Skinny Dipping (35 page)

“Oh?” She reached for the board, but Matthew shook his head.

“A kickboard can’t become a crutch. It’s excellent for building confidence, stamina, and learning positions, but you can’t rely on always having a floatation device. All the balance work you’ve done, you’ve got to use it in the water and swim.”

Sophie swallowed. “I see. Swim.” Fear crawled up her chest like a spider. She refused to say she couldn’t, even though in the pit of her stomach she felt unmistakable dread. She tried desperately to stop herself shaking as she watched him demonstrate the arm motions when swimming without the kickboard.

Sophie extended her arms in front of her, tips of the fingers touching each other. “Oh God,” she said, then took the plunge and pushed forward into the pool. Hard kicks and winding her arms round like a clock, she began to swim. And then she forgot to take a breath. Her second arm stroked through the water. She missed her chance, but snatched the breath anyway. Her head thrust to her side, her mouth out of the water. She gasped for air. Somehow the rotation wasn’t quite right. She felt like one side of her body was weighted down with a piece of lead. She tried to correct the position, but found herself sinking. She stood up. Humiliated. She’d only done two strokes.

Matthew clapped his hands. “Well done. Your very first step at becoming a fish.”

She smiled weakly. “But it’s only two breaths,” she panted, feeling the effects of her effort.

“Yes, but there’s a lot going on there. Buoyancy. The arms and legs working together. Remember, you’re doing so well. Next lesson you can aim for three breaths.” There was excitement in his face – he was almost acting like the old Matthew. Dependable, positive, and trustworthy.

“So will I be able to do a full lap after the next lesson?”

“You’ll have to practise,” he said severely. “You can do that without me, you know.” He sounded condescending. Yes, she realised she could practise without him, she just liked having him there, like a security blanket.

“Sure,” she said. “Of course I can. I’m not sure if you do remember seeing me after one of my alone practise sessions?”

“One practise session is not enough. You can’t expect to be zipping along the water in just a few sessions. The more you get in, the better you’ll get. So practise, practise, practise.”

She looked down into the water and realised he was sick of teaching her. She obviously had no skill in swimming. Only a total idiot would have to be told they needed to practise; of course she knew that. Humiliation washed over her. She tried desperately to not show her disappointment that he didn’t want to really be in the pool with her anymore. After all there was no mention of their next lesson.

She couldn’t get angry at him. Unrequited love was so common. And it wasn’t even like she’d ever had Matthew, not really. It was just a few heavy kisses, not a marriage proposal. So it would be entirely unfair for her to get upset when he was being so kind to her and teaching her how to swim. He had always been bound to want to stop the lessons at some stage. She couldn’t get all neurotic, or she’d lose his friendship, too.

But there was one thing she could do. If he could simply opt out of swimming lessons, then so could she. She would end it. End the darn swimming partnership.

Back at work, Sophie immersed herself in project management and brainstorming with her team on new advertising campaigns. The Silver Account and the
‘Skinny Dipping’
campaign were coming together well. The photographs of Carol were well received by Desmond, and the shooting script was agreed. Every night when five o’clock came round, Sophie found it surprisingly easy to think of an excuse to leave early. Dentist. Physio. Doctor. Broken boiler. Learning a new instrument.

Sophie left the office at
Clarks
nightly, ignoring the work piling on her desk. Seeing her family was far more important. Her Dad needed her, and that served her much better than checking every minute project detail.
Clarks
was just a job, after all.

Dealing with her workload became her personal project management task. She began to delegate. Trusting her colleagues became of paramount importance. She encouraged Jessica to get more involved with the Silver Account, and to sort out the Brighton filming permit. Sophie even put Jessica in charge of client relations on the Silver Account, asking her to respond to Matthew’s emails and phone calls and giving her the go-ahead to organise the wrap party for when the advertising campaign was finished, and of course, a roaring success.

***

The first day of filming of the ‘
Skinny Dipping’
commercial was scheduled at the
Highbury Aquatic Centre
. Sophie’s nerves were threadbare because of the stress, and she hadn’t spoken to Matthew in days. She arrived at the Centre at four in the morning, ready to just get the job done.

