Skinny Dipping Page 4

  She was beyond frustrated, she felt like cuffing him behind the ears. Slapping some sense into him. “We had a meeting last night. I moved house right beforehand and the last thing I needed was to get stood up. You could have called me. I only went to the gala because we were supposed to meet up.”

  “You make it sound like we’re married.”

  Sophie felt her hand coming to her forehead. She took a deep breath, exhaled, found her sense of calm. She smiled. Her lips were tense and tight. Think sales, think winner.

  She started slowly, keeping her voice sugary. “We need to start talking ideas. We need to get working, to put together a campaign, and bring in some revenue.”

  Matthew grinned, not even having the ability to look slightly shamefaced. What was wrong with him? Dimples emerging on each cheek. “Okay, well, I think we can do that.”

  She was getting there, making a breakthrough. “Great,” she enthused.

  “Welcome to the pool. As you know this is the flagship pool for the swimming chain, and our head office. I hope you’ll enjoy being here. By chance, somewhere in your Mary Poppins bag, have you managed to bring a swimsuit?”

  “Um…no.” Why on Earth would she bring a swimsuit to a business meeting? “I’m here to talk about ideas, to complete the Ideas Generation Stage.”

  Matthew shook his head. “My first idea is for you to get a pool membership.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “That way, we can see much more of each other, talk about the campaign. Eve, can you possibly make up a complimentary membership for Sophie?”

  Eve was standing by the reception counter, an odd look on her face. “Sure Matthew, I’ll make one up now,” the girl responded.

  What the hell was going on here? He was running away with crazy thoughts, insane ideas. Sophie wrung her hands; this was getting out of control. “Matthew, thanks a lot,” she started, frantically searching her mind for the right phraseology. “I won’t be needing a membership. I’m here to discuss ideas. Strictly ideas. I won’t be swimming.”

  “But this is what the advertising campaign is all about. Did you know our membership has increased one hundred percent, all because of your great campaign, ‘Swimming is for Living?”

  “Fantastic,” she said. “Let’s do it again, create a fresh, new campaign.”

  “Should we do something with surfing or the beach?”

  Sophie narrowed her eyes, was this about the surf wallet? “If you would like to, I can definitely have my team whip up a campaign with a beach vibe.”

  “Maybe something with the beach, and of course we need to show the pool, as we are selling the pool chain. Have you been here before? I’ll give you the pool tour.”

  “It’s okay, I’m fine,” Sophie dissembled. “We’re doing really well discussing the types of things you want right here, let’s not change this back and forth.”

  “I insist. We can continue to discuss ideas while I show you the pool.” Matthew beckoned her to the turnstile, he was so irritating.

  Sophie walked to the gate and stopped. Panic crawled up her spine. She gripped her handbag and began to sweat. She was losing control of the situation, losing control of the client. “I’m not sure if this is absolutely necessary,” she said, her voice a squeak as she refused to push through the turnstile.

  Matthew’s forehead creased and he reached for her bag. “Let me take that for you. Eve will watch it, while she gets your membership ready.”

  Sophie’s fingers gripped her bag tightly, almost crushing the strap with her rising trepidation. “I’ve got it, it’s okay. I don’t need any help.” Her voice rose, clutching the bag like a safety blanket. The sounds of splashing echoed in her ears. Children were screaming, playing games, whistles were blowing.

  She closed her eyes momentarily, blocking the site of a handsome lifeguard manning the pool. She blinked them open, finding determination. “I can do this,” Sophie said, under her breath.

  She pushed the turnstiles, following through the large wooden doors to the pool area. Sophie focused on Mathew’s tapering back, seeking security in the reassuring flex of his muscles. She felt her legs wobble. If she fell in, she could at least look forward to a dreamy rescue. No. No. She wasn’t going to get close enough to fall in. Not an option. Chlorine assaulted her nostrils, and she wrinkled her nose, stopping in the doorway of the pool’s entrance.

