The Spare Room

On Saturday morning, Dean goes to his sister’s flat. Amy opens the door. She has yellow paint on her face. The corridor smells of paint. “You look tired,” Dean says.

“I paint the spare room,” Amy says. “Our cousin Alice comes tonight. She needs a quiet room.” Dean looks at the wall. “Do you work alone?” “Yes. My neighbour has a ladder, but he is out now.”

Dean takes a brush. Amy sits on a box and drinks water. “My back hurts,” she says. “I do not sleep well. I like a nice room, but this is a lot of work.”

“Rest a little,” Dean says. “Is the paint dry?” “No, not yet.” At twelve o’clock, the second wall is ready. Then Amy’s phone rings. It is Alice. “My train is early,” she says. “I am outside!” Amy looks at the wet walls and laughs.

Alice comes in with her suitcase. She sees the yellow walls and Dean’s dirty hands. “Do you work all day for me?” she asks. “Yes,” Amy says. “We are not finished.” Alice puts down her suitcase and takes a brush. “I can help.”