The Spare Bedroom: A totally heartwarming, funny and feel good romantic comedy

by Elizabeth Neep

  ‘A youth worker?’ I asked, Joshua clearly impressed by my interest.

  ‘Another flat white please and can I have the quinoa salad?’ Sam ordered, his sentence cutting through Joshua’s attempt to reply. In all the years I’d known him he’d never ordered a salad. I forced my attention back to my menu.

  ‘Iced latte and a bacon and avocado sub,’ Sam said to the waiter, smiling at me. ‘That’s what you want, right?’ he checked, already knowing the answer.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, not sure why Sam looked so proud. ‘So, Joshua.’ I redirected my attention, still not knowing if Sam was on the menu. ‘What does a youth worker do?’

  ‘A youth worker? Well, we work with youth,’ he replied, grin unwavering. I laughed out loud, taking a sip of the iced water on the table in front of me.

  ‘No, but seriously,’ I said, laughing into my glass. Out of the corner of my eye, I could sense Sam’s eyes on me. ‘Like, what does a normal day look like for you?’

  ‘Usually a lot of milkshakes with young people who are struggling with school or life outside of it,’ he went on, proud but not boastful.

  ‘Like mentoring?’ I asked, not wanting to sound so dumb but distracted somehow by Sam’s awkward body language, shuffling and stiffening across from me.

  ‘Exactly like mentoring…’ He laughed and I couldn’t help but be invited in.

  ‘How’s Zoe?’ Sam’s voice cut through our conversation.

  ‘Oh, erm,’ I stuttered, not quite sure where the question had come from. Joshua looked down at his lunch, seemingly shrugging off the conversation’s change in direction; something told me he wasn’t easily ruffled. I took a bite of my sandwich as I studied Sam’s expression.

  ‘She’s great,’ I replied, unsure as to why Sam wanted to steer the conversation away from Sydney and back to our past. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was jealous. ‘Great,’ I repeated. At least I thought she was; we hadn’t talked since last week and even then, I had painted her a picture much prettier than my current reality.

  ‘Still partying her way across London?’ Sam joked.

  ‘No, actually. She’s all settled down with Ben, bought a house just outside the city.’ I smiled, willing my own envy not to escape through the words.

  ‘You’re kidding?’ Sam laughed, Joshua’s attention fully on his own lunch now that Sam had eaten into our conversation.

  ‘Nope.’ Although a small part of me wished I was. I was happy for her, obviously. I just kind of wished she was happy here with me, still making memories, out on some misadventure. Like we always said we would before she started to change and I remained the same.

  ‘Wow,’ Sam said. ‘I always knew she’d get there.’ His eyes caught mine. We thought we’d get there too. Now I don’t even have a map. ‘Remember when she always talked about travelling here?’ Sam continued. I did. A little too vividly. ‘I actually thought I saw her last August but knew it wasn’t the right time.’

  ‘Right time?’ I asked, unsure as to what that would be but somehow knowing my own arrival had missed it.

  ‘The Brit window,’ Joshua interjected, re-joining the conversation. I remained distinctly none the wiser.

  ‘The travellers tend to turn up around November time,’ Sam said, ‘in the lead-up to summer.’

  ‘That’s when all the jobs are around,’ Joshua chipped in, looking at me in earnest.

  ‘You’ll see the odd one wandering round with a rucksack in August,’ Sam said, his tone playful, eyebrow raised. ‘But all the bars and restaurants will be on shut-down waiting for work to pick back up.’ I took another bite of my sandwich, the chances of me getting work the only thing getting slimmer. ‘No one even tries looking,’ he continued, my mind recalling Jamie’s phone conversation with Tim and his position still unfilled. ‘Thank God you had a proper job to come to.’ The final kick.

  ‘Jamie!’ Joshua exclaimed before I could think of a suitable response. No, I’m Jess, my mind couldn’t help but object after all the mistaken identities of the last twenty-four hours, before I saw Jamie across the café, coming over to meet us. Out of the corner of my eye, I studied Sam’s expression, trying to work out if he was happy, sad or indifferent to see her. Whether his eyes lit up the way they had when he saw me. Joshua’s reaction was easier to gauge as he rose to kiss her on both cheeks. Gone were her leggings and in their place a pair of spray-on blue jeans leaving little to the imagination, her light grey shirt matching Sam’s suit to a T. My eyes flicked between them, my mind trying to put two and two together and still coming up short. Sam looked uncomfortable, just like he had when she had arrived home yesterday.

