The Reading List

by Sara Nisha Adams

  ‘Thank you!’

  As Izzy wandered out of the library, she looked around her, wondering – as she always did – whether the list writer was hiding in the bookshelves. Or, could they be sitting behind the library desk? What had this person wanted from the list?

  Even after all her reading, all her snooping, she wasn’t sure she was any closer to the person who had written it, but she was enjoying the journey. She’d appreciated reading again – before the list, it had been so long since she’d sat down and just allowed herself to get lost in a book. Life felt too busy, it had felt like an indulgence she couldn’t afford.

  But the list had given her so much – she enjoyed speaking to people here, and in this new city, where life never seemed to stand still, it had given her a place just to be.

  Chapter 21

  ALEISHA

  ‘SO, MR DARCY, HE likes Elizabeth Bennet, and she clearly likes him, but she spends most of her time being rude to him and vice versa,’ Aleisha said to the silence in her house. She’d been reading to Leilah again, doing everything she could to recreate the calm they’d found this way before.

  But Leilah was distracted, her eyes wandered the living room. She nodded when Aleisha explained bits, but then got lost quickly.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ Leilah said drowsily. ‘So it’s a love story?’

  Aleisha had got lost trying to explain all the different characters. She’d tried to map out who was related to whom, who fancied whom, who wanted to be married to whom, as she went along … and now she’d skipped back to the moment when Elizabeth and Darcy had first been thrown into each other’s company, hoping it would prompt some interest from Leilah. Aleisha also secretly hoped it might prompt Leilah to ask her about her love life. But of course, why would she? Aleisha didn’t have a love life. Even Leilah knew that.

  But as she was reading, listening to Elizabeth use her smart-arse comebacks to rebut Mr Darcy, Darcy doing the same back, her mind was occupied by Zac, and that walk home. Except, unlike Darcy, Zac hadn’t been sullen and dull and boring – he’d been overly chatty. He’d made her laugh; he’d been trying to get her to take her guard down. But this was London, not nineteenth-century wherever, and no one spoke to strangers.

  She looked over to Leilah, and for a split second she saw her dressed from head to toe in one of Mrs Bennet’s best gowns. She blamed it on the story. On her overactive imagination. It was ridiculous – Mrs Bennet was nothing like Leilah. She was snobby, loud, brash and scheming, interested in everyone else’s business. Whereas Leilah was reserved, too lost in her own world to be interested in others’.

  ‘Okay, so that’s Elizabeth and Mr Darcy,’ Leilah said, her eyes waking up. ‘But you also mentioned a Lydia. Who’s Lydia?’

  ‘Elizabeth’s younger sister.’

  ‘Okay. And who’s Wickham?’

  ‘I think he’s meant to be the villain, isn’t he?’

  ‘I can’t concentrate on this,’ Leilah said. Aleisha felt herself deflate, the book open in her lap, the words tiny and hard to read. Leilah got up from the sofa and wandered out, and Aleisha tried to focus on the page.

  Aidan poked his head round, holding up a Post-it note Aleisha had left for him. ‘Picnic?’ it said, with a smiley face emblazoned on it.

  ‘Seriously don’t think this is the right time to be getting Mum outside, Aleisha,’ Aidan said, sternly.

  Aleisha was so set on the idea, especially now she’d seen Pride and Prejudice hadn’t done the trick in pulling her mother out of the fog. This time last year, Aleisha and Aidan had laid out a picnic in their garden when Leilah had been having a bad time, and it had helped her. She’d laughed so much.

  ‘It’s a beautiful day – you know she liked it last time. We’d be outside but still close to home.’

  ‘I just think you’re setting yourself up for failure,’ he said with a deep sigh.

  ‘But last year, it was your suggestion and it really worked!’

  ‘Yeah, well maybe now I’m just not sure it’s going to work, not this time,’ he said. ‘I’m fed up of failing,’ he muttered then, under his breath.

  A heavy silence hung in the air. Aleisha studied the frown on her brother’s forehead, the shadows under his eyes.

  ‘Look, I’ll do the bulk of it, all right? I’ll sort everything out, you just have to be there.’

  Aidan shrugged, unconvinced. ‘I’ve got to pick something up from the chemist’s – come with me, Mum’ll be okay for a bit, and we can get stuff on the way back.’

