That felt like a lifetime ago. Crime Thriller guy – the one who had given her the very first book, with that mysterious list between its pages. To this day, she still wondered, had he put that list together for her? Had he known?
‘Thank you all for coming,’ Dev said, his eyes searching the crowd. He locked eyes with Aleisha and beckoned her over. She reluctantly shuffled her way to the front, catching saris and jackets and T-shirts as she went, feeling thoroughly embarrassed already.
When she arrived at the very front, her cheeks flushed and glowing with a thin sheen of sweat that she hoped everyone would just think was her natural radiance, Dev started looking for someone else too: Mukesh.
Mr P took two steps forward and he was there right beside them.
‘I would like to thank Aleisha, one of our brilliant librarians, and Mukesh Patel, a true Harrow Road regular, for thinking of this idea, and opening our little library up to everyone for the morning. We are so happy to have you all here, and we hope you continue to come for a drop-in on Wednesdays. Come for the cake – and stay for the books! I know we may not be the biggest library on the block, but we endeavour to make this space a peaceful and friendly place for our local community. We’d love to have your support, so we can keep this library going as an important part of Wembley’s history, and its future.’
Mukesh leaned into the microphone, his voice quivering, ‘Books are great!’ he said, and a few people, including Deepali, Rohini and Priya, laughed. He stalled for a moment, wondering what else to say, until, in the crowd, he spotted Naina – a complete vision of her, smiling, nodding encouragingly.
‘I am grateful to Aleisha and Dev and the young man Kyle for helping me find a place that can feel like home. And, we want to do this as often as possible on Wednesdays. And you all know, Wednesdays are shopping days – so you’ll be out and about, anyway. Why not pop along?’
Aleisha could tell he was nervous, he was stuttering very slightly, but he was certainly enjoying his limelight. He’d once said he hated being the centre of attention – she was sure it had been a big fat lie.
‘My Naina, my late wife,’ he continued, his eyes flying to his Naina, in the crowd. His eyes stung for a moment and he could feel a hollowing in his heart. ‘She loved books. I never understood books until I came here, but the library helped me feel closer to her. It is very important to feel a part of a place and a community, and I would like everyone to come and enjoy it here, just like me.’
Aleisha nodded.
‘And please don’t forget to raise a toast, or take out a book, in memory of Aidan Thomas, a young man who loved this library very much!’
Mukesh handed the microphone back and stepped aside. He had said his piece, and there was silence all around. Rohini had a tissue held up to her nose, covering her mouth. He looked around once more and just for a moment, as the sun hit the cars in the car park and refracted through the library’s windows, Mukesh could see all the characters he’d met along the way. There was Pi and his terrifying tiger, very out of place. Elizabeth Bennet, still playing hard to get, with Darcy a few steps behind. Marmee and her little women, linking arms together. Amir and Hassan, young again, carefree, running around with a kite in the car park. But, between them all, there was Naina – still smiling. Her hands held together at her chest.
Aleisha and Mukesh were sitting in their usual spot by the window, the library now returned to its quiet state, the only evidence left of the day being the tin trays emptied of food and stacked up by the recycling.
‘Aleisha?’ Mukesh started, tentatively. ‘What did you think? Would Aidan have liked it?’
Aleisha had been asking herself the same question – she’d seen so many people here, laughing, talking to new people, even picking up flyers for the library itself. She wished more than anything that he could have been here to see it. ‘I think so,’ she said at first, before returning with, ‘no, you know what, he would have loved it.’
Mukesh sighed shallowly, contented. ‘He would be very proud of you, beta,’ he said to Aleisha, looking directly at her. ‘You have done so much.’
Aleisha felt emotion rise in her chest, threatening to burst out as tears and roll down her face. She hopped up from the chair, and wandered to a stray tablecloth, left forgotten on a library table. She shoved it into a canvas bag, not yet able to look Mukesh in the eye.
‘Can I ask what the next book is? I want to read it,’ Mukesh said, sensing Aleisha’s embarrassment, desperate to come to her rescue and offer a change of subject.
