Page 35 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop (Vintage Dress Shop Romance #3)

Once they were on The Sheila and there were two chicken breasts gently baking, Phoebe slipped into something more comfortable. Something more comfortable usually meant an elegant pair of pyjamas or a caftan. But tonight she was going more for comfort than style – a very, very rare event indeed.

Buried right at the back of a drawer were a pair of fleece-lined leggings and some very thick woolly socks, which Phoebe paired with a loose freebie T-shirt she’d been sent when she ordered some skincare online.

Over that, she pulled on a hoodie, which didn’t even belong to her.

It was Freddy’s. He’d left it behind one morning and Phoebe had meant to return it but somehow it had slipped her mind, even though Freddy said that she had a memory like an elephant and never forgot anything.

She’d washed it several times over the year or so that she’d had it but she liked to think that it still smelt like Freddy.

The lime tang of his aftershave, the clean, crisp scent of his laundry detergent but also something else, some undefinable pheromone or molecule that made Phoebe always want to bury her nose in Freddy’s neck until she had to come up for air.

Instead, she had to make do with his hoodie that she’d borrowed indefinitely.

And instead of a gin and tonic and pinching some of Freddy’s chips, Phoebe had to make do with a glass of water and the chicken and rice that she’d made for herself and Coco.

She’d managed to overcook them both so that the meat was like rubber and the rice was like sludge.

Not that Coco minded. She wolfed down her share then cast a longing look at Phoebe’s bowl. She was just about to put it down for her when there was a tapping at the window, which made them both jump.

It wasn’t the random knocking of someone, usually a quite drunk someone, passing, which was an annoying and thankfully only occasional drawback of living on a boat.

This was two taps and a pause. Then the same sequence again. The signal that she and Freddy had come up with so that Phoebe would know that it was him and not some drunken random.

She kneeled on the sofa to pull back her little curtain and there he was standing on the canal path.

It was dark but she’d recognise him anywhere.

He gestured with his hand to indicate that he wasn’t going to come on board without her permission.

Phoebe nodded and as she got up to unlock the door, she felt the boat shift in its moorings as Freddy stepped from the path to stern.

It was only as she opened the door and gestured for Freddy to come inside, bringing the chill of the night with him, that Phoebe wished she hadn’t slipped into something quite so comfortable.

If she was still wearing her work clothes, a black dress and heels, she’d feel more prepared to face him for the first time in days.

She’d even wiped off every last trace of make-up and had a conditioning treatment on her hair. That might have been why Freddy’s eyes widened ever so slightly or it might have been because he recognised the hoodie that she pulled tighter around her body.

‘I know you don’t like people dropping by unannounced,’ he said hoarsely when the silence between them had passed awkward and was heading towards excruciating. ‘I tried messaging, calling . . .’

Phoebe’s phone was still in her bag. She hadn’t wanted to deal with the fallout from her latest appearance on Rosie Roberts’s socials, even if it was messages of support from her friends.

‘Have you come to tell me off?’ Phoebe asked because she didn’t know why else Freddy would be here.

‘Though technically I haven’t done anything wrong.

Or rather I haven’t done a new very bad thing because it was footage that had already been posted.

’ She tried to aim for a careless little laugh but it turned into a cough.

‘Are you all right?’ Freddy asked but Phoebe turned away from him, with her hand outstretched to ward him off, not like he was about to touch her anyway.

She managed to stop coughing and also dredge up a smile from somewhere. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Well, you didn’t come to the pub,’ Freddy said. He was wearing a navy wool jacket, a grey scarf tucked into the neck, but he made no move to take it off, hang it up on the hook by the door and make himself more comfortable. To sit down and ask Phoebe to stick the kettle on.

The only thing he did that was halfway normal was to crouch down to attend to Coco who couldn’t hide how pleased she was to see him. Her entire back end was wiggling with joy, her paws skittering on the floor.

‘How’s my best girl?’ he murmured throatily. Coco was now on her back, legs akimbo, so he could scratch her belly with his long fingers. ‘Did you miss me?’

