Sorry babe, with Ben tonight x
I flicked away WhatsApp, and returned to Austin’s America and Sommers’ Sydney. London was meant to be the city of socialising, the city of success.
‘Jessica.’ Devon’s voice shook me from my thoughts. ‘We’re done. You can leave now.’
Stashing my phone, I rose to leave Devon’s office, wishing I could walk further and further away.
Chapter 25
4 September 2020 – Sydney, Australia
‘Here she comes! The famous curator,’ Sam hollered from his normal position against the wall on the other side of the paved courtyard, clapping his hands in exaggerated applause. I laughed as I strolled confidently towards him. What had once felt like a handful of pity-dates, I was pretty sure, had become the highlight of Sam’s day. A welcome relief from wedding planning, no doubt.
‘Now I know you look all fancy and all,’ Sam continued, pushing himself away from the wall and meeting me in the middle. I smiled; he had noticed. ‘But the sun is out, and you need to take me to the beach.’ He smiled broadly, slinging an arm around my shoulders and letting his weight rest on me long enough to signal just how exhausted he was.
I laughed again and looked up at his face, partially hidden behind his sunglasses, shaking my head affectionately. ‘You’re not a dog, Sam.’
‘Can I have that on record, please?’ He laughed. Oh shit, I had called him that once. In my defence, he had left me waiting at the table for half an hour while he chatted to his pretty doctor friend at the bar. He deserved it. I shook away the memory.
‘I’ll deny saying it at all costs.’ I turned towards the beach. ‘You coming, then?’
‘Gosh, it’s like I’m destined to be surrounded by bossy women!’ He raised an eyebrow as he turned to follow me. Together, we walked towards the beach until it was time to prise off my heels and let my feet sink into the fluffy white sand. I had tried my best to convince myself I was a city girl, but day by day I was falling for the ocean life. I smiled down at my bare feet. I gazed across the horizon and breathed deeply, inhaling the salt-scented air. I turned to look at Sam, who was already looking at me rather than the sea.
‘What?’ I demanded, delighted to be catching him in the act.
‘Nothing,’ he said, looking down at his own naked feet. ‘It’s just, Sydney suits you.’
I smiled. I was beginning to feel like it did. ‘I always liked that you were a bit of a free spirit,’ he said. Well, he had at the start.
‘Shame your parents didn’t,’ I said to the sand, looking up at Sam’s stunned face before my little laugh softened the blow. ‘Bet they’re chuffed you’re marrying a doctor.’ I laughed again, but we both knew I wasn’t joking.
‘Yeah.’ Sam forced an awkward laugh, not looking nearly as ‘chuffed’ as we both knew they were. ‘They always liked you though,’ he added. They had called me creative, unique – worlds away from what they knew. Jamie ticked the doctor box, but I wondered what they thought of Sam’s new location or new-found faith. But maybe he didn’t care quite as much what they thought any more.
‘Hmmm,’ I said, not entirely convinced; Sam’s parents had always been a point of tension.
‘So you’re not in a rush to see them at the wedding?’ Sam said, pressing his feet further into the sand. Oh crap, of course they’d be coming over for the wedding. But it wasn’t like I’d be there. Was it? He was joking, right? Sam walked a step ahead of me, leading the way towards the beachfront café as I searched my mind for ways to ask what he really meant. Smiling at the guy behind the kiosk, Sam ordered, ‘One bacon and avocado sandwich and…’ He turned to me to check he’d got my order right. He had. Of course he had. ‘And a crayfish salad, please.’ He smiled back at the man. I looked at him in confusion.
‘Jamie’s got me on this pre-tux diet.’ He rolled his eyes. I shrugged and accepted my sandwich, the grease seeping through the brown paper bag it was wrapped in. Sam gazed at it with desire. Walking across to the beach steps, we sat, side by side, both dressed too formally to have our bare feet in the sand.
‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d be able to make it today.’ Sam looked across to me and smiled. ‘It’s tonight, right? The opening.’
I couldn’t believe he had remembered. I knew we were living in the same house, but even when we were sleeping in the same bed, dates and times had never been his forte.
‘I was going to come,’ he continued. I sensed a ‘but’; there was always a ‘but’.