She nodded – for a moment, she thought she glimpsed Aidan, sitting on the chair next to Mukesh, reading The Time Traveler’s Wife.
‘Why don’t you come in tomorrow and I’ll suggest something for you?’
‘Thank you, Aleisha.’ After a moment, he pushed himself up from his seat, slowly, carefully. ‘Well done on today, beti. Well done,’ he said, his smile infectious.
‘Thank you, Mr P,’ she replied, softly, now wiping down some more tables, unnecessarily. Mr P wandered out of the glass doors after tapping on the ‘Automatic Open’ button as if it were second nature. How far he had come. ‘Oh, wait!’ she called out to him. He turned around, cautious. ‘Sorry, they asked me to remind you. Could you bring back The Highway Code?’ Mr P’s face turned red, and he nodded hurriedly before wandering off.
Then her mind returned once more to the woman stepping out of Zac’s car. She’d never imagined it would be Leilah, it was a distant dream, really. But today was meant to be about Aidan and she’d allowed herself to hope.
Chapter 41
ALEISHA
AS ALEISHA TURNED ON to her road, she glanced at her house, expecting the usual shut windows, darkness inside, the curtains half closed in every room. Rachel and Jeremy weren’t back yet, their car wasn’t outside – they’d gone to pick up some ingredients for dinner – and a panic started to bubble through her. Was Leilah okay? How long had they left her? She’d been so preoccupied by the planning for the event, she’d barely even stopped to think about Leilah being in the house on her own.
She started to walk more quickly, before breaking into a half-run. But when she approached number 79, there, sitting on the front step, was Leilah. The door was wide open behind her.
‘Aleisha, I’m s—’ she began, her voice fading away.
She was dressed head to toe in navy, in one of Aidan’s hoodies and his tracksuit bottoms too. She began to push herself up as Aleisha moved towards her, but she didn’t have the strength. She leaned forward and gathered her mum up in her arms.
Leilah and Aleisha stayed like that for just a few moments. But Aleisha took it all in. She wasn’t angry any more. She didn’t have the energy to be angry. Aidan wouldn’t want her to be. Now, she just wanted her mum back. She inhaled – smelling Leilah’s coconut shampoo, and Aidan’s stuffy, musty hoodie.
‘Mum, it’s okay.’
‘No, Aleisha,’ Leilah pulled herself away, gently. ‘I’m so sorry. I wanted to come. I tried. I just couldn’t.’
‘Mum, don’t worry.’ Aleisha wished Leilah had been there to see it, to see how many people had turned up, all the people who had been there for Aidan.
‘Here,’ Leilah said. She pulled herself away again and dug out a piece of paper. It was a print-out from Leilah’s fancy printer – she could tell because of the thick paper, the detail in the lettering. It was an email.
‘I signed up to the library,’ Leilah said. She smiled. ‘I know it seems stupid, but I’ve loved you reading to me. I hope we can do it some more. I know it might be a while until I get up and go there myself, but … I’m serious. I know how much your brother loved it too. Ever since he was little. And look,’ Leilah pointed to the bottom of the email.
1 book on reserve: To Kill a Mockingbird, by Lee, Harper.
Aleisha didn’t know what to say. She hugged her mum even tighter. She knew this wasn’t the end, it was only the very beginning, but she was conscious that Leilah was standing outside the house, on her ow
n. She was here, and she wasn’t shaking, she was breathing normally, she was making eye contact, she was trying.
‘Maybe we could try to go together next week?’
‘All right.’
‘After my doctor’s appointment,’ Leilah kissed her daughter on the cheek. ‘I might need you there for that too.’
Aleisha stopped, she took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice from cracking. ‘Mum, that’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you.’ And she meant it, she meant every word. She wished Aidan were here to see this.
That evening, Aleisha and Leilah sat in the cool shade of the living room, the windows open, just a fraction, letting in a gentle warm breeze.
