That night after work, Sophie went to the Highbury Aquatic Centre. Her thoughts were crowded: her father’s unemployment, the possibility of his being suicidal, and the choice of whether to tell her mum or not. As she signed the book at reception, she didn’t even notice Matthew’s figure lingering behind the counter.
Eventually she put the pen down and caught Matthew’s eye. He smiled and winked. His gaze deliberately drifted up at the clock. “You’re thirty minutes early. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you were excited to see me.” He grinned.
“You’re hoping.” She laughed, tension eased away from her chest.
“Here’s to hoping,” he chuckled.
“It has been a hell of a day.” Sophie sighed.
His face was full of concern. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
Before realising what she was doing, Sophie sat down at the little seat near the reception desk.
Feeling the same safety as in a confessional booth, Sophie began. “This is kind of personal,” she started. “Someone I know might be depressed. Do you think swimming might help?”
He paused. “I’m not a doctor or anything, but they say depression is a cycle people fall into.” A curious expression flittered over his gaze.
“I’ve heard that, too.”
“Getting active, apparently, gives people positive benefits and can help break the cycle. Don’t take that as medical advice or anything because I have absolutely no medical background.”
“Yes, I’ve heard sport’s supposed to be good for depression.” Sophie released a breath. “Thanks for listening.”
Matthew reached out and squeezed her palm. “Are you okay?” He squeezed again. “Are you depressed?”
“No.” Sophie snatched her hand away. “It’s not me. I promise.”
“You sure?” A line furrowed his brow. “The lead up to winter can be quite tough for a lot of people, with less and less light.”
“I promise I’m fine.” With another sigh, Sophie revealed her problem. “I’m worried about my dad.”
“Your dad?”
“He lost his job about a month ago… didn’t tell anyone.” She swallowed. “He’s been acting strangely, coming into London every day. I only found out because….”
“Because….”
A lump formed in her throat. “He broke down at the train station. A policeman came to visit me at work and told me about his anxiety attack.”
“Really?” Matthew’s jaw dropped, but recovering quickly, he pulled it back up. He smiled, but there was no mistaking the worry in his eyes. “Sport can be good for anxiety, stress relief, too.”
She nodded. “Apparently since he lost his job he’s still commuting into London every day. God knows what he’s doing. I want to find an activity to help him. I'm terrified he'll become a… jumper.” Her head spun with the thought.
“A jumper?”
“Yeah, one of those people who jumps in front of trains.” Sophie’s stomach twisted and she tasted bile in her mouth. “It’s odd behaviour and I’m extremely concerned. The policeman suggested seeking professional help. My dad doesn’t seem keen on that option. Mum has to know if it's going to continue. I mean, she’ll find out eventually. When is it the right time to break someone’s trust? Should I tell my mum?”
“I don’t know,” Matthew replied. “Are you honest with him? I mean, do you tell him the truth about things, even when it’s hard?”
Sophie thought about her move. “I don’t know.” She shrugged.
He shot her a strange expression. “Either you do or you don’t.”
It wasn’t an easy answer. There was the slight issue of her break up with Derek. She hadn’t yet mentioned that.
“Bring him to the pool and let's see if swimming helps. You can show him how you’re getting on. You have mentioned swimming to your parents, haven’t you?” Matthew’s face was a complete question mark but when she didn’t answer, he shook his head. “On that note, are you going to get into the pool today? You’ll be late if you don't go and get changed.”
She saluted. “Yes boss… and thanks for the chat.” She went to the changing room feeling slightly better.
Maybe she could trust Matthew… she was, after all, each time she got in the water, trusting him with her life.