The Reading List(54)

‘Good question. It has made me very sad. I think we have all been a bit of Amir in our lives – self-centred, focused only on ourselves – and we have all been a bit of Hassan, too, forgotten by the people we love the most. But in the end, the book was as happy as it could be. Amir made the right choice, to do the right thing. I couldn’t help thinking what a selfish boy he was, though. Ne?’

‘Oh, Mr P – I know. But he was only a child too – he wasn’t thinking.’

‘Yes, that is true, you’re right.’ He took a deep breath, feeling the sadness of the novel sink in before trying desperately to distract himself, to distract Aleisha. ‘So, you really think I should take Priya outside of Wembley?’ He wouldn’t admit it to Aleisha, but he was nervous. He had routines; he never ventured very far.

‘Yes! Take her into London – Wembley’s boring for her. It’s boring for us. Surely you’re fed up of this library!’

‘Boring for you, maybe! This library is still my adventure,’ Mukesh clapped his hands together. ‘Wembley, it’s big enough for me, and always changing.’

‘Mr P, you deserve to get out a bit more.’

‘I know I should, but …’ He paused, looked down at the desk. ‘The truth is it frightens me a little bit. My wife Naina, she was the brave one, she …’ He came to a halt, a lump forming in his throat.

He could feel Aleisha staring at him, pitying him.

‘Look Mr P,’ she said softly. ‘You know that journey Amir took back to Kabul, not knowing what the city he’d grown up in would look like now?’

Mukesh gulped back the lump.

‘That was a big journey,’ Aleisha coaxed. ‘And well, no offence Mr P, but it was way more of a big deal than you stepping out of HA9 for an afternoon. If he can do that, you can certainly do this. And Priya, she might see you in a different light. She might think you’re less of an old man, stuck in his ways, and more like her …’

Mukesh nodded, trying hard not to be a little offended by that last bit. He looked down at The Kite Runner, sitting on Aleisha’s desk, ready to be put back on the shelf for someone else to read and weep at.

As he headed to the door, Aleisha caught up with him. ‘Hey, Mr P, you forgot your next book. It’s got a tiger in it. One of my mum’s new favourites.’ She handed him Life of Pi and Mukesh pulled a face of mock horror at the tiger on the front. ‘Yet again, a story of someone being forced out of their comfort zone, onto a lifeboat with a fierce animal,’ Aleisha said with a wink.

‘Thank you, I can tell you’re choosing these books just for me. I’m just sorry I can’t give you anything useful in return!’

Aleisha smiled, shyly. ‘Mr P, don’t worry, it’s my job, remember?’

With that, he wandered out with a spring in his step, trying hard not to let the ‘Save Our Libraries’ sign on the door dampen this small moment of joy.

Think of positive things. Think of positive things – Mukesh chanted to himself silently, trying to allay his nerves. It had been a long time since he’d got on the Tube, and he felt as if he was learning to walk all over again.

He’d decided on the destination for his and Priya’s trip today: central London, where the sounds were louder, the people were grumpier – the thought terrified him a little. It was a big step, a big change. He hoped Aleisha was right about this.

When he’d worked on the Tube, many years ago, this had been his life. Back then he had loved the Bakerloo line trains best. They were still old fashioned, almost exactly the same as they were when he would explore the area with nothing but a ticket and a watch to get him back home on time, ready for dinner with Naina and the girls. It was rare that he’d have an evening after work with an hour or so spare to sit on the Tube for a little while, but if he did, that’s what he liked to do.

The train pulled up; a handful of people stepped up and off onto the platform. Mukesh held on to the rubber on the edge of the door as he took a big step onto the train. Priya hopped on easily, and offered her hand to her dada. He declined. He could do this by himself. Priya ran ahead to save them seats, and all of a sudden Mukesh could feel himself weakening with the distance. Until a woman came close behind him and said, ‘I gotcha,’ taking a firm hold of his arm.

He was a little wobbly as he set both feet on the floor of the train carriage, no longer light enough to float away, but found his seat next to Priya, who was already reading her book. He realized his opportunity. He had Life of Pi with him, he could read alongside his granddaughter. Suddenly his heart rate started pulsing. Priya hadn’t seen him reading, and he’d never read on a train before – he didn’t want to make himself queasy. He decided against it. The tiger and the boat could wait. Instead, he watched Wembley go by.

Sixteen stops.

A family of four got on. Two little girls, a mum and a dad. They got off again at Maida Vale. He hadn’t been to Maida Vale for years.

Then another man hobbled onto the train, in the same style as Mukesh. He tried to avoid eye contact, but couldn’t help looking out of the corner of his eye, wondering what was going to happen next. Mukesh knew how he felt, unsure if the floor beneath you could hold you, whether it would stay firm or quickly turn to jelly. These days it was always jelly. The man grabbed hold of the maroon bars, his knuckles a purplish-white with effort, and he lowered himself onto a seat.