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

by Elizabeth Neep

  ‘Jessica.’ Tim’s voice sounded anxious. ‘How are the RSVPs coming?’ He furrowed his brow. Yesterday he didn’t care that the press weren’t even coming, so I struggled to see how he could now look so concerned by the numbers. He made a gesture that seemed to say hurry up with one hand, unwilling to wait for my response.

  ‘Good,’ I said, drawing my loose hair to hang to one side. Sam used to know that was a sign I had something awkward to ask. Thankfully, Tim was unaware of this. ‘Hannah Sommers just added her name to the list.’ I beamed like it was an achievement, but Tim accepted this as a given: she’s your future boss, after all.

  ‘And what did you say back?’ His hand encouraged me on. Nothing. It was just an RSVP. Tim noticed my blank stare. ‘I actually have a question to ask her,’ he said.

  ‘I have a question to ask you too,’ I interrupted, keen to ask about my wages in this brief moment of calm. As if on cue, Tim’s phone vibrated on the desk. I tried to make sense of the clipped ends of his conversation. He didn’t sound happy. I just couldn’t work out whether it was a ‘your ASOS order isn’t coming today’ or a ‘we need to call it all off’ not happy. Either way I needed that money before going to see the flats in Randwick tonight. It felt like a year raced by while Olivia and I waited with bated breath for Tim to hang up the call.

  ‘It’s bad; it’s very bad.’ Tim shook his head, removing his specs for dramatic effect. I waited for him to go on. Given the other outbursts I’d seen this week it still could have been the ASOS thing. ‘That was the website developers,’ he went on, beginning to pace. ‘The ticket price has been listed wrongly this whole time. We’ll be losing money on every sale.’ His face looked as grey as his beard, his eyes searching mine for answers. I’d solved the layout issue, the lack of space for Patience and the press debacle but clearly Tim’s bar was set higher than a hat-trick. ‘Jess? We can’t change the price now, can we?’

  I was meant to be doing Tim a favour, not running the show. But my God, I was running the show. I looked into his questioning eyes: can we? It would look bad, sure. But we had to. We couldn’t keep selling them at that price, not given how much Tim and Carlo had promised CreateSpace the exhibition would bring in. I’d always begrudged the pompous prices that seemed to follow the art world around, but the fat figures detailed in the contract had sent my mind into a spin. ‘Spin.’ My whisper escaped into the space between us. We just had to spin this. Lord knows I’d had to spin a yarn and turn a tale or two at Art Today.

  ‘Okay, here’s what we’ll do,’ I said. ‘Get the developers to design a flash saying visitors have twenty-four hours left to buy tickets at the Early Bird rate; we’ll then push up our original price a little to cover the projected loss – the publicity should enable the exhibition to carry a higher price.’

  ‘Great – I was just about to say that,’ Olivia chipped in, grasping for a little of the limelight. Turned out not everyone was qualified in bullshitting – you needed years as a PA for that.

  ‘You think that will work?’ Tim asked, peering over his glasses.

  ‘Yes?’ I replied, not meaning to send my inflection soaring in the process.

  ‘Then great, we’ll do that.’ Tim nodded, smiling again. ‘What would we do without you?’ He cocked his head to study me closer. Olivia sat up a little straighter.

  ‘You’d be fine.’ I looked from Tim to Olivia, not meaning my voice to waver.

  ‘No, seriously.’ Tim’s smile vanished, worry drawing lines across his face. ‘We can’t do this without you.’ That seemed a bit rich seeing as I’d been with them for less than a week, but I couldn’t help that feeling from filling my stomach afresh, telling me again: you’re useful, wanted.

  ‘Tim, I—’

  ‘Jessica, I—’ His question interrupted my own. I nodded to him to continue; he was my boss, after all. ‘How do you think Ms Sommers would feel…’ He had always called her Hannah before. He must really want something. ‘If you were to stay with us a little longer, postpone your start date with the magazine a little – just until we have the opening night out of the way?’ He stood a little straighter, overcompensating for the vulnerability scrawled across his face. He really needed me. And I needed him. I needed the job, the money. Most of all I needed to stop myself from leaping into his arms at the offer of a whole month of work.