Phoebe wondered what might happen if she answered for Coco. Yes, we both miss you. We both hate how things are.

But she didn’t even try. She knew the words would just get stuck in her throat.

And besides, what would it even matter? Freddy wasn’t on her side.

He didn’t accept Phoebe for who she was, good and also, yes, very bad.

He wanted her to change. To become someone she wasn’t in order to be someone that he wanted to be with.

‘Is that the only reason you came round? To ask why I wasn’t in the pub?’ Phoebe folded her arms. ‘Was there any other reason?’

If Freddy said that he missed her, Phoebe, not just her dog who now had one back leg pedalling in ecstasy because Freddy always knew how to find her sweet spot, then maybe Phoebe would say it back.

But he didn’t. He kept stroking Coco but at last stood up. ‘I looked at the accounts for the last couple of weeks and takings are up year on year,’ he said because it was strictly business between them now.

At least that was some good news. It was even worth the influx of new customers these last few days even if they did want to shove their phones in Phoebe’s face so they could get more likes for their social media accounts.

‘I was wondering about that and trying to come up with some ideas for increasing our profits. Johnno will be pleased,’ Phoebe said. She made a jerky movement with her hands then folded her arms tight again. ‘So, was that everything?’

Freddy stood there, still and unknowable in that moment, even though Phoebe would have said, only a couple of weeks ago, that she knew everything about Freddy.

How he took his tea. The sound he made when he slept, which wasn’t snoring but wasn’t that far off either.

How his lips felt when they were on hers.

Then he took a step back and looked around Phoebe’s eclectically styled living space.

His eyes came to rest on her wood-burning oven, which was burning merrily, one of Coco’s beds in front of it because she loved to toast herself like a loaf of bread.

‘Did you ever get the flue on that thing checked?’ Freddy asked.

Phoebe couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. ‘Is that all you came round to say?’

Freddy’s attention swung back to Phoebe.

‘What do you want me to say?’ He looked at Phoebe as if he could see past the uncharacteristic outfit and beyond even that.

Like he was looking at the very bones of her and what he saw there was very disappointing.

‘Seriously, what do you want me to say, Pheebs?’

There were so many things that she wanted Freddy to say. That he was on her side. That he’d always have her back. That he might not understand her or agree with her but he liked her enough that those things didn’t matter.

Phoebe had things that she wanted to say to Freddy too.

Not just to berate him either. That she knew she was difficult and prickly and she gave him a hard time pretty much always, and even though she still didn’t trust him enough to tell him about how she came to be that way, she wanted to trust him.

That had to count for something, didn’t it?

It was always easier to pour her emotions into inanimate objects, her dresses, her stuff .

Instead, Phoebe just shrugged helplessly. Hopelessly. ‘Well, if we have nothing to say to each other then you should probably go. It’s getting quite late.’

Indeed it was far too late for the both of them.

Phoebe’s phone chimed as Freddy left without another word, his face impassive even as Coco Chanel barked her displeasure at his departure.

She glanced at the screen impatiently, only to see that she had a message from Birdy.

Sorry that the internet/Rosie Roberts is still being vile. Would you and Coco like to come round on Sunday for a tea party/doggy date?

Phoebe’s first, second, third and quite a few instincts after that was to refuse. She hardly knew Birdy. They’d met three times now and that was hardly enough times to go round to her house to hang out. Like they were friends or something.

Then Phoebe thought of how after work tomorrow, the rest of the weekend stretched out before her with nothing to do and no one to see.

Before Freddy, she was perfectly happy with her own company or seeing people from her very small and carefully selected friend group.

Then it had happened that when she wasn’t at The Vintage Dress Shop, she was with Freddy.

His presence and his plans for the two of them filling up every minute.

Also, she knew that Marianne and Claude had gone to see his parents in Scunthorpe for the weekend so she couldn’t throw herself on their mercy either.

The thought of a Sunday spent on her own with nothing to do but housework and replaying all her past mistakes of the last few weeks was too awful to contemplate.

That would be great. Would you like me to bring anything?

The reply was almost instant.

Just yourselves. See you at three. Location pin attached.