Skinny Dipping (Skinny Sagas) Read online

  She saluted. “Yes boss… and thanks for the chat.” She went to the changing room feeling slightly better.

  Maybe she could trust Matthew… she was, after all, each time she got in the water, trusting him with her life.

  ***

  On Thursday, a few evenings after the conversation with Matthew, Sophie was again at the Highbury Aquatic Centre. She’d persuaded Roger to meet, after she finished work. He’d been flabbergasted by her suggestion. Yet he wanted to witness Sophie in the act of getting into the water, at her swimming lesson. There was an element of hype concerning Sophie actually plunging into the water.

  Sophie assessed Roger standing outside the Highbury Aquatic Centre. He wore faded trousers and held a briefcase in his hand.

  “Did you bring any swimming gear?” Sophie asked as there was an obvious lack of sports bag.

  “Your mother would have a coronary if she saw me take my swimming trunks. Next time.”

  “You were supposed to tell her that you’re getting into shape?”

  “That would be the first time in our marriage that I’ve ever had such a desire.” Roger patted his flat midsection. He blew out a breath, pushing his almost nonexistent belly into a barrel shape. “Your mother’s going to start jumping to conclusions. Believe me.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with working out for general health, fitness and endurance. It’s not all about body fat,” Sophie insisted. “You’ve come all this way and you should have brought your swimming trunks. What a waste of time.”

  “I’ve a train to catch in one hour and don’t worry about me,” Roger mused. “I’ll come back to the pool but I currently have more time during the day. That will minimise your mother’s suspicions.”

  Sophie sighed elaborately. “You promise.”

  “I promise,” Roger said. “I’m more curious to watch your swimming lesson.”

  Sophie snorted. “My swimming lesson can’t become a spectator sport. You can’t just come to the swimming centre to simply watch me. You’ve got to participate in your own activity. For if there’s too much pressure on me, how will I perform in the water?”

  “Come on then.” Roger laughed. “Let’s go inside. After all, I can’t stay long because I have a train to catch.”

  “One thing dad,” Sophie stalled. “I’ve been thinking, you might need somewhere to go each day?”

  “You want me to hang about, at the pool?”

  “Not exactly,” Sophie said and smiled, using willpower to hide her bowel-clenching worry. She desperately wanted to help him find an activity to fight any possibility of depression.

  “I have been attending a few training courses set up by the Ministry of Defence.” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure what’s next.”

  “You could go to my house during the day, if you like?” Sophie suggested. “I’ve moved.”

  Roger reacted with the swiftness of a soldier. He swivelled abruptly on the balls of his feet and folded his arms. His skinny frame faced her, and Roger effectively blocked the entrance to the swimming centre. “You’ve moved?” Roger cocked his head to the side.

  “Yeeess, I moved.” Sophie waved her hand with nonchalance. “It’s no big deal. I’ll text you the address, there’s loads of space.” She stepped toward the doorway but in a snap reaction, Roger’s arm thrust in front of her, blocking her entrance.

  Roger squared his shoulders. “When did this happen?” His wiry frame appeared more ominous as the seconds passed.

  “The move was a spur of the moment thing. It might have been temporary. I didn’t want to worry you over a temporary situation.” Sophie looked fleetingly over Roger’s shoulder and through the glass doors. Matthew swaggered into the swimming pool reception.

  “What do you mean by temporary? Is everything okay?” Roger asked.

  “Yes, everything’s fine.” Sophie gripped both her father’s hands and squeezed firmly. “I promise.”

  “But you said temporary?”

  “Sorry, you know me, I was being melodramatic. I didn’t mean to cause a fuss. That was silly, wasn’t it?” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Tomorrow morning, why don’t you come over before work? I promise to explain the drama over a nice cup of tea or coffee. Alright?”

  “Okay….” Tiny little lines etched into her father’s forehead. “Or you could explain the drama right now?”

