Page 122 of Vying Girls
Her breath catches. ‘Woah. What is this?’
‘Moth trap. For the eco students, I guess.’
Tilda gets to her knees, tucking hair behind her ears as she peers into the trap.
I hand her the first egg box. ‘Don’t ask me what they’re called.’
‘This is a mottled grey.’ She turns the cardboard over. ‘Same as this one.’ She points to a dusty grey looking moth. ‘They’re common. Clearly.’
She puts it down, an excited smile flickering on her lips as she picks up another. ‘Oh, look! A red chestnut. Wouldn’t have thought you’d find them in a forest like this.’
I shake my head, eyeing the rust-coloured insect. ‘Wouldn’t have a clue.’
‘Mine’s a Death’s-head Hawk.’ She pulls back the strap of her dress, exposing her moth tattoo. ‘They’re not in the UK until later in the year. Apparently, anyway. I’ve never seen one. It’s on my list of things to see before I die.’
I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. ‘Area of interest, huh?’
‘Yeah. Moths are cool.’
‘Well,’ I murmur, ‘consider this my birthday gift to you.’
Tilda flicks her eyes my way. ‘Right. Because the dress wasn’t enough.’
‘Nah. Just didn’t want you making me look bad.’
She smiles, holding my eyes like a snare. As I fight to look away, hers suddenly flood with tears.
‘What?’ I snap, more discomforted than angry. ‘Why the fuck are you crying?’
‘I don’t know, I don’t know.’ She grabs hold of my hand and squeezes. ‘I just…being here with you.’ She blows out a breath, wiping her eyes. ‘I know you don’t think it’s any more than a coincidence, but…’ She trails off, shaking her head, still clutching my hand.
I remove it carefully. ‘Maybe it is something more,’ I allow.
She nods resolutely, carefully inspecting each eggbox and calling out the names of the moths she knows.
As if her tears never happened.
‘Bet Tommy’s been out here. He likes moths too, you know.’
‘Does he now?’
‘Mm-hm. He made an app for identification and everything. It was ace.’
‘Not crushing on my cuz, are you?’
Tilda laughs, a lilting little giggle that makes my lips twitch. ‘No. Not Tommy. I do like him though. Shame you don’t get on. He’s alright.’
I nod slowly, watching the moths in the trap. ‘I know. We…had a chat.’
‘Yeah? How’d it go?’
‘Fine, I suppose. Just wanted to find out what Damien’s up to.’
‘And did you?’
I draw in a breath. ‘Nope. Still in the dark with that.’
Tilda releases the last eggbox, peering around the forest as she gets to her feet. ‘I keep forgetting about him.’
