Free A Vintage Affair by Isabel Wolff

spent.’
    ‘Couldn’t you say it’s part of your pension?’ Annie suggested as she re-stitched the hem of a Georges Rech skirt. She shifted on her stool. ‘Perhaps the Inland Revenue would knock the cost of it off your tax bill.’
    ‘I doubt it as I’m not selling it, although I rather like the idea of a pension-à-porter. Oh,’ I added. ‘You’ve put those up there.’ While I’d been out, Annie had hung some hand-embroidered evening bags on a bare patch of wall by the door.
    ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I thought they’d look good there.’
    ‘They do. You can see the detail on them so much better.’ I zipped the two dresses I’d bought into new protective covers. ‘I’d better put these in the stockroom.’
    ‘Can I ask you something?’ Annie said as I turned to go upstairs.
    I looked at her. ‘Yes?’
    ‘You collect Madame Grès?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘But you have a lovely gown by Madame Grès right here.’ She went over to the evening rail and pulled out the dress that Guy had given me. ‘Someone tried it on this morning and I saw the label. The woman was too short for it – but it would look great on you. Don’t you want it for your own collection?’
    I shook my head. ‘I’m … not mad about that particular gown.’
    ‘Oh.’ Annie looked at it. ‘I see. But –’
    To my relief the bell above the door began to tinkle. A couple in their late twenties had walked in. I asked Annie to look after them while I went up to the stockroom. Then I nipped back down to the office to check the Village Vintage website.
    ‘I need an evening dress,’ I heard the girl say as I opened the e-mail enquiries. ‘It’s for our engagement party,’ she added with a giggle.
    ‘Carla thought she’d get something a bit more original in a shop like this,’ her boyfriend explained.
    ‘You will,’ I heard Annie say. ‘The evening-wear rail is over here – you’re a size 12, aren’t you?’
    ‘Gosh no.’ The girl snorted. ‘I’m a 16. I should go on a diet.’
    ‘ Don’t ,’ said her boyfriend. ‘You’re lovely as you are.’
    ‘You’re a lucky woman,’ I heard Annie chuckle. ‘You’ve got the perfect husband-to-be there.’
    ‘I know I have,’ the girl said fondly. ‘What are you looking at there, Pete? Ooh – what lovely cufflinks.’
    Envious of the couple’s evident happiness together, I turned to the e-mail orders. Someone wanted to buy five of my French nightdresses. Another customer was interested in a Dior long-sleeved dress with a bamboo pattern, and was asking about the sizing.
    When I say that the garment is a 12 , I e-mailed back, that really means it’s a 10 because women today are bigger than the women of fifty years ago. Here are the dimensions that you requested, including the circumference of the sleeve at the wrist. Please let me know if you’d like me to keep it for you .
    ‘When is your party?’ I heard Annie ask.
    ‘It’s this Saturday,’ the girl replied. ‘So I haven’t given myself much time to find something. These aren’t quite what I’m looking for,’ I heard her add after a few moments.
    ‘You could always accessorise a dress you already have with something vintage,’ I heard Annie suggest. ‘You might add a silk jacket – we’ve got some lovely ones over there – or a pretty shrug. If you brought something in, I could help you give it a new look.’
    ‘ Those are wonderful,’ the girl suddenly said. ‘They’re so … joyous .’ I knew that she could only be talking about the cupcake dresses.
    ‘Which colour do you like best?’ I heard her boyfriend ask her.
    ‘The … turquoise one, I think.’
    ‘It’d go with your eyes,’ I heard him say.
    ‘Would you like me to get it down for you?’ Annie said.
    I glanced at my watch. It was time to go and meet Mrs Bell.
    ‘How much is it?’ the girl asked. Annie told her. ‘ Ah. I see. Well, in that case …’
    ‘At least try it on,’ I heard her boyfriend