Skinny Dipping (10 page)

“I think..., well..., I think, he cheated on me all that time, all those years,” she gasped. “How did I ever trust him? How can I trust anyone ever again? He used my work as an excuse.” She cast another look in Derek’s direction – he was holding the girl’s hand. She felt physically sick.

“He probably didn’t. He wouldn’t do that.”

Their fingers were entwined, interlaced, together. They were together. “He did.”

“He’s a dick.”

“Yeah. A dick.”

“Let’s go buy this,” Carol muttered, and in a zombie-like trance Sophie walked to the counter. Paid for the swimsuit. She didn’t even bother to try it on. What was the point in all the effort, when the guy just dumps you? Cheats on you? Who needed men anyway? How could you trust them with your heart? With your life? With your dreams when they hurt you? That’s why they had artificial insemination; scorned women didn’t need men. Women needed to stick together.

She was shaking, thoughts racing through her mind. “Do you think I work too much?” Sophie asked clutching the bag with the swimsuit. Was it her fault he cheated?

“Yes,” Carol said softly. “And I’ve only known you a few days.”

Sophie swallowed. “I love my job. That’s okay isn’t it?”

“It depends on what the other person wants and how much time they want with you and visa-versa.”

“Hmmm. Is it worth it do you think? Would you give up dancing?”

Carol shrugged. “Depends on what you miss out on. Or who. But I probably wouldn’t. I’d probably try to find a more compromising partner.”

Sophie furrowed her brow, what exactly was the price of losing Derek. Her heart? But he’d ripped that out. So was it really her work that had ruined their relationship, why he’d gone off with another girl?

She grasped the bag containing the red swimsuit. Her job couldn’t hurt her, not like the sensation rippling through her. All the times he’d told her he loved her. Lies.

“I do love my work,” she muttered, mostly to herself, and as she walked to the tube she focused her thoughts, texting Matthew Silver. She was focusing on work, trying to think of anything other than Derek.

A lump formed in her throat as she thought of the pretty girl next to him. Georgia. Fucking Georgina fucking Derek. Sophie couldn’t help but wonder whether they’d broken the coffee table? An image filtered through her mind of the coffee table shattering and she almost retched. What was Sophie going to do? She’d left some of her things at Derek’s place. The mistake of an innocent. A naïve woman. Not anymore.

She felt heady and clutching the swimsuit she began to type into her smart phone. She needed to clear her head, to change somehow. Forget Derek. Maybe swimming lessons could help her do this.

From:
[email protected]

Sent:
05 October 2007 13:31

To:
[email protected]

Subject:
Thinking About the Swimming Proposition

Hi Matthew,

Sorry I didn’t confirm with Eve, the free time slot you mentioned to Jessica Watson our group secretary. Well, I’d be keen to try that.

I’ve shopped and if you don’t mind, I’m good to go for the swimming lesson, although I’m absolutely petrified as I type this.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Warm regards,

Sophie Smart

Chapter 6

Later that afternoon when Carol was at audition, Sophie found herself pacing her new Highbury flat. Derek the coffee table breaker had cheated. On her. He told her he loved her. They’d lived together for years. They spoke about having kids together. The bastard.

Finally, the revolving thoughts – all coming back to Derek cheating – were interrupted by the clattering up the external stairs as Sophie’s best friend Mickey arrived. Mickey was short for Michelle. Michelle Vermont. Mickey was a tomboy at heart, growing up idolizing her brother, Jack. If you dared call her Michelle, she’d clobber you with a mighty fist. She was also a feisty entrepreneur, she knew exactly what she wanted and that’s why she owned her very own coffee shop. Rather than taking the traditional route of work after university, she took her business degree and started pulling cappuccinos.

Mickey’s friendship circle (according to Sophie) consisted of mostly men – rich, attractive men – none of whom ever asked Mickey out, she was one of the boys. And probably to do with Mickey being hung up on Artie – a man she’d never gone out with because they kept running into each other when the other was hooked up with someone else. But the connection between Mickey and Artie was super strong and Mickey try as she might couldn’t seem to forget Artie.

