Chapter 4
The memory was crystal clear. She gasped in terror as it flashed through her mind. A young, five year old Sophie fell from the edge of her uncle's pool. Her legs circled the air as though she rode a bicycle. The sensation of her toes, hitting and shooting through the water was unfamiliar. She sank heavily like a stone. Down. Down. Down. With horrifying speed the water trapped her as though she were stuck in quick sand.
Her body was swallowed, like being pulled into the mouth of some horrible gigantic creature. She struggled and clawed at the transparent water prison. She longed to escape and rise to the surface.
Try as she might, she couldn’t climb. When she opened her mouth to scream, her throat formed a funnel. The water flowed in fast waves, filling her lungs and flooding her chest. Her nose hurt, the feeling like choking on the bubbles of a fizzy drink. Water sloshed in her ears and panic screamed through her body. Her eyes felt like they were popping out of their sockets. She needed air. The pain was hard and intense. The need became urgent. Air. Glorious air. All she could think about was her inability to breathe.
She felt herself fade and the world blacked out. She was drowning... no, she was dying. Too young to know she was dying, but certainly dying.
She died for three minutes.
Her uncle saw her in the pool and hauled her out. He clumsily resuscitated her and she was taken to hospital. Her body healed, but the memory stayed, etched so deeply into the back of her brain that she never got into the water again.
Now Sophie was in Oxford Street where shopping was war, looking for a Godforsaken swimsuit. She still hadn’t made up her mind, but it was better to be prepared. Clenching her fists, sticking her elbows out slightly for protection, she walked; the crowd bustled in both directions giving her no chance to stop. Sophie pushed into the thick of it, amongst those seriously committed to shopping, caught in a group snaking forward along the pavement. Sophie sidestepped, blindly moving off the Oxford Street pavement into the road. A deafening horn blasted and tyres screeched from a red, double-decker bus skidding as it avoided meandering pedestrians.
Beside her, Carol panted hard. Her hair was combed back into a perfect bun. Her makeup was flawless, with an eyeliner stroke extended to create the illusion of an extra eyelash. Her foundation covered a sprinkling of freckles, and blusher accentuated her cheekbones.
“Maybe we should call it quits?”
“No.” Sophie’s voice quavered, determined. Resolve and persistence kept her going. Learning how to swim could be her big opportunity to build stronger ties with the Silver Leisure Group. She just needed to get in.
“We’ve been to at least ten shops. I don’t think you’re going to find a swimsuit in October. You should have bought one in summer,” Carol stated.
“I need one now,” Sophie said firmly. “I’m not going to go to come away empty-handed.”
Carol put her hand on her hip, eyeing Sophie carefully. “Okay, the department stores must have a few in stock. Maybe we just haven’t looked hard enough. Selfridges is the biggest, we should go back there.”
“You’re right, let’s go back.” Sophie said. As they turned around, she touched Carol's arm. “Thanks for coming with me. I know you have your call back audition later on.” Another dance company was interested in Carol.
“Happy to help. I’ve only got another hour before I need to go though. I need to go to the studio to warm up beforehand.”
“Are you ready for it?” Sophie asked, looking out onto the street, analysing the traffic. A red light shone at the intersection. Traffic came to a halt, signalling a perfect time to cross.
“Yeah, I'm ready, though they haven’t said anything about me dancing as a principal or even a soloist. But an audition is still an audition.” Carol followed Sophie.
The pair entered Selfridges, squinting from the bright lights. They weaved around the different perfume counters, rebuffing sales clerks. Carol stopped at a cosmetics counter, selected a tester sample and sprayed herself. The sweet smell of perfume mingled with the other scents in the huge hall. Sophie tugged Carol’s coat and urged her through the maze of accessories and up the escalators to the women’s department.
“You’ve only got one hour, and since you know the intricacies concerning lycra, I need you. We’ve got to focus.”
Carol nodded. “Okay. But honestly, do you think you’ll go through with the lessons?”
