Skinny Dipping

by Kaye, Alicia M

  “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 foun
d 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.”

  “Oh,” Roger said, light coming back into his eyes. “I hadn’t realised.”

  She felt tension washing away from her. Maybe she could do something to help him, in a recession. “It’ll be easy.”

  “The last time I had an interview was when I first started at the Ministry of Defence.”

  “You need to see at least three recruiter interviews.”

  “Really?” He frowned, perplexed, this was all new knowledge to him. “Isn’t one recruiter enough?”

  “You need a range of recruiters. They have relationships with different firms. It’s good to have a large agency, a medium sized one, and a boutique firm. It will give you coverage over the market.”

  He nodded. “Do you think you can help me do all this?”

  “Sure Dad, of course I can help you do all this.” She looked at her wrist watch. “Now, make sure you send me your resume, and tomorrow bring your swimsuit.”

  ***

  The next day, Sophie cancelled on Friday burgers with Jessica, who was more than slightly put out, a hand on her hip. “This is because of your new sport obsession. I thought we’d discussed you were only to do swimming.”

  Sophie sighed. “No, I’ve got to go to the pool, and it’s not to go swimming. If you want to get some advertising experience, this is your chance because I’ve got Bradley hounding down my back for new business. I can’t do everything.” She knew the offer of advertising experience was too great a carrot for Jessica. “I need you to work with Desmond and Flora on the ‘Skinny Dipping’ campaign. I need to take something to Bradley soon.”

  Jessica agreed enthusiastically, and Sophie left her office and met her Dad at the Highbury Aquatic Centre. He was dressed in sweat pants, and had a casual bag slung over his shoulder.

  “Hello Princess,” he called.

  She kissed him on the cheek and pulled back, watching his goofy expression soften into a smile. “You’ve brought your stuff.”

  “Yeah, course. But your Mum almost had a coronary seeing me take my swimming trunks.”

  “Yup, but you told her you’re just doing some laps to get fit, right?”

  “What will she think of me wanting to get fit?”

  “You’re normal.”

  “Your mother’s going to start jumping to conclusions and asking me some questions.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with people getting slim, trim, and terrific.”

  From his canvas bag he handed her a piece of paper, his resume, and Sophie scanned the contents. He had only listed one job, with bullet points. She couldn’t even understand what he really did.

  “There must be a better way to sell this?” she mused, reading over the resume. “Let me take it to work. I’ll wordsmith it. That’s what I do.”

  She looked up noticing her Dad nodding vigorously, tears in his eyes.

  “Dad, it’s going to be okay. Take the time now, because you won’t get it when you start a new job. You’ll wish you had this time back.” How could she have missed his depression for so long? If she’d been honest with him about Derek, maybe he would have opened up to her. Her trust issues were a bigger problem than she ordinarily thought. Although, she wished he would have told her earlier, then he may not be a bumbling mess. “I’m going to do everything I can to help. Look we better go in.”

  Sophie urged her father into the reception, and found Matthew Silver conveniently behind the reception counter, bashing a few numbers into a calculator.

  “Hi Sophie,” he said, a huge smile on his face.

  She blushed furiously. “Matthew Silver, this is Roger Smart, my Dad.” They shook hands.

  “Pleased to meet you Roger. Sophie’s told me all about you,” Matthew said.

  “Really?” Roger raised his eyebrows. “She’s spoken about her old man?”

  “She’s Daddy’s little girl. She told me that she used to help fasten your tie, the first time we met.”

  Sophie swallowed, how did Matthew remember that?

  Roger cast Sophie a proud smile and then looked back at Matthew. “So are you the man that got Sophie into the pool?”

  It was Matthew’s turn to go beet red. “Yes. I have lots of experience, sir,” he explained. “I’ve got years of practise teaching kids, teaching adults, and – in situations like Sophie’s I really enjoy teaching them.”

  “Well it can’t have been easy for you, getting Sophie in. Must have taken a lot of persuasion?” He rubbed beneath his chin.

  “I’m so proud of her, too.”

