Aleisha nodded.
‘No wonder he loves Jo. She’s the best one,’ Leilah finished. ‘She knows how to do it – treats him mean, keeps him keen …’
‘They’re friends, Mum, I’m not sure she’s treating him mean!’
The two of them giggled where they were seated for a moment, before it trickled away to silence. And Aleisha continued to read: ‘How happy and good we’d be if we had no worries …’
She sighed and looked up. Leilah’s eyes were closed, squeezed tight shut, as though she didn’t want to let those words ring out in the real world. They could exist only in the world of the March sisters, and nowhere else.
At that moment, Aidan arrived back home, making a racket as he shoved open the door and dropped his bags on the floor. He shut the door behind him.
‘Shh,’ Aleisha said, tiptoeing into the hall. ‘Hey, what’s all this noise about?’
Aidan just gave her a quick pat on the arm and stomped into the kitchen.
‘Mum’s resting.’ Aleisha followed him. ‘I’ve been reading to her.’
Aidan poured himself a glass of water from the bottle in the fridge. He downed it all before he looked at his sister for the first time.
‘Aidan … I’m just amazed, you know, it’s really working. She’s like getting into them.’
‘That’s really good, Leish,’ Aidan said, absently. He was wandering around the kitchen, picking bits from various cupboards: a plate, a fork and knife, a Tupperware of leftover curry. He didn’t look her in the eyes.
‘I’m glad there’s something that I can actually do to help. Usually it’s only you who can get through to her,’ Aleisha said, silently begging him to pause for a moment. To allow himself a moment to just stay still.
Aidan looked at her then. ‘Aleisha, it’s not just me who can get through to her. You do it too. You’re good at it. Better than me really.’ His voice was soft, distant. ‘I’m happy the books are working, for you both.’
Aleisha looked down at her feet this time – it was a half-compliment, but it was more than she’d had from anyone in a long time.
‘Mum seems to be doing much better now anyway, doesn’t she?’ Aidan prompted.
Aleisha shrugged.
Aidan started piling his food onto his plate. ‘I’m sorry we’ve not seen each other much – work’s been busy, and I know I’ve been focused on having someone at home with Mum all the time, but, I don’t know, she’s doing better, way better.’
Aleisha watched him. She didn’t agree – but she didn’t want to say that to Aidan. She could see he was trying to convince himself. It wasn’t like her brother to be optimistic when it came to Leilah. What was on his mind?
‘I’ve got loads of shifts over the next few days, Leish,’ he continued. ‘I won’t see you much, okay? But Mum’ll be fine, you’ll be great with her. You are great.’ He turned round then and smiled at her.
‘I’ll miss you,’ Aleisha said quietly. ‘It’s been ages since we just spent time together.’
‘I know, but you’ll do fine without me. Whatever you’re doing with Mum, it’s really working, Leish.’
He headed out of the kitchen, his plate in his hand, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘All right?’ he said to her. She nodded. Before she could ask him the same thing in return, he trudged up to his room without turning back round.
Trying to lighten Aidan’s mood, Aleisha left a jokey ‘Welcome Home’ Post-it for him on the fridge. But he’d been true to his word – she heard him click the door quietly shut in the morning before she woke up, she heard the door squeak open again when he got home, but other than that, there hadn’t been any indication as to his presence other than the Post-it notes he’d stuck to the fridge to remind her to do things. They had been, once again, ships in the night. All she really wanted was to hang out with her brother, find out how he was, actually talk to him. She knew there was something on his mind, something he wasn’t telling her.
She turned this all over in her mind as she clutched Beloved close to her. She wasn’t going to give it up to the grumpy woman at the library. If Aidan wasn’t around for a few days, working non-stop, the only power Aleisha had to keep Leilah calm was the books. The books filled the space where there had once been silence.
Mr Patel would be at the library soon. She had checked out another edition of Little Women for him already. She imagined he’d be excited to read it – it was the one book he seemed to talk about frequently, without having any idea of what it was about. Though he often called it ‘Little Ladies’。