  “Nice,” she called to Matthew, who was standing at least ten steps ahead of her. Sophie didn’t move, couldn’t move, she remained rooted to the spot.

  Matthew turned, noticing her position, far away from the water, and walked back to her side. He stood by her shoulder, as she assessed the large concrete perimeter area surrounding the wide pool in front of them. She wildly scanned the environment with her eyes. She was far enough from the water – just.

  The dreaded pool was eight enormous lanes already blocked by swimmers churning up the water. People of all shapes and sizes swam back and forth. She squinted as the sun streamed into the building.

  A roof made from glass panelling peaked into a large apex, an impressive vaulted canopy over the pool. Matthew following her gaze pointed to the panels.

  “Of course this pool is heated. We use a heat pump and those are solar panels to help the pool be more environmental….”

  She sniffed, watching him gesture to the large body of water. “We’re really proud of the Highbury Aquatic Centre. It’s an important part of the community, teaching kids and adults how to swim.” Matthew motioned to the children who dived into the water from starting blocks.

  Her heart raced as she watched the children. She shuddered, even though she stood metres from the waters edge.

  “Great,” Sophie said, using all the effort she could muster to ensure her voice sounded enthusiastic.

  “As you can see we’ve got a fifty metre pool. The blocks at the far end of the pool indicate where the water is deeper. Of course, we are standing by the shallower end. Can you swim?” Matthew looked directly into her eyes, wanting a reaction.

  Sophie’s chest constricted and she tried to find the right words. She was talking to a client who owned a swimming centre, a chain of swimming pools. What was the right answer in this situation?

  “It’s not important, is it?” She forced a smile. All she had to do was sell.

  “Can you swim?” He repeated the question.

  Sophie let out a breath. “I splash,” she admitted, smiling, trying desperately to make light of the situation.

  Matthew folded his arms in front of him. “At no stage when you were on my advertising account did I know you couldn’t swim. I don’t usually miss a trick, especially one like that.”

  “I guess you were away, and I never got to talk to you on the phone. And we never met until last night, and then we never met formally, you didn’t even tell me who you were,” Sophie was talking rapidly now, barely pausing for breath. “Besides, I talk to you about campaigns which sell, and not about my personal life experiences – they’re quite irrelevant for generating sales and revenue. So the question of whether I swim or like the water never really came up in conversation. Besides, I like the water. I just don’t like being in it; there’s a subtle difference.”

  “Ah, what type of water do you like then?”

  “I like pictures of the water, the sound of the waves at the beach, flowing waterfalls, drinking water. I just don’t particularly like choking in the water. A bathtub, in my mind, is just enough water to drown in.”

  Matthew shook his head, his blue eyes glittering playfully. “What do you do in hot weather?”

  “A shower’s perfectly acceptable – or a sprinkler if you want to cool down.”

  Matthew ran his hand through his hair, his dimpled smile fading. “Your last campaign was so good. Your conviction about the campaign, so believable….”

  “I believe in the campaign.”

  “I see,” he sighed. “What’s the motto you came up with for my campaign?”

  She s
tared at him. He knew the motto by heart. They both did. “‘Swimming is for Living’,” Sophie said, slowly.

  “It doesn’t seem like you really believe it then? Not truly.”

  “I do. I really believe people should know how to swim so they don’t drown. That’s the campaign that worked to sell to your target market.”

  Matthew raised his finger to make a point. “Yet, since you’ve started working on the campaign you haven’t started to learn how to swim. So, it’s not really working. A zero percent success rate with someone who supposedly believes people should learn how to swim.”

  Sophie suddenly felt a surge of panic. Was he backing her into a corner? “I don’t really have to learn how to swim. I know the advantages. I’ve had a trauma. I’ve got different circumstances than the ordinary people,” she said, speaking quickly to smooth the conversation.

  “Well learning how to swim is a pretty important requirement to me, considering what happened eighteen months ago.” His voice quavered.

