The Reading List

by Sara Nisha Adams

  ‘Oih,’ Mukesh grunted. ‘Don’t squeeze too hard, I am an old man now.’

  Deepali didn’t move. ‘I miss her,’ she said, into his shoulder. ‘I just miss her.’

  Mukesh felt a frog jump in his throat. ‘I know, beti, I miss her too. Every day.’ He saw his daughter, years younger, a little older than Priya perhaps, coming home from school crying. He had been able to understand how she felt then, when he’d seen the tears streaming down her face. But the other day, at Vritti’s house, he hadn’t seen the hurt behind the anger, he hadn’t seen how much she was missing her mother. She was always so brave, so bold. As Atticus said, the only way he could see what it was really like for Deepali would be to walk around in her skin.

  ‘Come in, beta,’ he said, leading his family to the living room. Deepali settled herself in her mother’s favourite chair, and Jaya and Jayesh crowded at her feet. Priya wandered straight over to her dada, holding her book up to him, excitable. ‘I have only just started reading, but it is lovely. I know about Atticus Finch now.’ He beamed. For a moment, Mukesh couldn’t quite believe his luck. He couldn’t wait to tell Aleisha that the books she’d recommended were, so far, a big success with Priya. She had found him books he could read with his granddaughter after all.

  ‘Dada,’ Priya chirped. ‘What’s this book about?’ She held up Pride and Prejudice. He could tell she was trying to take her Deepalimasi’s mind off everything and anything.

  ‘It’s a love story, isn’t it?’ Vritti volunteered.

  ‘Ha, in some ways,’ Mukesh said. ‘Bossy Mrs Bennet wants to marry her daughters off to rich men. But one of her daughters, Elizabeth Bennet, she wants to marry for love, not money,’ he explained to Priya.

  ‘Dada,’ Priya said. ‘Do you think Ba read this book?’

  Deepali looked up at her father. ‘I bet she did, even I’ve read it.’

  ‘Are you her Mr Darcy, Papa?’ Vritti and Deepali chuckled; Priya looked completely blank, but she smiled anyway.

  ‘I don’t think so! I’ve never been that suave. Besides, your mummy had no choice with me,’ he said, self-deprecatingly. ‘But, she was my entire world.’ In his mind’s eye, he saw Naina on their wedding day. He had been scared; he hadn’t known this woman at all but she was about to become his family. ‘She always knew how to make people feel comfortable, didn’t she?’

  ‘Why do you think the temple made her come to every event?’ Deepali said, rolling her eyes.

  ‘I remember my mother taking me aside the day before my wedding,’ Mukesh continued, ‘telling me what a lovely girl she was, intelligent, kind. I didn’t want to believe her – she just sounded too good to be true. And I felt so strongly that if I’d been given the time and freedom, I could have chosen someone better for me. But then I met her and, instantly, I knew …’

  ‘What, Dada?’ Priya asked.

  ‘I knew your ba was the only person right for me!’

  Their courtship began after the wedding. Every day with Naina brought surprises. The first was what Naina looked like in the morning – remarkably, no one had braced him for the fact that she might look the same as any other time of the day. But even years down the line the surprises continued: when his father was dying of a slow illness, Naina knew what to say.

  ‘Mukesh?’ She appeared in the doorway one morning, a huge book clutched in her hands. She brought it towards him – a family album that she had put together. ‘It’s for you.’

  He only had a few photos in there of his childhood, but there was one of him, sitting on his father’s knee – their faces were stern, but immediately Mukesh’s father came to life for him. He didn’t know where that album was now. Tucked away somewhere safe, he supposed.

  ‘What was he like? When you were young?’ Naina had asked.

  ‘He could be scary, I remember that. He was always telling me off if I ran around in the house, or got my shoes too dusty from outside. But he loved playing with me – we played cricket,’ he laughed.

  Naina frowned. ‘But you’re terrible at cricket.’

  ‘I know – I took after him. He was terrible too.’ He smiled; he held the photo album close, peeling off that photo of him and his father, their eyes highlighted by kohl as though they were in some kind of awful Goth band. He hadn’t thought anyone would be able to soothe him in those months, but Naina did. Speaking about his boyhood, about his relationship with his father, was one way of coming to terms with the fact that his father wouldn’t be around for ever.