  ‘I… erm,’ I stuttered, unsure how to play my response, how to make the doubt sound sincere. ‘I think she’d be okay with it actually.’ More than okay. I’m pretty positive she’d be alright.

  ‘Are you sure?’ He raised his bushy brows high, pushing his glasses further up his nose. ‘Do you want to ask her now?’ He motioned to my phone, already clutched in my hand.

  ‘Oh, er – yeah – sure.’ I pulled up her email and tilted the phone away from him, typing as quickly as I could:

  Dear Ms Sommers, Great news. Can’t wait to welcome you then.

  When I could guide her around the gallery, until we were in a quiet space and I could ask the questions that would finally make my Sydney make-believe life real again. ‘I’m sure she’ll be okay with it. It’s CreateSpace, after all,’ I assured Tim, as he puffed up his shoulders, the compliment overshadowing the uneasiness of the moment. I couldn’t help but match his smile; I’d finally loaned myself some time. But now to loan myself an apartment.

  ‘Tim, could I…’ I looked at Olivia, not wanting to force her out but needing to get myself in, into a ruddy apartment. ‘Could I just have a quick word?’

  Tim looked confused, like a quick word was what we were just having, but obliged all the same.

  ‘Tim, I was wondering, what with me staying to help out a bit longer…’ I emphasised the words, reminding him of the ones he had just said: what would we do without you? ‘Do you think I could I get my first week of wages a little early?’ It felt good to finally ask. I needed this. Just like he’d said he needed me. ‘It’s just, you know, kind of a little tight moving countries and everything. Hard to navigate…’ Especially when you tie your new life in knots.

  Tim looked at me, neither nodding nor shaking his head.

  ‘I think, maybe, you know…’ I kept saying those two little words as if any part of Tim could possibly identify with where I was at. ‘When I start earning in the dollar, it might be easier spending in the dollar so if I could just get—’

  ‘How early?’ Tim finally interrupted, bringing my rambling to an end. I’d just pushed back my fake start date for him, the least he could do was be grateful.

  ‘Today early?’ I asked, wishing I’d sounded a little more entitled.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t usually…’ Tim glanced briefly at Olivia on the other side of the room.

  ‘I understand…’ I began, preparing myself for the let-down.

  ‘But you’ve been so good to us,’ he said. ‘Flexibility begets flexibility.’ He didn’t need to know that everything about my life right now was flexible.

  ‘I’m sure that’ll be okay,’ Tim added for good measure. I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. I was starting to think I’d be okay too.

  Chapter 20

  This one had to be okay. Trepidation filled every fibre of my being as the estate agent turned a key in the lifeless white door to the last apartment on my list – at least it didn’t have a cockroach crawling up it like the last one, or eight people sharing the same kitchen like the one before that. Standing to one side, the agent gestured towards the sitting area-cum-kitchenette, accentuating the ‘flood of natural light’ – translation: at least this one has a window. The room’s features took less than a minute to go through – sofa, cooker, fridge, a little TV – it was strange how she used ‘little’ for that part, like the flat wasn’t small all over. Two of the bedroom doors were locked as they were being used by the landlord for storage – making this seemingly the only one-person apartment in the whole city that I could have a hope of renting. As she led me into the available bedroom, I was surprised to find a double bed with clean bright sheets.
After the three terrible viewings I’d endured, it looked irresistibly attractive. ‘Call me Mimi’ paced across the room, the noise of her heels on the stripped wooden floor drawing my attention to the authenticity of its planks – a nice touch. She opened a pine door just like the one we had walked through to reveal a modest en suite, almost new. I liked it. The living space even looked better as we walked back from the bedroom. I could get a few plants, put up a picture or two, add in some photo frames. I mentally started to move my limited stuff in. Thanks to Tim and my willingness to stay on at CreateSpace, a hefty deposit threatened to spill from my back pocket into Mimi’s hands.

  ‘You like it?’ she asked, almost as desperate as me for the answer to be yes.

  ‘I do.’ I nodded.

  ‘And you have your deposit?’

  ‘I do,’ I said again. I always thought I’d be saying those words around now standing across the aisle from someone handsome, soon to return to our three-bedroom house – not agreeing to stay in an apartment as small as Zoe’s front room. But it was Sydney, a flat in Sydney.