  She grinned at her brother. ‘Thanks, Aidan.’

  Aleisha sat on a bench in the park, basking in the sunshine, waiting for Aidan to get back from the chemist’s. She pulled Pride and Prejudice out of her bag once more. It had been okay reading it in the privacy of her own home, to her mum, who couldn’t care less about it … But now, she felt self-conscious, exposed, worried that someone would be watching her, someone she knew.

  A stranger sat down on the bench beside her, and as quickly as she could, she swapped Pride and Prejudice for the next book on the list, Little Women, which she’d been carrying with her in preparation for the moment she finished the Jane Austen. She turned to a random page.

  She stole a glance, trying to be super subtle.

  For a minute, she thought her Pride and Prejudice-addled brain was playing tricks on her. She blinked once, twice. But there he was: Zac, just looking at her.

  ‘Hey, kid,’ he said.

  She shifted uncomfortably, aware of the blush in her cheeks. Kid. Great. She tried to think of an Elizabeth Bennet-style comeback – but nothing came to her at all.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, allowing a drop of ice into her voice; it was the best she could manage.

  ‘Little Women … I read that years ago. With my little sister. It’s her favourite. Always made her want sisters rather than brothers though. But who’d want a sister like Amy?’

  She had no idea who Amy was … she hadn’t read a page, so, just to be contrary, she said, ‘I like Amy. She’s misunderstood.’ Aleisha kept flicking through the pages, trying to act aloof. ‘How many books have you read?’

  ‘Thousands, probably. You seem to be sticking with the obvious ones for now.’ At first, it felt as if he was doing a sharp, disinterested, Darcy-style response. But, when she looked up at him, a generous grin decorated his face; he was teasing.

  ‘Bit harsh,’ Aleisha smiled, looking down at her book. She refused to reveal the reading list to him. It felt like something sacred, just for her (and sort of for Mr P, though he didn’t know it).

  ‘Do you have time to get a coffee?’

  ‘No, sorry, I’m waiting for my brother,’ Aleisha said sharply, putting her book down and looking straight at him. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Okay, well why don’t we put a date in the diary?’

  ‘Who says that?’ Aleisha cringed. ‘Actually, probably someone from here,’ she said, slapping her hand on Little Women, ‘or Pride and Prejudice. That must be where you get your lines …’

  ‘Very funny. There are worse places to get lines from.’

  ‘Look, I’ve got five minutes now. If you want to talk, please be my guest,’ she said sweetly.

  ‘Oh, right, okay.’ She watched in surprise as his face went pink. He started scuffing his trainers uncomfortably. ‘I don’t know where to start,’ he laughed, a tremor lingering in his voice. The pink turned into bright red blotches that began to spread across his neck, crawl up to his chin and creep onto his face – he had none of that casual nonchalance of Mr Darcy after all. In that moment, she felt bad for putting him on the spot, exposing him. So, after letting him suffer for a few more minutes of silence, just because she could, she gave him a little help. ‘You at uni then?’

  ‘Yeah, Birmingham.’

  ‘Cool. What are you studying?’

  ‘Law.’

  Aleisha turned to look at him. ‘That’s what I want to do.’

  ‘Really?’ His eyes brightened. ‘Think you’re up for it?’
>
  She frowned at him. ‘Yeah, I’m serious.’

  ‘What are you doing with all these stories, then? You gotta read some real books,’ he pointed towards the rucksack at his feet. ‘Pick it up. Try it.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Go on.’

  She shook her head again, but then made a lunge for it. ‘Fucking hell. You got a dead body in there?’

  She leaned back into the bench, leaving the bag on the floor, when she spotted Aidan walking towards them. Zac followed her gaze.

  ‘Your brother?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You look alike.’

  Zac started to get up, but before he could pick his bag up too, Aidan was right beside him.

  ‘Hey, Leish, this guy bothering you?’

  ‘No,’ she said more coolly than she felt. ‘He’s just a friend. Zac, meet my brother Aidan.’

  ‘Hey, mate,’ Zac put his hand out to Aidan. Aidan didn’t reciprocate.

  ‘Not heard of you before. You a mate from school?’