Sophie swallowed. “I really don’t want to, but I might have no choice,” she admitted.
“Didn’t your parents try and get you to learn when you were young?”
“By the time they’d organised a few private lessons, I was so terrified of water that I refused to get into the pool, did everything I could not to get in.”
“Your hotty instructor should help reduce your fears, Soph. You’ve got a one-track mind when you want something… like a swimsuit. You’ll do it, and you'll be fine. ”
Out of the corner of her eye Sophie noticed a woman with wrinkled skin and orange fake tan, holding a glittering piece of lycra. A swimsuit. Sophie squealed in delight and ran over to the rack. The woman flattened a floral print one piece swimsuit against her body.
The rack was bursting with clearance summer items: sarongs, towels, and bikinis. Sophie eyed a bikini and picked it up. She touched the flimsy material and shuddered. She might as well wear her underwear in the pool. She would be practically naked in a bikini. But bikinis were fashionable, and Sophie liked to make an impact with clothing.
She looked down at her legs, hoping they were in proportion. Everyone would notice her knobbly knees. What a nightmare: Matthew Silver seeing her creamy white thighs that hadn’t seen light in years. She would probably blind people with the whiteness of her body. Embarrassing. No one she worked with got to see that.
“Now since you’re a dancer and you know everything about leotards and skimpy things. I need your help. I need to make my legs look longer.”
“It’s a swimming lesson not a hot bod contest. Maybe something practical, that you’ll feel comfortable in? Have you had a wax yet?”
Sophie felt her cheeks go hot as the other shopper’s head darted up and her eyes settled on both of them. “Of course.” No. Carol didn’t need to know about the state of her pubes that was for sure. Some things just didn’t need to be spoken about. Sophie mentally decided she'd better get a Brazilian. She didn’t need hair sticking out in the wrong places. She also needed to take care of herself, there was always the possibility of getting back together with Derek. He wouldn’t be overly excited if she looked like an orangutan down there.
“Should I get a spray tan, too? Would that help my wobbly bits look better?” she said, facing the rack of swimsuits. “Maybe something padded will look good?”
Carol scowled at Sophie. “Let’s just focus.” She pulled a red swimsuit from the rack and Sophie wrinkled her nose.
“It’s very red,” Sophie commented. Her eyes fell on a black number and she reached for it. “Now black is slimming.” Her fingers tightened on the garment to show it to Carol, but she felt a pull in the opposite direction.
Sophie’s eyes narrowed. The other woman held the bottom piece of the swimsuit. The woman tugged at the garment but Sophie’s grip tightened. “I’ve got this, and you’ve already got three pieces tucked under your arm,” Sophie said, trying to sound reasonable.
“I don’t have black,” the woman said through clenched teeth. “Besides, you’re too fat to wear a size eight.”
Sophie’s heart constricted at the words and her eyes narrowed. “I’m not fat. I’m a perfect size eight, a nice normal size.”
The woman let out a cackle as her eyes scanned Sophie’s frame haughtily. “Whatever you think.”
Sophie glowered. How the hell did this woman know what size she was? It wasn’t as if she did Sophie's washing. Okay, so she was pushing size eight, more of a size ten, but that was Sophie’s decision. She believed that once you bought the larger size, you gave up, and Sophi
e did not give up.
“Let’s work this out rationally. Flip a coin or something, or we’ll tear it,” Sophie suggested, forcing a smile, trying to use words and charm to resolve the situation.
The woman shrugged. “Sure,” she said. Sophie’s eye darted at Carol and then back at the woman. She relaxed her grip. The fabric was suddenly yanked out of her fingertips. The woman snatched the swimsuit away.
“In your dreams darling,” the woman snarled, holding her prize. “I told you it was mine.” She dashed through the racks.
“Bitch,” Sophie breathed, desperately wanting to chase after the woman. A security guard watched the scene. Sophie threw her hands up in the air, hating the feeling of being taken. Carol reached over and rubbed Sophie’s shoulder.