  ‘Sit down, Jamie.’ Joshua’s face lit up as he pulled out the empty seat at our table. If they were breaking up, she was handling it all far better than I would.

  ‘She can’t,’ Sam said, almost defensively. Jamie looked stung by his response. For a moment, I was almost sure he wanted me to himself.

  ‘I can’t,’ Jamie repeated, not even looking at Sam as she shook her pretty head, her loose ponytail bouncing behind her. I could only imagine how hard it must be to live with someone you used to love. ‘I’m just on my way to meet Tim at CreateSpace. Couldn’t not say hey when you’re just next door, could I?’ she added. Well, she could. I shuffled in my seat, looking down at my fork. I’d told her I was busy. I’d told her I couldn’t make it. I looked up again to Sam, catching his eye, unable to read his expression.

  ‘How is he?’ Sam asked, concerned.

  ‘Been better.’ She shrugged. ‘But you know what he’s like.’ She smiled back at him, sadness emanating through her words as I remembered Zoe saying: no one said break-ups were easy. I think we all just muddle our way through.

  ‘But he’s screwed without Carlo, right?’ Sam asked, as Jamie shook away his insensitivity.

  ‘He’s not screwed,’ Jamie objected. ‘He’s just, you know, hurting a little…’ I looked between them and wondered whether Jamie was feeling the same. ‘I’m just going to give him some free therapy now actually; CreateSpace is proving hard.’ That job. That stupid job. Seemingly the only one going this side of summer. ‘He just needs a spare pair of hands to help him out while he gets through the worst of the break-up,’ Jamie continued pointedly. Sam looked saddened by her words. I couldn’t help but feel the same, feeling awful for Tim, feeling awful for her.

  ‘Do I know him?’ Joshua looked from Sam to Jamie in confusion.

  ‘No, but you can join us if you like?’ Jamie’s answer was filled with affection, Joshua clinging to her every word.

  ‘No, no,’ Joshua said. ‘I’ve got to dash after this, maybe some other time?’

  Jamie rolled her eyes playfully before checking her phone and gathering up her things.

  ‘Jess, maybe you could…’ Sam fixed his eyes on me before thinking better of it.

  ‘What?’ I asked, even though I knew what he was about to say.

  ‘You couldn’t just help Tim out for a bit, could you?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d be that much help.’ I looked between their three imploring faces.

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Sam laughed. ‘You’d be brilliant.’ And despite my trepidation, I couldn’t help but glow at Sam’s public vote of confidence. But I thought he’d said he wanted to spend a bit of time together before I started my job?

  ‘Plus, it’s so near my work, we can…’ His sentence trailed off again as if he’d only just remembered Jamie was still in the room. I looked between them now, stuck between a rock and a hard place. I didn’t want to work in a gallery, not any more. But it would buy me some time and all I needed was a bit more time. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to do Jamie a favour after she’d been so kind to me. And then there was the fact that I’d be spending the next two weeks working just across from Sam.

  ‘Jamie,’ I said, ‘can I still come with you?’

  Chapter 9

  Jamie and I navigated the two busy streets between the café and CreateSpace, until the crowds started to pete
r out. Several onlookers openly stared as Jamie sauntered past. She didn’t seem to notice, too intent on asking me how my morning had been, what I thought of Sydney, what I thought of bumping into Joshua before lunch. As if that was the most shocking run-in I’d had all year. My answers ranged between one word and two, not wanting to tie myself in more knots than I already had. Still, she persisted. She was either the nicest woman I had ever met, or the most strategic cold-hearted bitch to ever walk the planet. It was too soon to tell. A small part of me hoped she wouldn’t be around long enough for me to find out, a part of me that with every passing nicety made me feel like there was definitely one cold-hearted bitch between us. Despite being the one thing we had in common, any talk of Sam was minimal. And I couldn’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to talk about the fact that my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend was sleeping on the sofa either. Jamie talked on and on, slowing to a halt only to look up at the red-brick building before us.

