Gabriel's Gift (16 page)

Pat took the money, kissed it and said, ‘Ta very much.' He went to the bar and ordered a drink.

‘Bastard!' shouted Dad. Pat wiggled his arse. To Gabriel Dad said, ‘I'll make it up to you. Jesus, I'm sorry. These losers are a load of idiots. They never work but they'll take everything.'

‘Dad –'

‘Quiet!'

‘All Along the Watchtower' had come on the juke-box, even louder than the TV. At the first of Jimi's chords one of Dad's friends at the pool table looked up. Dad made a guitar gesture and ecstatically screwed up his face.

‘“There must be some way outta here,'” he sang. ‘This was all I wanted,' said Dad. ‘To make a noise like that and have people listen to it thirty years later. It must seem pretty naïve to you. Maybe we all mythologized pop and pop stars too much, and refused to see what else is worth doing. I was thinking last night what a self-destructive period it was and how many people, gratuitously, unnecessarily, put themselves in the way of serious harm. How many of us – apart from Lester – emerged with our health and creativity?'

‘You did.'

‘I did? I know how self-destructive I am, but as with everything else, I'm not particularly good at it.' He put his hand in Gabriel's hair. ‘Are you making or breaking? That's all I want to know, now. It's not too late for me to say that I admire you, Gabriel.'

‘Me? What for?'

‘You ran the school magazine. You did the debating society, and the drama society.'

‘Not any more.'

‘No, you rebelled but at least you took part. You joined in and you will again. You'll keep it together, I know you will. You'll go much further than me. I kept myself apart. I know I'm intelligent. Except that it all got lost in negative energy. I wanted to rip everything down. It was a sixties idea to piss on things, the “straight” world, mainly. It was considered rebellious. But it meant I had a cynical soul and I wish I didn't. I haven't liked things enough. I haven't opened the windows of my soul. I haven't let enough in. If only I'd had your enthusiasm. That's all that ambition is – enthusiasm with legs. Lester must have seen that in you.'

‘Thanks Dad. You're –'

‘No, no. I'm not.' Dad leaned across the table. ‘Have you got any of that money left? Drink up! Let's have another one – to celebrate!'

‘You'll have nothing to celebrate if you don't turn up for your class,' said Gabriel.

‘Forget about that,' said Dad. ‘Pint of bitter!' he called.

Gabriel said, ‘What would your mum say if she could see you now? She didn't turn up to school half-pissed, did she?'

‘No, well. You're right. You make me ashamed. You're good at that. But listen – before we were interrupted by that fool I was saying something important. It was Jake on the phone. In fact he gave me the phone in the first place. “You need a phone,” Jake said. “Here you are – you're a businessman now.” “Am I?” I said. “I hope it hasn't come to that!”'

‘So he's looking after you?'

‘Too well. Gabriel, he won't leave me alone. I've been invited to … to …'

‘To what?'

‘A dinner. A formal dinner party.'

‘Great. Free food.'

‘It's not great.'

Dad explained that Jake Ambler was delighted with his son's progress. The boy had even spoken to him, once, without mentioning self-abuse. As a reward Jake had invited Dad to the house, along with other people he thought Dad might like: an art dealer, a movie director, a model who adored the Leather Pigs, and others.

‘He mentioned the director's name. We've seen his films. He was a hero.'

‘That's even better, then!'

‘What are you talking about? Why would he want to meet me? I'll be sitting there sweating like a dunce with nothing to say. “What do you do?” People always ask that question at these things. What do I say? What do I do?'

‘You used to say to me: the truth might be a good start.'

‘Gabriel, I wish you could come with me. Except that it's not a kid's thing.'

‘Why is it bothering you so much?'

‘I'm not talented or successful or brilliant.' He gestured at the pub. ‘I'm like these guys. Except that I feel ashamed of being ordinary. Talent's a passport – it gets you into places. Without it you go nowhere, pal.'

Gabriel said, ‘But Jake likes you.'

‘I'm the only adult who can talk to that lunatic progeny of his.
Because I listen to him. I'm a good ear.'

‘That's a gift then. How many people can do such a thing?'

Another man had been eyeing them from the bar. When Gabriel glanced over again he saw the man swinging towards them, on crutches. Dad groaned.

The man said, ‘I saw you pay Pat back.'

