Free I Am Juliet by Jackie French

courtesy. I lifted my skirts and climbed the stairs.
    ‘Pretty lady! Pretty lady!’ the beggars called as they glimpsed my silks. A man with no arms darted forth, his cap held in his teeth. A hunchback grovelled at his side, and a small boy who had no legs but slid on a small trolley with wheels.
    I shook my head at them to show I had no money. They accepted it, seeing I had no maid or footman to carry coins.
    I stepped past the woman with scars for a face and the girl with white eyes, and into the dimness of the church. I genuflected and crossed myself, then slipped to the side door and out again, using the damp path above the graveyard. I could smell fresh earth and baking bread from the friars’ kitchen.
    The friars’ cells were built with their backs to the cliff, of the same stone but mossy, each with a bench outside and a small door. Most of the rooms had been empty since long before I was born, when the King had ordered the monasteries disbanded, but a few of the friars had stayed, bound to the new church now, giving lessons and guidance to the young.
    Which cell was Friar Laurence’s? I should have asked.
    One door stood open. Suddenly it seemed that I had done this a hundred times, a thousand. This was the door. This was what I had to do, had always had to do.
    I peered in. The friar smiled at me from the room’s shadows. He might have been a shadow himself, middle-aged and thin, in his brown robe and sandals.
    I tried to find my voice. ‘Good even to my ghostly confessor.’
    ‘Romeo shall thank you, daughter, for us both.’
    The friar stood aside, and there was Romeo. He looked the same. He looked quite different. This was no moonlit smile now, but a husband come to claim me. If I were older than I had been last night, then so was he.
    ‘If you are as happy as I,’ he said quietly, ‘then it seems impossible that this should make us happier.’
    I smiled at him, both bold and shy. ‘My love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my wealth.’
    He took my hand and bent to kiss me. His lips were warm. There was nothing in the world but him and me …
    Friar Laurence cleared his throat. ‘Come, come with me, and we will make short work! You two shan’t stay alone till holy church make two in one.’
    We parted, guilty, but my hand stayed clutched in his. I felt half-terror and half-joy.
    Back along the path we went, into the church again, quiet at this hour save for a nun praying to one side. She stood as we came in.
    I kneeled with Romeo. The friar stood above us and began to pray.
    ‘Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered together in the sight of God …’
    But there were no friends gathered here, no family, just Friar Laurence and the sister standing as witness by our side.
    A bride should remember all her marriage words. I remembered little. Just Romeo’s closeness and his smile; the beams of sunlight drifting through the windows; the fear that someone might interrupt before the friar was done. But no one spoke.
    ‘Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all other, keep thee only to her, so long as ye both shall live?’
    Romeo met my eyes. Our glance held. He was telling me that although this was all so fast, his vow was true.
    He said, ‘I will.’
    Friar Laurence looked at me. ‘Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all other, keep thee only to him, so long as ye both shall live?’
    I did not pause. ‘I will.’
    ‘Who gives this woman to be married unto this man?’
    My skin prickled. My father was not here to give me away! But Friar Laurence took my hand, then Romeo’s, and bound us two together.
    ‘And now please say after