BEEP. ‘Deepali, beta, please bring your special recipe punch – you know, the one you make for special occasions, ready for an open morning on Wednesday at the library. Bring straight there, but come to help at my house on Tuesday evening too.’
He hung up the phone, ticking off his three daughters on his list. He turned to Nilakshi, sitting in the living room, watching Zee TV.
‘Nilakshiben?’ he asked, cautiously.
‘Mhmm,’ she turned her head away from the TV for a moment, her ears still taking in the melodrama.
‘Aleisha needs me to give out flyers, for the library.’ He waved the newly printed flyers at her. They were bright, cheerful. ‘Zac made them. They’re very good, ne? So, what do you think about me spreading the word at the mandir? Will they laugh at me? Think I’m a lonely old widower?’
‘Mukeshbhai,’ Nilakshi said softly. ‘You are not a lonely old widower. And they know how much the library meant to Naina, they will know that you are doing this as much for that lovely young man Aidan as you are for her. You will have made her so proud.’
Watching Nilakshi, he knew he had made his peace with everything. Nilakshi was his friend. And Naina, in some way, had sent her to him too – she had made sure their paths had crossed. She had brought them together, for company, in the same way as she had guided him to the mandir, and had left The Time Traveler’s Wife as a sign. She had been right there, with him, from the very beginning.
He thought about distributing flyers at the mandir, what people would say; no one would expect this from Mukesh Patel. It didn’t scare him, really, did it? This was for a good cause. The city was often a lonely place, and even in Wembley where lots of people knew each other, people still felt alone.
He thought then about posting them through people’s letterboxes. Some people didn’t like flyers, leaflets, that kind of thing. Could something as innocent as posting flyers through letterboxes get him in a chutney?
‘In a pickle,’ Naina’s voice burst out at him then. ‘The phrase is ‘in a pickle’.’
At the temple, Mukesh’s courage finally plucked up, Harishbhai’s youngest son was pushing him around for the day in one of the coveted wheelchairs.
‘I need to have both hands free, for speed, you see,’ Mukesh had pleaded.
‘All right, Mukesh, I’ll do it for a tenner!’ Harishbhai’s son had bartered.
Mukesh was wheeled up and down the hallway, passed the gift shop and the shoe zones and the toilets. He had given away only about three flyers so far. He had to change his approach.
Harishbhai’s son was listening to something on podcasts and only acknowledged which direction Mukesh wanted to go in if Mukesh pointed or waved his arms dramatically. Mukesh was relieved he didn’t have to make much conversation with the boy. Though he hated fitting the ‘old person stereotype’, he loved the wheelchair and wondered why he hadn’t tried it ages ago, especially when he could get someone like Harishbhai’s son to push him around in it. He was going so fast!
Searching his brain for inspiration, Mukesh thought of TV programmes like EastEnders where people would shout in deafeningly loud voices, ‘Read all about it!’ from their newspaper stands, or ‘Two tomatoes for twenty pence!’ from their market stalls. He did a little cough, and started to shout, not too loudly because he’d be kicked out, but loudly enough to be heard, flyers waving in his hand above his head. ‘The Big Library Get-Together, don’t miss it, all your friends will be there and will wonder where you are if you are not. Bring your children and your grandchildren!’ It was miraculous, two women walked over immediately, curious. He had their attention! He handed flyers to them as he whizzed past, praying he hadn’t given them a papercut.
In the gift-shop aisles, there simply wasn’t enough space for Mukesh and his chair and Harishbhai’s son. Sensing that this may not be the right tactic, he asked Harishbhai’s son to reverse as quickly as he could out of the gift shop, when they accidentally reversed into Rohini and Nilakshi. Together …
‘Oh!’ Rohini said.
‘Oh!’ Nilakshi said.
‘Oh!’ Mukesh said.
‘Hey, I’m Harishbhai’s son,’ Harishbhai’s son said.
‘What are you both doing here?’ Mukesh asked.
‘We’re spending some time at the mandir,’ Rohini said. ‘We’re going to go to a satsaang. I got the day off work. Priya’s with Robert,’ she added, pre-empting his question.
‘Your daughter and I are getting to know each other even better!’ Nilakshi said, her face bright.
