Skinny Dipping

by Kaye, Alicia M

  She felt even worse, because whatever happened with Matthew in the night club, she felt slightly irritated and she hadn’t been expecting that. She’d obviously offended him greatly. After the night out, she’d sent him a text message, apologising if she’d overstepped boundaries asking him to be a pretend boyfriend, or if she’d said something wrong. He hadn’t bothered to reply or make any type of contact with her. She felt foolish for even opening up the lines of communication on this bizarre topic. After all, they hadn’t gone on an official date, so what was his problem after all? Or was she again, in denial?

  Sophie pressed the trunk of her car shut. That ought to do it. She jumped inside, ready to drive to the cottage. On the bright side, at least she would be able to talk to her Dad – they hadn’t spoken for about a month. She put her key in the ignition. The car lurched, then stopped still. She turned the key again, the engine spat, then stopped.

  A rapping on her car window made her gasp.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  She froze. Startled and sighed gratefully as she saw Matthew standing on the pavement. “Merry Christmas,” she replied, practically flinging herself out of the car at him, stopping only inches from his body. He grinned boyishly, and she accepted the implied invitation, throwing her arms around his neck into a large hug. His body felt warm, and she could smell his aftershave.

  He laughed and she felt his arms circle her waist. She shut her eyes, tight, holding him, realising she felt like she’d almost lost him. He’d been so good to her. He was at her place, on Christmas day. Surely it was a sign. She was delusional. Something was going on.

  “I thought you were angry at me,” she said into his neck, recalling how he’d barely said good-bye to her after the dancing, where he practically ignored her for most of the night.

  “Course not,” he whispered, and she felt his breath on her neck. A feeling of joy danced through her body, and she felt giddy with excitement. He must have forgiven her. She could explain about Derek. She didn’t love Derek. Not anymore.

  She released Matthew from her grip, suddenly awkward at the way she sometimes was too enthusiastic and overstepped boundaries. Like she had done on the first time she’d met him, out in front of the hotel. Matthew and Sophie hadn’t really been the hugging type of friends or professionals or whatever they were.

  “It’s good to see you,” she mumbled, trying desperately to shake her feelings of embarrassment. Why was she so touchy-feely around him?

  He wore a sheepish expression on his face. “I tried to call your phone, but you weren’t picking up.”

  A thrill went through her. “I’ve been packing. I must have missed it,” she said with animation.

  “I wanted to catch you before you took off. You said the other night you were leaving this morning. So I just came by…”

  “Yeah. Almost ready to go. Got to get this baby running, though. It doesn’t seem to want to cooperate this morning.” She tapped the Beetle’s bonnet lovingly. She loved her car. Loved the fact it played up when she needed to go places, so now she was standing in front of Matthew. If her car had have been reliable, she’d have missed him.

  “Want me to take a look?”

  “Would you mind? I don’t know what I’d do if it won’t start.”

  “I could drive you, if you wanted?”

  She cocked her head to the side, ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t want you to have to do that. You’d be late for your own Christmas dinner. Your Mum would hate me.”

  “I’m sure she’d love you if she met you. Although, she hates people being late to her roast dinner, including me. We couldn’t have that.” His eyes twinkled at her, playfully.

  “Let’s think positive, the car will start,” she said with a serious note in her voice.

  “Yes, positive thoughts.” He nodded and jumped into the car, his muscular body a little too large for her small car. “Can you hold this please?” He handed her a package, meticulously wrapped. He focused on the ignition, turned the key. Almost instantly, the car buzzed into life and he turned his head toward her.

  “It started,” Sophie said, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

  “The engine was probably just cold, I think….” He got out of the driver’s seat and stepped back onto the pavement.

  She sighed with relief. “Thanks,” she exclaimed. “Thanks so much,” she said, handing him the present back. But with a wave of his hand, he wouldn’t take it.

  “It’s for you. Merry Christmas. That’s why I’m here.”

