Free A French Wedding by Hannah Tunnicliffe

didn’t get that from here,’ Sophie says hurriedly. ‘It was on the side of the road, when we pulled over for … a bathroom break.’ She meets Juliette’s eyes. ‘I don’t steal.’
    Juliette nods.
    â€˜Cool collection,’ she says.
    â€˜I guess it’s just rubbish.’
    Juliette frowns. ‘Not if you don’t think so.’
    Sophie’s cheeks flush a darker pink. Her voice drifts off and when silence falls between them again she doesn’t fill it. Juliette considers a strategy.
    â€˜Hey … do you think your parents would mind …’ Juliette whispers, leaning nearer, ‘if you have a tiny bit of alcohol?’
    Sophie blinks and lifts her chin. ‘I’m fifteen ,’ she says, as though it were fifty.
    Sophie’s face reminds Juliette of the photographs in her parents’ home. The girl so restless in her own skin. Sullen and confronting; challenging and hoping, wishing to be somewhere else. Fears simmering, just below the surface, making her stomach churn.
    â€˜I’m making sorbet with cider brandy tonight,’ Juliette replies. ‘I mean, I didn’t think it would be a problem, but I thought I’d better ask.’
    Juliette stands up and brushes the front of her pants, picking up her empty dinner plate in her other hand.
    â€˜It’s quite a bit of cider brandy, actually. Don’t tell?’
    Sophie nods.
    â€˜ Bon . I’ll bring you some better cutlery.’
    She directs her gaze at the bent fork in Sophie’s lap and then watches as a tiny smile graces the girl’s face. Juliette quickly feels guilty for telling Sophie not to tell her parents. Secret keeping should be her business, not Sophie’s.
    *
    It is midnight before everyone returns to their rooms. They have eaten their desserts, Sophie included, then another cheese platter of washed-rind Port Salut, creamy St Paulin and soft Mingaux, served with fruit. They’d groaned from fullness and Eddie joked that Juliette was part of an underground group that fattened up British people, like foie gras geese, to serve their body parts to diners in Paris. Nina and Rosie were tipsy and Hugo asked Lars to stop topping up their drinks. That had all three of them, Nina, Rosie and Lars, telling Hugo to stop being so boring and then roaring with laughter until Hugo said he was retiring to bed. Beth fell asleep on Eddie’s arm, right at the table, then Sophie left too, her odd, broken collection tucked into her sweatshirt. The remaining few got along even better with the exclusion of Hugo, Beth and Sophie. Nina, Lars, Rosie and Eddie sang to the music Lars chose and leaned against one another and clinked their glasses together in toasts to various things that became more and more idiotic.
    From Rosie: ‘To Brittany!’
    From Eddie: ‘To Max’s big, fuck-off house!’
    From Lars, drumming on the table: ‘To The Jacks!’
    Then, another, before Rosie punched his upper arm and they all looked at Beth, still sleeping: ‘To topless birds!’
    From Nina: ‘To Juliette! For feeding us like kings!’
    They were as drunk and stupid as teenagers.
    *
    With them all now finally in their rooms, full and happy, Juliette gives the table a final wipe-down and stacks the chairs in three piles in case a late wind comes through. Then she stands on the deck and listens to the sound of the waves. Roar , shhh shh , roar , shh shh . A breeze rocks her on her heels. She can feel breezes better now that her hair is short. She wonders why she didn’t cut it earlier. People say it suits her, even older women in the village who still wear their hair long, often plaited and tied up. Juliette feels more like herself with it short, but then some things you learn about yourself later than you expect. Juliette had cut it herself one night, thinking about how her father clipped the dogs after their lavender oil baths. Juliette’s mother