  I had seen photos of CreateSpace in Art Today from time to time, but the reality of it before me was breathtaking: an empty shell of enormous rooms waiting to be hired out by curators. True to its name, the space itself was a blank canvas to be drawn upon, but perhaps due to its cool urban structure, the art held within it was almost always contemporary. It seemed to have none of the ponce of the art world I had known, its walls brimming with artists who cared more about the impact of their work than their fame.

  ‘You’ll love it here,’ Jamie said, taking off her sunglasses to gaze up at the broad latticed windows. ‘It’s every artist’s dream.’

  I used to dream of exhibiting in galleries across the globe, back when I was a fresher, immersed in colour and hope. But I wished she’d stop calling me an ‘artist’. I’d already told her I hadn’t painted in years. Not since university. Not since I’d finished the painting that now hung on her wall, or Sam’s wall, whatever. Before I could object, she had already stepped inside. I followed her into a lobby I had only seen in the pages of magazines and gazed up at the domed ceiling above us. One of three receptionists smiled at Jamie before disappearing to fetch Tim. Above the reception desk was a blank white wall, demanding to be filled.

  ‘Jamie! I know we said coffee, but I need a drink,’ said a man I could only assume was Tim, as he cast a hand to his lined forehead, desperation in his eyes, before proceeding to stroke his other through his long grey hair down to his well-kept beard. I looked down at my black jeans and white shirt, comparing them with his leather trousers, asymmetrical ripped T-shirt and thick-rimmed glasses. He was so much to look at.

  ‘Well that’s what we’re here for,’ Jamie said as she turned to me. ‘This is Jess.’ She ushered me to take a step forward but Tim was already striding with purpose towards the door from which he had entered. We followed into a people-free gallery space, with colourful abstract shapes hanging from ceiling to skirting board. Their beauty caught in my throat as we passed them, turning the corner towards a small meeting room in the back. Mismatched furniture filled the room, each piece a work of art in itself. I pulled out a white iron chair, its delicate patterns reminiscent of lace. Tim went to the tall wooden cabinet, gorgeous in its archaism, bending down to retrieve a bottle of bubbles that looked almost as old.

  ‘Oh, Tim, you don’t need to do that.’ Jamie raised a hand in polite objection. ‘We’ll be fine with a coffee, won’t we, Jess?’

  I nodded, mute.

  ‘No, I need this,’ Tim said dramatically. He filled three flutes, two mid-way, the last one right to the top. Jamie and I accepted the glasses that were half full.

  ‘Bad day?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘You have no idea.’ Tim took a gulp, shaking the question away but clearly longing to go on.

  ‘Have you heard from him?’ Jamie took a cautious sip, seemingly reluctant to lose control. I looked between them, assuming that him must be Carlo, Tim’s ex-partner.

  ‘Have I, fuck.’ Tim rolled his eyes, taking another swig. ‘Probably sunning himself in the tropics, laughing into his Long Island about leaving me in the lurch.’

  Jamie shifted in her seat as she tried to maintain her smile, clearly not comfortable with conflict. I guess even her brief disagreements with Sam, simmering under her surface, had told me that.

  ‘Could you not just have cancelled the contracts this time, called off the exhibition?’ Jamie tried to reason, as I studied the bubbles rising in my glass. Now didn’t seem like a great time to ask for a favour. But what choice did I have? Jobs wouldn’t be coming up until summer. Sydney was on lock-down. Sam had said so. And both of them wanted me to offer; at least I could solve someone’s problem whilst trying to solve my own. I guess getting a place like CreateSpace on my CV wouldn’t hurt either.

  ‘What? And let Leo Todd, CreateSpace and the Australian public down?’ He flung a large hand to his forehead with a flourish. And let Carlo think I can’t do this alone? I could read between Tim’s worry lines, partially because I knew the impress-my-ex routine too well. And did he just say Leo Todd? I searched my mind to place the name before recalling the artist who had started his career as my peer – applying to the same damn competition – before rocketing past my wildest dreams. I looked at Tim, desperately not wanting to work here, but feeling pretty desperate myself.

  ‘The Australian public?’ Jamie repeated. ‘I know Leo’s work is great and all, but I think the public will have lots of other things to worry themselves about.’ Spoken like a true doctor. I knew those lines well.