Mickey bounded through the door, always full of energy. She wrapped her arms around Sophie, giving her a warm hug which seemed to last for eternity. Sophie struggled to disentangle from Mickey’s clutches.

“Come and look around.” She knew that would be exactly what Mickey, who was curious as ever, would want.

“You look like shit. What’s going on?” Mickey was direct, as always, her rich voice resonating around the house like she should have worked in the theatre instead of making coffee.

“Don’t hold back.”

“Ah, but you advertising gals all look like crap – it’s common knowledge, wouldn’t you think?” Mickey ran up the stairs, taking two at the time, and yanked open Sophie’s bedroom door. “Oh my God, how long have you been here again? You haven’t even unpacked.” Mickey shot her a sharp stare, cutting through all Sophie’s defenses.

“Only a few days really. Derek and I split.” It was time to face some truths.

Mickey nodded. “I thought as much. I’ve brought wine – or we could go out?”

“That would be good.”

“Soph, why didn’t you call me? I could have helped you move. I could be more supportive if you felt you could tell me things like this. This is big, breaking up and moving out from your boyfriend’s place. You don’t have to do it alone. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“This isn’t about you. It’s about me, and I can tell people whenever I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Mickey said carefully. “You must have been stressed out of your mind. You know Soph, I’m here to help. I’ve known you forever.”

“I’m fine, I’m always fine. We weren’t meant to last anyway.” She couldn’t bear to tell Mickey the humiliating truth, not only had they broken up but he’d cheated. Cheated. How could she ever trust a man again?

At that exact moment Carol returned from her audition, bounding up the stairs with her endless energy. “Sophie,” she shrieked, stopping at the doorway, lowering her sunglasses as she saw Mickey.

“Hello.” She extended her hand, becoming quite formal. “I’m Carol, Sophie’s flatmate. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Mickey.” They shook hands. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Sophie’s head darted between the two, would they get along? They were distinct opposites. Carol in her flamboyant colours and Mickey dressed in complete black, velvet skinny jeans, and a frayed t-shirt, stepping around like a shadow. The only colourful thing about Mickey was her flowing red hair, which was currently tucked in a black baseball cap, and her pretty green eyes.

Sophie broke the silence. “How’d the audition go Carol?”

“My car broke down. I missed it. I’m still unemployed, but there’s another audition next week,” Carol mentioned.

“Oh Carol, that sucks.”

Carol nodded. “Bloody cars.”

“You’ll get something,” Sophie said.

“Fingers crossed for next week.”

“I suppose you’re here to help Sophie finally move in, and get over Derek the douchebag.”

“Douchebag,” Mickey laughed, her chest heaving. “Love it. He is a douchebag. I like you Carol. Let’s make Sophie move in and get over him.”

“Did she tell you about seeing Derek at the shops with his new super skinny blonde?”

“No.” Mickey’s voice was stern, like steel, her eyes set firmly on Sophie.

Sophie felt her face freeze, not able to look at Mickey. “It’s nothing, we don’t really know anything yet. He was buying Chanel perfume.”

“Your favourite,” Mickey pointed out.

“They were holding hands,” Carol insisted.

The reality was gripping at her heart. “Yes.” Sophie said, refusing to cry. “They were holding hands. But we don’t really know if she…Georgina…was…” She couldn’t complete the sentence.

“He was practically kanoodling with the girl as soon as we turned our backs. The bastard,” Carol hissed.

“There’s a lot Sophie doesn’t say.” Mickey and Carol folded their arms, suddenly both united, against her.

“We’re here to help.”

“But how can you help? You can’t undo it,” she said. Repair her heart, especially when if felt smashed into smithereens? “Let’s not unpack. Let’s just get drunk.”

Chapter 7

Monday rolled into Tuesday, then Wednesday. Feeling light-headed from lack of sleep, Sophie hated to admit Friday had quickly come round. The dreams of Derek were continuing, there was one significant change, a humiliating realisation. In her dreams Derek was accompanied by the gorgeous Georgina.

