Moth Girls

by Anne Cassidy

  Petra was shocked and yet at the very same moment she wasn’t a bit surprised. Not a bit. Zofia looked shamefaced, as if she’d done something wrong. She put one hand over her injured eye.

  ‘What happened?’

  Even as Petra asked she knew the answer. She pictured her dad lying drunk on the sofa the previous day, surrounded by empty beer cans. There’d been other girlfriends, years before when they’d lived with her gran. One of them had come to the house with a split lip and swollen jaw. Her sister had been in a small red car waiting for her. Gran had said her dad wasn’t in but the girl had screamed down the hall about going to the police. When her dad appeared he’d swivelled his finger at the side of his head, implying that the girl was a bit mad.

  Zofia took her hand away from her eye and forced a short laugh.

  ‘I tripped and knocked into cupboard. I was a little drunk. Serve me right.’

  The Big Boss was looking at them. The girl with the fringy bag was staring at Zofia’s eye.

  ‘I tripped,’ Zofia repeated.

  The Big Boss made an audible huffing sound.

  ‘I brought your make-up bag,’ Petra said, holding out the neon-pink bag.

  Zofia took it. She smiled at Petra. The bruised eye crinkled up at the side.

  ‘I like that bag,’ Petra said, looking away from her face.

  ‘I get you one,’ Zofia said.

  ‘I have to get back to school.’

  Petra left the shop but paused at the glass window and waved. Zofia was still holding the make-up bag as she blew a kiss at her.

  Seventeen

  It was a teacher-training day and there was no school. Petra and Tina and Mandy had just had lunch at Tina’s house. That morning they’d been to the shopping mall at Angel and Tina had bought some jeans and Mandy a jumper. Petra had spent money on some patterned tights. They’d all shopped for small things that were on sale: key rings, hair ties, sunglasses, make-up bags and pairs of earrings. They’d spent all their money. Petra’s dad had given her some cash and now it was all gone. He’d been generous since the social worker visit. He’d also been cheerful and chatty. Things were still stilted between them though. She knew that he thought it was because he’d been drunk. He had no idea that she’d seen Zofia’s black eye.

  Zofia had not been mentioned at all.

  The three girls walked towards the newsagent’s shop. It was a bright autumn day and Petra was warm and had tied her sweatshirt round her waist. The sun was shining and Tina and Mandy were wearing the sunglasses they’d bought. Petra’s were in her bag back at Tina’s. She didn’t mind because she was concentrating on her phone. She’d sent several texts to Zofia since the previous week. An hour before, when they were starting lunch, she’d sent another. She’d not yet had any replies.

  ‘I say we have a look at some magazines and get ideas for making collages for posters,’ Mandy said.

  ‘Posters for what?’ Petra said, poking her phone into her pocket, making sure that the top was sticking out in case she got a beep for a message.

  ‘The Red Roses. We could make posters, like they have in Tube stations. You know the fly posters for different groups and bands?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tina said, ‘Mandy and me went to look at them the other day. They’re good.’

  ‘But why? Where would we put them?’

  ‘Well, we’d just make them and keep them. I’d like one up in my bedroom.’

  ‘You’re not even part of the group,’ Petra said.

  ‘She is, in an advisory way,’ Tina said tentatively, ‘because I’ve been thinking that she could be a kind of manager or coach or something.’

  Petra was exasperated. Mandy had wormed her way in and now she was close to becoming something in The Red Roses. She was like an unstoppable force. Right from the start Mandy had known it was just Petra and Tina and she’d been happy with that. Then she began asking about the group, discussing stuff about the songs and the dances and commenting on their performances. Now she was talking about promotion, making posters. She was making herself indispensable.

  ‘Her opinions are really good,’ Tina said, looking hopefully at Petra.

  Petra shrugged. What did she care? She had more important things to worry about: her dad and Zofia for one. Were they still a couple? She fingered her phone in her pocket and just stopped herself taking it out and looking at the screen for some message which might have slipped through the ether without making a sound.

  ‘What we could do,’ Mandy said, eying Petra, as if for permission, ‘is browse the magazines, then collect some old copies – my mum says there are loads left in the doctor’s surgery – and then we could make the collages on a sleepover at my house on Saturday night!’

  ‘Did your mum say that was OK?’ Tina said.

  ‘She’ll be fine about it. We can all use sleeping bags in the living room.’

  ‘I haven’t got a sleeping bag,’ Petra said.

