Skinny Dipping (24 page)

“Yeah, he’s probably like a male Ken doll, looks good, but dumb.”

“Oh no, he’s pretty clued onto what people want in the job market. They want intelligent, young people.”

“You’re full of beans, you should get something hands down.”

“No, I’m serious, sweetheart. He told me to take a long hard look at my options. He said it would be next to impossible in this type of market going against young guns.”

“Yeah those with no experience. But you’ve got tons of experience.”

“He said I was stale, being at the Ministry of Defence for so long.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Don’t let it get you down. So you’ll see another recruiter, remember there’s another one set up for next week. It’s good to see a cross section. Want me to come with you?”

“As if the next recruiter’s going to help. I thought I might just circle round London, walk about in the rain on a daily basis.”

“Oh come on Dad, you’ll be right.”

“I should be fine though, I’ll do my best. As sad as that sounds, I can only do my best.”

His voice cracked, he sounded like he was upset.

“Dad, I can come with you. Give you moral support.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“So what time is it again? Next Thursday.”

“I can’t remember.”

“Okay,” Sophie paused. “Are we still on for lunch on Monday?”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Look I’ve got to go. I’ll call you if we’re on.” He hung up the phone, and Sophie stared into the receiver feeling somewhat guilty. She’d upset her Dad.

Sophie made a few more phone calls, checked her email on her smart phone. Finally the fifteen minutes was up and she walked up the stairs.

Matthew furrowed his brow. “Did you touch up your lipstick? I like the colour,” Matthew commented.

“Thanks,” she said, although she hadn’t put any more on.

Maria served the pair the most delicious English breakfast, Sophie noted her eyes glistening and she gave Matthew a large hug as they left.

After breakfast, they both jumped back in his car, although the atmosphere between them was different. He was oddly quiet.

“You okay?” It was her turn.

He nodded, focusing on the road in front of him. “That was hard. But it had to be done. Maria’s going to name a breakfast dish after her.” He almost choked on the words. “You’re right, people need to know.”

Chapter 18

They drove toward the place she used to live in West End with Derek. When they pulled up outside, she slid down into the car seat, feeling somewhat perverted – like a voyeur, while she waited for Derek to leave.

She looked at her watch, impatiently, wondering why he hadn’t emerged yet. Every weekend Derek played football, he always had a game in the morning. It was his passion, and unless he was almost on his death bed, he would go.

Finally the apartment door opened and Derek’s tall figure sauntered down the steps from the Victorian building. “Get down,” Sophie hissed, scooting even deeper into her seat, not wanting him to see her. Matthew crouched down, too.

She fought against her curiosity, looking at the steering wheel. Matthew popped his head up.

“What are you doing?” Sophie hissed.

“Just checking him out? Seeing what type of guy you go for.”

Sophie yanked his arm. “Don’t do that. It doesn’t matter.” But he didn’t move, he sat there with his hands firmly on the steering wheel.

“Is he a wreck?” she squeaked, curiosity washing over her.

Mathew shrugged. “Dunno. Besides, I thought you guys have been broken up for a while now.”

“Yeah.” Sophie slid up a fraction, craning her neck, trying to lift her head so she could catch a glimpse of Derek. She swallowed, seeing his handsome face, there were no dark circles round his eyes. He hadn’t lost weight nor had he put any on. He looked exactly the same.

She closed her eyes. If she kept her eyes closed then maybe it would help her forget to see that he was coping just fine without her. She counted to ten. She continued counting to twenty. Feeling a sense of calm settle on her, she opened her eyes, her gaze darting wildly around the street, searching for him.

“He’s gone,” Matthew said, opening the car door.

Sophie jumped out of her car, fighting off embarrassment. They walked to the front door of her old apartment, and she opened it with her old keys.

Matthew carried cardboard boxes dropping them inside. “You know, initially I thought it would be only a matter of weeks before we got back together. I thought he’d miss me. But….”

“You’re handling this all with maturity, giving him space. I get that. But paying rent while you weren’t living there was too nice. You should have done this sooner.”

Sophie scanned the place, hoping to find signs of his grief. From a glance, the apartment looked clean.

