‘And what does your brother do?’ He remembered her talking fondly about her brother, whenever they discussed Scout and Jem.
Aleisha fiddled with her long fingernails. ‘He’s working all the time, these days. I think he’s stressed a lot now …’ Aleisha paused then, almost surprised at her own words. ‘He never really gives himself a break.’ Then she took a deep breath, and kept her eyes fixed on her hands. Mukesh had the sense that she’d never said this out loud before. ‘But we used to hang out, he loved going into central London on summer holidays – we never did anything. Sometimes we just got on Tube trains and would see where we ended up.’
‘I used to like doing that after work. It can be very peaceful.’
Aleisha nodded. ‘Totally. Aidan usually loves it, just being among people but sitting quietly, everyone minding their own business. When I first got my Oyster card, he begged Mum to let him take me on trips. She wasn’t sure about allowing us both to go on our own, but she said yes. Mum’s an artist, well, a graphic designer, so he took me to some galleries because I never really understood what she did. We didn’t see the exhibitions, but Aidan picked up some postcards for her. She gave us the biggest hug when we got back, like we’d been gone years.’
Mukesh watched as Aleisha’s mind wandered, her eyes gave the same telltale expressions as Naina’s when she was buried in a book.
‘You love your family, ne?’ Mukesh asked.
Aleisha shrugged, her reverie halted.
‘Families aren’t perfect, but we love them.’ He held up his book, The Kite Runner, as if to illustrate his point. Aleisha rolled her eyes, but in a kind way. He was thinking about Amir, Hassan, Amir’s father – the small family they’d created for themselves, the hurt they’d caused one another as a result.
‘Are you still trying to do your Atticus words of wisdom thing?’
‘My friend, I have my own words of wisdom, thank you very much!’
‘What do you think of The Kite Runner?’
‘Good question. It has made me very sad. I think we have all been a bit of Amir in our lives – self-centred, focused only on ourselves – and we have all been a bit of Hassan, too, forgotten by the people we love the most. But in the end, the book was as happy as it could be. Amir made the right choice, to do the right thing. I couldn’t help thinking what a selfish boy he was, though. Ne?’
‘Oh, Mr P – I know. But he was only a child too – he wasn’t thinking.’
‘Yes, that is true, you’re right.’ He took a deep breath, feeling the sadness of the novel sink in before trying desperately to distract himself, to distract Aleisha. ‘So, you really think I should take Priya outside of Wembley?’ He wouldn’t admit it to Aleisha, but he was nervous. He had routines; he never ventured very far.
‘Yes! Take her into London – Wembley’s boring for her. It’s boring for us. Surely you’re fed up of this library!’
‘Boring for you, maybe! This library is still my adventure,’ Mukesh clapped his hands together. ‘Wembley, it’s big enough for me, and always changing.’
‘Mr P, you deserve to get out a bit more.’
‘I know I should, but …’ He paused, looked down at the desk. ‘The truth is it frightens me a little bit. My wife Naina, she was the brave one, she …’ He came to a halt, a lump forming in his throat.
He could feel Aleisha staring at him, pitying him.
‘Look Mr P,’ she said softly. ‘You know that journey Amir took back to Kabul, not knowing what the city he’d grown up in would look like now?’
Mukesh gulped back the lump.
‘That was a big journey,’ Aleisha coaxed. ‘And well, no offence Mr P, but it was way more of a big deal than you stepping out of HA9 for an afternoon. If he can do that, you can certainly do this. And Priya, she might see you in a different light. She might think you’re less of an old man, stuck in his ways, and more like her …’
Mukesh nodded, trying hard not to be a little offended by that last bit. He looked down at The Kite Runner, sitting on Aleisha’s desk, ready to be put back on the shelf for someone else to read and weep at.
As he headed to the door, Aleisha caught up with him. ‘Hey, Mr P, you forgot your next book. It’s got a tiger in it. One of my mum’s new favourites.’ She handed him Life of Pi and Mukesh pulled a face of mock horror at the tiger on the front. ‘Yet again, a story of someone being forced out of their comfort zone, onto a lifeboat with a fierce animal,’ Aleisha said with a wink.
‘Thank you, I can tell you’re choosing these books just for me. I’m just sorry I can’t give you anything useful in return!’