‘And we’d usually be there to support Tim. But, Jamie is getting more and more stressed about the wedding; she’s suggested we stay in and do some wedmin.’ He looked down at his crayfish salad and shook his head. ‘There was once a time when I didn’t even know the word wedmin.’ He laughed to himself. ‘It was simpler then…’ Simpler with me? ‘Anyway,’ he said, forcing the conversation forward. ‘We’ll see how it goes and maybe we’ll be able to make it later.’
Stepping back into CreateSpace, I marvelled at my footwear. Gone were the biting kitten heels of the last few weeks. In their place were a pair of glorious black courts with the kind of designer soles catfights have been fought over. The guys behind reception greeted me, looking me down from my dark straight locks to my bright red bottoms; they didn’t need to know they were second- or maybe third-hand from eBay. And naturally, I had hidden them from Jamie and Sam, not wanting them to think I was getting too comfortable, that I wasn’t preparing to live alone in one of the most expensive cities in the world.
Pacing across the entrance hall towards them, I looked up to see Tuesday’s Slumber hung proudly over the reception desk, filling the gap I had always felt was there. The artist’s thick impasto style was even more eye-catching under the bright reception lights, the dark blues of the piece dramatic against the white of the walls. Another colleague popped their head around the open-plan gallery shop and waved. I had browsed the shop once or twice, the tickle of brushes in my hand a relic from the past – like feeling the T-shirt you had once loved, now worn and outgrown.
I turned my attention away from the shop and towards the first room of the exhibition, catching a glimpse of myself in the reception’s floor-length mirrors. I had obediently brought the Tim-approved image to life, pairing a plunging yellow-gold silk blouse with a violet A-line, ankle-grazing skirt. The yellow of morning, the violet of evening, making sure I’d look right at home in either room, against either hue, of the exhibition. Sam had looked me up and down as I had headed out of the box room less than an hour before. I could have sworn I’d seen a look of nostalgic desire skim across his face. Jamie characteristically interrupted our moment: ‘Oh, Jess, you look fantastic. Doesn’t she, Sam?’ She dangled me like a carrot in front of her fiancé.
‘You look like a pansy,’ Sam replied, deflecting any sexual tension that had hummed between us until Jamie had entered the room. ‘A pretty one, though,’ he added. ‘We might see you later.’ Jamie looked toward Sam, serious and stern. ‘But first, wedmin!’ He smiled obediently, but as Jamie turned to face me, Sam let me catch him rolling his eyes.
The mirrors in CreateSpace had always been forgiving. Smoothing down my skirt, I took a deep breath and turned towards the door. Another deep breath and I walked into the open space of Room A, bracing myself for chatter, activity, applause for… no one.
I looked around the empty space. This wasn’t right. The happy, bright colours of the collection mocked me as I searched the room for people, for answers. Had no one shown up? Had I told them the wrong date? A sinking feeling filled my silk-covered stomach. I had been so preoccupied by lunches with Sam, surfing with Joshua and making sure I looked the part that it was possible that my too-quickly-sent press release had been littered with mistakes. Or that I’d been so focused on making sure my replies to Sommers were typo-free that I’d neglected to reply to any other requests. I’d taken the exhibition’s air of mystery too far. I glanced at my phone, panicked, trying to pull up the press release. This was classic Jess. I could
n’t do anything right.
‘Jessica?’ Tim emerged behind me, a white kaftan draped over his ripped denim, a glass of champagne clutched in his hand.
‘Tim.’ I turned, panic setting in. ‘Where is everyone? Did anyone show?’
‘Jessica,’ he began. I braced myself for bad news. ‘Too many people showed. We had to move the drinks reception into the bigger room. Come with me.’ Tim turned on his heel towards the door into Room B and, smiling broadly, pushed it open.
Hundreds of eyes turned to look at me as I walked, as if in slow motion, into the heaving room. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Tim said, extending his arms towards me; ever the dramatist. Clearly his anonymity hadn’t lasted long, I just hoped I could keep him away from our press contacts, one in particular. ‘Introducing, Jessica, my co-curator on this show.’ Co-curator? The promotion appeared to have passed me by, but I’d take it. I wondered if it came with a pay rise? I smiled broadly as the room filled with polite chatter. ‘Soon to be joining the team at—’ Without thinking I grabbed his shoulder, cutting off his sentence. ‘What?’ he hissed, half of the room’s eyes still on us, the other resuming their chatter.