  ‘I think Leo’s work is great,’ I said over the rim of my glass, although no one had asked me. I looked at Tim and held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t ask me why or what my favourite piece of Leo’s was. Other than his application piece way back when, my jealousy had limited my knowledge of him to the fact that he was a British artist with an international flair. Thankfully for me, he had chosen to keep his identity private so I’d never had to see his silly smug face. No doubt wanting ‘the public’ to give him a backstory better than the truth: he was born posh, privileged and with a London postcode. I’d naively tried to avoid his type even at Art Today. Now I wanted to bloody mount his masterpieces. I couldn’t think of anything worse – other than, perhaps, Sam finding out what a screw-up I’d lied my way out of being.

  ‘I just need a spare pair of hands, someone to oversee the installation of the pieces, to hold my flipping clipboard, for Christ’s sake,’ Tim went on, choosing to completely ignore Jamie’s suggestions and my attempts to impress him. I sat on one hand, the other shaking as I lifted my glass to my lips, looking for an out, any other way. ‘Jesus, I’d even take a day, two, pay cash in hand, offer free booze.’

  Jamie looked at me, her wide eyes willing me to bite.

  ‘I could do it,’ I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. What was I doing?

  ‘Could you?’ Tim asked, both hands now resting on his beard-framed lips, rimmed eyes widening with glee.

  ‘Oh, Jess, that would be amazing!’ Jamie added, beaming from ear to ear.

  ‘Just for a couple of weeks,’ I added.

  ‘That’s when Jess starts her new job,’ Jamie said, obviously thrilled to be helping Tim out. Please stop, my eyes willed her to steer clear of the details. But why would she? She had no reason to doubt them. I looked to Tim, taking another gulp of his champagne. Maybe he wouldn’t even ask. ‘At Art Today,’ Jamie added, with excitement. Oh crap. I forced myself to smile and nod.

  ‘You’re at Art Today?’ Tim gasped. I remained silent, reluctant to incriminate myself further than I already had. I was, I had been. For years. If Tim checked with the magazine, I could just laugh away the crossed wires, save my standing in a world I didn’t even want to be a part of any more. ‘I’ll take you for as long as you’ve got,’ he continued, clearly impressed by my magnified credentials. He was so desperate, I’m sure he wouldn’t even have cared if he did know the truth. ‘Just to tide me over, any time you have to give, really.’

  I could say exactly the same. Just for a week or so. Ju
st to tide me over. Then I’d get a real job – ‘an offer I couldn’t refuse’ – and slowly wriggle free of the bind I’d got myself in.

  ‘Great!’ Jamie said, a problem-solver just like Sam; at least they had one thing in common.

  ‘Great,’ I said with caution.

  ‘Can you start tomorrow?’ he asked, although it didn’t sound like a question. I mirrored his smile as best I could, nodding. ‘Thank you, Jamie-boo,’ he near enough sang, rising to his feet to kiss her on both cheeks before turning to leave the room. ‘Who needs Carlo?’ he muttered as he started to lead us back through the gallery, a spring in his step.

  ‘Thank you,’ Jamie said to me, as we followed Tim. She paused by one of the canvases. It was narrow but stretched from floor to ceiling, covered in orange sweeps of every shade broken by jagged black lines stroking every which way: a burning beanstalk beckoning us somewhere magical. ‘It’s so good of you to use your two weeks off to help Tim out.’

  ‘It’s the least I could do,’ I said. Despite my better judgement, I felt a little accomplished at having somehow got myself two weeks’ worth of work at CreateSpace. My twenty-year-old self would be buzzing. Now, my late-twenties self was just trying to keep up.

  ‘No seriously,’ she said. ‘It’s so good of you to give up your precious time off.’ Turned out time wasn’t that precious when you had little to fill it with. I studied her profile, testing her tone for hints of sweetness or sarcasm.

  ‘No, no,’ I objected, genuine relief at my short-term solution making it harder and harder to hide my gratitude. I might actually be able to sort this all out before Sam found out after all. ‘Helping out CreateSpace – it’s an honour.’ Only a half-truth. ‘Thank you for suggesting it.’

  ‘You’re so welcome.’ She turned away from the painting to me. ‘As I said, any friend of Sam’s…’