Mukesh beckoned Rohini down to his level and he whispered in her ear: ‘Just like your mother, you are. Always welcoming to people.’
Rohini beamed back, it was her way of saying, ‘If she’s part of your family, she’s part of mine too.’
‘Here, here,’ he said, and handed them flyers. ‘And we are asking for homemade food at the library too – so make sure you bring something! You got my messages? We need to keep the vegetarian food side up. I might even make my famous paneer.’
Rohini and Nilakshi looked at each other. ‘Famous?’ Rohini asked. ‘I thought you’d only managed not to burn it once …’
‘Harishbhai’s son,’ Mukesh said, wondering if the boy had a name, but appreciating Harishbhai’s clear and strong sense of branding. ‘Let’s go! Over there, there are a few lonely looking souls who need a flyer. Food please, ready for Wednesday!’
And with that, they whooshed away over the smooth wooden floors, up the carpeted ramp, and onto the marble floor leading to the main mandir.
When Tuesday evening finally arrived, Mukesh was full of adrenaline. Rohini, Deepali and Vritti were preparing all the snacks in his kitchen, and the twins were causing mayhem in the corridors. When Zac rang the doorbell, Mukesh was pulled back several years to one of Naina’s fundraiser-planning evenings for which she’d always have a selection of snacks and food prepared, ‘to keep energies up’. He hadn’t done anything of the sort. Thankfully, Zac was holding a sharing pack of Doritos with some salsa dip. Mukesh was incredibly grateful.
‘My mum says never turn up to someone’s house empty handed!’ Zac said.
Mukesh clapped his hands together. ‘You are a good boy!’
Zac seemed out of place in Mukesh’s house without Aleisha. He kept asking Mukesh’s permission to do things, like, ‘Mr Patel, can I use these plates for the Doritos?’
Mukesh nodded.
‘Mr Patel, can I get a glass of water?’
Mukesh nodded.
Then, ‘Mr Patel, can I use your toilet?’
Mukesh said, ‘Of course, Zac. This, my home, is now your home. Do whatever you need.’
Zac beamed at him in response, but still walked around the house tentatively, as though he didn’t want to leave any trace of himself behind. Mukesh chuckled, podding some peas into a bowl, for the kachori, until Jayesh turned up, trying to use his grandfather and his bowl of peas as a climbing frame.
Nikhil arrived next, laden with vegetables from the shop. But as soon as he appeared in the doorway, he was summoned by Rohini: ‘Nikhil, we need you! Come here.’
Nikhil stepped in reluctantly; Rohini had a notebook in hand.
‘Yes,’ she said, authoritatively. ‘Bring some extra ingredients tomorrow morning and I can fry it up just before we go. Nilakshimasi said I could use her pressure cooker too.’ On uttering Nilakshi’s name, she looked at her father and smiled. Mukesh smiled back, nodding through the pain as Jaya started to tap him with her tiny fists.
‘Jaya, be nice to Dada,’ Rohini admonished. ‘Play gently.’ She obeyed for a second until her masi turned away.
Amid the mayhem of the living room, Mukesh spotted Priya curled in a corner, a book in her hand. He managed to free himself of Jaya, and Jayesh, and took his pea-podding over to her.
As he got closer, Mukesh could see Priya was reading Little Women. Again.
‘Beta, you already read that?’
Priya nodded. ‘I know – but it reminds me of Ba. I just
hear her voice. Plus, Dada, Ba always told me that sometimes when you really like a book, you need to read it again! To relive what you loved and find out what you missed before. Books always change as the person who reads them changes too. That’s what Ba said.’
Mukesh nodded. He understood.
Zac handed Mukesh a cup of tea and asked Priya if she’d like one too. In the background, Rohini said, ‘She doesn’t drink tea,’ but Priya said, ‘I would love one please, Zac,’ so he passed her a cup.
Priya smiled, putting her book down, wrapping both hands around her mug. She looked at her mother and playfully stuck out her tongue.
Mukesh wandered back to his chair and he sat down. He looked around the living room, completely full of movement, the twins back to running up and down the corridor outside too. He hadn’t had this many people in his house since Naina died.
He thought of Aleisha, Leilah, in their silent home.
