The Reading List(48)

‘From here I can see you, Aleisha, or the other librarians, Lucy, Benny and the other young man,’ he’d told her once. ‘Or that student dumping their books in front of them and pulling out a scraggy notebook, or the young mums and dads reading to their children. I like this spot; it is becoming like a new routine when I read here. These strangers, they are my silent companions.’

Aleisha had been pleased that Mr P was opening up, little by little, not just to her, but also to the other people who worked here. A few days ago, Lucy had said, ‘That old man you’re becoming mates with, he’s rather sweet, isn’t he?’

She thought of the first time she was rude to Mr P, and how Aidan, and Kyle had convinced her to right her wrong – just like Amir had done in The Kite Runner. It was true – it wasn’t too late to be a good person. Never. Aleisha now felt a strange sense of pride for the old man – she knew that Mr P was lonely, but he was starting to do things to help himself. He was doing so well.





Chapter 16


MUKESH


MUKESH HADN’T TOLD HIS daughters that he was planning on seeing Nilakshi today. She was Nilakshimasi to them, she was like family, always had been. He suspected – hoped – that Vritti would think it was nice that he’d finally found someone who could be a good friend, a companion. But Rohini and Deepali would get the wrong idea, modern ideas. They would read into it, mutter things like, ‘Papa is getting serious with this woman, why would he do that to Mummy?’ to each other behind his back. He couldn’t face being talked about.

When the doorbell rang, Mukesh’s heart almost leapt out of his chest. He stared up at Naina, hoping for some kind of message. Silence.

‘Nilakshiben!’ Mukesh held his arms open wide in greeting at the door, sounding more confident and comfortable than he felt.

She held up a blue plastic bag of vegetables. ‘Ready to learn how to cook brinjal bhaji?’

Mukesh nodded hurriedly and stepped aside to let her in.

‘Sit down, Nilakshiben,’ he said, politely, nodding his head formally, suddenly realizing he was standing uncomfortably straight. They both stood side by side in his hallway, beside the doorway to the living room. Naina, in her photoframe above the television, was staring down at them.

‘Thank you, bhai,’ Nilakshi said. He noticed she gave Naina’s chair a wide berth, leaving a space for her memory to be. ‘I can sit here?’ She pointed to the sofa, the bag still in her hand.

‘Ha,’ he replied, leaning forward to take the bag from her. ‘Anywhere you like.’ On the sofa, Nilakshi clasped her hands together, shrugging her shoulders as though she wanted to take up as little room as possible.

‘Please,’ he said, ‘make yourself at home.’

Nilakshi didn’t move, she just smiled and nodded.

A few minutes later, Nilakshi joined him in the kitchen as he was straining the chai. He’d made it from scratch this time – he knew that’s what Naina would have wanted for a guest.

‘I thought I better join you,’ Nilakshi said. Her face looked as though she had seen a ghost. ‘Shall I start chopping for the brinjal bhaji?’ He could tell she didn’t know what to do with herself, drifting around her late best friend’s house.

‘Ha,’ he said. ‘But tell me what you are doing step by step or I will never keep up!’

‘Of course!’ She pulled out the aubergine, and began cubing it, as Mukesh added Canderel to the tea. They skipped around each other, searching for utensils, and awkwardly knocking into each other at annoying moments. ‘I am so sorry,’ was always followed by ‘No, no, I am so sorry, bhai! Clumsy clumsy me!’

‘Look at us,’ Mukesh said. ‘We are being very silly. I shall just stay over that side and you let me know if you need to get anything.’

‘Ha. Thank you. Oil please?’

Mukesh passed the oil, and Nilakshi made sure to take it by the lid, keeping her fingers as far away from Mukesh’s as possible.

He felt he was holding his breath for the whole of the brinjal bhaji tutorial and he hadn’t taken a word in.

‘Please could you maybe write me some notes for this recipe too?’ he asked, as he tried the first fried, spicy piece of aubergine.

‘Of course,’ Nilakshi said, about a foot away from the plate, observing Mukesh tucking in.

‘Do you want some?’

‘No, thank you, bhai. I hate aubergine.’

‘What?’ Mukesh laughed, his eyes creasing. ‘How come you wanted to make this?’

‘Well, Naina always used to tell me it was your favourite, and we are always hearing from Harish how you are never making it; even your daughters tell us at the temple. They say your diet is not great! I thought you might want to learn.’

Mukesh gulped. His cheeks flushed red. Of course his daughters, probably Rohini, had loved to spread the news that Mukesh Patel was stuck in his ways.

Nilakshi’s face blanched slightly, and he could see her mind whirring, looking for something else to say. ‘It is nice, people care about you! How are your grandchildren? And little Priya?’

‘They’re doing okay, having their summer holidays already. Priya and I went to the library the other day.’

‘The library?’ Nilakshi asked. ‘Is it the one Naina went to?’