“What do you want me to do?” Matthew asked standing at the doorway.

“I just need to get my mail.” She scanned the in-tray and shook her head at the pyramid of letters almost toppling over. At least he wasn’t coping with his mail.

She breathed in, her hands fumbled over the letters addressed to her. She shoved her unopened mail in her handbag and she prowled into the kitchen.

“Can I help in here maybe?” He looked at her, an odd expression on his face as she opened the fridge. There was no chocolate or pizza; the fridge was filled with vegetables. Then she saw it, the book right next to the cook top. Gordon Ramsay. A blooming Gordon Ramsay cookbook. Although, Gordon was her second favorite celebrity chef, their house had been one hundred percent Jamie Oliver territory. Derek had changed the rules. He might even be cooking. Feck Derek – he was coping without her.

“Yep, okay, I need the crockery in those two cupboards boxed up,” she instructed. “I’ll start with the bedroom.”

She almost ran to the bedroom, and heaved the wardrobe doors open, gazing at his clothes. She had an overwhelming urge to run her hands over his suits. With both hands she held the lapels of the first one and pressed her nose into the jacket collar. Her hands shook as she inhaled, closing her eyes to concentrate. Breathing in, she crinkled her nose. She hoped to capture the scent of the suit, urging it to waft up and into her nostrils. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she realised the only scent was Derek’s sandalwood aftershave. She stepped back, looking at his suits, and wiped her eyes with her forearm. She extracted herself. “This is over. He doesn’t love me. He wouldn’t fight for me. If he loved me, he’d be here today, wanting to talk things through and he wouldn’t have cheated.” She began folding her dresses and placing them into a suitcase.

“Sophie, I’m done, now what?” Matthew called from the lounge. “You okay?” he asked as she came into the room.

“Yeah, fine. Just going through a few bits and bobs.” She sighed. “Could you please pack up those books?”

“Sure,” he said, kneeling to the ground and starting to fill the next box.

Sophie moved through the apartment, the vegetables in the fridge, the clean apartment, the immaculate suits. She prowled to the bathroom, flinging open the vanity mirror and analyzing the products. There were no traces of Georgina, and she smiled wickedly.

Feelings of shame hit her, why shouldn’t Derek move on? After all, she’d left. No matter what the circumstances were, she was the one who left.

She thrust the shame aside, and want back out to the lounge, placing herself next to Matthew who was diligently filling cardboard boxes. They worked together, filling the boxes with her remaining belongings, then ferried out the full cardboard boxes to the car, thoughts whirring in her mind.

“I think we’re done,” she said, then held up the keys. “I’ll just leave these.” She ran back into the apartment, and visited every room in the apartment one last time, checking every cupboard to make sure she had removed everything she owned. She wasn’t going to go back inside this apartment ever. It was Derek’s apartment now, not their apartment.

Sophie scribbled a note on a piece of paper.

“Derek

Here are my keys. Please forward my mail.

Sophie.”

Her hands shook as she put the note on the floor directly in front of the door so he would trip over it when he came in. Returning the keys would be a symbol of finality. It was an action she couldn’t undo. She touched her key ring, the keychain with the tennis ball, her lucky tennis ball.

There was no point keeping it. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

Matthew watched with an odd expression on his face. “Why aren’t you keeping the keychain?”

“He gave it to me, I should really give it back, I don’t need the reminder.”

“Okay…” He wandered to the car, his hands in his pockets.

Sophie slammed the door, leaving the keys inside.

Matthew was sitting in the car with the radio on. He grinned at her. “So we need to discuss Swan Lake. Do we have tickets?”

She felt herself laughing, almost hysterically. “No, not yet. I need to discuss it with Mickey.”

“I’ve never met Mickey, tell me about her and how Mickey, you and I are going to Swan Lake.”

She began to talk, trying to forget she’d just moved. She could forget Derek; it wasn’t like she had much choice. She was lucky Matthew was there, he was really quite fantastic.

***

Matthew helped Sophie take the boxes up to her room. The boxes filled the tiny room. Even stacked in the corners and along the walls, they were impossible to ignore. Her bed was almost unable to be reached, every inch of her floor was covered with boxes or suitcases.