They’d spent the afternoon going through some baby photos, of Aidan, of Aleisha – they took it one at a time, but Aleisha watched as each photo prompted Leilah to light up, a memory to jump out at her. Beach holidays in the pouring rain, Aidan in the bath as a baby, foam on his head, Aidan learning to surf, Aidan and Aleisha’s first school photo together.
When the photos had run out, when they started to hurt again, to remember he wasn’t coming back, Aleisha opened the last book on the list: A Suitable Boy. She began to read out loud.
Immediately, Leilah and Aleisha were thrown into a wedding, where Mrs Rupa Mehra was telling her unmarried daughter Lata that she would have to marry a boy that her mother was going to choose for her.
The book was vibrant, immersive, the wedding was alive in their living room – Aleisha watched as Leilah smiled along at Rupa Mehra’s sternness.
‘I’m not like that, am I?’
‘Not always,’ Aleisha laughed.
For a while, mother and daughter were swept up in another story, centred on a mother and a daughter, and a quest to find this young woman a suitable boy.
‘It’s so vivid,’ Leilah said. ‘So many characters, with different backgrounds and beliefs – it’s so clever, setting up all these strands. It’s beautiful – I feel like I need to paint it.’
Aleisha’s eyes shot up. Leilah hadn’t spoken about her art in months. Not wanting to ruin the moment that the author’s words had created, she continued to read.
She wondered why this book was the last on the list, whether the list writer had ordered them for any particular reason. She thought about the journey the books had taken her on, the places they had transported her to – Maycomb, Alabama, Cornwall and Kabul, to the middle of the Pacific Ocean, to some shire in England, to Massachusetts, to Cincinnati, and finally Brahmpur, India. Through the reading list’s characters, she’d experienced injustice and childlike innocence, terror and unease, guilt and regret and powerful, everlasting friendship, a dalliance with Mr Darcy (still Zac came to her mind when she thought about Pride and Prejudice), resilience, independence, and determination through the little women, the repercussions of trauma and the power of hope, faith and community. And now, with A Suitable Boy, a new journey was just beginning.
‘What’s that?’ Leilah asked, peering at the pages.
Aleisha looked up. ‘What?’
‘In the book?’
‘They’re just leaving the wedding now – Savita is the bride, Pran is the groom.’
‘No, I mean, at the back of the book, there’s something there.’
Aleisha stopped reading and flicked to the last page.
Leilah was right: tucked into the plastic dust cover was an envelope, creased yet flattened by the weight of A Suitable Boy.
She prised it out, carefully, as though it were a piece of buried treasure.
‘What is it?’ Leilah asked.
‘An envelope. A letter, I guess.’ Aleisha turned it over to see if it was addressed to anyone.
Mukesh.
‘Mum,’ Aleisha asked. ‘I think it’s for Mr P.’
‘What?’
‘The letter.’ She held it up.
Leilah squinted. ‘Do you think it’s the same handwriting as the list?’
Aleisha pulled the reading list from her phone case, but she didn’t really need to look at it. Its image was almost ingrained on her memory: every book, the curling ‘y’s and ‘i’s of the writer’s careful script.
She handed them both over to Leilah, knowing her artistic mum had an eye for this kind of thing.
‘Definitely. Is it … is it for your Mukesh? Mr Patel?’
Aleisha shrugged and gently stroked the paper. ‘Well … let’s find out.’
‘Okay, but don’t lose our place.’
Aleisha frowned, confused.
‘In the book,’ Leilah said. ‘I want to know what happens next.’
Chapter 42
MUKESH
MUKESH OPENED THE DOOR and a grin split his face in two when he saw her. ‘Aleisha! Did I invite you? I am so sorry, I forgot. I haven’t cooked any food or anything, I am still so full from the buffet! Do you want to come tomorrow instead? Priya is going to be here – she would like to see you again, I am sure.’ He started to look around his house, analysing whether it was guest-friendly. ‘Or are you here for The Highway Code?’