Aleisha smiled, shyly. ‘Mr P, don’t worry, it’s my job, remember?’
With that, he wandered out with a spring in his step, trying hard not to let the ‘Save Our Libraries’ sign on the door dampen this small moment of joy.
Think of positive things. Think of positive things – Mukesh chanted to himself silently, trying to allay his nerves. It had been a long time since he’d got on the Tube, and he felt as if he was learning to walk all over again.
He’d decided on the destination for his and Priya’s trip today: central London, where the sounds were louder, the people were grumpier – the thought terrified him a little. It was a big step, a big change. He hoped Aleisha was right about this.
When he’d worked on the Tube, many years ago, this had been his life. Back then he had loved the Bakerloo line trains best. They were still old fashioned, almost exactly the same as they were when he would explore the area with nothing but a ticket and a watch to get him back home on time, ready for dinner with Naina and the girls. It was rare that he’d have an evening after work with an hour or so spare to sit on the Tube for a little while, but if he did, that’s what he liked to do.
The train pulled up; a handful of people stepped up and off onto the platform. Mukesh held on to the rubber on the edge of the door as he took a big step onto the train. Priya hopped on easily, and offered her hand to her dada. He declined. He could do this by himself. Priya ran ahead to save them seats, and all of a sudden Mukesh could feel himself weakening with the distance. Until a woman came close behind him and said, ‘I gotcha,’ taking a firm hold of his arm.
He was a little wobbly as he set both feet on the floor of the train carriage, no longer light enough to float away, but found his seat next to Priya, who was already reading her book. He realized his opportunity. He had Life of Pi with him, he could read alongside his granddaughter. Suddenly his heart rate started pulsing. Priya hadn’t seen him reading, and he’d never read on a train before – he didn’t want to make himself queasy. He decided against it. The tiger and the boat could wait. Instead, he watched Wembley go by.
Sixteen stops.
A family of four got on. Two little girls, a mum and a dad. They got off again at Maida Vale. He hadn’t been to Maida Vale for years.
Then another man hobbled onto the train, in the same style as Mukesh. He tried to avoid eye contact, but couldn’t help looking out of the corner of his eye, wondering what was going to happen next. Mukesh knew how he felt, unsure if the floor beneath you could hold you, whether it would stay firm or quickly turn to jelly. These days it was always jelly. The man grabbed hold of the maroon bars, his knuckles a purplish-white with effort, and he lowered himself onto a seat.
The man looked Mukesh dead on and he couldn’t hide any more, so he smiled. The man simply nodded back. Priya was oblivious to it all, her face pulled in the same look of concentration that defined Naina’s reading state. She was somewhere else.
‘Where are we going, Dada?’ Priya asked, holding Mukesh’s hand tightly as they pushed their way through the streets of Charing Cross. Mukesh wished his palm wasn’t so clammy.
The signs were brighter in central London, the traffic louder, faster, than he had remembered. He couldn’t see more than a few paces in front of him because of all the people blocking his way.
‘Well, I think you’ll like it. Your ba took me to this place once, to pi
ck up presents for your mum and your masis one day, when they were very young. I thought it might be nice to get you a present too.’
Since Naina had died, Mukesh had failed to buy Priya presents she actually liked. Last year, he’d bought her a pink, fluffy, sequined purse. She’d passed it straight to her little cousin Jaya, who had used it as a musical instrument for a few hours before leaving it in a corner of Mukesh’s house for him to find weeks later, covered in dust, with a dead ant lying on top of it.
‘Mum says she never got presents,’ Priya frowned.
‘She did!’ Mukesh tried to hide his shock. ‘On special occasions,’ he qualified. ‘Usually a new dress that your ba made. And I remember coming here around Christmas, you see, all those years ago. We said we’d do Christmas, but we agreed we’d still do Diwali. Double presents, and a Christmas tree and Christmas cards, barfi and gulab jamun. We did it all. Your mum wanted to be like her school friends, who got gifts all wrapped up in glitzy paper.’
Naina had bought books for Rohini, Vritti and Deepali. He could tell the girls hadn’t been impressed. He remembered, clearly, Rohini saying, ‘Mummy, I thought I was getting a new dress this year?’ While Deepali and Vritti worked hard to feign gratitude as they opened them, their smiles plastered on their faces, two unconvincing toothy grins.
