Skinny Dipping (2 page)

The fight wasn’t about cooking and Sophie knew that. Derek was angry because he felt that she loved her work more than him. Cooking was just an example of something she would do, to prove her commitment to him. Quite simply, he felt second best.

He gave her an ultimatum, to choose between working at
Clarks
or on their relationship. A letter of resignation would suffice. Since Derek owned the apartment, he held the final say and if she wanted to continue at her job, she needed to find a new place to live – immediately.

Sophie packed. She wouldn’t quit her job and with an ultimatum like his, she certainly wouldn’t cook for him. She wouldn’t even open his can of tuna. Nothing. She’d do nothing for him.

Her choice was evident when Sophie loaded her car with boxes. Sophie left Derek – only last night. No time for tears. He’d miss her. He’d come round. She was strong and she could handle this separation, and still perform at work.

She slept in the backseat of the car and went to work the very next day. No one at work was the wiser and she wasn’t about to mention it either.

The fight was less than twenty four hours ago and she was barely holding herself together. Clarks still expected Sophie to attend the gala evening, although she didn’t want to get dressed in the backseat. She would find an alternative. Sophie Smart was a solutions kind of girl.

She thrust the car door open, plastered a grin on her face.
Think positive, think winner.
Smiles were an important part of the sales process. They were cheap, and often closed deals in the sales game. A flat interview was no different. This time, she was selling herself.

Holding a printout of the online advertisement, she checked the address and identified house number 129. The advert specified the room was available immediately. If this flat interview didn’t work out, her solution would involve another night in her Volkswagen Beetle, or possibly a low budget hotel. She desperately didn’t want to ask her parents or friends for any form of assistance. She didn’t want to discuss what happened with Derek and she didn’t need help. Not yet anyway. She was quite capable of sorting out her accommodation situation.

There was a small gate to 129. She walked up the set of steps. A feeling of déjà vu flooded her body, the steps. This was after all the third ascension to an unfamiliar house she’d visited this afternoon, for three separate flat interviews. Feeling panicked, the two previous flats hadn’t worked. Would this one be okay?

Shifting her shoulders back, she inhaled the fresh September air and took a deep breath in. Third time lucky, right?

At the bright blue front door, she rang the buzzer. Her eyes darted around, looking at the leafy street, lined with Victorian houses. Would the girl living here possibly like her and would they get along? What if she were a freak? Other than the brief phone call to confirm the time for the flat viewing, she was meeting a stranger.

Sophie felt her chest tighten, feeling a sudden surge of irrational panic. No one knew she was there. She was so stupid not let anyone know about the flat interviews. Why did she always have to be so strong? Not that anything was going to happen, nothing happened at the other two flat interviews, but you never know. Not really. Doubt crept into the back of mind.

Sophie felt inside her handbag, and found her mobile phone. She released a sigh of relief, as long as she had her cell phone, she’d be okay. Besides, everything was going to turn out alright. It always did. She pressed the door buzzer again, brushing down any visible creases from her short black dress. Her killer heels gave her calves that little extra lift, and you never knew when you needed to use your female charms to the best of your advantage. A top tip she’d learnt in her advertising sales course was to dress to impress. Make an impact. Apparently people made an assessment of you within thirty quick seconds.

A thin blonde girl opened the door, wearing large false eyelashes, her hair up in curling rollers. Sophie forced her lips up into a broad smile, and tried desperately not to let her eyes scan the girls outfit, nor make a judgement. She needed this room.

“Sorry to keep you. I got the last roller tangled.” The girl fluttered her eyelashes. “You must be Sophie Smart, here to look at the room?” Her voice sounded nice.

“Yes.”

The girl’s outfit made an impact, but aimed at a different target audience. She wore long chequered pantaloons with bright pink leg warmers. Her fingernails were sparkly with silver glitter, and about five centimetres long. Too long to be real, most probably fake. Why would anyone want or need five centimetre nails, unless she was trying to be Cat Woman or Spiderman with webs flying out of fingertips?

“I’m Carol Cartwright.”