  ‘Just … around,’ Zac replied. He looked suddenly young, awkward again, like a rabbit in headlights.

  ‘I’m joking, man,’ Aidan cracked into a smile and Zac instantly released the breath he was holding captive.

  ‘Hey, that’s okay, I’m heading off now. Aleisha,’ he turned to her, ‘really nice to see you. Let’s not bump into each other next time, and just put a date in the diary. Here,’ he passed her a business card. ‘I can talk to you about being a lonely hermit, or even law, if you want to know what you’re letting yourself in for.’ He winked at her.

  She took the card, rolling her eyes. Who their age had business cards?

  Zac Lowe – Law Student/Freelance Graphic Design it said, his mobile phone number bold and bright in the centre of the card. Graphic design too, like her mum, she noted.

  Aidan sat down beside her.

  ‘What took you so long?’ she asked.

  ‘Just picking up a prescription. Really long queue at the pharmacy.’

  ‘For Mum?’

  ‘No, no, just something for me. For my headaches. Let’s get food then, yeah? If you still want to. The picnic?’ he said, ruffling her hair.

  Stepping through the doors of Tesco, they regretted it instantly. It was rammed. They rushed through the aisles to find their sandwich fillings of choice. Aleisha chose pâté, because she loved it. Aidan got himself corned beef, because it reminded him of sandwiches that Dean used to make, though he’d never admit the association. They bought prawn cocktail for Leilah, hoping she hadn’t gone off it.

  They wandered past Creams, the ice-cream parlour, on the way back. She peered in, wondering if anyone she knew was in there. It had once been a regular haunt for Aleisha, because it was one of the few indoor places under-18s could loiter for hours, stuffing their faces with sugar. But the black and purple chairs and tables were riddled with a new generation of teenagers wearing Adidas sliders and socks. Aleisha’s friends had grown up and grown out of it – they’d moved on to the next stage of their social lives: getting fake IDs and befriending bouncers to get into proper bars. She didn’t miss it. Did she?

  An hour later, the sandwiches were made; some were cut into triangles, others into fingers. They sat on Leilah’s serving platter – white with a gold rim. Already they were getting stale. Aleisha prodded one with her finger, and felt the bread, dry, against her fingertip.

  Aidan was sitting outside. Leilah was seated in a kitchen chair, looking out of the open back door into the garden. She was smiling, although Aleisha could see her face was pale. Her eyes dark and unseeing. The skin on her forehead dry. She was tired again.

  Aidan laid an old picnic blanket down. ‘Mum,’ he called, smoothing out the wrinkles. ‘Come outside!’ He tried to sound upbeat, but Aleisha heard his voice shaking. He was nervous, he was shit scared. She hadn’t noticed it so clearly before.

  Aleisha shot a look at Leilah – this was the moment of truth.

  Leilah stayed stock still. Then, gradually, she began to shake her head. Slowly at first. One, two, three.

  Then frantically. Onetwothreefourfivesix.

  Her breathing became deeper, then shallow all of a sudden.

  Her eyes closed. Her hands flew to her face. She hugged herself. Her fingers digging deep into her arms. Locking herself away.

  Aleisha put the sandwiches down. Aidan forgot the final wrinkles in the blanket. They rushed towards her.

  Instinctively, Leilah turned to Aidan first. Aleisha knew she couldn’t reach either of them now. Aidan started humming softly, a chorus of, ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ and, ‘You’re safe, Mum,’ and, ‘We can eat in here, we don’t have to go outside.’

  Aleisha was forgotten. Redundant.

  She walked back to the kitchen counter and watched from a distance, her worries bunched up inside her, forming a stone in the pit of her stomach. Heavy. Hurting. Aidan was kneeling in front of his mother. Both his hands clasped around one of hers. Praying. Begging her to be okay again. Leilah only ever wanted Aidan. The air was thick. Aleisha could barely breathe. Her brother looked at her, for help, to check she was okay, and she could see the air was suffocating him too. At least, she thought for the tiniest of moments, she wasn’t the only one.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,’ he told Leilah. Aidan slammed the garden door shut, keeping the outside world firmly out, locking the three of them in. He walked Leilah upstairs to her room.

  ‘Can I help?’ Aleisha shouted.

  ‘No, it’s fine. Just give us a minute,’ Aidan called down.