‘This is CreateSpace’s night, Leo’s night, your night.’ I forced a smile onto my face before lowering my voice further, ‘Your chance to show that you don’t need Carlo – trust me, my job at Art Today Australia shouldn’t even get a look-in.’
Tim’s face froze for a second, registering the words before he threw back his head and laughed, wrapping one arm around me. ‘So bloody modest,’ he said to the room, a handful of people joining in with his laughter. He turned his attention back to me. ‘Now Jessica, let me get you a drink.’ Tim swanned across the room and I finally realised what he had brought to his partnership with Carlo: he was one hell of a host.
As soon as the bubbles touched my lips, I knew we would be in for a good night. It wasn’t so much that the champagne was remarkable – even though it was – it was more than that, a flavour I hadn’t tasted for a while: the taste of success. This was real. I had actually worked hard on this, contributed to this, even made it what it was. And it looked great. A buzz of pride shot through my stomach. I walked forward into the rabble, ready for my first interview. There was little doubt that Tim was the star of the evening. He’d never really stood a chance at blending in – especially at the rate he was knocking back the drink. It really was good, though. I placed down my empty glass on the tray of a waiter passing by and was soon handed another. Fabulous.
‘Can I have a word with the co-curator?’ a male voice said softly behind me. At last, my first interview. My stomach filled with nervous excitement as my glass was re-filled again. I turned, pinning on a smile, trying to keep my cool.
‘Joshua!’ I still had to look up at him despite the extra inches of my heels. Handsome in his fitted suit and open collar, Joshua embraced me in a hug. I could feel Tim’s gaze burning through my back.
‘So beautiful.’ I heard his words over the chatter of the crowd.
‘I know, isn’t it?’ I said, admiring the sultry hues of the collection surrounding us.
‘I meant you.’ He smiled down at my pansy outfit; definitely not a wallflower.
‘Oh, thank you.’ I suddenly felt shy, before a waiter interrupted the moment with another top-up of champagne.
‘So, what’s your role tonight – no clipboard-holding I hope?’ Joshua asked, before I forced a finger to my lips. The fact Tim was still watching us made me nervous in more ways than one. I had told Joshua too much to give him free reign to broadcast my bitching right now.
‘No, I actually get to talk to people tonight. Tim wants me to handle the press interviews so pretend to look important,’ I joked.
Joshua laughed in return. ‘You may want to lay off the booze then,’ he said, at the exact same moment the waiter came back to top up my glass. This is how Jamie and Alice must feel every day, I thought, as I thanked the over-attentive help.
‘I’ll leave you to it for a bit.’ Joshua raised his eyebrow and grinned as the same waiter poured him a poor excuse of a portion. ‘But, Jess,’ he added sincerely, ‘you really should be proud of yourself.’
As I watched Joshua disappear into the crowd, I scanned the room for Sam, who was nowhere to be seen. It was early though. There was still time. There was definitely still time.
16 June 2016 – Nottingham, England
I unglued my eyes from my watch to look around the gallery, at the buzz of people filling the room. I could see my mum and dad chatting happily to my old tutor, no doubt waxing lyrical about the fact I had just got an internship at Art Today. I couldn’t blame them. I still couldn’t believe that I had, that I’d be spending four weeks down in London, getting a taste of my new life with Sam. Now that the news had had time to sink in, the thought still thrilled and petrified me in equal measures – at least Zoe would be following me down soon, so she would never be far away.
I could see her mincing around the room with Austin, arm in arm, carrying glasses of champagne, their pinkies raised and every so often saying things like ‘spiffing, darrrrrling’ and ‘it’s bloody well marvellous’. Needless to say, it was the first time either had been to an art exhibition. I couldn’t believe they were here for me, couldn’t believe it when one of the emails I had sent round to galleries with my portfolio finally got a reply. They didn’t want every piece in it, but they fell in love with one; sometimes one was enough.
I smiled to myself as Zoe tripped over her floor-length dress and clung to Austin, rescuing her drink at the expense of her dignity.
