he really did slam the door behind him.