PART IX
A SUITABLE BOY
by Vikram Seth
Chapter 38
ALEISHA
‘ALEISHA, YOU LOOK SHATTERED.’
‘I guess I am.’
‘Look, why don’t you go and have a nap before you go to work?’ Rachel said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
‘Yeah, maybe.’ Aleisha wanted nothing more than to sink into her bed and never get up. But her mind flew to her mum, who’d been doing exactly that for the last day or so. No, for years. ‘Let me just see how she is …
‘Mum,’ Aleisha whispered, poking her head through the door. ‘Uncle Jeremy and Rachel are here, I’m going to sleep for a bit, okay? They’re going to have some lunch in the garden. It’s a really lovely day, would you like to join them?’ She kept her voice as soft as possible.
Leilah was sitting up, staring at the wall ahead of her. ‘I’m fine,’ Leilah said. ‘Have a good sleep.’
‘She all right?’ Uncle Jeremy was standing just outside the door.
‘She doesn’t want to come out. Honestly, there’s no point in trying.’
‘No, my girl, there’s every point.’ Uncle Jeremy stepped in. ‘Leilah, how are you? It’s a lovely day outside.’
Tomorrow was the open morning for Aidan at the library, and she didn’t feel prepared at all. She was exhausted. Aleisha let her mind switch off and allowed her legs to lead her along the corridor, and into Aidan’s bedroom. It was still, silent in here. Untouched. They hadn’t gone through his things, Aleisha couldn’t bear to touch anything. She wandered over to his bed, pristinely made. Despite the mess in the rest of the room, which wasn’t very Aidan anyway, her brother could never leave his bed undone. She lay on top of the covers, barely wanting to leave a mark. Her head hit the pillow and her eyes were drawn to a stack of books beside his bed, now with a thin layer of dust on the top, on each groove of the spines.
She turned over and stared straight up at the ceiling, willing sleep to overcome her. Suddenly her phone on Aidan’s bedside table started to buzz: Kyle. Of course. She’d see him later for her shift at the library, anyway, so she turned it face down. But her eye was drawn to Aidan’s stack of books again.
There it was. How had she missed it? Nestled between the crime books, the Martina Coles, there it was.
The Time Traveler’s Wife.
She thought of her copy, Mr P’s copy, resting beside her bed – forgotten and ignored.
Her heart caught in her throat. She pictured Mr P, telling her about this book, about how it had helped him. ‘The books show us the world; they don’t hide it.’ She imagined Aidan, sitting in his same spot, reading it. Had she even seen him read it? How recently had he read it?
She took a deep breath, and unearthed the paperback, holding it so delicately between her hands. She’d been so sure she’d been hiding away from life. But maybe Mr P was right – she’d learnt from the books too. She’d seen what people had been through – couldn’t she use that to cope too? And here it was in Aidan’s room, on Aidan’s bedside table. If he had ever read it, she wanted to read it too.
She turned to the first page of The Time Traveler’s Wife, she forced her mind to go quiet, and she read the first line. One word at a time.
Later that day, in the deserted library, Aleisha sat alone at her desk – The Time Traveler’s Wife by her side. She’d only read a few pages, but it had been like stepping into someone else’s world, letting their emotions merge with her own, letting someone else guide her for a moment, so she could work out how best to guide herself. She’d been searching within the pages for clues of Aidan too – what had Aidan thought of Henry, and his ability to travel through his own life? What did he make of the love story too, and of Clare? Her particularly wealthy and snobbish parents. Aidan had always hated people like that.
‘Hey,’ shouted Kyle from the kitchen. ‘Don’t forget to give a final push for the library thing so we can draw in as many people as possible tomorrow – Dev just messaged me to tell me Lucy’s daughter has given a few suggestions, putting it out on social media and whatnot.’ Aleisha groaned. She knew it was what Mr P and Aidan would want too.
She looked at the big pile of leaflets for Save Our Libraries next to her, ready for the bin, usurped by the Big Library Get-Together leaflets.
She scrolled through stories on Instagram so quickly she heard a millisecond of sound for each of them, trying to fill herself in on other people’s lives. Bright lights, people in shorts jumping up, legs by the pool, legs by the beach holding up books, someone’s cat’s bum sauntering with J.Lo and Iggy Azalea’s ‘Booty’ played over the top. Big big booty. Hilarious. Her college friend pouting in front of the leaning tower of Pisa with his top off, too cool to do the standard pose of pretending to hold it up.