The two of them stopped as they entered the bookshop, their eyes caught by the books in the windows – a whole scene was captured on the glass itself, a sea and an orange-pink sunset showcasing books, all different sizes and colours. The waves, the deep blue of the sea, reminded Mukesh of Pi, his ocean, his lifeboat and his tiger.
‘Wow!’ Priya gasped, quietly. She quickly shook off her awe, trying to play it cool. Mukesh felt the same. He’d seen books now, but the library was sparse compared to this. Shelves and shelves. Floors and floors. Tables and tables. Piles and piles of books. It was as though they were floating all around him, lifted up by some kind of magic, offering up new worlds, new experiences. It was beautiful.
‘Follow me,’ he said to Priya, leading her towards the tills.
As he reached the desk, he paused, bracing himself, that first day in the library flashing in his memory. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to a woman behind the desk, wanting to look bold in front of his granddaughter, who was peering excitedly over the counter.
‘How can I help?’ she said, smiling at him.
He relaxed. This was so very different to his first meeting with Aleisha. ‘I want three books please. Rebecca,’ he said, smiling down at Priya, ‘The Kite Runner and To Kill a Hummingbird.’ He said the last two so quickly, she, ‘Louisa’ judging by her name badge, asked him to repeat himself.
‘Re-becc-ca,’ he enunciated, quietly. ‘The Kite Runner, and To Kill a Humm-ing-bird by Lee Harper.’
‘Thank you, sir. Let me check for you.’
Her fingers moved at the speed of light on the keyboard. ‘Ah yes, we have all of these. Let me show you.’
She stepped out from behind the desk. There were a lot of other people browsing, and he wondered if she had time to show them where to go, and still make it back to serve someone else. He looked around. All he could see were books, tables and staircases. Behind one table, piled high with paperbacks, was a young woman he felt sure could be Scout all grown up. He stopped in his tracks. Her face was exactly how he’d imagined it. She had short, messy blonde hair too. Was it Scout? How could it be? Scout didn’t really exist, no matter how much he wished she did. Priya tugged at her dada’s sleeve and pointed him towards the woman, a few paces in front. Her eyes wandered the bookshop, taking in every inch.
‘Isn’t this exciting?’ he whispered, more to himself than to Priya.
When he looked back at Louisa, she was far ahead of him, heading up the staircase. He shuffled to catch up, dragging Priya with him. He wondered why all the other browsers couldn’t see the characters walking among them, the ghost of Rebecca lurking in the corner, picking out the novel she was going to read on her beach holiday this year, and Atticus, holed up in the reference section, surrounded by big, fat, chunky books – Mukesh wouldn’t have expected any less of him! Why was no one else as giddy with elation as he was?
Eventually, they tracked down all the books. Louisa fetched them from the shelves one at a time, checking they were the editions he wanted. He nodded. He didn’t really know what that meant but as long as it was the right book, he was happy.
He passed each one to Priya. ‘What do you think? What covers do you prefer?’
‘What?’ Her eyes shot up at him, disbelieving. ‘These are for me?’
‘Yes!’
Within moments, Mukesh felt breathless, all the air squeezed out of him by Priya’s arms, hugging him tightly at the waist. The woman watched them, smiling, and Mukesh didn’t mind that he could barely breathe. He couldn’t remember the last time Priya had hugged him without her mum instructing her to.
When she finally let go, her eyes shot down to the books. ‘I like these ones,’ she said, running her fingers over the bumps and gloss of the covers, before clutching them to her chest.
‘Wonderful, young lady. Anything else at all I can help you with?’ Louisa asked.
‘Why these books, Dada? Were they Ba’s favourites?’ Priya said, between mouthfuls of cheesecake from the bookshop café.
He shrugged, shovelling down his chocolate muffin – a small drop of shame coming over him. He didn’t know. He’d never asked. Naina had always looked so preoccupied when she was reading. He’d never stopped to think that sometimes the book she was reading might reveal more to him than anything else. Only now that he’d started reading himself, now that he saw Rebecca browsing the shelves, Mrs Danvers sitting beside him in the Foyles café, eating a cream cheese bagel, or Amir and Hassan running up and down between the tables, only now did he realize how lovely it would have been to learn a little more about the world Naina had been occupying, the characters she’d been walking with.
