Skinny Dipping (16 page)

She looked around her, assessed the water, could she do this?

“Remember we’re in the shallow end. If you feel it’s too much, just stand up. I’ll be here. At anytime you feel uncomfortable just grab onto the wall. You know you can stand up and reach for it, if you need to. That’s perfectly fine.”

“Just stand up?” she repeated.

“Just stand up. You can do this.” He kept saying that. He didn’t really know, she wasn’t exactly the most coordinated of people.

“Trust me, you’re standing up now, bob down, and you can stand up again.”

“I suppose.” She suddenly felt stupid. Her fear must seem ridiculous to someone like him. She needed to man up. Do this.

She swallowed, drew a deep breath. Her lungs expanded, and she tried to control the fear pulsating through her as she dropped beneath the surface.
Please don’t drown. Please don’t drown. Please don’t drown.

She madly blew bubbles beneath the water. She couldn’t bear the thought of swallowing them. Thoughts of choking terrified her as she hovered underwater and her thighs ached. She looked around the pool, seeing Matthew blowing bubbles in front of her. Bracing her legs, she vaulted back up. Matthew went up at the same time. Panic soared as she grappled for the wall. She wanted desperately to clasp it now back above the surface. Her feet wobbled on the tiles and a thrill flew up her spine as she found her balance.

She balanced. She was standing up, not holding onto anything. She felt heady, dizzy, maybe from standing up too quickly. She realised she was smiling, triumphant. She was alive, living, and safe.

She looked around the pool in amazement, ominous water surrounding her. The fluid sat below her breasts and she had tackled it.

“Wow, I mean totally wow,” she breathed, stunned at her ability to bob without holding onto anything.

“Fantastic! Well done!” Matthew clapped.

“Thanks,” she swallowed. She cast a glance at the clock, hanging at the other end of the pool, when was this torture going to end?

“Superb! Are you feeling positive?” His voice was infectious and she couldn’t help but return his broad smile.

“I’m feeling challenged.”

There was a dimple forming on his right cheek. “What’s the positive?”

She laughed giddily, narrowing her eyes on him. He was determined. “The most apparent thing is that I’m alive,” she said, trying to make a joke; it was true, she hadn’t drowned.

“What else?”

“I am getting my breathing under control.”

“Tell me you like swimming.”

Her mouth set in a firm line. She did not like swimming. She was there to save her career and she was still focused on identifying ways of how she could speed up the work on his next campaign so she could put an end to all of this.

“Jeeeeezzzzzzz. You’re indoctrinating me,” she chuckled forcing the playfulness in her voice because she suddenly felt a surge of anger. She was risking her life in this pool. “Isn’t it enough you’ve got me here? Now you want me to love it, too?”

“Say it, Soph,” Matthew urged, ignoring her complaint. “Positive reinforcement is important. The words people say and the thoughts people think are important. The more you say something and the more you think something, the more you will end up believing it, doing it, and living it. What type of person do you want to be? Can you do anything you set your mind to?”

Of course she could, what type of girl did he think she was? She was in the pool, wasn’t she? “Hell, yes.”

“Say it.”

She swallowed. “I like swimming.”

“Again.”

“I like swimming.” She spoke a little louder.

“Last time. Make your words echo around this pool and say the words with Sophie attitude.” A mischievous look flooded his face.

Sophie rolled her eyes and forced the corners of her mouth up, into a smile. “I like swimming.”

“Super!”

They continued to do the bob exercises in unison, together dropping beneath the surface like synchronized swimmers who hadn’t quite worked out how to do anything impressive. She kept reminding herself, she’d get there eventually.

Chapter 12

Sophie woke up gasping for air. She’d been underwater, choking, drowning at the bottom of the
Highbury Aquatic Centre
. Since no one knew she was learning how to swim, they didn’t think to look for her, no matter how much she tried to writhe around on the bottom of the pool for help. Soaked with sweat, a realisation seemed to hit her. She was a poor communicator. She needed to improve, tell the truth, she could trust her family. Maybe not men, but her family always had her back.

She flew out of bed with a need pulsating. She needed to tell her parents about the swimming lessons, the move, and of course the split with Derek. It wasn’t a hard thing to do. All she had to do was communicate and trust.