‘So?' said Dad. ‘The fucker went and stole Gabriel's pocket money. I'm really sick of this.'

‘What about me, Rex? I'm on Pat's floor. Can't even afford a pint.'

‘Jesus, what am I now, a charity? Let me get to work then I'll sort you out in a week or so, when I've been paid.'

‘Sort me out now,' said the man.

‘Later,' said Gabriel quietly.

‘Now!' said the man. ‘Look at me!'

‘Is everyone in this pub a vulture?' said Dad.

‘You think you're better than us! All human beings are equal even if –'

‘Funny you should say that, man. I am better than you. That's one thing I do know! Better in every way! Handsome, too, and famous and –'

‘Dad –'

‘Whatever you do, don't end up like these people, Gabriel. They've got no hope of –'

‘You're arrogant,' said the man. ‘You're a fuckin' stuck up wanker has-been –'

Before the mood could turn even uglier, Gabriel got up, pulled his father to his feet, and got him to the door.

‘But I haven't finished my drink!'

‘Out, out, out!' said Gabriel, giving his father a hard shove.

‘What a dump,' said Rex, on the street. He was banging on the window and giving his former friends the finger through it. Gabriel was perplexed to see that Dad hadn't grown out of these ‘fits'.

‘Up your arses, mates! Losers! Kiss it, mothers!' shouted Dad. ‘Gabriel, don't they look like corpses ready for the grave? I won't be going in there again! The whole atmosphere is rancid, hopeless, violent! I can't believe I was ever like those men –'

‘You're not. You're working.'

‘Yeah. Maybe. Maybe I am working. I was feeling great until I went through that door!'

‘Look out!' said Gabriel. ‘You haven't got your glasses on but I'm telling you, he's after us!'

‘What are you worrying about, boy? The fucker's got no legs!'

‘No, it's Pat, with the cripple's crutch!'

‘Oh yeah … right –' Dad shaded his eyes and leaned into the window. ‘I can see now! That's his yellow teeth all right!'

Gabriel ran across the road, with his father jogging and cursing behind.

At the bus stop Gabriel said, ‘I want you to ask Jake Ambler if he knows anyone who'll let me have a cheap 16mm camera.'

‘Jesus, I'm not sure about that. You know I don't like to seem more grasping than I am naturally. You'll get me fired!'

‘He might be pleased to help us.'

‘I'll see,' said Dad. ‘I don't even know if I'm going to get to this dinner without being carried in on a stretcher.'

‘You will go,' said Gabriel. ‘And it would really help me out if you spoke to Jake. After all, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be teaching at all.'

‘Thank you for pointing that out, Angel. But who will I take to the ball?'

‘What am I – your pimp? Don't you meet any girls?'

‘You might laugh at your old and knackered dad, but actually, one of my pupils' mothers has been taking an unprovoked interest in me. Whenever I go round there she's about to take a bath. She's rich, too. But that's premature.'

The bus drew up beside them and Dad got on.

‘I'll think about it,' said Gabriel. ‘I reckon I've got a good idea!'

‘Who?'

‘Wait and see!'

Because he felt like it, Gabriel stood there waving until the bus had turned the corner.

Dad had gone, but to get home Gabriel had to pass the pub, unless he went over the road, which would be humiliating. Crossing the pub window he could easily have ducked down but he didn't want to. When he went past, Pat caught his eye. Pat came to the door and Gabriel didn't flee but stood there.

‘Yeah?' said Gabriel, trembling.

‘You're not him,' said Pat. ‘He's a bad, bad one. Borrowed money and won't pay it back. Make sure you don't turn out that way.'

‘Rather him than you, mate.'

Pat was shaking his head. ‘Later,' he said.

‘Fuck you, loser!' said Gabriel. Pat raised his hand. Gabriel forced himself to laugh.

Hannah was waiting at the door.

‘Welcome home, Master Gabriel.'

‘Thank you Hannah.' He was pleased to see her.

‘Your breath is out.'

‘Too right. Prepare the sofa please and don't forget to plump the cushions. Certain circumstances have exhausted me. I need to reconvene my energies.'

‘Sorry your thoughts are interrupted, but Mr Speedy's on the phone for you.'

‘Now?'

‘That's right.'

‘Thank you, Hannah. I'll take the call in private.'