She pushed the reception doors open and stopped still, seeing Matthew yawning, his face crinkle as he stretched in his position behind the reception counter. Her heart constricted. He was dressed stylishly, looking undeniably handsome. “Morning,” he smiled. Rather than wearing his normal pool uniform – a t-shirt and shorts – today he wore a dapper suit with a white silk shirt. He was utterly attractive and she shoved her lustful thoughts away, including how nice it was to kiss him. The friend zone, was a pretty common spot for the girls who knew Matthew. And that’s where Sophie was currently.

“Morning,” she responded brightly. “You look very stylish.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I was wondering whether you would notice.”

“’Course,” she said, feeling suddenly light-headed. He was flirting with her, the way he grinned and his dimples appeared. Oh so handsome. She tried to shake herself. No. He wasn’t flirting with her. She was confusing the situation. Besides, she was still very tired from waking up so very early in the morning.

“I’m trying to look the part of being the owner.” He flicked his shirt collar up, looking devastatingly good-looking. “What do you think? Can I pull it off?” He grinned wolfishly at her.

“You most certainly can.” She felt somewhat flustered as he ran his eyes over her. Something lurched inside her, despite herself. Her stomach flipped, practically doing gymnastics, even though she willed it not to. He hadn’t made one sober move on her since New Year’s Eve. She pushed away the shame, and tried to ignore the feeling leaping around inside.
He didn’t like her.
He’d made it so plainly obvious.
He’d been drunk. They’d been drunk.
She was best to forget it and behave with absolute professionalism. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself any further.

“It’s very nice to see you, Miss Smart.” He leaned over the reception counter and she felt somewhat disturbed by the way his gaze kept following her every movement. The way she put her handbag down. The gaze never left her when she bent over and fiddled with the straps on her high-heeled shoes. She almost hated herself because she had woken up especially early to dress up so he would take notice. How arrogant she must be, how naive, to believe that because he was looking at her that he might actually fancy her? She obviously had no idea about how the male population flirted.

“You’re the first from your team to arrive, and you look delectable,” he said.

She smiled coolly. “The others will be here soon,” she said stiffly. She looked at the clock behind the counter rather awkwardly.

“So how are you doing, Sophie? How are you really, with your Dad and everything?”

“Fine.”

“I know we haven’t had a chance for a real chat, you being so busy with work and friends and everything. But we really should catch up.” He paused looking for a reaction. “I’ve been wanting to speak to you.”

“Oh yes, sorry, of course you have. Something about the account?”

He frowned. “No. Nothing about the account, actually.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Are you going to address the issue or should I?”

Sophie shifted uncomfortably on the spot. This wasn’t the ideal place or time to have a private conversation. “There’s no issue, is there?” She darted a glance toward the doorway, thinking that at any moment a work colleague could appear.

He sighed. “Since New Year’s Eve..., I know a lot has been going on for you, but I haven’t been able to speak to you at work or on your mobile because you’ve been so caught up. And Eve says you haven’t confirmed one swimming lesson. It’s like you’re avoiding me. I’ve got this feeling that we’re not okay. Are we okay, Sophie?”

She paused for a fleeting moment. Sombre. She already felt bad enough about propositioning him on New Year’s Eve, but he was the one who rejected her. She would be foolish to forget that. Actions speak louder than words. “We’re just the same.” She shrugged, trying to stay lighthearted about the situation. She was almost thirty years old. She could cope with rejection.

“What do you mean by that?” he insisted, his large blue eyes looked thoughtful. “Just the same?”

“You know, the same. Nothing more than what we were. We both get it. And we’re professionals.”

“I see.” He paused for a moment, then grinned at her. “Is it the account that’s the problem then?”

“No,” she said quickly. Almost too quickly. Sophie was puzzled by Matthew’s words. Whatever did he mean by that? Why would the account be a problem? “We’ve got quite a good professional working relationship, don’t we? That’s what I was trying to say.” She suddenly felt a wave of worry. They’d never really addressed how developing a personal relationship could cause professional tension. Complicating the two things could cause fragility. This had been her greatest fear about getting involved – mixing the two aspects could erode the professional trust.