  She looked down at the gift, her heart racing. “You didn’t have to. Did you like my gift? Have you opened it yet?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Besides, you told me not to open it until Christmas.”

  “But it is Christmas – today,” she said pointedly.

  “Well, then, I’ll report back to you as soon as possible,” he said. “But you need to open this here, in front of me.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly looking at his blank expression. She undid the ribbon, her hands slightly shaking. Something small was wrapped in the paper, and like a child she tore the wrapping apart, revealing a Ted Baker box. “Ohhh,” she gasped, pleasantly surprised. Ted Baker was a very expensive brand and not one Sophie could usually afford.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, a look of amusement flying across his face.

  “I don’t know yet.” She peeled off the lid. “Ah a wallet.”

  “I know you like leather.”

  “I do. Thank you.” He’d remembered their first meeting. Overwhelmed with happiness she leaned over, and kissed his cheek. “You remembered. Thanks for remembering.”

  He shrugged. “Open it up, look inside,” he insisted.

  She opened the wallet and inside was a piece of paper. She removed the paper from the wallet and opened it up.

  “It’s bad luck to give someone an empty wallet, so instead of cash I thought I’d give you something that you might like better.”

  “A voucher to the Jamie Oliver restaurant,” she exclaimed holding the piece of paper. “Oh my God, how did you know?”

  “I don’t know. You seem to have this thing about Jamie. You’ve asked me about him at sometimes weird times.”

  Sophie laughed. “I guess. Want to come with me? Use these vouchers?”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Hell yes. I can book something. You’ll love his restaurant! It might take one month to get a booking.”

  “That’ll be ages away until we go together,” he mused. “I better get going but I was hoping to catch you sooner than one month so… I was going to ask…, you said you were possibly going to Brighton?”

  “Not for Christmas, for work.”

  “Ah,” he said, looking down at the pavement. “I’m throwing a New Year’s Eve party at our Brighton Hotel. About two hundred people are going. It’s friends and colleagues. Loads of people. It’s a Silver thing that we do. Eve and Josh are going, and some mates from school. It’ll be fun. You should come.”

  Hmmm. Brighton sounded interesting, but just with Matthew?

  “Brighton sounds different from what I’d ordinary do.”

  “Carol and Mickey of course are invited and Artie can come, too. Just let me know because of the catering and the rooms and everything.”

  “I could ask them.” It was certainly the most interesting invitation they had on offer.

  “You must,” Matthew said. “There will be fireworks down by the water. Why don’t the three of you girls stay in one of the suites? I don’t think the hotel is booked out; unfortunately, the bad reviews are killing it. The three of you can have some drinks, relax, and then join the party if you want to. No cost to you. The suite’s empty anyway; I’ll just reserve it.” His face appeared eager, and she didn’t know whether it was for her attendance or for the party. “No pressure.”

  “I’d love to go. I’ll talk to them. I’m sure they’ll be in. I was going to Brighton to do some work, shoot the location; maybe I could do that befo
rehand.”

  “Is the work for me – my campaign – by any chance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you want me to help you out, go with you?”

  “Sure, if you want to. If it’s okay with you?”

  “Very okay.” He nodded.

  Her chest constricted, and she realised she was smiling.

  “I’ll meet you earlier that day, and we can go over all the professional work-stuff. But we can separate that completely, the work from the personal stuff. After all the work, you can do what you want, meet up with the girls, whatever. And you and I can meet later – at the party, if you like – and take it from there. How does that sound?”

  “Great.”

  “Great. I’ll call you to work out the details of the day.” Matthew leaned over, and she held her breath as he kissed her softly on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Sophie.” His eyes were round, his gaze intense.

  “Merry Christmas, Matthew.” Oh how she wished there had been mistletoe hanging over their heads at that moment.

  ***

  Sophie drove to the cottage in a blissful, dreamlike state, unaware of the traffic and honking horns, oblivious to any congestion. Christmas day traffic was bumper to bumper with cars. She’d get there when she got there. Matthew Silver asked her, her Sophie Smart, to his party in Brighton. What did that mean? The very thought sent shivers flying up her spine. And what was she going to wear?