“Did you see that?” Sophie gasped.
“Remember, you’re the more mature person. Whatever we get today, we can get you something else online. Remember, you’re just getting something for your first lesson and not for eternity.”
“I can’t believe that just happened.”
“This one's all they have in a one piece that will fit you. And Sophie? For the record, you look like a size eight to me.” Carol smiled and lifted up the swimsuit.
Sophie eyes smarted. “It’s not black. It’s bright, bloody red. I’m going to look foolish enough in the pool without anyone looking at colour.”
“Keep your chin up.”
“I'd rather keep my fists up. What law says I can’t get into shopping wars?”
“It’s a temporary solution,” Carol continued.
Sophie snatched the swimsuit from Carol. “Okay, fine. This will do.” She stopped with a gasp as she saw someone familiar.
“Sophie?” Carol responded.
Sophie felt the colour drain from her face. Her mind whirred. She manoeuvred through the racks, weaving through them to get closer. The man appeared to be the same height and have the same slim build. He stepped onto the escalators, descending down to the next level. She could only see his back, his dark hair – looking like none other than Derek.
She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. They hadn’t spoken since she'd moved out.
Sophie headed trance-like to the escalator, her feet jumping on. She stood five people behind the black haired head and tried to compose her thoughts as the escalator descended. She opened and closed her mouth, then firmly shut it. She didn’t dare call out.
“Sophie,” Carol hissed from the escalator step behind her.
Sophie pointed to the man walking off the bottom and disappearing into the perfume section. By the time she'd reached the ground floor, Derek stood at a perfume counter.
“Derek’s here," Sophie whispered. "Should I say hi…or should I pretend to run into him? I haven’t seen him since we broke up – which, to be honest, was only a few days ago.”
Carol took the swimsuit from Sophie. “Go on…you don’t want to look like a stalker though.”
“If I run into him, I won’t have to call him. I can just talk to him. See what happens, see if he misses me.” See if he wants me back.
Derek spoke to the assistant and Sophie lingered on the spot, wondering what her next move should be. “It’s the Chanel counter,” Sophie murmured. A hand came up to her chest, a smile to her lips. Holy hell. She loved Chanel. Her favourite. This was good news. The best news she’d had all week. Chanel was the first perfume that Derek ever gave her
“He looks good,” Carol said.
He was cute, with his taut jaw line, perfect nose, and inquiring eyes. Derek paid for the perfume and slipped the package into his suit pocket. Sophie hovered by the makeup counter, picking up a lip gloss, gazing at him. Should she just let him give her the Chanel, pretend she didn’t know he wanted to get back together? Or should she face the music and see him? The sooner she got back together with him, the better, she supposed.
“Go on, speak to him,” Carol urged.
Sophie brushed down her skirt and lifted her head high. “Wish me luck.”
As she approached she saw a broad smile spread across his face, the one where his lips twitched and moved into a perfect smile. She swallowed, lowering her lashes, not wanting to get lost looking into his handsome face, his coal-dark eyes. Her chest tightened, constricted, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She lifted her lashes and took a step forward.
“Derek,” Sophie called.
He looked up, his eyes growing wide like a deer caught in the headlights when he saw her. He froze. “What are you doing here?” he barked.
“Just shopping.”
“Since when aren’t you working on the weekend?”
Sophie frowned. “I don’t work all the time.”
He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, you only worked when I wanted to see you.”
She swallowed. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing just fine,” Derek replied. A woman waltzed up next to him.
Sophie froze, her eyes narrowed at the girl.
“Hello,” the blonde said. Beautiful and tall, she stood comfortably next to Derek. Sophie had never seen this girl in her life. She racked her brain – no, she wasn’t one of their mutual friends.
Sophie's gaze darted between Derek and the blonde. “Hello,” Sophie said, unable to think of anything witty or clever to say.
“I’m Georgina. Nice to meet you.” She smiled down at Sophie from atop her incredibly long legs.
