Page 49 of Tilly in Technicolor
Can you die from blushing? It can’t be safe for this much blood to be rushing to my cheeks. Another quick (again, accidental) glance at Tilly lets me know she’s experiencing a similar physiologic crisis.
“Interrupting what, darling?” Mum asks, nudging Mãe away from the camera.
“Nothing,” I say. Way too loudly. All four women blink at me. Then Cubby bursts into evil laughter.
“I’ll explain later,” Cubby says, shooting our mums a wink. “But, more importantly, you have to meet Tilly.”
Cubby pushes me away and walks straight to Tilly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“Mums, this is Tilly. She’s been traveling with Ollie this summer for the internship.”
There’s a pause before my mums squeal again. I’d like to dissolve into the carpeting.
“MyGod,you’re gorgeous,” Mãe says. “Isn’t she, Lu?”
“It’s so good to meet you,” my mum, Louise, says, at least slightly calmer than Mãe. “And yes, youarelovely.”
I drop my head into my hands and stifle a groan. Not sure why everyone is so suddenly obsessed with Tilly’s looks. She has one thousand even more distinct qualities. Like cleverness. The ability to start conversations with literally anyone. The energy she radiates every time she steps into a room.
With a bit of strength, I sneak another look at Tilly, trying to gauge how uncomfortable she is. How much she probably despises me and my overly enthusiastic family.
Her gaze meets mine almost instantly and she gives me a dazzling smile that has me dropping my head back in my hands.
“How’s the trip been for you?” Mum asks. “I know Ollie’s having a brilliant time. He’s been texting us about how much he enjoys editing the social media content.”
“It’s been…” I can feel Tilly looking at me. “This trip has certainly been a whirlwind. But I love working with Ollie on the photoshoots. He makes hand-modeling easy. And I know my sister and Amina are so happy with how much growth and buzz he’s gained for them on social media.”
“Are those your hands in all the pictures, dear?” Mum asks.
“Yup. He does a great job directing me, because otherwise, I’d just have my hands like this in every shot,” Tilly says, smiling and holding her limp wrists in front of her chest like some sort of adorable squirrel.
“Well, you’ve certainly inspired him,” Mãe says. “He’s sent ushundredsof hand photos he hasn’t posted yet. Going on about this color or that.”
“Truly,” Mum chimes in. “So many pictures. So many. I can’t figure out how to stop my WhatsApp from automatically saving all of them, so my entire camera roll is basically your nail beds.”
Cubby snorts at this and I, once again, am hoping for a timely demise.
“I want in on this ‘Pictures of Tilly’s Hands’ group chat,” Cubby crows.
“I’ll send you some of my favorites,” Mãe says.
“Cubby, I’m ready to leave for dinner,” I say, standing and walking toward them. “Mums, I love you and I am giving you the courtesy of letting you know I’m hanging up on you.”
Tilly glances at me, biting her lip as she smiles. Cubby cackles, at what I have no idea, then looks back at her phone.
“We love you both,” they say in unison before I jab my finger at Cubby’s screen and end the call.
“Your moms are so cool!” Tilly says, turning to Cubby.
“They are spectacularly wonderful,” Cubby says, sliding her phone into the back pocket of her ripped jeans. “Which makes it spectacularly annoying to try and write angsty songs. How dare they give us a great childhood and steal away potential trauma to make art out of?”
Tilly giggles. “What do they do for a living?”
“Mum is an art curator, and Mãe an artist. Mum met Mãe while working in a gallery down in Lisbon. They fell so desperately in love that Mãe followed Mum back to Surrey from Portugal and never looked back.”
“That’s so romantic,” Tilly says.
“Runs in our blood,” Cubby says, punching me on the shoulder. I glare at her for a moment, before noticing how Tilly’s eyes flicked toward mine then away. I stare long after her look has left me. But then Cubby jams her elbow into my ribs and I jolt out of my daze.