  Sophie bit her lip. “What happened eighteen months ago?”

  He paused. “How old are you exactly?” He didn’t answer the question, she noted.

  “Does that matter…? How old are you?”

  “Thirty-two. Now you?” Matthew persisted.

  Sophie blew out a breath. “Almost thirty.”

  “When’s your birthday?” His voice was soft.

  “Next June.”

  “So, that’s our goal. You will learn how to swim before you turn thirty.”

  “Our goal?” Sophie questioned, she shook her head furiously. “Matthew, this is such a nice gesture. But I really don’t have the time to fit in swimming.”

  “You can’t or won’t?”

  Sophie folded her arms wondering how to respond. “I’m very good at my job. Swimming is absolutely no reflection on my ability.”

  “You spoke of a trauma….”

  She swallowed. “An accident in the water, I almost drowned, and I was down so long, I actually died. I was resuscitated back to life and I’m super lucky there was no brain damage. I’m lucky to be alive, really.” Sophie looked at the ground, regretting having come to the swimming centre.

  “I see.”

  She needed to change the subject. “How long have you known how to swim?” Sophie clung onto her bag.

  “I can’t remember not swimming. I love everything about swimming. It’s like I was born the wrong animal.”

  “So, you’re a natural. You never had any type of trauma or fear. You also said your favourite animal was a dolphin,” she smiled. “Well my favourite animal is a lion. A lioness, if I’m going to get gender-specific. Our circumstances are totally different. Our comfort zones are worlds away. But I can empathise with people, I’m incredibly organised as a project manager, capable and creative and I can get you a winner campaign. So let’s talk about that instead. Do you have more ideas on what you want your whole campaign should entail? I was of the impression we were making a commercial? But of course a marketing campaign can include websites, social media marketing and radio adverts. There are so many options of what you can do to get your message out, create the buzz,” she said, directing the conversation into the reason why she was there.

  “I definitely want to make a commercial. Make it real, use real people. I thought part of it could be shot here. What do you think?” His voice was stiff. Crap, she’d meant to win him over, become friends, get more work. Now, he probably hated her, thought she was a wimp because she wouldn’t get in the pool. Surely this man, of all people would understand? Surely, being a swimming coach, he would have seen other people crippled by water traumas?

  “Well, using the pool..., it all depends on the idea and the concept,” Sophie said.

  He ran his hands through his hair and took a few paces away from her. He shook his head violently. Jeezz, he wasn’t going to fire her over this, was he? Surely he was more professional than that? Her fear was absolutely real. People did have true phobias. Fear of spiders. Arachnophobia. Fear of small spaces. Claustrophobia. Fear of being tickled by feathers. Pteronophobia. Seriously, there were people out there who were scared to be tickled by feathers and Matthew and the rest of the swimming community thought she had problems. People got scared of all sorts of things. Learning how to swim, and drowning, choking on water was her fear, her phobia.

  “Sophie. You’re good at what you do, it’s obvious. To answer your earlier question about what happened eighteen months ago? Well, someone I loved died in the water. I lost that person and was absolutely traumatized about the accident. It completely changed my life.”

  Sophie bit her lip, not knowing what to say.

  “I would feel responsible if anything happened to you. The risk is so high. Your life is so important. I wish you’d think about learning how to swim. I’ve had many trauma clients before. I take things very slowly. I would teach you personally, we can face the fear together so you can live a long and lovely life.”

  Sophie felt herself feel pale. “Someone died in the water? Here?” If someone died in this pool there would be no way she was learning here. It wasn’t safe, she knew it wasn’t safe. But no water was safe, not if you really thought about it.

  “It’s okay, Soph,” he said, noticing her head darting in all directions. A pained expression crossed his face. “She died in the water but not here. Not at my pool, I have lifeguards, and loads of safety equipment. I’d also be in the pool with you, every step of the way.”