An idea sprang to her mind, and she ran around the flat like a whirlwind, her touch reached every corner. Like a mad woman, she whipped round the house, a cloth in hand. Kitchen. Countertops wiped spotless and clean. All stray glasses begging for a home, found a nice spot in the dishwasher.

She even dared opening a window in the midst of November, letting the cold chill filter through the flat. She hoped the chill would create a fresh odour. Sophie scuttled up the stairs, knocked as politely (but firmly) as she could on Carol’s door.

“Carol, are you awake?” she hissed. She got a groan in reply. “Sorry to disturb, just letting you know that I’m bringing my Dad round, he hasn’t seen the place and he might want to meet you.”

“I’m awake,” Carol popped her head out, a dressing gown wrapped around her, and remarkably done up for so early in the morning. Had she curled her hair, already, at this time?

“He’s lost his job in the recession. Would you mind if he came here used the internet and stuff – he hasn’t told mum yet that he’s lost his job.”

Carol shrugged. “No problem, I’ve got auditions backed up.”

“You’ll get something soon, I’m sure.”

“I’m positive,” Carol enthused. “I can feel that the one today will come through. I’m auditioning for a few excellent dance companies who are putting on Christmas shows. I’m sure to get something.”

Sophie arranged to meet her Dad and drove her Volkswagen Beetle to Paddington Station to pick him up.

“I’ve had a think, Dad,” she said, slowly. “I’m not going to mention you coming to London each day to Mum yet. But you need to give me a time frame, and we’re going to do our best to build a strategy for you. But you need somewhere to go each day.” Looking at his thin face, his worn shirt, she had to wonder what he’d been doing for the last month. Where did he go each day? She imagined him going to the park, sitting underneath a tree with all the other unemployed men, a can in his hand. Surely not. Not her father. A few drops splattered on the windscreen. What did he do if it rained? Sit in a coffee shop, reading all the newspapers, brushing up on his general knowledge? Or the library, reading the classics?

“Yes, you’re right, I’ve got to go somewhere,” he said, his voice flat, his face matching the weather, broody. Almost instantly he changed the subject. “You’re not at work yet, I thought you used to go early.”

“I couldn’t sleep, I was wide awake,” she started. “Besides it’s only just turned eight a.m., so I thought I’d pick you up.” She smiled sweetly, trying to deflect from the serious note in her voice and ignore the bowel-clenching worry, her deep concern about him which must have been one of the reasons why she slept badly last night.

He jumped in her car, and she launched the vehicle into the London traffic. “I’m taking you to my place.”

“Yes, I figured.” His expression was blank. “You told Derek?”

She shook her head. “I have something to tell you,” she said, casting a look in his direction. She was rewarded as an unexpected smile crept over his face.

“You do?” The curiosity unmistakable on his face.

She inhaled, this was harder than she thought, she was about to break bad news to him, especially when her parents practically had her married off. Should she tell him? Would this push him over the edge? No. He needed to hear it, there was no better time.

She parked her car outside her Highbury flat. She’d show him the truth, that’s how she’d tell him. She opened the car door, and indicated he should get out.

“I’ve moved.”

“Somewhere bigger?” His expression interested – oh God, hopefully he hadn’t been talking to Mum. He probably thought she was pregnant or something.

“I have a new flatmate,” she said quickly, putting a stop to any thoughts he might have of her and Derek in a unified relationship.

“Flatmate?” he questioned.

Walking up the steps, she put the key in the lock and opened the door. Carol stood in the landing, which made the introductions exceptionally convenient and easy.

“Mr Smart. I hope to see a lot of you,” Carol enthused, a bag on her back.

“Call me Roger, I’m Roger Smart,” he remarked, looking around the place.

Carol leaned over and gave Roger a hug. “Lovely to meet you.”

Sophie felt a pang of surprise. Carol was a charmer, a real family-friendly type of girl. Roger awkwardly patted Carol on the back.

“You, too, Carol, it’s a pleasure, and I can see my daughter is in great hands.” His eyes were twinkling, he loved the attention.

“Oh thank you, thank you so much.” Carol gave a tiny wave, and left the house, the door swinging closed.

“Come on in, this is my new flat.” Sophie motioned. “I haven’t quite unpacked yet.” That was an understatement, the labyrinth of hope still existed on her bedroom floor, even after Mickey’s urging, she hadn’t done anything about it.