She was bored already, looking at other people enjoying life. Would she ever be able to post on social media without worrying what people would think of her, pigeonholing her as the ‘grieving little sister’? Before she had time to think, she took a quick video of the library – empty – and overlaid it with text: COME GET THIS PLACE BUZZING TOMORROW 11 A.M.!
She clicked ‘post’ with a grimace.
Aidan would be shaking his head in shame at how uncool she was.
Her phone rang in her palms: Rachel.
‘What’s this about a library get-together? Tomorrow? First I’ve heard of it, why didn’t you tell us?’
‘What?’
‘Just saw your story.’
‘You’re quick!’
‘Social media is my job, it’s my job to be quick.’
‘Oh, it’s like a community morning thing. Mr P, you know from the library, he suggested doing it for Aidan.’
‘I love that idea. Do you want to tell your mum? She’s here.’
Aleisha went silent. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what Leilah would think. Would she laugh at it? Worse, would she say nothing at all?
‘Okay,’ Aleisha said, her heart starting to pound. She took a deep breath. ‘Mum?’
There was silence on the other end of the line. ‘Mum?’
‘Leish, sorry, your mum had to go back up to bed. I’ll tell her later, okay?’ Rachel’s voice was quivering; Aleisha could hear her nerves.
‘Sure, thanks, Rachel.’
Aleisha hadn’t been expecting anything – she’d never expected anything at all.
‘I have managed to get rid of ninety-nine flyers, Aleisha!’ Mr P gabbled down the phone.
‘Wow, that’s so great, Mr P.’ Aleisha tried to inject enthusiasm into her voice. ‘I thought you might have got bored and just chucked them in the bin.’
‘Absolutely not! I even put a flyer up in my front window – I actually kept forgetting it was there so when my old nosy neighbours come past and try to read it, I get very, very scared wondering what they are doing looking so closely through my window!’ She’d never heard him so energized before.
‘Mr P, you’re a joker.’
‘No, I’m being serious! I keep preparing myself to shout, “Get off my property!” Anyway
, it must be a good advertising spot – I’m very proud! Do you have any flyers left?’
‘Some, yeah, I guess I’d better take them out tonight.’ She bit her lip.
‘Absolutely! It’s tomorrow now. There’s no time to waste.’
As Aleisha hung up, she sat back on her sofa, next to her cousin, watching her uncle Jeremy with her mum. They hadn’t mentioned the Big Library Get-Together again that afternoon. When Aleisha had come back from her shift, Rachel had muttered, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bring it up with her. You know. Didn’t want to step on any toes.’
Uncle Jeremy had made his famous lamb stew even though it was really too hot to eat it today. Aleisha had devoured it anyway, and now they were all sitting in the same room trying to digest it.
It had been so long since they had been all together in one room as a family. Aidan would have loved to be here, but if he were around he would have played it cool, maybe gone out for a drink with his friends first.
No, she told herself sharply, she was misremembering him. For Aidan, family always came first. This would have come first.
‘I’ve got to put out the last flyers,’ Aleisha said to her cousin, and tapped the pile that sat between them on the sofa. ‘Want to come?’
Rachel tapped her stomach in response. ‘Babe, I honestly don’t think I can move.’
Aleisha rolled her eyes, jokingly. ‘Come on, walk it off.’ Her eyes actually said: ‘I really need to get out of here.’
‘Yes, great idea, Aleisha. Go on, Rach,’ Uncle Jeremy said, warmly. Leilah smiled weakly in agreement.
The two young women walked down the street, in silence at first. ‘Are you doing okay?’ Rachel asked, and Aleisha could see her cousin’s eyes were teary.
Aleisha took a moment to answer. She focused her eyes on the flyers. The Big Library Get-Together, it said, in Zac’s fancy bubble writing.
‘I’m doing okay, yeah,’ she murmured. ‘I miss him, but that’s normal.’
Rachel took a moment to reply too. ‘He was the best. It just doesn’t feel real, it’s impossible.’
The Reading List Page 30