Sophie felt her breath quicken, a hand flying to her face. How was she going to remember a name like Georgina? But how could she forget it? She could be Derek’s new woman, and what if she was? Sophie could already hear herself cursing the name Georgina, and could feel herself screaming the name countless times in her sleep.
“Um..., hi, I’m Sophie,” she said tearing her gaze away from the girl’s beautiful face, her clear skin and green eyes.
“Georgina.” The name rhymed with arena, ballerina. Carol was the ballerina, so if she used an image of a ballerina, she’d surely get confused. The girl was particularly memorable with striking beauty. Hyena. Yes. What a great rhyming word, perfect with a disgusting, house-wrecking name like Georgina. Narrowing her eyes, Sophie couldn’t match ‘hyena’ to any aspect of her physical appearance. Pity. Semolina. The image of the girl’s face mashed into a bowl filled with thick semolina was almost enough to make Sophie smile. Almost.
“Well. It was very nice to see you,” Sophie continued, as both Derek and Georgina stood awkwardly. “Gosh, I'd better go,” Sophie said, and she fled.
Her feet flew in the opposite direction, away from Derek and past Carol who stood with a lipstick held tightly in her fingers. “Let’s get out of here,” Sophie hissed as she passed her.
It had been days. Days! He’d got over her pretty quickly, that was for sure. Or had he been cheating on her? Sophie's chest constricted. He’d been cheating on her. There was no other explanation. You don’t just go and buy Chanel perfume for a new girlfriend. You buy Chanel for someone you know, someone you love.
Cheating. Cheating. Cheating. Cheating. Cheating. Cheating. Lying bastard.
Sophie's pulse was racing, her breathing was fast.
“Is that a friend or his new squeeze? She’s f’ugly.”
“F’ugly,” Sophie agreed, feeling her heart beat quickly, knowing the girl had been drop dead gorgeous.
“She’s just shopping with him. She could be anyone… a friend, anyone,” Carol murmured, although Sophie could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
Sophie dared a look over her shoulder. Of course they were together. The pair remained huddled over the Chanel counter. The least Derek could do was go out with someone with different taste to her.
“If he felt anything for me, he would have explained to me what was going on there.” But why did she deserve that right? They had broken up. She just thought he might care, might respect her enough to explain, to try and reduce the pain throbbing in her chest.
Sophie continued to rush towards
the doors of the department store, swimsuit clutched in a grip of death. Carol looked concerned but stayed silent.
“I think... well... I think he cheated on me,” Sophie finally 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. “He did.”
“He’s a dick,” Carol said.
“Yeah. A dick.”
“Let’s go buy this,” Carol muttered. In a zombie-like trance Sophie walked back to the swimsuit counter and paid. She didn’t even bother to try it on. What was the point in all the effort, when a guy just dumped you? Cheated 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.
Sophie was shaking, thoughts racing through her mind. “Do you think I work too much?” she asked, clutching the bag with the new swimsuit. Was it her fault he cheated?
“Yes,” Carol said softly, glancing at the bag. “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 partner more willing to compromise.”
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?
She grasped the bag containing the red swimsuit. Her job couldn’t hurt her, not like the sensation now rippling through her. All the times he’d told her he loved her. Lies.
“I do love my work,” Sophie muttered, mostly to herself, and as she walked with Carol to the tube she focused her thoughts, deciding to immediately email 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. Georgina. Fucking Georgina, fucking Derek. She’d left some of her things at Derek’s place. The mistake of an innocent, naïve woman. Not anymore.
She felt dizzy, and clutching the swimsuit she asked Carol to hold on for a second and began to type into her smart phone. She needed to clear her head, to change somehow. Forget Derek.
Maybe swimming lessons could help her.
From:
[email protected] Sent: 05 October 2007 13:31
To:
[email protected] Subject: Swimming Proposition
Hi Matthew,
Just a quick note to say I have been thinking about the swimming proposition. I’ve shopped and if you’re serious then 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