‘I'll prepare your tea, Master Gabriel. Same as yesterday?'

‘Don't forget the marmalade, Hannah.'

‘No, Master Gabriel. Marmalade coming up! Will you be having that with the cream?'

‘Chill on the cream, Hannah – for now.'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Hello, Mr Speedy.' said Gabriel into the telephone. ‘What can I do for you?'

‘Good afternoon, Gabriel.' said Speedy. ‘Sorry for the delay. How was school?'

‘No worse than normal.'

‘Can you talk? Are you prepared?'

‘Yes, sir!'

‘So am I, baby. Now, listen. This is what we'll do. This is how it's going to be …'

It would take her a long time to get ready. He would help.

He knew it was an important occasion because she was playing ‘Ride a White Swan'. In the morning Mum had taken her Ossie Clark dress – the one Clark made for her in the seventies, when she worked for him – out of her wardrobe and hung it from the curtain rail, where they both stood and admired it. The day was designed to get her into this dress, which was now a little tight at the waist. She kept patting her stomach, or ‘pouch' as she called it. Nevertheless, the party had started at that moment.

That night she was going to dinner at Jake Ambler's house with Dad, who had become so agitated over the whole thing he had asked his own wife – at his son's suggestion – to accompany him.

‘Funny, ain't it.' In the bathroom Mum was drawing her face on. Not far away, in his room, they knew Dad was also getting ready; he kept running downstairs to ring and say what he was doing. ‘When Rex lived here, he wanted me to stop talking. Now he's taking me to this party in order to have me talk. I wonder what's made him so keen on me suddenly!'

She was going first to a fashionable bar to meet Rex, check his look and ensure he didn't have too much to drink. They would go on to the dinner party. She didn't know what time she'd be back. She was delighted to be going out, and in a few days would start work in Splitz. It had been a long time since he'd seen her so excited.

It was a relief after the previous night, which had been the first evening Gabriel and his mother had spent together in a long time. They had gone to the cavernous, bright twenty-four-hour supermarket that had opened near by, where you could buy movies, books and computers with your bread, have lunch or buy a whole fish. At home they cooked and ate; she let him drink sparkling wine. Then the phone rang. George was saying he wanted to come by.

‘Please, later,' she begged in a low voice. ‘When he's gone to bed.'

George must have been almost outside because within a few minutes he was banging on the front door.

Gabriel had gone to sulk in his room, presuming George would stay the night and they wouldn't want him around. But Mum and George had had a tremendous row. She tried to persuade him to talk to her in the pub at the end of the street, but George, who was drunk, strung out, and in a beige suit with a taxi waiting, wanted to get away. He ‘chucked' Mum by repeatedly saying it was too ‘complicated'.

‘George, please tell me what you're talking about! Just give me a chance! I thought we were doing something good! You wrote to me every day!'

‘I'm not ready, and I will never be, for the trials of bourgeois respectability.'

‘You mean the boy, don't you?'

‘You never talk about anything else!' he cried, almost dashing out of the door.

‘You're jealous!'

‘Maybe. You're a tight little family! Let's keep in touch!'

She ran out into the street after him, pleading. From the window Gabriel watched George shake her off, like someone shooing away a dog trying to bite them.

For a moment she lay down on the path, her face resting on the pavement. She looked up to see Gabriel watching her, got to her feet, shook her head and went to him. He cuddled her.

They put their pyjamas on, got into her bed, watched
Frasier
and ate chocolates from their ‘emergency' supply.

‘You didn't
like
him, did you?'

‘A little bit, yes,' she said.

‘Well, if it was too complicated …'

‘You were the complication.'

‘I was the excuse.'

‘Shut up now, Frasier and Niles are going to –'

Gabriel was licking his chocolate. He said, ‘Would you have gone with him if he had wanted you to?'

She thought for a long time. ‘Probably, Gabriel.'

‘Even if I wouldn't have liked it?'

She was stroking his hair, which he hated, and said, ‘It's not your job to make my life impossible. I've looked after you and now you're nearly grown. That was my duty, and I've done it. Surely, now, I can live for myself a little bit, eh?'

‘OΚ, OK,' he said. ‘Sorry it didn't work out.'

She said, ‘I think, in the end, that love is probably a young person's addiction. I can get by without it – I'll have to, won't I? – but probably not without some companionship.'

