Skinny Dipping (15 page)

“Look Sophie, I monitor Paddington Station. Your Dad, he rushed past the turnstiles, practically hurdled over them in a frenzy. He caused quite a scene, yelling and screaming at the ticket collector. He didn’t have a ticket and almost turned violent to avoid paying the fare. It’s a criminal offence you know. I had to get involved, pulling him away from the attendant, flapping away like he was.”

“I don’t believe this,” she said coldly. “Not my Dad.” The words ‘criminal offence’ played in her mind. She couldn’t imagine her Dad yelling at anyone, as gently spoken as he always was, not to mention not paying the fare. He didn’t live on the edge, he was always so straight laced, did everything by the book, with his strong ethics and code of conduct.

“We have it on the security tapes if you want to see them?”

She stared at her Dad, waiting for him to speak, to say this was an incredible mistake. Security tapes? She glanced at her father, her resolve faltering. “I see.” She looked up at the officer. “You didn’t charge him?” What was the purpose of all this if he wasn’t going to charge her father?

“Your Dad, well, he broke down, had an anxiety attack. I’ve been with him for about an hour, until he calmed down. He told me everything about his job. We decided it was better to work this situation out if he got help from his family and a doctor. A fine isn’t going to help this situation, especially if he can’t afford to pay it.”

She felt her brows knitting together, tight in her forehead. “Anxiety attack? What specifically happened?”

“He was clutching his chest, kneeling on the ground at the station. Crying. I would strongly advise you take him to see a doctor. My deeper concern, Miss Smart, is that he’s depressed. Suicidal even.” A vision of her father on his knees at Paddington station, blubbering like a small child, tears rolling down his cheeks flew into her mind.

“Suicidal? No, you’ve got the wrong man. My Dad’s perfectly happy.” The word suicide kept revolving round her head like she was stuck in a spin cycle.

The officer shook his head. “This is quite common when people get made redundant after serving for quite a long period of time.”

“Dad, is this true, have you been made redundant? Are you….” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words suicidal.

Her Dad stayed tight-lipped, his face like stone.

“Dad, say something,” Sophie insisted. “He’s got it all wrong, hasn’t he. The facts. You’re okay. You’ve still got a job. You’re hardly suicidal.”

The policeman sighed. “He lost his job one month ago. It’s not uncommon to see jumpers. With the recession, we’ve seen quite a lot of cases like this. Suicides are not uncommon when people become depressed and can’t see a way out. I just don’t want you to lose your Dad….”

Sophie stood still, absorbing the information. “Lose my Dad? I’m not going to lose my Dad.” She’d just lost Derek, there was no way she was going to lose her Dad. No way. He wasn’t going to do anything stupid, was he? “You never said anything Dad.”

“Soph, I got laid off. I thought I would find another job pretty quickly, no one had to know. No one needs to be worried, I’ll sort it all out,” he began to explain.

For some reason she felt shocked by his revelation, even though the officer had just told her all the facts. A slight concern was forming in the back of her mind. “Mum doesn’t know?” But she knew the answer as soon as she’d asked it.

“No.”

“Shit.” She released a sigh, the problem was bigger than she imagined. Mum, her Mum, Gloria Smart didn’t know about her Dad losing his job. “Jeez, so where does she think you’re going everyday?”

“To work.”

“But you’re not going to work, and you’re still coming into London?” Her voice was rising again, and she struggled to keep the panic out of it. What was he doing each day, no wonder he’d lost so much weight, he was probably strolling the streets, losing calories by the second.

“I’m just trying to find a job, trying to find anything. I’m too old you see, they don’t want me behind a bar, or labouring.”

“You need to tell her.”

“I can’t,” he said coldly.

“Dad, you need to tell her. A problem shared is a problem halved.”

“But I am sharing it.”

She suddenly felt quite sick inside. “I see.” He was sharing the problem with her, not Gloria.

“Your mother doesn’t need to worry about things like this,” he hissed. “Besides, how could she help? Since she was pregnant with Edith, she’s never had to worry about a thing in her life. I’ve taken care of it all.”