Mickey turned up, practically running into Matthew who was sitting on the outside steps, taking a breather.

Mickey wore a black baseball cap, but instead of her usual skinny black jeans she was wearing a flowing black dress. Her red hair was shiny, like it was just washed. She looked like she’d had a makeover.

Sophie eyed her curiously, wondering what the change in attire was all about.

“You must be Matthew?” Mickey asked, unable to hide the interest in Matthew.

He nodded and extended his hand out to greet her.

“I’m Mickey. Sophie mentioned you were going to the ballet with us?” Mickey continued, always direct.

Matthew nodded. “Yep, that’s right. It’s good to meet you. Soph’s told me all about you. You own your own coffee shop.”

“Yeah, it’s in Highbury. I guess your pool is nearby. My café is called
Beans
.”

“Cool. I’m kind of a coffee addict.”

“Well excellent. England’s full of tea drinkers, so it’s nice to have someone on my side every once in a while.”

“So the ballet. I’ve never been to one. But Sophie sounds thrilled about it.”

Mickey shot Sophie a glance. “It should be fun to see Carol. We should have drinks beforehand or something.” She shrugged. “And if you’re sure you’re okay with going, I’ll buy the tickets tomorrow.”

“Course,” Matthew smiled, then looking between the two, he gave his leave and left the apartment.

Sophie led Mickey up to her room, instructed her not to say a word, but simply pour herself a glass of the wine and sit quietly on her bed.

With a glass of wine in her hand, Sophie began to unpack. It was time to start facing facts, and be honest with herself.

She rifled through the boxes, identifying every trinket and present Derek had ever given her. Cards and love letters. Necklaces. Something needed to be done about these. She couldn’t keep them – but, she mused, Christmas was coming and what great charity contributions she could offer. She put them all into a plastic bag.

Mickey was oddly quiet, her eyes off in a distant place, a dreamy look flashing over her face every now and again.

“Okay, something’s up,” Sophie finally said. “You’ve not uttered one word, you who can’t stop talking. You didn’t even comment on Matthew. I’ve been waiting for it.”

“What do you mean? I thought you didn’t want me to say anything. I’ve been very quiet, sitting here, drinking.”

“What’s with you?”

Mickey shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Tell me, what’s going on with you?”

“An old friend, Artie. I thought I’d take him to see Carol’s show too.”

“Really? Artie, the guy from university that you kind of know?”

“Yeah, he was my first ever customer at my coffee cart. I used to call him Mister Skinny Cappuccino because that we his favourite drink. He’d come to my coffee cart every morning I was open, and would chat to me for hours. Then he just, you know, he finished his degree and I never saw him again.”

“Okay. So there’ll be four of us. Josh has already seen the show.”

Mickey nodded. “Yeah.”

“So how exactly did Artie get in contact?”

“The strangest thing, he came into my coffee shop, like my coffee shop. What are the chances?”

“Yeah, what are the chances? I thought he had a fiancé at university?”

“Not anymore. He came into my coffee shop, sat down and spoke to me like he used to do at university. We picked up from where we had left it. I don’t know what to make of it.” She changed the subject abruptly. “Matthew seems nice, helping you get your stuff and coming to the theatre.” Mickey raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t read too much into it. We were both drunk when I asked him.”

“So, it is like a date?”

“No, no, we’re just friends.”

Mickey shrugged. “Ah….” Mickey sat on the bed, watching dreamily as Sophie held clothes up as she went along. If she was going to fit in her small room, she definitely needed to discard some items.

She held up a blue skirt. “Too short? Keep or ditch?”

“Not too short, just right,” Mickey said, without saying much more, watching incredulously at the volume of things Sophie managed to collect. “Keep it.”

Sophie hung the dress up in her wardrobe. “Red sweater?”

“Last season.” Mickey said.

“Keep or discard?”

“Hmmm.”

“Last season, so discard, right?”

“But I do like it. It’s very flattering on.”

By nine o’clock in the evening, the tiny room was tidy. Clean. Clear. Sophie turned around, surveying the room with a smug expression. The boxes were flat, empty, sitting there innocently by the door, waiting to go out.