  She refused to meet her father’s intense gaze. Instead Sophie delved into the depths of her bag. Extracting her mobile phone she adeptly punched letters, forming a text message. “There. I’ve sent you the address. Let’s talk further tomorrow because now I have a swimming lesson and you need to catch a train.” Seizing her opportunity Sophie charged past her father’s skinny frame and opened the swimming centre’s door.

  She streamed inside as if the building were a sanctuary from her questioning father. Darting a few glances around, she inhaled. Never in her wildest dreams did Sophie consider the swimming centre to be a place of refuge. But here she was, relieved to be inside the building. Yet stranger things had happened.

  Sophie dumped her bag onto the reception counter where Matthew conveniently stood hunched, making notes on sheets of paper. He jumped as Sophie’s bag landed, knocking documents in several directions. She scrambled to collect the array of papers, her face reddening as she handed them to Matthew.

  “Quite an entrance,” he said, and a broad smile spread across Matthew’s handsome face. “Sophie, it’s good to see you.”

  She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Yes,” she trilled. “Good evening.”

  “Dad,” Sophie started and gestured toward Matthew. “This is Matthew Silver. Matthew, this is my dad, Roger Smart.”

  Matthew beamed. “Sophie’s told me all about you.”

  “Really?” Roger said, slightly taken aback. He glanced in Sophie’s direction. “All good things I hope.”

  “She’s daddy’s little girl. The very first time I met Sophie, she told me how she used to help knot your tie. It's a skill she hasn't forgotten.” There was amusement in Matthew’s expression.

  Roger laughed and his frown transformed into a proud smile. Thank God, her house moving saga was now momentarily forgotten. “That’s the type of girl Sophie is. She’s always doing something for someone else.” Roger’s eyes glittered as he assessed Matthew, his attention completely absorbed. “Are you the man who got Sophie into the pool?”

  “It was Sophie’s choice to tackle her swimming phobia,” Matthew started, shooting a smile in her direction. “I’m only her instructor.”

  “For years I tried to persuade her. She wouldn’t have gone in without some type of encouragement.” Roger assessed Sophie. “It must have taken guts.”

  “She’s a hell of a girl, your daughter,” Matthew said.

  As Matthew continued to speak to her father, his attention drifted back to Sophie at various points in the conversation. Every time he grinned at her, her stomach filled with butterflies.

  “I think I’m late for my lesson.” Sophie looked between her father and Matthew. She took her leave and hurried to the change rooms.

  Once Sophie was swimsuit ready, she waited for Matthew by sitting on the pool step. Eventually Matthew appeared and sat beside her. He sat close. The hairs from his legs brushed against hers.

  “How’s my dad?” She grinned. “I’m sure I heard him laughing when I was in the changing rooms.”

  “He’s a top bloke,” Matthew replied, struggling to keep the amusement from his expression. “Eve’s helping him complete the membership application. After the chat with you, a few nights ago, I thought a freebie might entice him to come regularly. There’s nothing like a support network when you’re having a low period.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Sophie insisted. “Give me the bill and I’ll fix it up.”

  “It’s fine,” Matthew said. “But today you’re going to have to impress him. He’s excited to see you in the pool.”

  “Great.” Sophie sighed. “This whole experien
ce feels like a parent and teacher night.”

  “Do I get to tell your dad about your performance, whether you’ve been naughty or nice?”

  “Maybe around Christmas….” Sophie smiled. “I have an idea. Why don’t you make me look as good as possible in the pool? If I appear confident, then you’ll shine as an instructor.”

  “You don’t think I’m a good instructor?”

  “You’re the best instructor, haven’t I told you that?”

  “Ah, but aren’t I your only swimming instructor?” Matthew scratched the side of his head.

  Sophie elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “You’re my only instructor. But you’re the best there is.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “I mean it,” she insisted. “Thanks heaps for helping me.”

  Matthew chuckled. “I’ll be easier on you tonight, not because of the flattery but because I’m nice.” He gestured toward the pool.

  “You being nice, huh? The jury’s still out on that one.”