‘No, no, don’t worry, Mr P, we weren’t meant to have dinner today. I’m just here, err … I’ve got something, I think it’s for you.’
She held up A Suitable Boy.
‘Oh no! Aleisha, I know I am a much better reader than before, but honestly, that is too, too big for me right now. It will send me to sleep.’
‘First of all, Mr P, what I’ve read is amazing so far. I think you’ll like it, and by the time you finish it, Priya will probably be old enough to read it too.’ Aleisha laughed. ‘Here,’ she turned to the back of the book, revealing an envelope. She pulled it out and passed it to him. ‘I found this. I think it’s for you. But before you read it, you should probably know …’ She gulped, suddenly nervous. ‘You see, I found this list … A list of books. It’s what we’ve been reading together.’
‘You wrote the books down? You are such a good librarian, Aleisha, the full service. How lovely,’ he said.
‘No, Mr P. They’re someone else’s book recommendations. I’ve been a bit of a cheat. You know how I said I didn’t know anything about books?’
‘Yes, you are a modest girl.’
‘No, Mr P. I really know nothing, or … well I knew nothing. But I found this list, the day you came in. And I thought … I don’t know. I thought if I read them and they were all right, I could recommend them to you.’
He looked down at the envelope again. ‘Mukesh.’ He said his own name as though he had never heard it before.
‘I think it’s from—’
‘Naina,’ he cut in. ‘It’s her handwriting.’
‘The list. I think it was Naina’s.’
She passed the list to him too. His hands were shaking. ‘And that letter, that letter is for you.’
Mukesh looked up at Aleisha as though for the first time, as though taking in her face inch by inch, the envelope in one hand, the list in the other. Aleisha smiled, tapped her friend on the shoulder, and walked away.
As she crossed the road, she saw a young man standing ahead of her, leaning against a wall. For the briefest moment, she thought it was Aidan, his face turned into a smile – especially for her.
THE READING LIST
NAINA
2017
NAINA HAD DROPPED THE last list off; it was sitting under the copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. She hoped Chris might read it – it was completely different to the crime thrillers he usually read, but she thought something new might help him. He was hurting now. But books, they had the power to heal.
The library books were stacked on her bedside table. Her final library reading list. They were all her favourite books, the books she had grown up with, the books that had found her at the right time, that had given her comfort when she needed it, had given her an escape, an opportunity to live beyond her life, an opportunity to love more powerfully, a chance to open up and let people in. And now she had read them all once more, for the very last time.
Priya had been t
he one to suggest she leave a reading list behind. ‘Ba, one day I’d like a list of your favourite books. You are the best book person I know.’ She’d said it just in passing, as children often do, but the idea had stayed with Naina. She knew she was leaving – but she wanted to give something back. To Wembley. To the people who loved her. And the books had given her so much. Well, it was time to pass them on. She hoped that the lists would find their way into willing hands and hearts – in the supermarket, at the bus stop, in the library, at the yoga studio, in the community garden – and brighten them, even if just for a moment. With Indira’s list, she knew she couldn’t just give it to her directly – Indira was proud, she would laugh at the idea, discard it as soon as she was alone. It was maybe a silly idea leaving it in Indira’s shoe rack, all crumpled up. But she was trusting fate to do the work for her. She hoped Indira would find her way to the books, maybe even to the library.
Now there was just one list left to give. And she knew who this one belonged to: Mukesh. He had never been a reader, but she hoped, after she left, he might start to wonder what all the fuss had been about for her. She didn’t want him to be lonely, and he had a tendency to cut himself off from the outside world when he was sad. This way, she thought, if he did that, he might find some company elsewhere. Within the pages. He might find something to inspire him to meet new people, try new things, he might find some words of wisdom too.
She pulled out a piece of her letter writing paper – this was her umpteenth attempt. Despite all the books she’d read in her lifetime, finding the words to say I love you, to the person she had spent the happiest years of her life with, seemed to be the hardest thing in the world.
She took a deep breath and began, her tears already blotting the paper.
The Reading List Page 32