Sophie instantly noticed the girl’s angular features and nodded. Her mind began whirling, using another technique she’d learnt from her advertising sales course. The girl’s name was Carol and she had a pixie like face. The images swirled in her imagination. Carol’s smiling face wearing a small green pixie hat, an elf hat, singing Christmas carols. She’s done it, connected the name Carol with Christmas carols. That’s how she’d remember her name. Carol. Carol. Carol.

“Nice to meet you, Carol,” she said, saying the name aloud, hoping to ingrain it further into her mind.

Carol extended her hand out to Sophie. “You, too,” Carol said, her handshake firm. She pushed open the door. “Come on in.” She led Sophie into the apartment. Sophie exhaled as she stepped over the threshold.

Her head darted around, taking in the décor, looking for something calming, trying desperately to stop her imagination from running away with her. Her cell phone was safely in her bag and Carol was not going to turn out to be a serial killer. Sophie already had viewed two flats previously. Everything was going to be just fine.

Her gaze focused. Her breathing slowed. Ah, the lovely timber corridor, high vaulted ceilings and a sunroof in the living room, ideal for winter. She followed Carol outside to examine the garden. More of a courtyard, paving stones and pebbles creating a perimeter near the fence.

“Sometimes we get cats,” Carol said, definitely not serial killer speech, referring to cats. Still possibly a candidate for Cat Woman. “They’re either stray cats or the neighbour’s cats, but they sit in the sun, just there. Soak it up when they get the chance.” She pointed to a spot where a few herb plants grew. There were trees forming a leafy canopy over an outdoor table and chairs, and a passion fruit vine wound itself along the fence.

“It’s lovely out here, and very quiet,” Sophie commented, imagining herself sitting outside with a gin and tonic or a cup of tea, depending on the time of day, of course.

“Yes, I like it, very peaceful in the summer,” Carol beamed.

Sophie nodded. She wouldn’t be here for summer; she’d only need the room temporarily. Derek would change his mind. Despite his freak out, she still loved him.

Temporary or not, she wanted this flat, the living space was huge and airy. She flashed a smile, aiming for a mixture of friendly and fun. If she kept this pretence up, stayed strong, she might just get through this and secure a bedroom.

Back inside, Carol directed her up a set of internal stairs. “This is the room,” Carol said, standing by the doorway and Sophie poked her head in.

“It looks lovely.”

“Go on, have a real look around, get the feel for living here.”

Sophie walked in and went to the most important feature of the room, the wardrobe. “Do you mind if I open it?”

Carol shrugged. “There’s not much hanging space,” Carol said. “My cupboard’s a little bigger but I have to store costumes and things like that.”

That’s right. Carol mentioned on the phone she was a dancer. Her outfit made sense now. The pantaloons were covering her tights, so she wouldn’t get holes in them. But the nails….

“Yes,” Sophie murmured, assessed the wardrobe, and the possibility of how many work outfits would fit. If she squashed her clothes in, hung several cardigans on the same hanger, although the wardrobe was not large, the space would be adequate as a temporary solution. Sophie’s chest tightened,
what if it weren’t temporary
, and turning abruptly, her knee hit the bed frame.

Carol laughed, a little awkwardly. “The room is a little cozy.” Her laugh was light, easy. In fact, Carol seemed like she was a happy-go-lucky kind of person, someone who would be ideal to hang around in the state she was in, down on love.

“The room’s really great.”

“I did the interior design myself. I chose the bed cover.” Gaudy, bright, but Sophie could change that. “The lamp. The hand towels in the bathroom.” The towels were almost fluorescent yellow, clashing with the purple drapes and opposite to Sophie’s conservative taste. Again, Sophie could do a little bit of personalization.

“Very bright.”

“I’ve got quite an eye.” Carol nodded. “This would be of course your private bathroom, it’s very…intimate.”

Intimate was a positive spin on the bathroom description. Sophie looked at Carol, impressed by her attitude, her smile infectious. Sophie peered into the tiny boxlike shower. She would barely be able to bend over and shave her legs.

Opposite the shower was a small wash basin and toilet. All amenities cramped into the narrow room. A small space wasn’t quite what she was used to, but she didn’t like her other choices.

She looked at Carol, making her final assessment. So what if Carol had absolutely no taste in clothes and wore fingernails more suitable for a feline? She didn’t seem like someone she would ordinarily hang out with, but maybe that was precisely what she needed – someone who was a bit of fun.