  “Is that so?” Matthew skimmed his fingertips over the water’s surface and splashed Sophie. Droplets sprayed and hit her dry body.

  Sophie howled with laughter. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” She wiped the chlorine from her eyelashes.

  “Just get in Miss Smart.” Matthew’s thigh nudged her own in an attempt to urge her into the pool. His touch sent a series of tiny little shivers up and down her leg.

  With a stomach filled with butterflies, Sophie followed Matthew into the pool. Instead of entering via the ladder, they entered from where they currently sat, at the pool step. The calm descent into the pool allowed Sophie to spot her father. Roger had settled himself in one of the plastic seats in the pool grandstand. Maybe the heart fluttering she felt was just the same as when a professional athlete raced in the Olympics? Even though it was her third lesson in bobbing, she didn’t quite qualify as a water expert.

  She sprung into the water with ferocity, ignoring her burning thighs. The lesson continued with a revision of everything she’d learnt to date. The situation suited Sophie entirely.

  “Okay Soph, the pressure’s on,” Matthew whispered as they stopped for a short break.

  Her legs shook like she’d completed a strenuous aqua aerobics class. “Why’s there pressure? I thought we had a deal.”

  A wicked grin crossed Matthew’s face. “I want you to wow Roger further.”

  “We don’t have to wow anyone further. Roger doesn’t need you to show how you teach me new skills, this whole situation is about him believing that I’m in the water. I’m in. I’m in.” She leaned closer to Matthew. “With luck, he might be satisfied with that and go and catch his train.”

  Matthew grinned. “Every lesson you have needs to further your skills fractionally. Otherwise you’ll never progress towards actually swimming laps. So tonight we’re progressing to floating.”

  Sophie scowled as her father sat fixedly in the grandstand seat. She finally realised what performance anxiety was all about, as she fretted over Matthew’s ghastly floating instructions. “Face first in the water,” Matthew said, as he explained how Sophie should lie like an alphabet letter, with arms outstretched. She’d stretch into an “X” or a “T” shape. From there, later he’d teach her to roll on her back.

  “If I lift my feet off the bottom of the pool I’ll lose control,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “How does it sound if we practice floating above the step? If you feel out of control, just grab the step. That way, you’ll feel safe.”

  She nodded. Feel safe? Was he some kind of comedian? Sophie slid toward the step.

  “Now watch.” Matthew demonstrated, holding the step with his arms in a plank position. “See I’m holding my upper body like this.” Matthew’s biceps bulged as he continued with his commentary. Sophie averted her gaze from his buff physique and focused on his technique.

  There was one notable and major concern in his demonstration: his legs. His feet were off the bottom of the pool, stretched horizontal on the surface.

  Finally he demonstrated the exercise without commentary. In slow motion he put his head in the water. He released the step. His body hovered above the water. He floated. She counted the seconds he floated, wishing he’d stay there longer. For as soon as Matthew lifted his head up, Sophie knew exactly what was going to happen next.

  It was her turn. She couldn’t object, for her father was looking proudly at her. Oh the pressure!

  Sophie clasped the step and extended her body behind her. Her feet remained firmly rooted like a tree to the bottom of the pool. Her two arms were solid in the push up position. She continued to hold her head and shoulders above the water.

  She grinned. “Do I really have to lift my legs?”

  He nodded, his eyes twinkling. “While holding tight, raise your legs. Then release.”

  Sophie tensed. Then with a rush of adrenaline she plopped her head face first into the water. Please don’t drown. Please don’t die. Please survive. Please impress dad!

  Her legs stretched out. Her stomach somersaulted and flipped. An unearthly sensation funnelled through her body, like she was falling or flying. She was performing a Superman trick. No – Supergirl. She was Supergirl finding her powers as her legs rose to the water’s surface with a will of their own.

  As her legs floated behind, she sensed her body would topple over. Butterflies rippled up and down her body, as she struggled to find equilibrium in this position. Her body felt determined to drift away.