  He only wished that when Naina had gone too, she could have been there holding his hand. Leading him through his grief step by step.

  Though he’d held onto her in his own small ways, it wasn’t quite enough.

  As Mukesh’s mind wandered into the past, Priya found her way over to her dada, and wrapped her arms around him as she used to wrap her arms around Naina, anchoring him in the present with his family.

  They love you, he heard, in the distance. They’ve always loved you.

  He’d know that voice anywhere – it was Naina. She was back once more.

  ‘Papa,’ Deepali walked towards him. ‘I’m glad you’ve found people, people to talk to, you know?’ She held the book up. ‘I’m glad you’re reaching out to people. At the library. The temple. Nilakshimasi,’ she pulled him into a hug. ‘Mummy would be so proud of you.’

  PART VII

  LITTLE WOMEN

  by Louisa May Alcott

  Chapter 25

  ALEISHA

  ‘YOU ALL RIGHT, ALEISHA?’

  It was ‘Call me Chris’ – Crime Thriller – approaching the desk, a heavy-looking rucksack on his back, no doubt laden with books.

  ‘Yeah,’ Aleisha said, wiping hair out of her tired eyes, her fingers frantically searching for the to-do list she’d left somewhere on her desk. ‘Just having one of those days.’

  ‘I can see. Don’t worry, I’ve seen that woman in here arguing about the same thing when Dev and Kyle have been on duty.’

  ‘Really? She does this every time?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure she must just click the wrong library when she orders online.’

  Aleisha had just, quite publicly, been ambushed by a rather disgruntled customer who had come to pick up a book order, only to discover the books had been sent to Hanwell Library instead. As Thermos Flask Dev would have wanted her to, she took full responsibility on behalf of Brent Libraries, and had offered to pick the books up from Hanwell and home-deliver them to her, just to get her to go away. The woman had charged out, grumbling: ‘This is why so many libraries are closing down. Useless, poorly run. I bet this place will be the next to go.’

  ‘I literally could do without this today. I’ve got to go pick the books up from Hanwell now.’

  Crime Thriller guy pulled a face to show his sympathy, before wandering off to his usual spot, a new hardback thriller, just delivered today, tucked under his arm.

  The irate woman had been holding a reading list of her own, written on a scrap of paper, which she’d held aloft in her hand in a gesture of: ‘So there, the customer is always right.’ The woman had waved it frantically, so she couldn’t make out the handwriting, but Aleisha hoped more than anything that that woman hadn’t written her reading list. That really would ruin the magic, wouldn’t it?

  One of the books the woman had ordered was Beloved, and it was in the Harrow Road Library, but tucked safely in Aleisha’s bag … checked out ready to read weeks ago. She could have given it to her there and then, one small step to placating her. But she wasn’t about to give it up. The books, the list, it had become too important.

  A few nights ago, she’d been reading to Leilah again while they were waiting for Aidan to come home.

  ‘Where is he?’ Leilah said. ‘He’s never normally this late.’

  ‘Mum, it’s all right, he’s always late. He’ll be home soon.’ Aleisha had opened the copy of Little Women, feeling Leilah’s eyes trained on the pages, as if a spell had been cast once more.

 
; ‘Wait,’ Leilah said. ‘What’s Little Women about then? I’ve heard of it.’

  Aleisha turned to the back cover – she scanned the text. ‘Right, it’s about four sisters in New England … set in the 1860s,’ she continued to scan. ‘It’s about their attempts to help their family make more money, their friendship with a family living close by … and their later “love affairs”, apparently. There’s Meg, who dreams of being a lady; Jo … it says she’s based on the author herself – she wants to be a writer. Beth is quiet and delicate … she likes music, and then there’s Amy, she’s a “blonde beauty”. The pretty one.’ Aleisha kept running her eyes over the cover. Leilah was nodding, focused on the middle distance. ‘Ready?’ Aleisha asked.

  ‘Yes, go on.’