  ‘And your first month’s rent?’

  ‘I, er – I’ll have it by the end of next week.’ I gritted my teeth, eyes pleading.

  ‘You do have a job here?’ She gritted her own, eyes narrowing.

  ‘I do.’ I didn’t skip a beat.

  ‘A permanent one?’ Her eyebrows accentuated the request. Was I really that easy to read? It sometimes felt like I had ‘TEMPORARY’ written across my forehead.

  ‘I won’t fall behind with payments, I promise.’ I evaded the truth, forcing a smile wide enough to fill the room.

  ‘Okay.’ Mimi’s voice softened. ‘There’s one other couple looking at the room,’ she explained. Of course there bloody was. I circled on the spot to take in the room again – it took all of two seconds. A couple would be on top of each other in here. Maybe that was the point? I tried to mask my jealousy, from Mimi and myself. This was a step forward.

  ‘Leave your number with me and I’ll let you know who the owners decide to go with by tomorrow morning at the latest. Sorry if that’s a bit last minute.’

  Three days to get my life together, find out where Sam’s head was at and move into a new place. Mimi had no idea how last minute my life had become.

  6 August 2020 – Sydney, Australia

  My phone buzzed violently. It was on silent but the racket of its vibrations on the wooden bedside table was anything but. I reached out to rescue it in one ninja-like swipe. It wasn’t like I had to ‘come round’ – I’d been shuffling from one side of the bed to the other all night.

  Clearing my throat to answer, I smoothed down my hair as if the caller could see me. All those hours watching Made in Chelsea had made me forever on guard, as if anyone would be interested in watching my messed-up reality. About to put the phone to my ear, I looked down to see the alarm icon mocking me, the face of the clock swinging from side to side. ‘Call me Mimi’ still hadn’t called. I needed that apartment; I was running out of time.

  ‘Jess?’ Sam’s voiced called on the other side of the door. I ran to the mirror to check my appearance; although he’d seen me every which way as a girlfriend, my ex-girlfriend status mandated much higher standards. My mind flicked forward to Saturday as I wondered how the hell I’d maintain them on a surf board. Something told me it would be nothing like the movies. But Sam had wanted to get me surfing for such a long time. The thought of his hands guiding my hips onto the board lifted my hopes. ‘Do you want a lift?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I called. ‘Five more minutes.’

  Sam’s laughter rang through the door. ‘If I had a penny for every time you’d said that!’ Thoughts of winter mornings wrapped in duvets floated through my mind, soon to be followed by sweaty evenings, bodies pressed together, trying to keep quiet. I erased the thought, applying a quick dash of concealer, a lick of mascara, a crumpled pink blouse and my over-worn jeans.

  Opening the door, Sam filled the space between the box room and the landing, one hand leaning on the door frame, the other clutching his gym bag. Did he have to be so fit? His gaze went from my blouse up to meet my eyes.

  ‘An old favourite.’ His smile was fleeting and flirtatious. Moving out of the way, I walked with purpose to the car. I was too nervous about the apartment to think about much else. I wanted to get it, to turn my lie into the truth before I got found out. Opening the door, I found Joshua, already in the back seat.

  ‘Sam’s giving me a lift.’ He smiled, indicating the angry-looking sky and rolling his eyes. I could see that, but for some reason him being here made me all the more on edge. ‘Forecast for thunder.’ I could see that too. Why couldn’t he see that three was always a crowd? Hopping into the passenger seat, I played with my hair, Sam sending a glance my way as he took the wheel.

  ‘How you going, Jess?’ Joshua’s thick accent rang out from the back seat as Sam started to speak in unison, their sentences lacing together.

  ‘Almost a week at CreateSpace done,’ Sam said over Joshua’s question, though he continued to keep his eyes on the road. I glanced at Joshua, who grinned, conceding to Sam.

  I turned back to Sam, his profile a little darker, his facial hair a little thicker. It suited him. ‘Ready for another fresh start the week after next?’ He took his eyes from the road for a moment to offer me a little smile. I felt Joshua’s gaze from behind me. I wanted nothing more, nothing more than a fresh start, to go back and do it all over again. ‘Back into the editing game?’ Like I was ever in it. I didn’t even make the qualifying round. Not that I was going to tell Sam, Joshua, Tim or anyone else this side of the equator that.