  Sophie still gripped. The last instruction of this floating business was to release. She hated the pressing feeling of being pushed from her comfort zone. A gnawing fear crept through her mind.

  This was it. Her moment of judgment. She didn’t care who was watching anymore, whether it was her dad or Matthew. This was the time to face her fear. To face herself. She was not going to die. Not this time.

  Let go. Let go. Jesus Christ. Let go Sophie.

  It was time to float. She released the step.

  ***

  Sophie survived the floating saga. Not just in the physical sense. Roger jumped up from his seat in the grandstand and cheered. People in the swimming centre, glanced at Sophie, curious expressions on their faces. Matthew finished the lesson there with a grin.

  “You might miss your train,” she said to Roger as he approached the edge of the pool.

  Roger beamed from ear to ear. “It was worth it,” he mused and darted a glance over his shoulder toward the exit. “Though, I’d better go, before I miss the next train. See you tomorrow morning.”

  Sophie walked her father as far as possible out of the building, before she darted toward the changing rooms. She dressed, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride and also gratitude toward Matthew.

  She needed to thank Matthew. But how should she thank him? Eventually she dressed and went to reception. He wasn’t there, not behind the counter, or bashing numbers in his calculator or writing in his ledger.

  Sophie asked Eve to call a taxi, booking one headed for Clarks. Sophie pulled her coat tight round her shoulders as she stood outside the swimming centre. Despite the cold temperature, Sophie waited there for the cab. The time alone enabled her to focus and list exactly what she’d do when she arrived at the office.

  First she’d review the pitch prepared for Barney’s Chocolate Bars. Then she’d work on the Silver campaign. Her team was a whisper away from identifying a brilliant campaign idea. There was a niggling thought in the back of her mind. They were so close! If Sophie dug deep, searched and reached, then maybe she could strike gold. Working tonight, she’d try for that extra mile and surely she’d identify a winning idea.

  Sophie closed her eyes. All she had to do was believe. Images of the pool flashed through her mind, the glistening water, children splashing and the trusty step. Faces of spectators, her father watching and, of course, Matthew instructing. Matthew practically came alive in her mind.

  His deep laugh echoed in
her ears. She remembered the creases in Matthew’s smile. His positive demeanour practically stood on the pavement next to her.

  Sophie squeezed her eyelashes against her cheeks, trying to centre her roving thoughts. She was supposed to be brainstorming for the swimming centre campaign. Her intelligence was wandering away. For she was acting in a completely dizzy way, fantasising about Matthew.

  Soon she’d be imagining his toned physique and his muscular shoulders. Sophie almost salivated at the thought of stroking her hand against his rippling abdomen.

  Sophie released a breath. She panted. Soon she’d be drooling, dribble falling to the pavement. This dream needed to stop.

  Focus. Sophie, focus. Reel back those thoughts. Think of the campaign and not of the divine Matthew.

  “I’ve cancelled your taxi,” a voice interrupted her thoughts.

  Sophie’s eyes flew open. By God, she’d conjured him. She swivelled round.

  There he stood, Matthew, in the flesh. Her heart beat fast and eyes widened as she scanned him. Matthew wore jeans and a t-shirt. Where was his coat? No, he wasn’t dressed in swimming trunks, so the figure in front of her clearly wasn’t an apparition. She wasn’t quite losing her head.

  “What was that, sorry?” Sophie spluttered, trying to find composure. “You’ve cancelled my taxi?”

  “It’s eight o’clock. Eve mentioned you were going back to the office.”

  “I just want to do a few things. Or I might pick up a few things to do at home.”

  “It’s late to be going back to work,” he said. “I’ll drive you.”

  She averted her gaze and shifted on her feet. “I don’t want to put you out,” she replied. “You’ve helped me enough tonight. I really appreciate everything.”

  “Come on, what harm can it do? The centre shuts in an hour, at nine, and Eve’s already agreed to lock up.”

  Sophie glanced up into Matthew’s dreamy eyes. His offer of driving her to work became increasingly more attractive. Almost as attractive as looking at him….