Sophie glanced again around the room, taking a deep breath. “When can I move in?” Sophie asked, feeling her chest squeeze. “If you’d have me of course?”

“You can move in today if you want to?” Carol grinned, and Sophie felt herself smiling back. Carol was lovely, really lovely. No serial killer in sight here.

“Perfect, do you think I could move in this afternoon?” Sophie’s excitement began to mount, she’d done it, almost, turned a bad situation into something good. She’d been proactive, persistent, and taken a huge risk coming into a stranger’s flat. If Carol wanted her, she could unload her car, get dressed for the advertising gala and no one at work would be the wiser.

“Of course, whatever suits you, I’m easy,” Carol enthused and digesting the information Carol fished through her wallet, found the keys, and handed them to her. “I can’t be here to help you move in as I’ve got to get the hot rollers out of my hair, and then dash off to an audition in less than thirty minutes.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Sounds like it’s a lot to do in very little time, but finding a dancing job in a recession is very difficult. I lost my position as lead soloist at my old dance company. There was a new Director of Dance, you see. I didn’t know he was married and he had a crush on me. He took me out. His wife found out. You can guess the rest of the story because I got let go.” She smiled awkwardly. “Never a good idea to mix business with pleasure. I’ve learnt my lesson.”

“Good luck with the audition, and don’t let the director fall in love with you this time,” Sophie started. “Maybe try and look as ugly as possible.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Carol laughed. “Good luck with the move. Now you’re right on your own?”

“I’ll be fine moving and I’m off to an advertising gala later tonight.” Sophie didn’t need anyone to help her with boxes, she could easily do it all herself. Besides she didn’t really know Carol, so it was probably better she didn’t touch any of her stuff, yet.

“That sounds cool. I’ll have to find out all the details from you afterwards. Please – this is your house now, so make yourself at home. Remember not to mix business with pleasure and I’m so sorry to dash off.” She gave a slight wave and left the room. Sophie heard her clambering down the stairs.

Sophie looked around the room, it was small. The move was temporary. She could live with temporary.

Chapter 2

Sophie sat on the bed in her new Highbury home, almost hyperventilating with relief. The tension and the all-consuming, claustrophobic fear slowly faded. She’d done it. She’d succeeded against all odds. Moved from Derek’s, found a home, and no one, no one, was the wiser.

She waited until Carol left for her audition before contemplating her packed car. The red Volkswagen Beetle was crammed full of boxes. Hoisting items out of the trunk, she carried crates, cartons, and suitcases into her new flat, up the stairs and into her tiny room.

She dumped her things, creating a cluttered space, a labyrinth of boxes. The walls of the already cramped room seemed to somehow inch closer.

She ripped open suitcases, until she found her own bed linens, and made her bed; her first step to settling in. Feelings of loneliness washed round her and the silence of the empty house became deafening. This prompted her to turn on her mobile digital radio, and she set the station to something upbeat. This wasn’t the time for soppy love songs of unrequited love or self pitying tears. The next mission was quite obvious. Sophie needed to get gala ready. The faster the better.

As she stepped into the only cocktail dress she’d bought from Derek’s house some type of elation pulsated through her. Everything was going to work out. The flat. The room. Possibly even Matthew Silver. She pulled a fake fur wrap around her shoulders, she was ready. She grabbed her handbag and raced out the front door. All she needed now was a taxi and she was right on course to finally meet Matthew Silver.

***

“I think we’re a few blocks away,” she said brightly to the taxi driver. She gripped the fake fur wrap round her shoulders as the taxi cut across three lanes of traffic, seeming to race a sleek, black Porsche, both vehicles driving neck to neck, neither car slowing. The hotel appeared in the distance. The taxi’s indicator immediately sounded and the car accelerated. Sophie was hurled back into her seat. “Maybe we don’t need to go so fast, since we’re practically there,” she said, looking fearfully out the window. “I really don’t mind if we slow down a little.” A chill ran up Sophie’s spine as the taxi cut across the Porsche’s path. Tires screeched. A deafening sound. Sophie whispered a final prayer. The Porsche came to a screaming, appalling stop and halted, stopped still on the main road, avoiding a collision.
Thank God.