Skinny Dipping (Skinny Sagas) Page 7

  Sophie recalled a comment whispered by Desmond when she’d first started. “The Dorchester is the place Bradley takes people to celebrate or commiserate,” Desmond had revealed. “If he ever asks you to lunch, be very wary.”

  Sophie paled. She now knew why everyone was so zesty this morning. Sophie hadn’t heard about the redundancies, she’d been too busy worrying about her pending swimming lesson and her breakup with Derek.

  “A recession doesn’t stop at a few redundancies.” Bradley sprang out of his chair and paced around at the end of the table. Silence filtered around the room. “We’ve come on hard times. This isn’t meant to scare you, but I'm going to task each and every one of you with business development. We need to win new work. I’ll be looking at all the teams, trimming the fat.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Sophie scribbled on her notepad, shivering at the words, ‘trimming the fat’. After the financial crisis had hit the capital, the country and the world almost overnight, there were many companies in London ‘restructuring’.

  “You’ve probably already heard rumours from other advertising agencies. Whole floors of staff are being given redundancy packages. A solid business development strategy will help us keep ahead of the pack, but we need to start now.”

  The door burst open and Jessica stood there. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she announced. “Sophie, I know you have a meeting next so I brought this along with me. You’ve got a package.” She jiggled a box in her hands.

  “Jessica, this is a management meeting,” Bradley barked. “You’re not the postman nor are you Sophie’s personal secretary.”

  “I know everyone’s really busy.” Jessica’s cheeks flamed. “I’m just trying to help the team out. It could be important, it’s mighty big.”

  Bradley shot Sophie an accusatory look. “You all know my policy on internet shopping,” he scowled.

  Jessica looked down at the package and then at Sophie. Jessica mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  “I haven’t bought anything,” Sophie insisted.

  “Well there’s something here. So you must have bought something,” Kelly chided.

  Sophie scuttled round the table to scrutinize the package. She scanned it for clues. The postmark, United Kingdom, didn’t give her anything. The package was addressed in unfamiliar blue handwriting. She reached out to test the weight of the package, but Bradley slapped her hand like a parent scolding a child, and Sophie reared back.

  “From now on, all mail, including packages, will be opened by Jessica and recorded in a list for me. That should prevent people internet shopping while at work and hogging our mail room resources. This is a business not a post office.”

  “Fine. But I didn’t buy anything.” Sophie picked up the package and tried to change the subject. “I have no idea what it could be.”

  “Bradley, should I open it up so I can record it?” Jessica asked and her lip trembled as she stifled a grin.

  “We really should use Sophie as an example,” Kelly insisted.

  “Bradley, that’s hardly fair. The package is marked personal,” Sophie stated. “Your spur of the moment policy is a complete invasion of my privacy.”

  “Well if you didn’t buy anything, then why are you so worried?” Bradley insisted.

  “It’s probably from a client,” Sophie replied. “But that’s not the point.”

  “Maybe Sophie has some type of fetish we don’t know about? Is it something exciting, X-rated, like edible underwear?” Kelly laughed.

  Sophie sighed. “Go on, if you’re so eager to make an example of me, open it.”

  Jessica’s hands worked nimbly, like she was an expert in knitting, fingers flying, slashing open the package. Jessica pushed the flaps of the box down, peered inside. “Oh.”

  Kelly shot over to Jessica’s side. “Oh my, God.”

  “What? What is it?” Sophie asked.

  “You totally need this,” Kelly howled. “We all know you’re newly single.”

  “What?” Sophie begged. “What is it?”

  “A vibrator,” Kelly giggled, her voice carried loudly to each corner of the room, and probably broke ice out in the Arctic as well.

  Sophie cringed. “Give me that.” She reached over the table and snatched the cardboard box. There was an item, wrapped in tissue paper, long, flat, rectangular, but the shape of a chopping board. Clearly not a vibrator. She picked it up, feeling the weight. Very light. She hurriedly peeled back the tissue paper, her curiosity mounting. She extracted a yellow, plastic kickboard.