  ‘We’ve got spare. It’ll be fun. We can watch a movie.’

  Tina was smiling, almost jumping up and down. Why not? Petra thought. Just then a beep came from her pocket and startled her. She turned and walked a few paces from the others to look at the message. It was from Zofia. She accessed it.

  I have make-up bag for you. Come to lunch on Sunday if your dad allows. 1pm xxx

  She sent an answer straight away.

  I will. Dad’s working on Sunday. See u at 1

  She put her phone away and found herself smiling. Tina and Mandy were standing close together, talking about the sleepover. Mandy’s shoulder was touching Tina’s and she was saying something that was making Tina laugh. They looked like a pair, both of them wearing sunglasses. It gave her a sore feeling in her throat. Maybe the two of them should be The Red Roses and she should be the one on the outside. She walked slowly back over to them. Did it matter that Mandy was a fixture? She had to control her feelings. A night spent at her house would be good. She could stay there and go straight to Zofia’s for lunch. Her dad would be out anyway.

  ‘I think the posters are a good idea,’ she said grudgingly.

  ‘OK. Let’s go and look at the magazines,’ Mandy said.

  ‘You go. I’ll wait for you,’ she said.

  They went into the shop. Petra glanced around the street. Her eyes settled on Mr Merchant’s dilapidated house. The building looked quite pretty from this distance; its brickwork and the foliage of the front garden gave it a country appearance. She wondered if the back garden was as overgrown as the front.

  Then, just as she was about to turn away, a car pulled into the street and stopped along from number fifty-three. It was her dad’s cab. Surprised, she watched as the door opened and he got out of the driver’s seat. Then he opened the back door and leant in, pulling out two carrier bags of shopping. He closed it with his foot and walked towards the old house. Moments later he went through the side gate.

  Her dad was like two different people. Today he was doing a kindness for an old man and yet a few days ago he’d hit out at Zofia, just as he’d done with previous girlfriends. Just as he’d done with Petra. She peeked in at the newsagent’s. The others were still looking at magazines so she walked along the street and across the road to her dad’s cab. She stood by the front of it and moments later he came back out of the side gate and through the front garden.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  He looked taken aback.

  ‘I thought you were at Tina’s?’

  ‘I am. We just came to the shop. Were you visiting Mr Merchant?’

  ‘Just a bit of shopping. I didn’t stop because he’s fast asleep. They give him lots of drugs for the pain.’

  Petra pictured the key that her dad had told her about hanging on a hook by the back door. It was covered up with ivy, he’d said.

  ‘I’ll tell you what though,’ her dad said, patting her on the arm, ‘that garden’s like a jungle. The whole place needs clearing out. Are you OK?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said woodenly.

  �
��I’ll be a bit late. Tea about seven? How about chicken and chips? Those nice crinkle-cut ones?’

  ‘If you like …’

  He drove off just as she heard her name being called from behind. She looked across the road and saw Tina and Mandy outside the shop. They’d taken their sunglasses off. They were both laughing at something and the sight of it irritated Petra.

  ‘What’s up?’ she said.

  ‘Mr Johnson fancies Tina!’

  Mr Johnson was the newsagent.

  ‘No, he doesn’t,’ Tina said.

  ‘He offered her a free magazine and he always comes up close to her. I think he’s in love with you!’ Mandy said gleefully.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Petra said, looking at them both with disdain.

  Mandy’s face closed up. Tina pulled at the sleeves of her top. They hung over her hands. Petra made a sudden decision.

  ‘Let’s go into the garden of the old house. We can slip round the side,’ she said in a loud whisper.

  They both looked baffled.

  ‘The house. Let’s go in now. Just to the garden! In and out.’

  ‘Why?’ Mandy said.

  Petra ignored the question and focused on Tina. She stared straight at her, pushing Mandy out of her eyeline.

  ‘You remember, Tina. We said we’d go inside once but we never did. We can slip into the garden and back out again without anyone knowing. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Mandy.’

  ‘I didn’t say I wasn’t coming!’

  ‘Come on, then. Just follow me to the side door. We stay five minutes. Have a look around then come out. It’ll be a dry run for going inside the house.’

  That was something she’d wanted to do once. She’d told Mandy about the house ever since she’d wormed her way into their friendship. She’d wanted to see the cobwebby rooms and hear the ghostly sounds from upstairs. Somehow those plans had got pushed away over the last weeks.

  ‘Don’t let’s think about it. Let’s do it as a dare. I dare us to go into the garden …’

  ‘You can’t dare yourself!’ Mandy said.

