‘I think she would be too.’ He nodded, solemnly.
‘What job did you used to do? Or what do you do now?’ She looked up sharply, probably hoping she hadn’t offended him.
‘Oh, dear, I definitely do not do anything now. Too old and creaky! I was a ticket-master at Wembley Central. Now I don’t really do anything.’
‘A ticket-master?’
‘Yes, I sold people tickets. I knew people, I knew their faces, and I would always try to ask their names – I knew who had to get what train and when. People were less grumpy then. People weren’t so busy. There were very few mobile phones, not like today, so people looked up when they walked around instead of down at their hands,’ he nodded towards Aleisha’s iPhone, face down on the table. ‘Speaking was all you could do then. I would call out to some people if I knew they might be late for their train.’ He raised his hand. ‘“Your train is here, miss!” I would say. People always thanked me then.’
‘Literally can’t imagine people speaking to each other in London. Not sure I’ve ever said more than a few words to people on the Tube.’
‘I know, I find it sad. Often I say hello to people and they just look at me like I am crazy.’
Aleisha nodded knowingly. ‘That man over there,’ she whispered under her breath and pointed to a young gentleman sitting in a thick black hoodie. ‘We call him Crime Thriller guy, it’s all he reads. He came and spoke to me a while ago, like just making conversation, I found it so strange. And this is actually my job. I work here.’
They giggled together then, and Crime Thriller looked up for a moment; they both quickly averted their gaze. Mukesh felt as if he had been let in on a secret.
‘My wife, she would have liked you,’ he said once he’d got his breath back. ‘She likes young women who are kind, clever and focused. And readers! Just like her.’
He noticed he had switched into present tense; the girl had noticed too.
‘Here’s your next book, Mr Patel!’ She handed Rebecca to him before he could say anything else. Mukesh clasped it in both hands, placed it in his shopping bag slung over his shoulder, and wandered outside. He didn’t turn round to say goodbye until he was already out of the door. Framed by the doorway, cut in two by the divide in the glass, he waved with one hand. The girl waved back, just as enthusiastically.
The girl was right – Naina would be proud, not just because he’d read a book quickly … but because today he took himself out of his comfort zone, and for a few moments of his day, he’d made a brand-new friend. He looked at his feet, to check he was still fixed firmly on the ground and he wasn’t just day-dreaming. Satisfied this was all very real, he turned back around and shuffled away.
PART III
REBECCA
by Daphne Du Maurier
Chapter 11
ALEISHA
A FEW DAYS LATER, Aleisha jumped at the sound of her phone ringing. It was seven in the morning …
‘Aleisha,’ Thermos Flask’s morning voice croaked. ‘Any chance you’d be free to cover for Benny today? He’s been taken ill after a stag do last night. Kyle will be in too.’
‘You mean Benny’s hungover?’ she yawned.
‘Probably – still, best he stays away. I don’t want any dodgy moments in the aisles.’
Aleisha glanced wearily over to her bedside table, where Rebecca sat, waiting for her. ‘All right, yeah. Let me check with my brother, otherwise I’ll be there.’ She was grateful for the opportunity to just sit in the library today, put some books back on the shelves. Last night had been a bad one for Leilah. Aleisha had woken several times in the night to hear her mum shouting out, and then to the sound of Aidan trudging back and forth to her room; his footsteps slow, soft. Exhausted.
When she arrived at the library, it was quiet with only two regulars, including Crime Thriller guy in his usual spot, and the elderly Indian lady who loved to chat, but there was no one demanding her attention. As the glass doors closed behind her, the sounds and smells of Wembley, and the memories of Leilah’s fractious night, all disappeared.
But as she was walking up and down the fiction aisles, putting the returns back on the shelf, she saw a figure hiding around the corner. It brought her back to earth with a thump. Mia. Aleisha would recognize the back of her head anywhere, with the slightly sloppy undercut, one long earring in her left ear, a short stud in the other.
She hurried past, ducking behind the sparse ‘W’ fiction shelf, keeping her eyes trained on her feet, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.