  Sophie held the kickboard with shaking hands, watching as Jessica extracted more items.

  “A bathing cap?” Kelly asked incredulously. Kelly snatched the items from Jessica, holding them held by the tips of her fingers, displaying them like dirty laundry, for the entire room to see. “Goggles? Really, Sophie? What’s all this for?”

  Jessica darted a glance toward Bradley. “What did you want me to write in the mail register?”

  Bradley’s face was quite blank. “Describe it as Sophie’s internet purchases.”

  “It’s not,” Sophie exclaimed. “I…err… I have a swimming lesson booked for the Silver account. The client obviously sent this stuff.”

  “Swimming lesson?” Kelly glowered. “You have time to take swimming lessons while we're all run off our feet? Bradley, aren’t you trimming the fat?”

  Sophie’s cheeks became hot. “The Silver account has potential as you all know. We only have a sliver of the company – the swimming pool chain, the smallest part of the group,” she replied.

  “Yes, yes,” Bradley interrupted. “Is that what the swimming lessons are all about, living and breathing your work?”

  “Um…sort of…I had a swimming trauma when I was five and Matthew Silver believes I should get in the pool and learn to swim.”

  “The client found out you can’t swim! Jesus!” Bradley’s eyes glinted. “What a royal fuck up, Sophie. You’re lucky the firm didn’t get fired.”

  “I’m getting in the water,” she retorted. “It will be hard that’s all…it’s a phobia which has impacted my whole life. I’ve struggled…struggled for quite some time. It’s quite difficult for me to even talk about because… I actually died in a pool.”

  Silence descended on the room and Bradley shot up from his chair and paced. “‘Swimming is for Living’ – your motto remember?” He shook his head violently. “How come you didn’t volunteer to learn earlier? Worse, you let him find out.”

  “I wanted to bring this up with you privately. I thought it would help us win more work because I’d be in the pool with Matthew at least once per week. There’s the possibility of gaining more advertising projects from Matthew, like the hotel chain.”

  “Bloody hell, Sophie, maybe it’s best if we took you off the account.”

  “I’m happy to get in the pool.” Kelly practically jumped out of her seat. “I can sort of swim. I’d love to improve, to learn properly.”

  Bradley scowled. “You can’t swim either? Incredible. Did we touch anyone with that advertising campaign? Do I have no suitable employee to work on the Silver account?”

  “Matthew understands,” Sophie blurted. “Is it so fascinating that I can’t swim?”

  “Our firm did a ‘Swimming is for Living’ campaign,” Bradley growled. “Didn’t you both learn anything?”

  “Apparently about thirty percent of British adults can’t swim,” Kelly quoted. “I learnt that from the campaign. And I can swim. Sort of. Sophie can’t do anything. She’s got a phobia.” The way Kelly said phobia, it was like she’d said a dirty word.

  “Well Kelly, maybe you’re a more suitable fit. I’d have to have an emergency meeting with Matthew,” Bradley started.

  “I’ve worked it out with Matthew. He’s happy with what I do. He’s expecting me to turn up. You can see that he’s sent me this swimming gear,” Sophie exhaled, controlling her anger. “I’m taking the bloody lessons and it will help develop the relationship and a new business deve
lopment opportunity – end of story.” She glared at Bradley, struggling to stay in the seat rather than jump up, throw the account at Kelly and run from the boardroom.

  “So you’ll impress me.” Bradley smiled. “You’ll make me think you’re worth not being on the firing squad list.”

  Sophie froze, that wasn’t even funny. Firing squad list. Firing squad list. Firing squad list? What did that mean? “I’ll certainly try.”

  “You’d better do more than try.”

  ***

  After the meetings, Sophie carried the box with the swimming accessories to her desk. Sitting behind the computer, she looked at the cardboard box with disdain. She noticed an envelope in the package and, wrinkling her nose at the new plastic smell from the kickboard, she removed the handwritten note:

  “Dear Miss Sophie Mermaid Smart,

  Just a quick note to wish you well. Good luck for your pending introduction to the water. You may want to have a go at trying these things on before the lesson.