  Although she tried to swallow it, Aleisha could feel herself getting angry. Her mind started to race. She leaned against the counter, staring at Aidan’s fucking Peter Rabbit plate. Always so happy. Always reminding her that Aidan was the best one here. Before she could register what she was doing, she grabbed the plate from the shelf, and let it slip out of her hand. It crashed onto the floor, smashing in slow motion, letting Aleisha feel every microsecond of her selfishness.

  ‘Leish?’ Aidan came rushing down to find her picking up the first shard, pushing the sharp edge into the tip of her finger, watching as a bead of blood blossomed in front of her eyes. ‘Are you okay?’ He grabbed a tea towel, wrapping it tightly round her finger as if it was the biggest injury in the world. ‘I’m so sorry, I should have helped you clear up.’

  ‘Is Mum okay?’ Aleisha asked, not wanting to know the answer.

  ‘She’ll be okay.’

  He said nothing about the fact it was his plate, his special display plate. The sandwiches were still sitting on the kitchen counter, untouched, as he swept up Peter Rabbit’s cotton tail.

  A few hours later, Aleisha was curled up on the sofa, trying to disappear. Aidan walked into the living room. He stood, just looking at her for a while, a beer clasped in his hands. ‘Aleisha?’ he said, softly.

  ‘What?’ She didn’t want to look at him.

  He took a deep breath. ‘I really think we should get Mum to speak to someone,’ he said, his voice harbouring a tremor for the second time that evening.

  The silence in the room echoed in Aleisha’s ears. Aidan had tiptoed around the subject before, but he’d never said it so clearly. They’d both believed ‘next time, it would be different.’ Now, his words told her that he wasn’t sure it would be.

  She could feel his eyes focused on her. Aleisha didn’t reply. She didn’t want to talk right now.

  He stood where he was for a while, and then sighed deeply again. He sat down, stared blindly at the TV adverts. Comparing the meerkats. Should have gone to the opticians. Every little is useful.

  ‘I’m going back to the warehouse for my night shift later,’ Aidan said, eventually.

  ‘You can’t drink that then,’ she snapped. She could smell the beer through the cap of the can. ‘Look, Aid. Call in sick. Go to bed. It’s been a long day.’

  Aidan didn’t say anything at first. Then: ‘One can is fine.’

  She looked at him. She
could tell from his tone, from the droop in his eyes, he had had more than one already.

  ‘Who was that guy earlier, in the park? Boyfriend?’ She watched him trying to conjure an expression of interest onto his face.

  ‘Between the library and being here, I’ve got no time for a boyfriend, do I?’

  ‘You’re not always here,’ Aidan said.

  ‘Feel like I am.’

  ‘Mum said you’ve been reading to her. The books from the library.’

  ‘I think she likes it.’

  ‘Just be careful, okay? Nothing triggering.’

  ‘She likes it. It helps her relax.’

  ‘She’s probably not even concentrating.’

  ‘That’s fine. She’s listening. She doesn’t need to concentrate.’

  ‘Okay, okay. And look, invite that guy round. I want to meet him properly.’

  ‘I’ve not even met him properly,’ Aleisha said, turning back to the television.

  ‘Why’d he look so friendly then?’

  ‘Guess I just invite people to open up,’ Aleisha laughed. Although she hated to admit it, the thought of Zac made her want to throw herself into Pride and Prejudice, to spend time going to dances, to be carefree for a moment, to live life as a normal nineteenth-century teenager, occupied with flirting, boys, marriage. Turning herself to her real life, away from her make-believe, she wondered what it would be like if she actually had time to hang out with Zac, if he could actually become a friend, more than a friend.

  She was flicking aimlessly through the channels now. She turned the TV off. ‘Night, Aidan. Go to bed. Don’t go to work, you won’t be doing anyone a favour.’

  She walked away as Aidan sat himself back down and took another gulp from his can. She could hear him tapping on his phone, leaving a ghostly glow as the screen illuminated his face. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

  In her room, she pulled out her phone and started typing a message out to her cousin Rachel, the only person who might understand. But then Rachel was busy – always busy, studying, working – and as soon as she’d typed her message out, she regretted it. She didn’t need to worry her cousin about all this now. She’d call her another time.