‘Nice trip, darrrrrling?’ I overheard Austin ask, failing miserably to don a British accent.
‘It was bloody well marvellous,’ Zoe oozed, before the two of them fell about laughing again and trotted towards me. ‘Jessica darrrrrling,’ Zoe began, arms outstretched. ‘This gallery is simply marvellous, and that painting of yours – that painting…’ She emphasised the word so forcefully that she made the couple next to her jump in surprise. ‘Well, my darrrrrling, it’s a triumph!’ She pushed her non-glass-bearing hand to the ceiling in an over-pompous ‘huzzah!’
‘Thanks. It’s only one painting.’ I shrugged, still proud. I looked over to it, the oils on the canvas depicting a large sweeping landscape, loose abstract lines detailing the undulating hills even though the colour palette nodded to a scene more coastal, the browns, sands and golds making the exact location hard to place. At least I knew it lay somewhere between Brighton and the Lake District, somewhere between me and Sam.
‘Tosh, Jessica. Tosh. It’s ruddy spiffing!’ Austin interjected with a flourish. Honestly, you couldn’t take them anywhere. And yet, I was so glad they were here.
‘No sign of young Sam?’ Austin questioned, not tiring of his Windsor-meets-wally persona.
‘There’s still time.’ I smiled weakly, looking towards the ornate clock, comparing it to the dainty hands of my watch. Both faces patronised me: it’s two and a half hours since opening and your boyfriend still isn’t here. I shook away the thought and picked up another glass of fizz. There was still time. He’d be here any second. I reached into my clutch bag and pulled out my phone. Nothing. Sam’s shift finished half an hour ago, but they usually overran. He couldn’t help it. And anyway, he probably thought it was no big deal. I had painted it so long ago. I began to type but then instantly deleted the words.
‘He’ll be here, soon,’ I said, taking one last look at my phone, as it suddenly jumped to life. I swiped open the message and read:
J, I’m so sorry. Work’s mad. See you later, yeah?
And then instantly, another:
Wish you were here x
I stashed my phone in my clutch bag and looked up at my friends. They didn’t need to ask.
‘Let’s go and slag off the other paintings.’ Zoe broke the silence, eyes full of mischief.
Austin nodded. ‘We can start with this one.’ He pointed to the painting hung next to mine, its soft lines suggesting the shape of
a female nude. I bit back tears, trying my best not to be exposed. ‘It shrinks in comparison to our Jessica’s.’ His fake accent remained unwavering. I tried my best to play along, but Sam’s texts played on loop in my head. Wish you were here. For once I wished we could be where I wanted to be instead.
Chapter 26
4 September 2020 – Sydney, Australia
I scanned the room again. Tim had cornered Joshua, picking imaginary flecks of fluff off the poor boy’s narrowly cut suit jacket. I wondered how long it would be until he realised who Joshua was related to – it had taken me long enough. If I had a sister I’d tell everyone but I guess Zoe had always been like mine. Olivia was slaloming throughout the room, clipboard in hand, checking everyone was happy, checking everybody was in. Sam and Jamie were still nowhere to be seen.
‘Jess, this is great!’
I turned around to find Alice, her hair loose and wavy, her make-up dewy and natural. She had a way of looking like she never gave a shit, not in a mean way but because she simply didn’t have to.
‘Congratulations.’ Andrew grinned eagerly beside her, while Mark waited in line for his turn to kiss me on the cheek.
‘I can’t believe you guys made it.’ I smiled, genuinely, careful not to let my voice crack. I couldn’t believe they were here for me. Joshua must have told them about it.
‘You kidding?’ Mark asked. ‘Support our friend and get free champagne? Try and stop us.’ ‘Our friend’ seemed a stretch seeing as they had always been Sam and Jamie’s friends but I couldn’t help feeling accepted; they liked me. And, looking around the room, it seemed people were enjoying the exhibition. The champagne didn’t hurt either.
‘Well thanks, guys, I really appreciate it. I hope you enjoy the—’ Olivia silently appeared to cut me off. She must have finally invested in some stiletto silencers.
The Spare Bedroom: A totally heartwarming, funny and feel good romantic comedy Page 19