“I see,” she repeated. Her Dad had a strong line about their mother. “But you still need to tell her; she’d understand.”

“She’d only get worried if she found out I lost my job, our savings are dwindling. It’s getting a little tricky to juggle everything. I can’t afford the fare anymore.” The humiliation of not paying the fare must have caused him to try and get past the gates. Now she understood.

“Oh Dad. Let me give you some money, I don’t want you struggling.” But money wouldn’t solve the problem; her mother needed to know.

“I don’t want to take it from my daughter.”

They started at each other, eyes blazing. Sophie knew she was proud like her Dad. Didn’t want help, didn’t want handouts. She herself had moved out from Derek’s place and refused to tell anyone. This was a similar situation, but like he said, a burden shared was a burden halved.

“What about a small loan?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. Stubborn.

“Dad, don’t be proud. You’ve supported me my whole life. It’s only a small loan, just for a little while.”

He became paler by the minute, and Sophie became filled with worry. What if he had another anxiety attack? Fear propelled up her body. They were in the midst of the banking recession. The rippling effect hadn’t yet started and according to the papers was surely to come. Jobs weren’t exactly growing on trees.

“Mr. Smart, I’m sure you’ll find a job soon,” the policeman spoke, choosing comforting words. Sophie didn’t know how true the words actually were. “Your Dad explained he worked for the Ministry of Defense for the last twenty years. He’s got so much knowledge. Someone’s going to want to tap into that.”

“I can’t get an interview. It’s been one month Sophie, I mean
one month
.” There was real pain in his expression. He was beginning to crack. The policeman was right, he seemed…unstable… she could see his glistening eyes, and his body stiffen. Automatically, Sophie took charge of the situation, her voice nightmarishly soothing. “I’ll help Dad.” She spoke, as if she had the answers. Her Dad needed to hear something, anything reassuring. “Are you coming into London tomorrow?”

He swallowed. “Yes Soph. That’s the routine. That’s what your mother would expect. I come into London.” He finally looked up, his shoulders squaring back a fraction. How did he do it? He didn’t shed a tear. A pang went through her, she knew, she did the very same thing, didn’t want to worry anyone.

“I’m going to take you to the train station. We’ll put together a strategy. I’ll help with your resume, and apply for jobs, we’ll do this together.”

His face began to twist, to contort as large sobs began to shake his body. He began to cry, wiping a few tears at first, then sheets began pouring from his face. She felt overcome with sadness, never having seen her Dad cry before. The pain zigzagging over his face and all she wanted to do was make it better for him. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbed his shoulders for support.

“Everything will be okay.”

“Miss Smart, I advise you to not only do the work strategy, but get him some professional help. Jumpers do happen in this country.”

She nodded. “Of course. I’ll take him home now, and I’ll try and arrange something.”

The policeman tipped his hat and left them on the pavement.

“Sophie, can’t we work through this on our own? We don’t need professionals to help me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sophie said.

“Can I trust you, Sophie? Trust you to not make an issue of this? Not tell your mother.”

She felt her chest tighten, her mother needed to know. Was this something she could help him with? She herself liked to do things on her own. Why did they need a doctor? Or professional help? But he’d come to her, maybe she could help him? “As long as we talk through a strategy. But no more jumping, and you’ll tell me the truth, okay?”

“Okay.”

But for some reason, she didn’t feel like she could trust him.

Chapter 11

That night Sophie got to the
Highbury Aquatic Centre
. Her mind full of thoughts, her father’s unemployment, the possibility of him being suicidal and the choices there were to make. As she signed the book at reception, she didn’t even notice Matthew behind the counter. He caught her eye, and visibly twinkled at her, then deliberately looked up at the clock. “You’re thirty minutes early. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you were excited to see me.” He grinned.

“You’re hoping.” She threw her head back and laughed, the feeling helped release the tension from her chest.

“Here’s too hoping,” he replied and he chuckled.

“Just needed to get out of the office today.” She dropped the pen down, sighing loudly.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his face full of concern. Then before realising what she was doing she sat down at the little seat in the reception. It felt like a confessional booth, safe.

