The Reading List

by Sara Nisha Adams

  As he scrawled all the specifics on a pad of Post-it notes, left here by Rohini for this precise reason (‘Papa, you never seem to listen to the details of my telephone messages; how about I keep this next to the phone so you can write things down?’), the phone trilled again and his heart began to race. He pulled out more Post-it notes in case Rohini had any more instructions ahead of her impending arrival.

  ‘Ha – I am nearly ready, I promise. Eleven a.m.,’ Mukesh gabbled, jumping into action.

  ‘Hello, is that Mr Patel?’ said a male voice.

  ‘Yes,’ Mukesh responded, cautiously this time. ‘It is Mr Patel. Who is speaking?’

  ‘Hi Mr Patel, this is Kyle from the Harrow Road Library. We spoke the other day. We have a book on request for you that has just become available.’

  ‘But, but I haven’t put a request in for anything. I don’t know how to do that.’

  ‘Are you sure? We have To Kill a Mockingbird on file.’

  ‘I didn’t order it, I promise. I am so sorry for wasting your time,’ Mukesh rushed through his apology.

  ‘Oh, that is odd. Maybe it’s a technical error. Would you like me to cancel the request? I have it here for you, but I can put it back on the shelf.’

  Mukesh was about to reply, when a thought struck him. He saw his scribbled handwriting on the Post-it note: Priya … no need to entertain or feed. A book was a book, after all … and if the librarian couldn’t recommend one, maybe this technical error was the closest he’d get. He didn’t have any time to waste. Maybe this could entertain Priya after all! It could be the start, to show her that he was trying to understand. ‘I will come and get it today, if that is okay?’

  ‘Of course, Mr Patel.’

  ‘Thank you, young man, thank you. How do I collect?’

  ‘You just need to come to the library with some ID, as I believe you’re yet to collect your new library card – is that right? – and give the person at the desk your request. Simple as that!’

  Mukesh wasn’t sure it sounded simple, but he’d have to work it out. He felt a flutter of butterflies in his stomach. ‘Thank you, thank you, young man.’

  As he put the phone down, the clock struck eleven and there was a knock on the door. ‘Rohini! Priya!’ Mukesh opened the door, a smile plastered across his face. ‘How lovely you both look!’ Rohini was in her work attire, a linen trouser suit and very trendy spectacles. She nodded towards him, her business face on too.

  ‘Thanks for doing this so last minute, Papa. I’m sure you two will have lots to catch up on,’ Rohini said, and Priya and Mukesh looked at each other – clearly both thinking, ‘When have we ever had lots to catch up on?’

  For a moment, Mukesh felt his heart drop. ‘We’re going to the library today, actually!’

  Priya looked up at him, confusion written all over her face.

  ‘Great,’ Rohini said, trying to hide her surprise. She headed towards her car as Priya hurried into the house, resuming her usual position, book in hand.

  ‘Rohini,’ Mukesh called to his daughter, and she stopped in her tracks. ‘What’s To Kill a Mockingbird about?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The book, what’s it about?’

  ‘Oh, Papa. It’s so long ago I read it. I don’t really remember – I can just about remember it made me cry once. I think Mummy comforted me. She thought I was stressed about my exams, but it was just the book.’ Rohini’s mind had jumped back to that day, he could see it in her eyes. ‘You’re not going to get it out for Priya, are you? From the library? I think it might be a bit grown up for her right now.’

  ‘No, no, just for myself.’

  ‘Really?’ She looked at him properly for the first time. ‘Well, that’s great, Papa. Mummy would be proud.’

  He couldn’t help it, but his chest puffed up with pride. Rohini hopped in her car and waved him goodbye, and as her car disappeared out of view, he heard Naina whisper in his ear: Thank you, Mukesh. Thank you for trying again.

  Chapter 8

  ALEISHA

  ‘ALEISHA?’ KYLE WAS USING his ‘professional’ phone voice this morning, which told her that he was already in the library.

  ‘Yeah?’ Aleisha replied.

