Jo nibbles at her pizza slice, slumped on her bed, opposite Céline’s. “Is it going OK with Grandma? Are you coping?”

“Yeah.”

Céline puts a hand on her naked, round belly. With her pink fingernails she picks at her navel, strokes the skin around it in a spiral movement, expanding the circle then returning to the middle. “Are Patrick and Valérie still here?”

“Can’t you hear them?”

Bursts of laughter, advice on everything and fragments of jokes rise to the bedroom. Valérie laughs too loudly.

“Yes.”

Céline sighs as if she’s dying, an arm over her face, her closed eyes still made up.

“Did you go to the river with Saïd? I didn’t see him at work today.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh great, you’re a real laugh, you don’t spare any details, it feels like you’re sharing, it’s really nice.”

Jo laughs silently. “I saw my mate again, the one in Avignon.”

“Do tell.”

“We went to see some plays.” “Oh, what a bundle of laughs…”

“There’s a party at her house in two weeks’ time. Want to come?”

Céline rolls on her side, a fist stuck into her cheek. “I’m spending the summer at our grandparents’ among all the grubby lot and don’t see anybody. So, yes, I’d like to come to your fancy party. Anything to escape this fucking shitty summer.” She leans down to pick up a piece of pizza. The cheese has hardened. It looks revolting but her sister’s right, she should have something. They eat in silence, hoping in vain for a breath of air to come through the window. But the night is still muggy. Their father’s voice rises up to them but they can’t make out the words.

“Jo?”

“Yes?”

“We’ll never be like them, right?”

Jo doesn’t answer straight away. She hesitates and considers the appropriateness of too direct a reply. In her doubt, she opts for a half-lie. “No, never.”

“Manuel, you stink.”

“Séverine…”

“You didn’t even have a shower when you got home.” She grits her teeth and her eyes drift beyond the man who’s rubbing himself against her, breathing too heavily. “Get off me.”

Patrick and Valérie left after the peanuts and beer. The girls didn’t come back out of their room and won’t before tomorrow. So they ate the leftover chicken on the sofa and watched the end of a crappy film, a romantic comedy with a highly predictable outcome. Without talking, without bringing up painful subjects – respite.

Then Séverine got up to put the plates in the dishwasher. Manuel followed her legs and her backside, excited all of a sudden.

“Stop it, not now.”