PART VII
LITTLE WOMEN
by Louisa May Alcott
Chapter 25
ALEISHA
‘YOU ALL RIGHT, ALEISHA?’
It was ‘Call me Chris’ – Crime Thriller – approaching the desk, a heavy-looking rucksack on his back, no doubt laden with books.
‘Yeah,’ Aleisha said, wiping hair out of her tired eyes, her fingers frantically searching for the to-do list she’d left somewhere on her desk. ‘Just having one of those days.’
‘I can see. Don’t worry, I’ve seen that woman in here arguing about the same thing when Dev and Kyle have been on duty.’
‘Really? She does this every time?’
‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure she must just click the wrong library when she orders online.’
Aleisha had just, quite publicly, been ambushed by a rather disgruntled customer who had come to pick up a book order, only to discover the books had been sent to Hanwell Library instead. As Thermos Flask Dev would have wanted her to, she took full responsibility on behalf of Brent Libraries, and had offered to pick the books up from Hanwell and home-deliver them to her, just to get her to go away. The woman had charged out, grumbling: ‘This is why so many libraries are closing down. Useless, poorly run. I bet this place will be the next to go.’
‘I literally could do without this today. I’ve got to go pick the books up from Hanwell now.’
Crime Thriller guy pulled a face to show his sympathy, before wandering off to his usual spot, a new hardback thriller, just delivered today, tucked under his arm.
The irate woman had been holding a reading list of her own, written on a scrap of paper, which she’d held aloft in her hand in a gesture of: ‘So there, the customer is always right.’ The woman had waved it frantically, so she couldn’t make out the handwriting, but Aleisha hoped more than anything that that woman hadn’t written her reading list. That really would ruin the magic, wouldn’t it?
One of the books the woman had ordered was Beloved, and it was in the Harrow Road Library, but tucked safely in Aleisha’s bag … checked out ready to read weeks ago. She could have given it to her there and then, one small step to placating her. But she wasn’t about to give it up. The books, the list, it had become too important.
A few nights ago, she’d been reading to Leilah again while they were waiting for Aidan to come home.
‘Where is he?’ Leilah said. ‘He’s never normally this late.’
‘Mum, it’s all right, he’s always late. He’ll be home soon.’ Aleisha had opened the copy of Little Women, feeling Leilah’s eyes trained on the pages, as if a spell had been cast once more.
‘Wait,’ Leilah said. ‘What’s Little Women about then? I’ve heard of it.’
Aleisha turned to the back cover – she scanned the text. ‘Right, it’s about four sisters in New England … set in the 1860s,’ she continued to scan. ‘It’s about their attempts to help their family make more money, their friendship with a family living close by … and their later “love affairs”， apparently. There’s Meg, who dreams of being a lady; Jo … it says she’s based on the author herself – she wants to be a writer. Beth is quiet and delicate … she likes music, and then there’s Amy, she’s a “blonde beauty”。 The pretty one.’ Aleisha kept running her eyes over the cover. Leilah was nodding, focused on the middle distance. ‘Ready?’ Aleisha asked.
‘Yes, go on.’
On the first page, Aleisha had stumbled her way across the line, ‘We haven’t got Father, and shall not have him for a long time.’ Her eyes paid close attention to Leilah’s face. The line was about the March sisters’ father, he was away at war, but Aleisha couldn’t help thinking of Dean. Leilah’s eyes were downcast, but there was a faint smile decorating her face. She was with the March sisters for the moment; she hadn’t made the tenuous connection to their own life as Aleisha had.
Mr P had mentioned this book – apparently it was one of his granddaughter’s favourites. As she stepped further into the story, she saw exactly why a young girl might enjoy it – it was joyful, it was different, to learn about all the ways to be a young woman in an ever-changing world. It was an old story, but the March sisters, they were vibrant, gutsy; they followed their dreams, whatever they might be.
Jo, Aleisha liked Jo. Jo was spiky, ambitious, always writing plays and directing her sisters to bring them to life, bringing joy into the family home. She brought a smile to Leilah’s face too. ‘I like her,’ Leilah said, once they’d been reading together for more than an hour – it was a record, Aleisha was amazed. ‘She reminds me of you. You were bossy like that when you were little.’ Aleisha couldn’t see the comparison herself, but something in her warmed. ‘No wonder that boy next door, Laurie, is that his name?’