  On the first page, Aleisha had stumbled her way across the line, ‘We haven’t got Father, and shall not have him for a long time.’ Her eyes paid close attention to Leilah’s face. The line was about the March sisters’ father, he was away at war, but Aleisha couldn’t help thinking of Dean. Leilah’s eyes were downcast, but there was a faint smile decorating her face. She was with the March sisters for the moment; she hadn’t made the tenuous connection to their own life as Aleisha had.

  Mr P had mentioned this book – apparently it was one of his granddaughter’s favourites. As she stepped further into the story, she saw exactly why a young girl might enjoy it – it was joyful, it was different, to learn about all the ways to be a young woman in an ever-changing world. It was an old story, but the March sisters, they were vibrant, gutsy; they followed their dreams, whatever they might be.

  Jo, Aleisha liked Jo. Jo was spiky, ambitious, always writing plays and directing her sisters to bring them to life, bringing joy into the family home. She brought a smile to Leilah’s face too. ‘I like her,’ Leilah said, once they’d been reading together for more than an hour – it was a record, Aleisha was amazed. ‘She reminds me of you. You were bossy like that when you were little.’ Aleisha couldn’t see the comparison herself, but something in her warmed. ‘No wonder that boy next door, Laurie, is that his name?’

  Aleisha nodded.

  ‘No wonder he loves Jo. She’s the best one,’ Leilah finished. ‘She knows how to do it – treats him mean, keeps him keen …’

  ‘They’re friends, Mum, I’m not sure she’s treating him mean!’

  The two of them giggled where they were seated for a moment, before it trickled away to silence. And Aleisha continued to read: ‘How happy and good we’d be if we had no worries …’

  She sighed and looked up. Leilah’s eyes were closed, squeezed tight shut, as though she didn’t want to let those words ring out in the real world. They could exist only in the world of the March sisters, and nowhere else.

  At that moment, Aidan arrived back home, making a racket as he shoved open the door and dropped his bags on the floor. He shut the door behind him.

  ‘Shh,’ Aleisha said, tiptoeing into the hall. ‘Hey, what’s all this noise about?’

  Aidan just gave her a quick pat on the arm and stomped into the kitchen.

  ‘Mum’s resting.’ Aleisha followed him. ‘I’ve been reading to her.’

  Aidan poured himself a glass of water from the bottle in the fridge. He downed it all before he looked at his sister for the first time.

  ‘Aidan … I’m just amazed, you know, it’s really working. She’s like getting into them.’

  ‘That’s really good, Leish,’ Aidan said, absently. He was wandering around the kitchen, picking bits from various cupboards: a plate, a fork and knife, a Tupperware of leftover curry. He didn’t look her in the eyes.

  ‘I’m glad there’s something that I can actually do to help. Usually it’s only you who can get through to her,’ Aleisha said, silently begging him to pause for a moment. To allow himself a moment to just stay still.

  Aidan looked at her then. ‘Aleisha, it’s not just me who can get through to her. You do it too. You’re good at it. Better than me really.’ His voice was soft, distant. ‘I’m happy the books are working, for you both.’

  Aleisha looked down at her feet this time – it was a half-compliment, but it was more than she’d had from anyone in a long time.

  ‘Mum seems to be doing much better now anyway, doesn’t she?’ Aidan prompted.

  Aleisha shrugged.

  Aidan started piling his food onto his plate. ‘I’m sorry we’ve not seen each other much – work’s been busy, and I know I’ve been focused on having someone at home with Mum all the time, but, I don’t know, she’s doing better, way better.’

  Aleisha watched him. She didn’t agree – but she didn’t want to say that to Aidan. She could see he was trying to convince himself. It wasn’t like her brother to be optimistic when it came to Leilah. What was on his mind?

  ‘I’ve got loads of shifts over the next few days, Leish,’ he continued. ‘I won’t see you much, okay? But Mum’ll be fine, you’ll be great with her. You are great.’ He turned round then and smiled at her.

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ Aleisha said quietly. ‘It’s been ages since we just spent time together.’

  ‘I know, but you’ll do fine without me. Whatever you’re doing with Mum, it’s really working, Leish.’