“The advertising campaign is almost over,” he said. “All that’s left is for your team to shoot and edit the commercial – or at least that’s what Jessica tells me – and I know it will be great. The website looks fantastic. The radio ad sounds amazing. You’re doing laps now in the pool now. You’re basically done with me.”

“What do you mean? Done with you?” she said in a stiff voice. “Are you happy or not happy with the work?”

“No, I mean, yes I’m happy with the work, but
you
don’t need me anymore. Not really. I just thought it wouldn’t be so complicated – us I mean – if we didn’t need a professional relationship. If we moved away from that. Kept things easier.”

Sophie swallowed. “I’ll lose my job if I lose this account.” It was a fact. They were in a recession. Panic began to crawl up her spine.

He suddenly turned white. “So you’re only worried about losing the account?” His voice was like steel.

“Am I going to lose the account?” Sophie asked, her mind whirling. “Besides, you’re the one acting all weird lately. You were the one who told me to practise swimming on my own. I get it, I’m not a moron or an ignoramus. Of course I’ll practise on my own.”

“Is this what it’s about, your ego in the pool? You’re upset because I told you to practise? Practising is for your own good, and I’m not acting weird,” he replied. “I just thought that after what happened that maybe we should just talk about it….”

God she didn’t want to hear the friendship speech. She was sick of rejection. “But nothing happened..., nothing really happened, now did it?” Her eyes blazed at him.

“Is that the way you see it?”

Before she could answer, the reception door swung opened, breaking through the tension which had built round them. Sophie shifted, her gaze broke away from his, and she gathered her handbag from the floor. “I’ve got to get everything organised. Otherwise your customers will be banging on the door before we’ve even started shooting the commercial. We’ve got to get this wrapped up before opening time.” She avoided Matthew’s eye, not bothering to glance back at him. The discussion was pretty much over. He had already made the message perfectly clear, and she didn’t see any reason to discuss it further.

***

“How many times have we gone over this, Soph?” Desmond asked. The frustration was clear in his tone as Sophie paced around the pool. Sophie had been discussing the way the camera should pan, making sure he got it right.

“How many times Sophie?” Desmond tapped his foot angrily.

“A zillion,” she stated. “Or at least until I’m absolutely sure that we understand each other. So I know the client will get what he wants.”

“Come on Sophie. We’ve been working forever. When are you going to just trust my experience, and trust me?” Desmond pleaded.

“Trust you?” She frowned, the words echoing around in her head. She felt cornered and defeated by the male population. What did it matter? She was probably going to lose her job at
Clarks
anyway if she lost the Silver Account. It would be all over. She’d tried. She’d really tried. Suddenly she felt like giving up. “Fine,” she said, resolve reaching her voice. “Remember to set up the light before the model is here.”

“I know Soph, I’ve done this zillions of times.”

“You’re right.” Sophie wandered away, wondering what to do with herself. If she wasn’t micromanaging her staff, what should she do? She noticed the makeup artist standing around, but hadn’t yet seen Samantha, the beauty, the actress. Sophie knew that fresh actresses needed quite a lot of support, and she thought that possibly she could help Samantha to relax. Although, that still might be treading on Desmond’s territory. But what else was she to do?

“How are things going with Samantha?” she asked the makeup artist. “I just wanted to speak to her. Double check that she’s calm and feeling okay before we start.”

“She hasn’t turned up yet.” The makeup lady shrugged. “I’m just going out for a smoke.”

A nightmarish realisation hit her. If they were going to stick to the shooting schedule and not going to budget, then filming needed to start in about thirty minutes.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Sophie insisted, narrowing her gaze at the makeup artist. “We’re practically ready to shoot – the pool opens in two hours.”

“It’s not my job to make sure the leading lady turns up.”

Sophie glared, hatred for hiring incompetent staff. Why couldn’t they just be proactive? Fear pricked her skin as the realisation hit her –
she
was the project manager. She was the one ultimately responsible for everyone showing up. She would be to blame if the project went well over budget. Although nothing like this had happened before, actresses were like dogs, always sniffing around for work, and not running away from work. Sophie pulled out her mobile phone with lightning speed and called the agent. No, she hadn’t heard from Samantha, had no idea if she was on her way or not.