  ‘That old man, the one you upset …’ (Kyle loved a guilt trip.) ‘Well, he’s coming in today sometime to pick up the book you’ve reserved for him. Your “trick” seems to have worked … Did you want to be here to recommend it to him? I’m happy to do it, I know the book really well.’

  Aleisha rolled her eyes. Of course he did. Kyle knew everything. She wasn’t quite sure what made her put the reservation in, but as soon as she’d turned the final page of To Kill a Mockingbird, she had wanted to talk to someone about it, and the man had wanted a book. And, she wondered now, perhaps he’d come to the library in search of more than just a story. What if he had wanted a friend, someone to talk to too? For a little while, Scout and her brother Jem … they had felt like friends to Aleisha. She wondered if this man, if he read it, might discover that too.

  ‘Actually, yeah, I want to be there. I’ll be there in like an hour. I’m just waiting for my brother to get home.’

  ‘All right, well, make sure you have some interesting things to say to him about it, really sell it to him. Every customer counts, remember?’

  She hung up and groaned inwardly. What had Crime Thriller guy said to her about the book? Had he mentioned anything interesting she could say to the old man in turn? The only thing that had stayed with her was that it wasn’t his usual read but had got him out of his weird, creepy, crime-filled head.

  She pulled her phone out and googled, ‘Themes in To Kill a Mockingbird’, followed by, ‘Discussion points in To Kill a Mockingbird’, bringing up a list of questions her English teacher could probably have written. She flicked through the book, and her fingers rushed over pages and pages she’d already enjoyed, when she’d watched Jem and Scout and their friend Dill mess with the old man who lived in the spooky house down the road. She landed on a page with Atticus, preparing for a court case, and his defence of innocent Tom Robinson. She’d subconsciously been taking notes, wondering if this was what law was really like. She’d ripped through the pages, enraged at the townspeople’s treatment of Tom, and Atticus too.

  ‘Aidan,’ she’d shouted a couple of nights ago, storming into his room. He’d been sitting on his bed absent-mindedly scrolling on his laptop.

  ‘Leish, what’s up?’

  She’d waved the book at him. ‘This! The people of Maycomb – this little fictional town. They’re so awful – there’s this man, he’s been accused of attacking this white woman, and just because she’s white everyone believes her. Atticus – he’s like a lawyer, a really good lawyer, he’s defending Tom. But everyone … everyone else. They’re so awful.’

  ‘To Kill a Mockingbird?’ Aidan eyed the cover, appraisingly. ‘It’s a good one,’ he winked. ‘I know, it gets deep – but when it stresses you out, you’ve just got to remember, it’s only a book, you know?’

  ‘That’s rich, coming from you – you’re the one who dressed up as book characters at Halloween. But you know what I mean … it feels real. I’m sure it has been real. It’s a proper fight for justice.’

  ‘It’s really got to you, this book, hasn’t it?’ he teased, kindly.

  It had really got to her. But now, now she needed to say something interesting about it, she literally had no clue if her thoughts were valid. The book had made her feel things, but was any of it worth sharing?

  She leaned against the worktop in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. The edge dug into the small of her back, reminding her of the time when she was little and Aidan had been chasing her through the house, when she’d tumbled. It had felt like flying for a moment. Until she’d hit her head, just above her left eye, and caught her skin on the sharp worktop.

  Aidan had come to her rescue, as always. Dean had told him off, for running in the house, but he hadn’t had to ask Aidan to collect a bandage, a cold
damp cloth, to help stem her bleeding forehead as well as he could. Aidan had taken it upon himself to look after her. Leilah had called him ‘our little doctor’ for a long time after that – Aidan was perfect, as always.

  Settling herself down in the living room with her mug clasped between her hands, she gazed out of the window, watching people wander by. Taking a sip, sometimes two, every time she saw someone. Her very own boring, solo drinking game. She was starting to panic – if Aidan took any longer, she might not get to the library in time to see the old man.

  And that’s when it happened – as if lifted straight from the pages of a novel. Through the window, she spotted the guy from the train. Without his beanie, this time. Was her mind playing tricks on her? No, she told herself, it was him. Definitely him.