  The relationship was progressing into something she didn’t quite understand, and her feelings had caught her completely unaware. There was always a little niggling thought in the back of her mind. He was extremely good-looking and there was a definite chemistry between them. Did it matter that they were professionally involved as well? Could they just work that out?

  She got to the cottage feeling like she was walking on air and as she parked her Volkswagen Beetle, and carried armfuls of presents.

  Instantly she saw Roger pacing outside the front of the cottage. He was walking up and down the sidewalk, clutching a red Santa cap; he didn’t even see Sophie.

  “Dad?” she said nervously.

  He turned. “A cruise,” he spat the word out. He ran his hands from the top of his forehead through his hair, and repeated the word, again and again. He looked like his head was infested with nits. “She bought me a God-damn cruise for Christmas. Hallelujah.” The sarcasm was thick in his voice.

  “It’s supposed to be partially for your anniversary,” Sophie said in a small voice.

  “After all the conversations we’ve had now since she’s learnt I’ve lost my job. I mean, doesn’t she get it? We can’t really afford it. I know she’s paid only the deposit, but the timing feels totally off. I need to get a job pronto.”

  He was gasping for a breath and leaned over, resting the palms of his hands on his knees. He breathed hard, like he’d run some type of marathon and was trying desperately to suck in air.

  “Dad, are you okay?” Sophie quickly set down her packages and put her arm around his shoulder.

  He stood up abruptly, shrugging her off. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

  He was too thin, his face was knitted with stress lines.

  “Just so you know – I’m not sure whether it’s any help at all – but when Mum told me about the cruise stuff..., well, I put money on your card the other day, to clear the amount for the deposit.”

  He shot her a glare, and held his chest. “I saw that on the internet banking, too. You can’t keep bailing me out, Sophie. What am I going to do?” His face was contorted. “It’s been almost six months. I need to get full-time employment or we’re going to have to sell the house.”

  Sophie bit her lip. “It won’t come to that. So you’ve discussed an action plan with Mum?”

  “Yes, but she’s so hopeful.” He shook his head. “She’s so hopeful because I had a bloody interview and she got incredibly excited. Thought all our prayers were answered.”

  “How did it go?”

  He was shaking. “I don’t know. I thought it went well. They said they liked me. Then I didn’t hear anything back. I just don’t know what happened.” He visibly swallowed and then put his Santa hat back on his head. “I’ve had enough of this conversation today. We won’t speak any more of this Sophie. Today is Christmas. Okay? Christmas. Let’s both get into the Christmas spirit.”

  “What are you supposedly doing out here?” she asked.

  “Collecting firewood for the blooming fireplace.”

  “I see…well Merry Christmas Dad.”

  “Yes,” he said, slowly. “Merry Christmas.”

  ***

  Sophie gave her Dad some of the gifts to carry, and they went into the cottage together. She was instantly accosted by her sister. Edith’s black hair was piled up elegantly for the occasion, in dark ringlets on top of her head. She was dressed in Christmas colours, wearing a sparkling red dress and green high heels, with tiny Christmas trees dangling from her ears. She was like Super Mum.

  “You look fab,” Sophie said, scanning her outfit. “You’ve lost weight.”

  “You know better than to just walk up with gifts,” Edith hissed.

  Sophie shrugged, still in her blissful comatose state, dreaming of Matthew. “Sorry.” Not even the encounter with her father could make her forget Matthew Silver.

  “The kids believe in Santa,” Edith insisted.

  Sophie eyed her sister with a mixture of amusement and distain. Did they really? Her niece, Annie, was thirteen years old, and her nephew, Vincent, was ten. Sophie highly doubted either of them hadn’t picked up the fact that Santa didn’t exist. They would have to know. Edith who was a doctor was surely living in a world of denial. Or was Annie, with her innocent, round, green eyes, milking the system getting presents from Santa and from her parents? How clever. Sophie supposed it was possible, yet unlikely, that Vincent still believed in Santa.