  ***

  Sophie left her Dad at the pool, walking away in a bubble of pure optimism. The problem of her father’s employment was not solved, not exactly. But there were now steps in place. He had somewhere to go each day: Her house. She’d also helped him get into an activity to fight the depression. She felt a stab of uncertainty. Guilt. Her mother should know about what was happening. It was her right, them being married, and truth was the basis for all relationships, wasn’t it? By helping her Dad, was she also part of his cover up, was she guilty, too?

  She exhaled, she was feeling too much. She was usually so controlled that she didn’t worry about things. But she just kept thinking of what her Mother might think of Roger at the pool.

  ***

  At her desk, her eyes darted every few moments, breaking from her Dad’s resume on her computer screen to Bradley’s doorway. Sophie wouldn’t lose it. She was excellent at multi-tasking, typing furiously, formatting the resume, embellishing (only slightly) on his skill sets. The resume was a tool to get his foot in the door. The interview stage was always the maker or breaker. He’d then have to use all his charm to sell himself.

  Chapter 13

  The next day Sophie entered the office with renewed energy. She’d sent her Dad the updated resume last night and contacted recruiters on his behalf. Now she was ready to focus on winning new work. She needed to focus on Clarks!

  “Sophie? Sophie?” Jessica called out to her as soon as Sophie got to her desk. “I’ve put something on your desk.”

  Sophie sat down, and her eyes gleamed as she noticed a stack of papers, paper clipped with care. “Excellent,” she said and picked the papers up and started leafing through the content. “Wow. This is the finished ‘Skinny Dipping’ art sketches and the commercial script. If it’s good I can take it to Bradley to sign off.”

  Jessica stood next to Sophie’s desk and watched as she examined the work. She held a cup of Star Bucks coffee, the size almost as large as her head. The coffee shook slightly in her unsteady hand. Her normally straightened, perfectly maintained, brown hair was dishevelled, frizzy, almost a fro. Her smile, although was turned up into a broad grin, but her eyes were sunken. Jessica tapped her foot and flicked her pen.

  “Do you like it?” Jessica demanded as Sophie finished reading the script.

  Sophie looked u
p at her and squeezed her arm. “You’ve done well. Really well.”

  Jessica brushed down the creases in her skirt, her blouse half hanging out. She sighed and a smile crept onto her lips.

  “You haven’t slept have you?”

  A broad grin spread over Jessica’s face. “No.” Jessica pointed to the papers. “So, are you going to take it to Bradley now?”

  “Absolutely.” Sophie stood up.

  “We were all on such a roll last night, the brain juices were flowing, we had to keep going until we got it done.”

  “I’m impressed. Your first all-nighter. That’s an initiation into a team. Congratulations. A top tip: don’t let Desmond hit on you.”

  Jessica barked with laughter and her cheeks flushed red. “Of course I wouldn’t. Besides, I’m engaged.”

  “That hasn’t stopped him before.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Jessica said. “So…Flora’s not coming in until eleven, and Desmond..., I have no clue what he’s doing.” Jessica stifled a yawn.

  “Remember you spoke to me about work-life balance. How is that fiancée of yours?”

  Jessica gave Sophie a goofy grin. “He understood.”

  “I’m glad you gave him a call. Okay, as long as he understands.”

  “I mean it won’t happen each night.”

  “No, but times are tough,” Sophie sighed.

  “By the way, we all missed you. I know you’re the project manager and not really supposed to do creative work but focus on business management. But the team all still love getting your input.”

  “Thanks,” Sophie replied. She’d left work on time the night before, too busy working on her Dad’s resume and finding him a job. “Any time you need me, just say the word.” A warm feeling flowed through her body. “You can’t go home, can you?” Sophie half-smiled, as Jessica leaned on Sophie’s desk.

  Jessica shook her head. “Bradley.” She shrugged. “I’ve still got Bradley’s tasks to do. But when I get my degree, I might be able to get a role in one of the teams – accounts, creative, something. You’ll put a good word in for me.”