  She slowly moved closer to the glass, her breath misting against it, and watched as he walked from one corner of her vision to the other. Just at that moment, Aidan’s car pulled up on the opposite side of the road, his usual parking spot. Her heart rate slowed. Her brother, silhouetted through the glass, leaned over to the passenger seat, probably putting his driving glasses away – he hated to admit he needed driving glasses – before leaning his head back and staring up at the sky. Aleisha waited, expecting him to step out of his car, but he sat there for minutes.

  Time stood still as she watched, waiting for Aidan to move. She felt like an intruder, spying on him. What was going on?

  And then came a whisper behind her.

  ‘What are we looking at?’

  It was Leilah, dressed already in jeans and a T-shirt – a good day, maybe. Aleisha tried to wipe the surprise from her face.

  ‘You’re up!’

  ‘Of course I’m up.’

  Aleisha frowned.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Leilah continued.

  ‘Nothing.’ Aleisha turned around, trying to hide Aidan’s car from Leilah’s view, wanting to give Aidan a moment to himself. ‘Just spotted some guy I saw on the train once,’ she said, to distract her.

  ‘Gripping.’ Leilah smiled. Her eyes looked less tired this morning.

  Aleisha stole one last look at Aidan. He knew she was waiting for him; she’d texted him to say she needed to go to work. Why wasn’t he coming inside yet? What was he doing? Inside his car, her brother brought both his hands to his face, his shoulders dropping; he stayed like that for a few moments – and then looked towards the house, towards her.

  ‘Mum?’ Aleisha jolted into action, but when she turned round Leilah was gone.

  ‘I’m up here!’ Leilah called from her room. Aleisha got up from the sofa quickly, pretending she hadn’t been watching at all, and stomped upstairs. Outside Leilah’s bedroom, she could hear the tinny voices of the radio.

  She walked in; Leilah unplugged one headphone.

  ‘Come in, darling,’ Leilah said, her voice was light. ‘Come and sit with me.’ Aleisha tried to suppress her jittery panic about the library, tried to focus on her mother in this moment. Right now, she wanted a hug. She wanted Leilah to tell her that it would all be okay.

  Leilah was sitting upright at the foot of the bed – Aleisha was so used to seeing her curled up – her legs were dangling over the edge, her toes not quite touching the floor. The radio sat beside her, headphones connected to Leilah as though injecting her with life.

  She tapped the bed on the other side of the radio. Aleisha sat down as instructed. Leilah unplugged the headphones. She curled them around and around, before placing them neatly next to the radio. Aleisha noticed the lines. Her mother’s feet and the floor. Her mother’s back and the bed. The radio, perpendicular; the headphones too. She felt as though invisible boundaries were being drawn through her, over her, around her: she recognized her own lines – her back (curved slightly, slouching) and the bed, her own legs and the floor. Her feet (toes pointing down rather than straightforward like her mother’s). Her mum was smiling at her, but Aleisha didn’t know how to act right now; all she could think about was how she was ruining the pattern. She didn’t belong.

  Aleisha was frozen to the spot, scared of making any movement, in case it knocked Leilah’s mood back, in case it drew Leilah’s attention to how out of place Aleisha was. But minutes later, they both heard the jangle of keys in the door, the turning of the lock. Leilah hopped up from the bed, and Aleisha was forgotten. Their spell, whatever it had been, was broken.

  ‘Aidan!’ Leilah called as she made her way to the front door. Aleisha stooped over the banister, watching as Leilah embraced her son. Aleisha inspected Aidan’s face, wedged between his mother’s shoulder and her head. He was smiling. His eyes were bright, weren’t they?

  ‘Come with me to the kitchen,’ Leilah said, dragging her son. ‘I might do some cooking!’

  Aleisha remained where she was, feeling like a useless spare part.

  Then, speeding back into gear, she picked up her bag from her bedroom, pulling her shoes on at the door. Aidan approached her, already in his apron.

  ‘You off to the library now?’

  ‘Yeah, that old man, you know the one, well he’s coming in to pick up the book I recommended.’

  ‘That’s great, Leish! And you’re going to do better this time?’

  ‘Obviously. That book I’ve been reading—’

  ‘To Kill a Mockingbird?’

  ‘Yeah, you remembered.’