  Sophie remained sceptical and dumped the presents into Edith’s hands. “Want to handle it yourself then?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Edith looked at her strangely, thrusting the gifts back into Sophie’s hands. “I was trying to explain. Maybe you should think about what you do, before you just do it when kids are involved.”

  Sophie bit down hard on her lip, physically restraining herself from delivering a curt reply. It was Christmas after all, and time to keep the Christmas spirit alive. Besides, she couldn’t win when it came to Edith.

  “I’m in the middle of cooking, helping Mum, like you should have been doing.”

  “You’re lucky I’m here. My car almost didn’t start. Oh by the way, Merry Christmas Edith.”

  “Yes,” Edith mumbled. “Merry Christmas.”

  ***

  Still clutching the presents, Sophie wandered into the cottage living room, hearing the sound of a PlayStation being attacked by her niece and nephew. She stepped over mountains of torn, colourful Christmas paper discarded all over the floor. The cottage was an absolute mess – toys sprawled on the floor packages barely ripped open. Wasn’t the country in a recession?

  There obviously had been some serious present-swapping earlier that morning. Edith always did this, always gave her a time to come, and then never waited for her. But Sophie pushed the thought aside. It was Christmas.

  She smiled brightly. “Merry Christmas,” Sophie called out, seeing Annie and Vincent. “Santa left some presents in London.”

  Annie jumped up from her PlayStation. “Aunt Sophie, did the reindeer get the address wrong?” Annie asked. That was a clever one, Sophie thought, looking at Annie’s large eyes, she was so convincing. But Sophie just couldn’t believe her thirteen year-old niece believed in Santa. “Wow you’ve gone blonde,” Annie exclaimed. “And you cut your hair.”

  “Yes. Do you like it?”

  Annie nodded. “I certainly do.”

  “Merry Christmas, sweetie.” Sophie kissed the thirteen year-old cheek, noticing for the first time that Annie wore a little fou
ndation over her clear skin and a touch of eyeliner and mascara. “You look gorgeous,” Sophie said, looking down at Annie and her tiny, heart-shaped face turned into a smile. Annie was dressed in a sleek pink dress, a change from the ruffles. “Nice lip gloss.”

  Annie beamed, and removed something from her small pink handbag. “Do you want me to do your make up, too, and try out a few styles with your short hair?”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “Dolly magazine says when you change your hair colour, you also need to change your make up colours,” Annie quoted and produced a palette of eye shadow and lipsticks from her bag. “I got this for Christmas. We could try a few things out on you; Vincent’s hogging the PlayStation.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Come on, Aunt Sophie. I need to practise on someone, because I’m not allowed to wear makeup to school.”

  Sophie sighed, knowing that she might get bullied into getting a makeover from her thirteen year-old niece before the day was over.

  Vincent with his dark-cropped hair, sat facing the television screen as he wrestled with a videogame controller, oblivious to them. Sophie covered his eyes with her hands, blindfolding him, so he couldn’t see the screen.

  “Merry Christmas, Vincent.”

  Vincent dropped the game controller and shrieked. “Sophie, don’t!” He squirmed on the sofa, twisting his neck and frantically clawing at her hands, trying to peel Sophie’s hands away from his eyes.

  “I think when I say ‘Merry Christmas,’ you’re supposed to say ‘Merry Christmas’ back.”

  “Yes, yes. Merry Christmas. Please, Aunt Sophie.”

  Sophie dropped her hands from his eyes, so he could see. She released a low chuckle. It was only a video game after all.

  “Oh Soph, I just died. Look what you did.” His dark, brooding eyes stared in horror at the television screen as his action figure died.

  “Why don’t you both go and help out your Grandmother.”

  Vincent scowled and shook his head. “There’s been quite a lot of yelling in the kitchen this morning. It’s safer here.”

  “I see.” Sophie heard her mother’s voice in the kitchen. She kissed Vincent on the head. “You guys open these and I’ll go see Mum.”