Now she sat at her dressing table, pulling her tights on.

He asked, ‘What shoes are you going to wear?'

‘Look.'

She went to a carrier bag and pulled from it a pair of white patent-leather boots.

‘Where did you get those?'

‘They're real seventies boots. A woman at work collects antique clothing and she lent them to me. Do you like them?'

‘They suit you.'

‘You think so?'

‘Oh, yes.'

‘Just pull on those zips for me, dear.'

Wiping his quivering hands on his jeans, he did as she asked. He saw himself in her mirror, watching her adjust the boots.

‘I know what your dad will say: “Puss in Boots”.' They were laughing. She kissed Gabriel. ‘I'll tell you all about it in the morning. What will you do?'

‘Oh, I guess I'll be staying in with Hannah.' He went to the window, looked up and down the street several times, and yawned. ‘I'll watch the rest of that Polanski and get my head down.'

‘Sleep well, Angel.'

‘Have a good time without me.'

When she'd gone he had gathered his drawing materials together and was getting changed when Hannah knocked on his bedroom door.

‘Come.'

‘It must be a mistake, Master Gabriel.'

‘What sort of mistake?'

‘At the door there's a chauffeur waiting, with a fat car outside.'

‘It's impertinent to think that that would be a mistake.'

‘Sorry. What is this impert?'

‘Look it up later.'

He picked up his bag. He had packed a small hunting knife as well. But he had been to school; at least he knew how to handle himself. Not that he was worried, anyway.

‘Gabriel, is it really for you?'

‘I have an important meeting. Not one word to anyone, or else …'

‘No, no, Master Gabriel. No turnip on horizon. Your shoes … should I clean them spotless?'

‘No thanks, they're new trainers. Could you get them out of the box and thread the laces?' Gabriel said, ‘I've got to do this thing, Hannah, tonight. I promised I'd do it. But I'm scared, really scared. Nothing like this has happened to me before.'

‘Go,' she said. ‘Go and do it.'

‘Yes. You're right.'

‘But don't be back late.'

‘No. See you later.'

The chauffeur held open the car door and took Gabriel's bag. As Gabriel slid into the soft white leather seats, he saw Hannah at the door with her mouth open.

‘Driver,' said Gabriel casually. ‘Can you adjust the music – upwards, please!'

They zipped around the Westway, over the top of Ladbroke Grove and the Portobello Road, and through the City. Gabriel was driven to an area of narrow streets and old warehouses, where Speedy lived in a conversion. The brickwork had been scraped, the piping painted blue.

He went up in an industrial lift.

At the top, dragging open the latticed gate, Speedy greeted him.

‘Welcome, Maestro!'

‘Thanks, Speedy!'

‘Take a look at everything! The view! The river! The pink settee! I'm exhausted – I've been clearing up for hours. My housekeeper's gone to have a sex change.'

‘Oh, dear.'

Gabriel pushed through a plastic-beaded curtain to find himself standing on a shining patch of Astro-turf. Ahead of him was a fluffy white rug with other challenges to come.

Gabriel walked about. Speedy collected objects that Gabriel thought anyone sensible would hate – china dogs and plastic Mrs Thatcher dolls, for instance, and anything involving winking lights. Gabriel couldn't make out whether the stuff was from gift shops or art galleries. Gabriel liked being confounded; he even liked hating things, but this –

‘It's certainly made you wonder,' said Speedy.

Gabriel noticed the piles of books on photography, painting, architecture and design. It was like seeing a huge chocolate cake; he wanted it all inside him as soon as possible.

‘I could hang out here,' he said.

‘You're welcome to.'

‘I like the music. What's is it? Sounds like trains.'

‘Steve Reich.'

‘Who?'

‘Take it with you.' said Speedy. ‘Your dad'll know about it.'

‘R 'n' b's his thing. But thanks. I think we'd better start.'

‘Gabriel, what d'you want me to wear?'

‘Your favourite clothes. How you like to be seen.'

Speedy put his hand on Gabriel's arm. ‘Oh, I don't know. I can never choose. Come and help me.'

‘I can't stay long,' said Gabriel.

‘Right, butch,' pouted Speedy.