He didn’t want to show his regret to Priya, when she finally seemed excited to spend time with him, so instead he said, ‘I think your ba read every book. She loved reading!’
‘I know that, Dada,’ she said, scrutinizing him. ‘But did she read these ones? Were they her favourites?’ She’d laid out her three new books in front of her like playing cards. Wiping her hand first so as not to get any cheesecake on her books, she stroked the covers again. Naina would always wipe her hands on a tea towel before picking a book up.
‘I’m not sure. But they are my favourites.’ He waited to see if that held any resonance for her, if she even cared at all. His little girl gave nothing away. She shrugged.
‘Can you tell me what they are about then? Just a little so I have the flavour, you know.’
He nodded. He’d never had to do this before – it felt a bit like a test. He remembered Aleisha’s face after she finished The Kite Runner – how her recommendation had been filled with so much emotion and enthusiasm. He tried to channel her energy as he summarized each novel.
‘So, To Kill a Mockingbird,’ Mukesh glanced over to Atticus Finch in the reference section, just about in view from the café. Priya’s eyes were wide, totally engaged, focused on her grandfather’s face. ‘It’s about brother and sister, Jem and Scout, learning some crucial life lessons. Their father, Atticus Finch, is a big, important lawyer – he’s really good, and very wise and fair – he’s defending a man called Tom Robinson, accused of attacking a white woman just because he’s black. It’s her word against his. Now, these are things quite big for young Scout and young Jem to understand – so we see them coming to terms with what’s going on, seeing injustice for themselves in their own childlike ways. So, what happens—’
‘Stop, Dada!’ Priya held up her hands. ‘I’m going to read it for myself. I just want the flavour.’
‘Yes, yes, you are right. Well, then that is a little flavour.’ He moved onto the next one: Rebecca. He began describing the book by going ‘Ooo,’ in what he hoped was an atmospheric, spooky way,
but actually he sounded like an old grandfather with some joint pain.
‘Are you okay, Dada? Do you want to sit on this seat, it has more padding?’ Priya stood up and pointed to the cushion underneath her.
‘Na, beta, it’s okay, I am okay, just a little twinge,’ he said, embarrassed. ‘Where was I? … Oh, yes. Do you remember your summer holidays to Cornwall?’
‘Yes, Dada, of course.’
‘Well, you know all those cliffs, the rough waves.’
‘Yes, Dada.’
‘Well, imagine a large house not far from there, and a ghost of a woman walking the halls … that’s how Rebecca really builds the atmosphere, spooky, and eerie, and I think the landscape is a person in itself! I don’t know if it really is Cornwall in the book, but it sounds like it. Did Cornwall ever feel like that to you?’
For a split second, Mukesh was watching himself – and he couldn’t quite believe it. He was discussing books as if he knew what he was talking about. He sounded like an English teacher, maybe even a librarian. He felt himself sit up an inch or so taller, pride sending pinpricks over his skin.
‘Not really, we usually go surfing and it’s very beautiful when it’s sunny. But windy and scary when it’s not.’
‘Exactly! It’s got that beautiful side, and the dark side … like Rebecca.’
Eventually, he moved on to The Kite Runner. He didn’t know how to begin describing it to Priya. ‘This book might be a little sad, and a little grown-up for you.’
Priya shook her head. ‘One of my friends read it at school. She’s a bit older than me, but I’m a better reader than her,’ she said matter-of-factly.
‘All right, well, it’s the story of two friends, they’re like brothers, Amir and Hassan,’ Mukesh pointed to the two little boys on the front cover. ‘Except Amir is from a wealthy family, and Hassan is not. Hassan is the son of Amir’s family’s servant.’
He held The Kite Runner in his hands. While this story was so different to his own, and that of his friends, something about the kinship between Amir and Hassan always reminded him of his good childhood friend in Kenya, Umang. They were so alike in so many ways, but the two boys had different pasts and different futures – Mukesh always knew he’d have opportunities, but Umang … Umang didn’t.
The Reading List Page 17