  ‘Of course, you didn’t stop banging on about it.’

  ‘Funny … I don’t know if I’m going to be able to say anything decent.’

  ‘He’ll love it. You said loads of cool things to me about it.’

  Aleisha felt her face go warm, feeling as if she’d been put on the spot. Besides know-it-all Kyle and Dev, her brother was the only other person she knew who understood books. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. But I’m not gonna lie, when I saw you fast asleep with it in your hands, I literally thought it had bored you to sleep.’

  Aleisha rolled her eyes at him, and punched him lightly on the arm, ‘Shut up. I can actually concentrate on things. Remember, I’m the one who gets the good grades.’

  ‘What have you been waiting for then?’

  ‘You!’ Aleisha grabbed her bag and ran out.

  ‘It’s like a scene from Love, Actually or something,’ Aidan shouted down the road, while Leilah’s voice travelled outside the front door. ‘Aidan, love, please come help me with this!’

  Aleisha returned his comment with a middle finger.

  THE READING LIST

  INDIRA

  2017

  INDIRA WAS LATE FOR today’s satsaang because Dial-a-Ride had mixed up her booking. When she arrived at the mandir, she was flustered and panicked. She knew that Naina was leading the satsaang today, though she hadn’t been able to for a very long time because of her treatment, and she’d promised Naina she’d be there. She wanted to see her, to support her. She prayed for Naina every day. They weren’t particularly close friends, Indira wasn’t particularly close friends with anyone, but Naina was there for everyone, and Indira firmly believed in repaying those favours when people needed it most.

  Of all the days to be late, it had to be today, didn’t it?

  Indira sat on the chairs by the shoe racks, and slipped off her chappal, strapped tightly with Velcro. She left her socks on, though her doctor recommended she tread carefully. ‘If you have to, walk barefoot, as it’s much better for you, Ms Patel. Much less slippy.’ Indira never liked listening to the doctor anyway.

  She placed her shoes carefully in a plastic bag and selected her favourite shoe shelf. Number 89, in Shoe Rack D. It was a ritual. Sometimes when there was a school trip, the rack would be taken, but everyone else knew that was Indira’s spot.

  She checked the shelf for other shoes – nothing in sight but a crumpled bit of paper pushed towards the back. Indira pulled it out, and, because she was a curious type, she unfolded it to see if she might be able to return it to the original owner, or the litterer. (Who would dare litter in her shoe spot?!)


  Just in case you need it:

  To Kill a Mockingbird

  Rebecca

  The Kite Runner

  Life of Pi

  Pride and Prejudice

  Little Women

  Beloved

  A Suitable Boy

  Indira furrowed her brow. What was this? Some kind of list, written in neat English handwriting she didn’t recognize. With this as the only evidence, it’d be impossible to name and shame the litterer.

  Her eyes flew to the clock. It was already five past two, and she hadn’t got to the hall yet! She knew she should put the piece of paper in the bin, be the responsible one, but it was a bit of a walk away and in completely the wrong direction. To save herself time, and because there was some niggling thought at the back of her mind that ‘Just in case you need it’ was a message to someone, maybe even a message to her, she folded it up neatly and popped it into her mandir plastic bag with Swami Bapa’s face staring up at her, safe and sound.

  She spotted Naina’s husband Mukesh peering through one of the windows of the wooden doors, which separated the main hallway from the hall itself.

  ‘Eh, what are you looking at? This is ladies only! Shoo!’ Indira joked.

  ‘Kemcho, Indiraben. I’m just watching, making sure she is okay. I promised I would stay.’ His voice was shaking slightly, his eyes were red, tired.

  ‘You’ll do your back in peering like that!’

  ‘Indiraben, you understand. Look,’ he gestured into the hall and Indira’s gaze followed, her elbows resting on her mandir-branded Zimmer frame. ‘I must look after her.’

  Naina looked so different. Her hair, usually jet black and plaited, was today covered completely by an old sari that didn’t match the rest of her outfit. That was very unlike Naina, but Indira didn’t say anything to Mukesh. He was watching his wife so intently, as though, if he were to look away, she might disappear entirely.