She’d developed a routine of getting into work at seven-thirty in the morning and, of course, finding the office floor empty. Initially she’d found a certain pleasure in that, a superiority realising all the talk from her colleagues, all telling her they preferred to arrive early, rather than work late was completely not true. Now she knew. They’d been having her on, and she’d naively believed them, taking on work in the evening when she could, of course, help out. But what was new? Derek had lied to her, cheated on her, why would anyone else tell her the truth? Why did she trust people at all?

Each morning a fresh urge of hope would fuel her to open her email. All week, there was nothing from Derek. Then, facing the empty inbox, would cause a surge of internet activity, and a string of purchases. Shopping solved everything. She could shop from anywhere as long as she had a computer. Now she even had a cause, something to funnel her energy into. With anger pulsating through her veins, she used their joint debit card. Now Derek would help her say goodbye to jiggly thighs. She’d initially left her money in their joint account, but as soon as Georgina entered the picture, she’d done a back-of-the envelope calculation, extracting every single penny of hers from the joint account.

Derek the lazy sod, of course hadn’t done anything – he never really did – and the money was fair game. Interestingly, Derek seemed to keep contributing into the joint account. Sucker. Her fingers clicked on the purchase button. Ciao Derek’s money and ciao cellulite.

She clicked her mouse, buying a few random items. She was buying equipment, just in case anyone from the office started to take notice of what she was purchasing. Thinning thighs was not really a topic for office banter. Especially not chit chat on the shape of her thighs.

The internet was full of useful information, methods of how to tone and tighten. Her mouse hovered over the description of a new leg slimming device, Leg Magic. She liked the sound of that. Leg Magic.

Jessica was the next to arrive in the office, at eight forty-five, and she practically accosted Sophie, asking her technical questions about an assignment for her degree. Finally the student in Jessica was satisfied, and she turned toward her desk, back to her normal group secretary routine. Jessica began making personal phone calls and babbling like she usually did, and this would continue until Bradley showed up. Even over the sound of the whirring printer, Sophie could hear Jessica chatting idly. “Francine you’ll never guess what she wore to the wedding….” Jessica was anything but discrete, her voice loud and clear.

Flora arrived, but disappeared instantly to the photocopier. At some point Desmond and Kelly arrived and immediately vanished – nowhere to be seen, working almost like a pair of enigmas or apparitions.

A flicker of red caught Sophie’s attention. She looked up from her screen. A mailman at Jessica’s desk, stacking packages like Santa Claus would under a tree, if he existed, and Sophie had strong suspicions. Did her sister really buy her niece and nephew all those presents each year? If they did they should be ashamed of themselves.

Jessica sighed for the special deliveries and team post. The girl flicked through the parcels, shaking envelopes and parcels for utter amusement. Jessica swept her gaze over Sophie, in slow motion, shaking a large, rectangular-shaped box.

“Francine, would you mind holding for a moment?” Jessica put one hand over the phone mouthpiece, and stood up from her desk. “Sophie, you’ve got another personal delivery.” The emphasis was on the word ‘another,’ it was to be expected, she supposed from all the online shopping she’d been doing.

Jessica shot a sharp look in Sophie’s direction as she jiggled the box. She wished she wasn’t standing looking so accusatory. She’d have to suck it up, and she strode over to Jessica who rested one hand on the parcel.

Sophie scrutinized the package looking for clues, excitement mounting, what would she get, which thigh-thinning device had arrived first?

The postmark, United Kingdom, that didn’t give her anything. The package was addressed with blue handwriting, unfamiliar handwriting. Yet a handwritten label rather than a printed label gave Sophie another clue. The package probably wasn’t from a large retailer. This was probably the exercise ball, once blown up she could sit on it, replace her work chair and apparently it would work her core muscles. Brilliant.

She reached out to test the weight of the package, but Jessica slapped her hand like a mother scolding a child, and Sophie reared back.

“Ouch.” She retracted her hand, examining the red mark Jessica inflicted.

“What did you buy?” Jessica shot an accusing glace. “I think I’ve had enough of this phase you’re going through. I know Derek’s a bastard but you can’t continue like this. This spending is spiralling out of control.”