  ‘I dare you two to go in. Now, Tina, you dare me.’

  ‘I dare you to go into the garden, Petra.’

  ‘Now we’ve got to go.’

  Petra strode off across the street, not at all sure whether Tina would follow her and not caring whether Mandy came as well. When she got to the front gate she saw the two of them a little behind. Mandy was there but she could tell, by her body language, that she didn’t want to be.

  ‘We can do the magazines, later,’ Petra said in a loud whisper, hoping that her words showed how fair she could be.

  Mandy stepped forward.

  ‘When we go in the front gate we turn right immediately and cut across the front of the garden then down the side. There’s a gate there.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Tina said.

  ‘My dad is Mr Merchant’s friend. He told me.’

  ‘You’d better not get caught then!’ Mandy said.

  ‘We won’t get caught. He sleeps a lot, my dad said. Follow me.’

  Petra looked up and down the street. There was no one around. She led them through the front garden to the side gate. She pulled it towards her as she had seen her dad do. She held it open while the other two went in. Then she followed. It was a like a jungle, her dad had been right about that. There were green tendrils reaching out from every direction. Underfoot the path was overgrown and the wall to her side was matted with a creeping plant. Ahead of her Tina and Mandy were walking side by side and then Mandy strode ahead, as though it were her excursion and not Petra’s. That was the thing about Mandy. She would take over things if she could.

  ‘Hang on!’ Petra said in a loud whisper.

  But Mandy was trudging through the garden as if she were some kind of explorer. Tina seemed torn. She looked round at Petra and then back at Mandy. Petra shrugged and Tina followed after Mandy. The garden was huge. There were sheds at the back which sat in the shade of a couple of giant trees. Their branches reached out across the garden and on one of them was an old swing. The ropes were there although the seat looked as if the edges of it had been eaten away by something. A light breeze ruffled the foliage and the branches swayed a little but the swing didn’t seem to move; it just hung completely still as if it hadn’t swung for years.

  Petra turned to look at the back of the house. The upstairs windows had curtains drawn across them but the downstairs ones did not. They were thick with grime but she still looked at them cautiously, half expecting to see the old man’s face again, his hand up waving at her. She could hear Tina talking loudly from behind her and wanted to shush her but her eye was drawn to the door through which her dad went in and out of Mr Merchant’s home. It was surrounded with close-knit ivy which had come from a trellis further along. It had travelled across the brickwork as if it were intent on gaining entry to the house. Her eye searched through the thick strands until she saw the glint of a key hanging from a hook. She picked it off. It was a Chubb-type key and attached to it was a leather key ring. It had some initials on it: ‘GM’ in italics. Were they Mr Merchant’s initials?

  A voice sounded. It made her jump.

  She spun round to loud shouts. Tina and Mandy were running back down the garden, heading for the side passageway. She looked towards the house next door and saw a man standing by a broken fence. He was wearing black glasses and his face was red, his words booming angrily across the bushes and overgrown grass. ‘What on earth do you think you are doing?’ He was big, his belly hanging over his trousers, a split at the bottom of his shirt where the buttons wouldn’t fasten. She turned, lowered her head and walked swiftly to the corner and then ran out of the garden hurriedly, closing the gate behind her. The others had gone and as she stepped onto the pavement she saw their backs disappearing round the corner.

  She followed them, running as fast as she could. When she turned out of Princess Street she saw they had stopped about twenty metres on. Tina was standing puffing, one hand on a wall. Mandy was beside her with a frightened look on her face. She walked up to them.

  They all stared at each other.

  They’d been chased out of the garden by the next-door neighbour.

  ‘Do you think he’ll tell my mum?’ Mandy said.

  Moments before she’d been the intrepid explorer and now she was falling apart. Petra shook her head. Tina started to laugh and it made Petra smile.

  ‘Did you see his face? Like a strawberry!’

  ‘And his belly,’ Petra said, sticking her stomach out as if she were pregnant. She put on a deep voice. ‘What on earth do you think you are doing?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Mandy. He doesn’t know who we are,’ Tina said.

  Mandy seemed to relax. She dropped her hands and her mouth loosened, and she gave a weak smile. Moments later they walked back towards Tina’s. They took a long circuitous route so that they didn’t have to go along Princess Street again.

  Petra thought about the garden though, and the Chubb key, and she wondered why her dad had bought shopping for Mr Merchant when he had carers to do that sort of thing for him.