  Cheers,

  Mr. Matthew Dolphin Silver.”

  “Mr. Matthew Dolphin Silver? How old is he?” Sophie muttered. Her words were barely audible as she read the note. “A dolphin. Really? A dolphin?” Yes, he'd mentioned his favorite animal was a dolphin. A dolphin made sense. Dolphins were friendly to humans. But maybe dolphin was wrong. He was more like a sea anemone, attractive and pleasing to the eye, but get too close and he’d sting you with a lovely but scary offer of swimming lessons. Would she regret agreeing?

  Perhaps he was more like a dangerous barracuda: a long, lean hunting machine. Hunting every poor person with a fear of the water. Didn’t he get it? She was traumatized!

  Or maybe he was a moray eel, pouncing and snaring prey with toothy jaws. He was slippery in the water and only then could he satisfy his own freakish desires. That was always a possibility. After all, Sophie now knew she couldn’t trust guys. Couldn’t take them at their word.

  Sophie tried convincing herself that the gift from Matthew was not cute, or nice. Yet the more Sophie thought about the gift, the sweeter he seemed, like he’d given her an olive branch, knowing she would secretly hate him because he’d kindly offered her a way to learn how to save her own life, and save herself from the water. The olive branch was in the shape of a kick board, swimming cap and goggles. But Sophie was allergic to olives.

  She opened her email. Manners were important in life. Grinding her teeth, she didn’t feel at all thankful, nor did she want to be polite.

  From: Sophie.Smart@ClarksAdvertisingAgency

  Sent: 15 October 2007 09:35

  To: Matthew.Silver@SilverSwimmingChain

  Subject: Thanks

  Dear Dangerous Sea Urchin,

  They say to beware of your species, and that I should be scared, very scared. And I am.

  The kickboard, bathing cap, and goggles have all been packaged up into a very thoughtful gesture.

  Perhaps I should avoid seafood to help with my constantly churning stomach whenever I go near water? I must confess I feel caught in a rip. But thank you, all the same.

  I’m not sure what I can do with all this apparatus unless I’m in the pool?

  Your Land Loving Creature

  After sending the email she picked up the phone, thinking about whether to call her dad. She’d been avoiding his phone calls since the split with Derek. She needed to be honest with her parents, to at least give them a heads up.

  With the phone in her hand Sophie remembered that even her mother had tried to call her over the weekend when she was shopping.

  “Sophie,” her mum said, picking up on the first ring. “I knew you would call when you had a chance.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Well, nothing. It’s just nice to hear from you every now and then.”

  “Thanks Mum. Um...there’s something I need to talk to you about.” This was it, time to face the truth, tell them she and Derek were over.

  Her mother shrieked on the other side of the phone. “It’s happened hasn’t it? It’s finally happened. You’re engaged. To Derek.”

  Sophie gasped. “No.” She had the direct opposite news to tell.

  “Oh honey, what else could it be? You’re not… um, pregnant dear?”

  Sophie sighed. “No, Mum.” She already felt irritated. “There is no engagement, and no pregnancy. It will never happen between me and Derek.”

  “Why’s that? You two are perfect for each other and… worse things could happen than getting pregnant.”

  “Because.” Should Sophie tell her, explain about what he had asked of her? Her heart constricted. “It was all over working too hard.” Even as she said the words, Sophie wondered whether Derek had cheated on her. Maybe the blame didn’t lie just with her.

  “Working too hard? Whatever are you talking about? The solution to these things is to try to make your partner happy. Maybe you could try a little harder in your relationship.”

  “It’s not like that. Oh, just forget it.”

  “Couples fight. Did you want me to talk to him, sweetie? Put in a word for you? I know all your best attributes.”

  “Mum,” Sophie exclaimed. Her mother probably preferred talking to Derek than to her.

  “I’ve got his number. I’ll call him now.”

  “No.” Could she be any clearer? “No. Definitely not. Do not call him. I’ve got enough issues with Derek.”

