Peaces by Helen Oyeyemi (best books to read for self improvement .txt) 📕

Karel Stojaspal’s estate were earmarked for such medical treatments as Ava Kapoor might require for the rest of her life, and the other half would go to the institutions that had moulded him: the Prague Conservatory and the Royal Academy of Music.

For her kindness to my son … the son not mentioned by name. Whenever it felt like I was about to make an outburst, I silenced myself with my lollipop.

Laura leaned forward, hands on her knees, gaze like a drill, going from Xavier to me, then back to Xavier. “Guys, help us out here. Just under five years ago, after the reading of this will, Ms. Yu over there managed to convince Ava Kapoor that living together on this train would be the best way of making sure she could meet the sanity requirement.”

“Such a sinister condition to make,” Allegra said slowly. “Almost like a threat. Ava doesn’t have any kind of psychiatric record. There’s just some sort of even keel she’s on. When she’s moody, it’s moderately moody. She did take it really hard when her dad died—they were so close. But the grief didn’t drag her downstream. I think she was ready to go, but whatever it is that grounds her wouldn’t budge. So after a while she went, Ugh, I’ll just have to stay here with you lot, then. Karel was around for all of that, but maybe he was thinking the worst of the grief would hit later, or that it would all just build up? I can’t work out why else he’d do this. Cut Přem out altogether and arrange the rest the way he did. But that’s how it happened, so the next steps were up to us. We put our heads together and drew up a list of factors that heighten vulnerability. So we’d know what to avoid until Ava’s thirtieth. I promised her four years and eight months in which she wouldn’t be hungry or lonely or paralysed by finances, wouldn’t have too much or too little to see, learn, and do. I promised she’d get to work on her train and get to share it, let strangers enjoy it without having to have anxiety-ridden conversations with them … because somewhere along the line we realised that communication was the thing we really had to address. We had to limit it. Talking to strangers can be riskier than it is rewarding; even people who know each other well talk at cross purposes and derange each other’s perceptions.”

“Sanity and consistency of perception are the same thing?” Xavier asked.

He’d struck a point on which they were unanimous: Laura said, “Of course it is,” and Allegra said, “Yes!”

“… And with all those precautions in place, at the end of those four years and eight months … payday,” I said.

Allegra gave me a very slight wink. “It should’ve been simple. And it might still be. Wednesday’s the big day. We’ll all have to have some champagne together before we drop you off in Boughton.”

Laura began to speak but trailed off as a sound that had been in the distance for a while now made itself distinct from the hubbub of maintenance team conversation outside. A pitch perfect rendition of the Beach Boys’ “Don’t Worry Baby.” It wasn’t louder than the other voices calling out to each other, but it was the kind of sub-sound you wanted to shake out of your head. The whistler moved along the side of the train, and the song isolated itself within the ear, quivering just above the white noise you hear when you try to listen to your own pulse.

Then, without a break in the whistling, Bang, bang, bang, the carriage wall jumped.

Bang—​Přem’s self-portrait skipped up the wall and clattered back down. Don’t worry, baby …

The four of us scattered, swearing our heads off. Xavier followed Laura back into the postal-sorting carriage while I followed Allegra into a dormitory carriage that was mostly navy blue linen and bunk beds. Allegra pressed walkie-talkie controls in what seemed like an arbitrary sequence, and we all but squashed our noses against the carriage windows as we sought out the best view of the ground directly in front of the gallery carriage. There was a fire extinguisher rolling around beside the track, and two members of the maintenance team sprinted our way and retrieved it. Allegra’s walkie-talkie connected her to several crackly voices; she reeled off names and questions, but the replies were more or less the same: it had been so quick nobody had seen anything. One of the walkie-talkie voices, belonging to someone named Eric, was able to confirm that the fire extinguisher was empty, but that was all the information he had. Everybody was of the opinion that we should get moving again as soon as possible. Allegra assured them we’d be off in half an hour, tops.

When we returned to the gallery car, the wall was still again. Xavier and Laura were already seated and wearing matching expressions. They’d settled on belligerent relaxation.

“What was that …?! Any ideas?”

Xavier spread his hands, and Laura shook her head. Allegra sat down too, punching in one more walkie-talkie code that linked her to Ava.

“Everything OK, beb? Over.”

Ava answered with her mouth too close to the microphone; the syllables hissed themselves into gravel, and we didn’t catch what she said. But we did hear a snatch of theremin music a moment later; we might’ve found her song choice witty and reassuring if we hadn’t just heard it whistled a few seconds ago.

Allegra said: “Ava, I’m coming over. Over!”

There was more hissing, then a laugh came through. “Allegra, I’m just practising … Did it sound that bad? Let me have some time to tinker with it. Over.”

Laura grabbed the walkie-talkie. “It … wasn’t bad, Ms. Kapoor. You don’t worry either; practice to your heart’s content. Over and out.”

Allegra stood up, sat down, then stood up again and circled our chairs, chewing her nails. Laura closed the channel, stuck the device in the pocket of