  ‘Actually,’ I began nervously, aware that Joshua’s bullshit radar was unnervingly on point. ‘I’m going to spend a bit more time at CreateSpace. Tim really needs me for the exhibition—’ I was brought to a halt as my phone came to life in my pocket. I looked down at the screen: MIMI APARTMENT. This was it. My eyes darted to Sam; he’d already seen the caller ID. Shit.

  ‘Hi, Mimi,’ I answered, a slight break in my voice as I caught Joshua looking at me inquisitively in the rear-view mirror. Without moving the phone from my ear, I felt for its buttons and turned the volume down, my free hand reaching to grab a chunk of hair and twirl it around my fingers.

  ‘Hi, Jess.’ Mimi mirrored my tone as I took a sharp intake of breath. Sam shuffled beside me, reaching to turn the radio down a little further. Both boys had their eyes fixed on me, their ears pricked for what I might say next. Why did that never happen when I wanted it to? Breathing deeply, I braced myself for Mimi’s next words. ‘I’m afraid the owner decided to go with the other couple. They’re local and, you know, planning to stick around for a bit longer.’ That stupid temporary forehead-sign. ‘I hope that’s not too disappointing,’ she apologised, the hint of sincerity in her voice causing an unexpected lump to rise in my throat.

  ‘No, that’s okay,’ I replied, as chipper as I could, Sam and Joshua both absorbing my every word. I couldn’t look too disappointed, or they’d know something was wrong. ‘Thanks for calling.’ I hung up the line, returning my phone to my empty pocket, my deposit now waiting in an envelope back at Sam’s. It’d have to wait for a little longer.

  ‘Everything okay with the apartment?’ Sam asked, his forehead crinkling in concern.

  ‘Yeah, fine,’ I lied. He didn’t need to know. It wasn’t his problem. I wasn’t his problem. In the rear-view mirror, I could see Joshua fiddle with his fingers, awkward all of a sudden, as Sam pulled to a halt a few streets away from CreateSpace. Joshua pushed the door open and got out as Sam signalled to me to hang back.

  ‘Have a good morning buddy,’ Sam sang out of my open window towards him.

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Joshua looked back at me, still sitting in the passenger seat. I was pretty sure we were meant to be walking the same way. ‘Thanks for the lift, dude.’ Sam and I watched Joshua’s figure fade into the distance, the air between us feeling close.

  ‘Jess.’ He turned to me
, his voice laced with sincerity. ‘How long have we known each other?’ A kind smile reached his eyes as my heart hammered in my chest. ‘I know when you’re not telling the truth.’

  I pursed my lips, trying not to react, waiting for what he might say next.

  ‘You’re all good for moving in this weekend, right?’

  Thank God he wasn’t as good a truth-teller as he thought he was.

  ‘Right.’ I nodded, reaching for the door handle and pushing it open. Sam’s hand reached out, stopping me. I turned back to look at him, trying hard not to cry. I wanted to sort so much out, all of it – but every time I tried to move on…

  I looked down at Sam’s hand, now holding my hand in his.

  ‘Jess,’ he repeated, quieter now. ‘If you need to stay a little longer, that’s absolutely fine. We’ve loved having you.’ We both knew the ‘we’ was a stretch.

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ I assured him, wriggling my hand free to push open the car door again. ‘Seriously, Sam. Come Sunday night, I’ll be out of your hair. You’ve got a wedding to plan!’ I feigned enthusiasm as Sam looked confused, struggling to do the same.

  Chapter 21

  8 August 2020 – Sydney, Australia

  Saturday morning and it was still bloody raining. Yesterday at CreateSpace had been nonstop, helping to fit the exhibition, calling in favours, contacting the media, soothing the creatives who were acting like children. I had used my brain more times in one week than I had in the past few years combined. I was exhausted. I hadn’t even had a moment to stop and think about my next move. I had every reason to stay in bed. But I had just one reason to get up. Sam was giving me a surfing lesson today; the thought sent waves through my stomach.