  “Oh Sophie, well whatever is going on with the two of you, patch it up. He’s a handsome one, that one. A keeper.”

  Obviously not enough of a keeper to wait a millisecond before he got together with gorgeous fucking Georgina.

  “Oh Mum, got to go, got something important from a client.” It was true, a message flicked onto her screen. The sea urchin had responded to her email. Very quickly, too. That was interesting. She was finally getting timely responses from Matthew Silver. Ha-ha! Progress with at least someone in the male population.

  From: Matthew.Silver@SilverSwimmingChain

  Sent: 15 October 2007 10:39

  To: Sophie.Smart@ClarksAdvertisingAgency

  Subject: Re: Thanks

  Dear Miss Sophie Mermaid Smart,

  There are very few mermaids who are land-loving creatures, and you must clearly be the rare kind with no problems finding your feet. Together, we’ll help you find your tail, so you can splash around in the water without a care in the world.

  Before any attempt in finding your mermaid tail, like visiting the pool for a tail-finding swimming lesson with a dolphin, I would recommend you sit in your bathtub (in your brand new swimsuit if it helps.)

  Fill the tub halfway up with water, wearing both bathing cap and goggles.

  Once you feel comfortable in this position, place your head face down in the water and blow a series of bubbles out of your mouth (still while wearing all this apparatus).

  Count ten seconds and lift your head back up out of the water. Repeat this exercise a few times.

  If you find the idea of a bathtub quite off-putting, consider wearing the apparatus in the shower.

  Yours truly,

  Mr. Mathew Dolphin Silver

  P.S. Did you know that the clown fish is a close friend of the sea anemone, and is able to swim close without getting stung?

  Chapter 6

  Sophie arrived at Highbury Aquatic Centre feeling as if someone was sitting on her chest. Each breath was a struggle. Her heart felt constantly constricted. This was what it must feel like to have a heart attack.

  She stood inside the locker room changing cubicle not quite understanding why men went crazy for girls in swimsuits. She pulled the lycra swimsuit over her body. She hated the slimy feeling of the fabric, stretching over her like she’d been devoured by a snake and was stuck in its scaly skin. This skimpy, tight outfit was not a man magnet, no matter how she looked at it.

  The suit pulled over her chest, flattening her breasts, taking away any womanly charm. The fabric was tight and unforgiving on her thighs.

  On her he
ad, she wore a bathing cap, the gift from Matthew, who thought he was a dolphin. Hell… she was having lessons with a man who thought he was a dolphin. Who was more crazy, the girl with the phobia, or the guy who thought he was an animal?

  With her long brown hair stuffed under the swimming cap, she’d now created a smooth cone shape on her head – not an overly attractive appearance. The goggles he’d given her were the clincher, the buggy glasses pulling focus from her brown eyes. Yet she pulled the strap tighter, certain to create a nice red ring around her eye socket. There was no way any chlorine was getting into her eyes during this dreaded lesson. And she didn’t care if she looked half alien. Nope, this was the outfit.

  Sophie patted down all the necessary protective accessories. All parts were required to face her fear.

  There was one more item. She picked up the plastic kickboard, holding onto it as if it were her own secret weapon, her life raft, the only thing saving her from the possibility of drowning.

  She pushed her shoulders back, opening the changing room door. Exiting, she wondered what scared her more: being seen in the bright red swimsuit or flapping helplessly in the pool as the water choked her.

  A surge of panic gripped her, striking out with absolute clarity. What on earth was she doing here, standing in this ridiculous outfit, looking out onto a swimming pool?

  The water glittered, light shimmering on the surface, inviting her in.

  Matthew was already in the water, leaning against the edge on the far side, at the deep end. Of course, being as gorgeous as he was, women of all ages surrounded him, legs dangling in the water, all hanging off every word he said. Not one lady looked as ridiculous as she did, Sophie noted. They looked like they’d made a special effort to go to the local pool, faces plastered with make-up. There were no bathing caps, no goggles, and no one-pieces. They all wore bikinis.