  He headed out of the kitchen, his plate in his hand, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘All right?’ he said to her. She nodded. Before she could ask him the same thing in return, he trudged up to his room without turning back round.

  Trying to lighten Aidan’s mood, Aleisha left a jokey ‘Welcome Home’ Post-it for him on the fridge. But he’d been true to his word – she heard him click the door quietly shut in the morning before she woke up, she heard the door squeak open again when he got home, but other than that, there hadn’t been any indication as to his presence other than the Post-it notes he’d stuck to the fridge to remind her to do things. They had been, once again, ships in the night. All she really wanted was to hang out with her brother, find out how he was, actually talk to him. She knew there was something on his mind, something he wasn’t telling her.

  She turned this all over in her mind as she clutched Beloved close to her. She wasn’t going to give it up to the grumpy woman at the library. If Aidan wasn’t around for a few days, working non-stop, the only power Aleisha had to keep Leilah calm was the books. The books filled the space where there had once been silence.

  Mr Patel would be at the library soon. She had checked out another edition of Little Women for him already. She imagined he’d be excited to read it – it was the one book he seemed to talk about frequently, without having any idea of what it was about. Though he often called it ‘Little Ladies’.

  Eleven o’clock came and went. Eleven thirty came and went too. Aleisha kept checking the clock, checking the door. No one else bothered her. Everyone opted for the self-service machines today, or just settled themselves down into armchairs to read. She was glad of the peace. But she’d been looking forward to talking to Mr P. He never gave very much away, but she found it so refreshing to talk to someone who wasn’t her brother or her mother, and she wanted to hear more about his trip into London with Priya. For some reason, she’d become invested in this old man’s life, maybe as a distraction from her own, but maybe because they were friends now too.

  Mr Patel came with no preconceptions. He didn’t look at her as though she was ‘troubled’, though she had told him some things about her ‘shitty home life’. That’s how she put it. He had said, ‘Oh, is your dad not around?’ and she’d laughed at how clichéd it was. That it was clichéd, but spot on.

  ‘He has his own family now.’

  ‘You are his family too.’

  ‘Not to him.’

  Mukesh had kissed his teeth then. ‘Stupid idiot.’ He had tried to say it quietly, but she had caught it anyway.

  ‘Oh, hai, I am so sorry. Bad potty mouth!’ Mukesh’s hand flew instinctively to his face, his eyes wide with surprise.

  She laughed.

  ‘No, you’re right! Stupid idiot. I wis
h my mum knew that too. That it was all on him. Not her.’

  ‘I am sure she knows. Sometimes men are stupid. I think, anyway. I have three daughters, and none of them are stupid.’

  Aleisha’s phone buzzed next to her, bringing her back to the present.

  Hey! How is book life going?

  It was Zac – he’d messaged her every day since the park – first a hello, followed by a book meme or a cat meme (turned out he really liked cats – she couldn’t imagine Mr Darcy liking cats particularly). She’d tried to keep her replies short, not giving too much away. Aleisha thought of Leilah’s comment: ‘Treat them mean, keep them keen.’ Was Aleisha taking on Leilah’s warped Little Women life advice? It would be harder than it sounded. Because she wanted to talk to him all the time.

  Nightmare customer just ruined my life! Aleisha texted back.

  Do you need anything? Zac’s reply came almost instantly.

  Talking to Zac was easier – she didn’t say ‘fine’ when she really meant ‘having a shit day’, she just said ‘having a shit day’. He didn’t know the person she was trying to be with everyone else, so with him she could just be herself.

  What you doing later?

  No plans! Zac – she knew, deep down, was like her. An outsider, a lonely soul. But Zac wore it well – he never acted as though he wanted to be anything other than himself.

  Would be great to see you. I might need your help with something later. If you’re up for it? Book business … but as soon as she typed it all out, she deleted it and rewrote her message with less eagerness: Might need your help with something – it was the best she could do.

  Suddenly her phone started flashing. Incoming call: Zac.

  Before hitting the green button, she felt her heart pound in the middle of her throat for a moment. She’d never spoken to Zac on the phone before. ‘Hello?’ She heard her voice, higher and squeakier than normal.