His gaze darted around, taking in the features of the place.

“The hallway, and the lounge.” Sophie indicated, as they walked into the sitting room.

“It’s nice, airy; it will be lovely in summer,” Roger commented and he looked up at the skylight.

Sophie’s heart constricted, it was time to come clean, wasn’t it? She felt her eyes smarting, as she looked at her Dad’s curious face. “Derek and I, we’ve broken up.”

He nodded sympathetically. “I can see that. What happened?”

Sophie shrugged. “I got chucked. He met someone else. I think he might have even cheated on me.”

“Ah,” he said, looking at her kindly, giving her a lopsided smile. “I’m so sorry, Soph. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Are you okay?”

She gave him a quick little nod, keeping her spirits up; there would be no wallowing in misery, especially if she was going to express how well she was doing.

“You’re a survivor aren’t you?” He shook his head. “You should have told me, I could have helped.”

“I’m just like you Dad,” Sophie said, smiling brightly, pushing the thoughts aside. “But on the bright side, I love the area.” She spoke enthusiastically, she needed to get her Dad excited about life again, after the discussion with Matthew Silver at the pool, if she wasn’t going to take her father to see a Doctor to help deal with his depression, he needed to get out and so some exercise.

“You’ve lost a bit of weight. All the stress, when did this move happen?”

She hated to say it. “A few weeks ago,” Sophie admitted, realising her dad must have lost his job even earlier than she had broken up with Derek. “But yes, I’ve lost a few kilograms.” Sophie felt herself practically glowing – the leg raises, the vegetables, they’d all paid off! Now for her sales pitch. “You see there’s a great swimming pool nearby, excellent facilities, so close.”

Roger frowned. “So?” He looked sceptical.

“My work kind of forced me to take lessons.” Even though she’d dreamed of drowning last night, this was not the time to discuss her fears about water. It was time to sell the positives of the exercise.

“You, having lessons?” He threw his head back, shook his head. “Impossible. I don’t believe you’d get into the water.”

Sophie shrugged, a grin crossing her face. “It’s true. I’m taking lessons. The pool’s really close. It’s great for a stress relief – and, of course, for health.”

“Really? Congratulations,” Roger encouraged. “You got in the pool.” He wore an amused expression on his face. “Stranger things have happened. But this about tops the charts for the year.” He brought her into a hug. “Really Sophie, you learning how to swim. I’m so proud of you.”

She nodded, her lips tight, an apprehensive smile. “The pool’s really close, I mean, what’s wrong with getting out and having a little bit of exercise?”

She saw the thought flick across his face, she was right, he didn’t know what to do with his excess time. “Close you say? Is it expensive?” Ah, that was the crux of the problem. The cost.

“Yeah, very close.” She brought her head close to Roger’s, her voice a whisper. “You see, I work for the client, I got a free membership and I’m sure I could snag one for you. Only if you want?” She shrugged her shoulders, pretending that she didn’t care whether he swam or not. But the exercise would be excellent for him.

Roger puffed his chest out. “There would be no harm in me bringing my swimsuit now would there?”

“None. Besides, why don’t we meet there tomorrow at lunchtime? I can introduce you. What do you say?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

She felt a jolt of happiness run through her, but struggled to hold onto her elation. She’d found him an activity. Something to do, so he wouldn’t sit around and think about his failure all day. It must be a step forward.

A thought niggled in the back of her mind. If he actually told her Mother, he wouldn’t have to find activities to do in London.

“Now Sophie,” Roger said in a very small voice. “You mentioned you might be able to help me with a strategy.”

“Oh yes,” she said, trying not to sound too eager, too patronising.

“What were you thinking?”

“As a first step, let me help you with your resume; then I can ask around and help arrange some recruiter interviews for you.”

“Why wouldn’t I just apply for jobs directly?” he asked bewilderedly

“Of course you can apply directly, make sure you do that.” Sophie nodded her head encouragingly. “The recruiters in London, they foster quite a lot of relationships with firms, so they often learn about job vacancies before they’re even submitted on the internet. Recruiters are professional sales people, pushing their candidates to companies to get interviews and ultimately the jobs before anyone else gets a chance. You might not even get a leg in without a recruiter.”