“This is a personal question,” she started. “Someone I know might be depressed. Do you think swimming might help?”

He paused, a curious expression zigzagged over his face. “I’m not a doctor or anything but I’ve heard depression is a cycle people fall into.”

“I’d heard that, too.” She felt relieved. She wasn’t crazy, feeling better for speaking to him about it.

“Getting active, apparently, gives people positive benefits. But don’t take that as medical advice or anything because I have absolutely no medical background.”

“I’d heard that, too. I was hoping swimming might help.”

“Swimming can definitely help a person become fitter. A habit of doing regular exercise is so powerful. All the health benefits must help a person start to feel good about themselves and generate positive thoughts. Swimming of course is a form of exercise and is probably excellent when dealing with depression.”

“Yes, I’d heard sport’s supposed to be excellent for depression.”

He reached out, patted her hand softly, then pulled it away automatically. “Are
you
okay? Are
you
depressed?”

She gave Matthew a quick look. “No, it’s not me.”

“You sure? Winter is a tough time for a lot of people. ”

He was really sweet. “I’m worried about my Dad.”

“Your Dad?”

“He lost his job about one month ago, didn’t tell anyone.” She swallowed. “He’s been acting so strangely, coming into London everyday. I only found out because…”

“Because…”

“He broke down at the station, and a policeman came to visit me at work and told me about his anxiety attack.”

“Really?” Matthew looked shocked. “Sport can be good for anxiety, stress relief, too.”

She nodded. “Apparently, since he lost his job he’s been coming into London everyday, God knows what he’s doing. I wanted to find an activity for him, to help. I don’t want him to be a…jumper.”

“A jumper?”

“Yeah, one of those guys who jumps in front of trains.” Sophie swallowed. “It’s odd behaviour. I’m worried. The policeman said we should seek professional help, but my Dad wants to keep it between us. Mum has to know if this is going to continue. I mean, she’ll find out eventually. When is it the right time to break someone’s trust? When should I tell my Mum?”

“I don’t know,” Matthew said. “Are you honest with him? I mean, do you tell him the truth about things, even when it’s hard?”

She thought about her move. She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He looked at her oddly. “Well you either you do or you don’t.”

It wasn’t an easy answer. There was the slight issue of her break up with Derek.

“Bring him to the pool if it helps. You can show him how you’re getting into swimming,” Matthew said softly. “On that note, are you going to get into the pool today? You might be late if we continue this.”

She nodded. “I better go and get ready.”

***

Sophie got dressed in her swimsuit armed with the knowledge she’d survived lesson number one.
Sophie Smart the survivor
, there was quite a ring to that.

Matthew started the lesson, but instead of entering the pool via the ladder, she got in by the steps. Oh the steps were friendly, providing a very calm descent into the water.

They practiced bobs, and she blew the slightest bubbles whilst she looked under the water. If she ever got the hang of all this, she might even be able to go snorkelling, wouldn’t that be a laugh?

Here she was in the water, the shallow end, with the determination of a champion. Maybe this fear of swimming could be tackled exactly like Matthew said, by learning life-long skills.

“Now I want you to do a bob, without holding onto anything.”

She froze. She wasn’t expecting this. Her heart beat harder in her chest, and she wished he could hear. Surely if he could he would stop this insanity. She bit down onto her lip, this was enough, taking it too far.

“Let go?”

He nodded. “Let go.” His was face quite serious. Why was he such a task-master all the time?

“I can’t let go.” The need to hold onto something became very important.

“You’ve bobbed with the wall, with the noodle, now it’s time to trust yourself. Remember to blow bubbles out of your mouth like I taught you.”

“But what if I fall?” Images of her feet flying over her head kept playing through her mind.

“Do you feel steady just standing here? You seem to be doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?” His words were always so encouraging. “You’ve done loads of bobs by the wall. You’re doing marvellously. It’s exactly the same.”

“It is a little harder.” He had to see that letting go would be much more difficult.

“But you’re more than capable of doing it. I’ve seen what you can do, and you can definitely let go.”