While Gabriel prepared, Speedy went to get changed. Standing there, Gabriel was startled by a smooth-skinned Thai boy or girl in a sarong and make-up, who saw Gabriel, rushed into the bathroom, and never emerged.

When they'd agreed on his clothes and the colour of his lipstick, Speedy took up a position on the chaise-longue, supported by Elvis-print cushions. Gabriel was a little surprised at Speedy's pose – lying on the couch with one hand behind his neck, as though he were sunbathing.

If that was how he saw himself, it was how Gabriel would paint him; if Speedy didn't like the result, that was up to him.

An angry ball of fluff ran across the floor.

‘You got rats here, Speedy?'

‘Don't you dare!' said Speedy. ‘I want my beautiful Xavier in it. In the olden days people were always painted with their houses and horses and stuff.'

‘I can't do dogs. That one's not going to sit still and it'll come out looking like a hedgehog. Speedy – you look powerful on your own.'

‘Is that right? OK, I'm going to trust you on this –'

‘That's the way.'

‘But I'm telling you, Angel, this one isn't for the attic! It's for the front of the restaurant. I want it to look like me, only better. You know the kind of thing. I don't want my blemishes immortalized.

‘What blemishes?'

‘What a sweetheart you are! Who's your favourite painter right now?'

‘Lucian Freud.'

‘But he's very … realistic. And I'm a vegetarian.' Speedy started to laugh. ‘You're joking, I know you are. You're quite a kidder, kid. You won't leave my ring out, will you?'

‘Where is it?'

‘You'll see, baby. Coming up. Open your eyes.'

‘Wow.'

‘Yeah, told you.'

‘Must have hurt.'

‘That was the idea. D'you want one?'

‘I'm thinking of a tattoo, that's all. A panther or something.'

‘Whereabouts?'

‘Let's not get into that, Speedy.'

‘Right you are. I'll zip this up then.'

‘You do that.'

Sitting on an animal-print covered chair, Gabriel wanted to work quickly, making preparatory studies for the picture. He had a few hours, for his mother would be out late. He had to be home before she returned, in case the alcohol made her sentimental and she had no one else to take in her arms at two in the morning.

‘Can I talk?' said Speedy. ‘I'm so excited.'

‘You're always excited.'

‘Not like this. What do you want – gossip or autobiography?' Gabriel smiled. Speedy said, ‘Everything, then. If you're going to paint me, you're going to have to get to know me. Well, dear, when I was at your peachy age I became Jimmy McEnroe's lover. He was in his late thirties then, and one of the top pop managers
of the time. He wanted me to assist him, and assist him I did, baby. I got to know all the stars. Oh Gabriel, I always wanted to be a star. I never made it to that one.'

‘Speedy you are a star, in the restaurant.'

‘I'm the boss. That's different. People want something, or they know me from last time. Gabriel, Jimmy was outrageous, until he went the way of a lot of our people, as I am going to. Still, I had a time and a half. All pop comes straight up from the gay underground. I know you're not that way, Gabriel, and it's a shame and a waste but I won't hustle you, baby. In another way you're one of us.'

‘Thanks.'

‘When I left Jimmy I …'

Speedy didn't stop talking. He seemed to like being looked at, though Gabriel wished he wouldn't keep craning his neck to try to see what Gabriel was doing.

‘You've got to keep still.'

‘I'm aching,' complained Speedy. ‘I've never sat still before. I should be painting you!'

If this annoyed Gabriel, he was already so disgusted by every line he drew he wanted to either rip up his drawings and stamp on them or run from the building. He knew he'd never get to what he wanted to do. This wasn't Speedy's fault: his mixture of naïveté and cunning, of knowingness and vanity, made him a beautiful subject. But Gabriel was beginning to learn that any attempt at art would be held up by inhibitions, terror and self-loathing. He was pushing against a closed door, and the door was himself.

At the end, he was pleased to see there must have been a score of screwed-up balls of paper on the floor. He'd done enough for today; he couldn't go any further. He knew how to go on.

When Gabriel said he was ready to go, Speedy said the car was waiting but that he needed a lift himself. Gabriel sat and listened to music while Speedy got changed again.

They drove to what Gabriel recognized as Jake Ambler's house. The lights were on; figures moved about in the big glowing rooms.

‘Coming in?' said Speedy in the stationary car. ‘You'll know the people. What's wrong? Are you afraid?'