  Sophie’s heart was fluttering, surely she could refuse this offer?

  Eve mentioned a girl called Rebecca. It must have been Rebecca who drowned. “I’m so sorry.” She blinked her eyes shut.

  “What do you say, can I teach you? You’d get something out of it. A lifelong skill.”

  She was usually such a persistent, courageous type of girl, ready to try anything. She hated being taught and would rather teach herself. But in the world of phobias, there were two relevant ones which very possibly applied to her specific situation. Fear of drowning. Aquaphobia. Fear of water (and rabies apparently). Hydrophobia.

  “I don’t know if I can…. ” Sophie began breathing in then out. She swallowed, knowing Matthew could possibly turn out to be her biggest client, if she developed a personal connection with him. There was no reason that the advertising company she worked for shouldn’t receive any more revenue, especially since they were in a recession.

  She needed to think about this further, whether this was even a possibility she wanted to contemplate or entertain. Stalling, she came out with an excuse. Her last legitimate concern about this whole situation. Fear of her own white body in the pool. Exposedflabophobia.

  “I don’t own a swimsuit.”

  Matthew released a low chuckle. “Girls….” He raised an eyebrow.

  Face her fear of getting into the water by combining it with wearing a bathing suit. A swimsuit was another nightmare! Her worst shopping experience. “This sounds ridiculous – me in the pool with you, you’re my client. It’s totally unprofessional. It’s crazy. I can’t possibly get in.” Despite the fact, she didn’t want to get in.

  “We’ll keep it professional. You’ll be my client in the pool, and I’ll be your client out of the pool. Besides, I think I know quite a lot about you already, I know the contents of your cluttered handbag – which is so bizarre for someone so organised, so relentless, and so damn persistent. You get results – you even somehow got me to go to a corporate gala dinner, and now you’re here.”

  She found herself laughing, stiffly. “You didn’t actually make it to a table at the gala, a zero success rate there.”

  “No, I didn’t go inside, I’ll explain one day but I’m deeply sorry for not actually going.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this. Think about it. Get back to me.”

  “No. I’ve decided. No. No way.”

  “Think about it,” he insisted. “As a start, you can just get in and we’ll take it from
there.”

  “I need to think about it.”

  “I don’t want to force you. It’s your choice really.”

  Oh God, but was it really her choice? Or was it more of a job requirement considering they were in a recession, the whole of England was firing people, would he fire her now too, because she couldn’t swim? Didn’t want to learn?

  “We’ll see,” she said, shuddering at the very thought of getting in. She was surprised she was even contemplating the idea. She’d better focus on getting slightly into shape if she was going to prance around him in a swimsuit. She’d have to go on a diet, find an emergency exercise programme which included at least one thousand leg raises. If she was going in the pool, it would be on her own terms.

  “I’ll get Eve to call you, or I’ll call you and we can discuss this more later,” he said, very gently. “I’m not going to force you to do this, but I think it would be a good idea for our relationship.”

  What did he mean by that? “You make it sound like we’re married,” she said and he laughed recognising the words he’d said to her earlier in the reception.

  He pointed around the swimming pool, discussing the features of the pool. She didn’t care, finding she could barely concentrate on his words. All she could think about was getting into that water. Did he realise what he was expecting of her? He wanted her to spend the evening with him, half clothed, scared, and wet. She wouldn’t, couldn’t do it.

  Chapter 4

  Rushing from the Highbury Aquatic Center and her disastrous meeting with Matthew Silver, Sophie arrived at her workplace. Her desk was through the corridor with the red splattering motifs (Sophie thought they looked more like psychiatrist’s ink blots), past the kitchen and next to the ‘think tank’ of ideas; a whiteboard covered with coloured flash cards.

  She collapsed in her desk chair, noticing Bradley Clark’s doorway was firmly closed. Hooray, her boss hadn’t noticed she was late. But his personal assistant Jessica Watson was in. “Sophie’s in,” Jessica sang out.