Gabriel's Gift

  He said, ‘I don’t want to work in an office.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Offices make me feel I’ll never get out of them.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You’ve never worked in an office.’

  She got up. ‘You’ve been spending too much time with your father! I want to develop your confidence. I’m afraid you’re developing a kind of loser mentality!’ She paid the bill and they swept out. ‘I must say,’ she said, you don’t look pleased, you little bugger.’

  ‘Pleased about what?’ He was following her as quickly as he could. She’d always done this, walked faster than him.

  ‘About my new job, and the holiday in Italy and everything I’ve been trying to do for you. Kids – they only think of themselves. It’s me, me, me, with you lot. People don’t know, or won’t say, how much they hate their children.’

  He was hardly listening. She wanted him to be a lawyer. He was, he reckoned, already sufficiently engaged with the Law. In the next few days his mother would have her forged copy of Lester’s picture framed and presented to Speedy, who would have been presented with two forged copies of the same picture by two members of the same family.

  Gabriel’s prison sentence, already long enough, would, surely, be increased. He remembered that when he visited the flats near by, one of the men there had been in prison. ‘I done my bird,’ he kept saying. This badge of the outlaw life had been the cause of some admiration, but Gabriel couldn’t remember if the man had said the prisoners were allowed to read all day. Could he take his Walkman? Would his parents visit him? How long did forgers get?

  By the time they got home, his head was host to its own firestorm. He needed time to consider everything but wondered whether his mother, in one of her ‘concerned’ moods, would want to visit a gallery, or whether she’d invite him to watch one of her favourite ‘uplifting’ musicals with her.

  Fortunately, in the late afternoon, she told him she had to go to work.

  ‘I need to leave a bit earlier today,’ she said. ‘There’s someone I think I should phone and meet with. Is that all right?’ she said guiltily. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘It’s fine. I want to look at my new book and draw.’

  ‘Good. By the way,’ she said, ‘I wanted to give you this.’ She handed him a booklet. He looked at the title – ‘A Career in Law’ – and shivered.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Is that Denis Law?’

  ‘Cut it out. Let me know what you think. It’s been a lovely day, Angel. I hope we get to spend a lot of time together. If we go to Italy we will.’

  ‘He’ll be there.’

  ‘Yes, George will be there.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For me to be with, that’s what for! You’ve got to stop complaining about everything.’ Then she said, ‘You’re not going to bein touch with Archie this afternoon, are you?’

  ‘Why, have you got any questions for him?’

  ‘Gabriel –’ She was holding her breath. ‘I presume that was one of your jokes, which I’m sick and tired of, like the rest of this “Archie” stuff. Now, give me a kiss. Please.’

  ‘There.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  When she’d gone, Gabriel did, for a while, sit in his room drawing. He drew a Japanese vase carefully but, unlike before, it failed to appear. Not that he needed a Japanese vase in his life at the moment. It was easy to wish hard and think that this made things happen. In the end, action had to be taken.

  It was a relief when it didn’t work. No more hallucinations; he wanted to live in the same world as other people. He wouldn’t copy any more; it would be only original originals from now on. Copying had got him into enough trouble.

  He put his materials away.

  He found himself looking for Hannah in order to tell her that he was going out. When he saw that she had fallen asleep in front of the television, he searched the house for cash. Reluctantly he collected the money he had been saving to buy his movie camera. He raided his childhood piggy boxes, looked in the pockets of old coats, collected the money he’d earned on his paper round, and the money given to him by relatives at Christmas. He went through his mother’s handbags and found a ten-pound note.

  He was ready

  Leaving a note to say he had gone to Zak’s, he closed the front door as quietly as he could.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was a thirty-minute walk to Speedy’s restaurant.

  Outside Splitz, behind a remorseless velvet rope and patch of red carpet, bulged an eager queue. Beyond the door, Gabriel could see people stopping to look at his ‘Lester’ picture.

  Although Gabriel had set off with good intentions, when he arrived at Splitz he began to consider it an excellent idea to go home and lie down with a pillow over his head.

  He was about to turn away when a sleek car drew up outside and two men and two women got out, looking to be looked at. Gabriel watched them approach the rope; they were ushered through the crowd at the door. Gabriel knew he should know who they were but ere, they were gone before he could think about it.

  Through the window, along with everyone else, Gabriel saw Speedy trot over to them, taking quick little steps on his high-heeled boots; he reached up to press his busy lips against their faces, before taking them to a table.

  When Speedy had settled them, he returned a few minutes later and glanced in Gabriel’s direction. In a moment he had stepped outside.

  ‘You coming in, beautiful baby? I think you are!’

  Before Gabriel could say anything, Speedy had taken his arm, unhooked the velvet rope and led Gabriel through the crowd. Gabriel liked that; he could get used to privilege, he reckoned.

  Speedy was sitting close to him at his ‘operating table’. At this distance, Gabriel could examine Speedy’s pasty yellow glow, like the moon on an off day. Gabriel couldn’t help enjoying the enthusiasm with which Speedy regarded him.

  ‘Is there anything I can I do for you, Gabriel?’

  ‘Thanks for putting Dad onto Jake Ambler. We went over there and taught that kid a few things.’

  ‘You did? That kid’s a nutter, did I tell you that? Smacked his therapist across the chops, I heard. The only music he knows about is the five-finger exercise. Ha, ha, ha!’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It helped Dad out. He was getting pretty low about Mum and all that. Actually, he’s been down to zero.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it. These things can get a guy down, I know. Is that what’s been happening to you?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Yeah. How about some juice, kid? Beer? Ice-cream? Not sure? What about a waitress?’

  Speedy was watching him.

  Gabriel said, ‘Right now I’ll take the juice.’

  ‘OJ!’ Speedy said into the air, confident that his cry would not go unheard. ‘Just passing by? Come in any time.’

  ‘What about the queue?’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about that. Just step right in. You’re looking good. I like your hair parted like that. Funny how you’re so blond and they’re dark. Knew your parents well for a long time. Pretty good people.’ He couldn’t stop talking. ‘Feeling lonely, eh? Sunday afternoon. I’ve had a lifetime of Sunday afternoons like that, with nothing on the telly but East of Eden. Somehow I think my whole life has been organized to avoid Sunday afternoons, followed, of course, by a Monday at school. Don’t tell me how it is – I know which way up it is for a kid.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘You know, I was talking to a writer friend who is taking those workshop things with young people. When he asked them to write about their childhoods all the stories – every one – were about being humiliated by adults. Right?’

  ‘Wow,’ said Gabriel. ‘It’s a familiar thing, then?’

  ‘Indeed. Look, look Gabriel – over there.’

  He pointed down at the table where the four people who’d come in earlier were sitting.

  ‘There’s Charlie Hero. Don
’t you recognize him?’

  ‘Is that him? He’s much older.’

  ‘Yeah. Your father played with him. He’s with his school friend Karim Amir, the half-Indian actor, fresh out of the clinic. He’s in that big film with all the sand – I can’t remember what it’s called. Jake Ambler produced it. There was a cool party at Gaga, and Charlie played “Kill for Dada” with his old band. Karim got up and harmonized. ‘Speedy put his lips to Gabriel’s ear.’ You know – this isn’t gossip – everyone knows –’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Charlie’s mother and Karim’s father were lovers, years ago. Karim told me he caught them at it in her back garden in Becken-ham, one time.’

  ‘Wow. I love those old stories. Everyone knows everyone else.’

  ‘So will you, soon. That’s the way it goes. I’ll see to it. She’s dead now. I think the father is, too. I’m not sure. I can find out from an old copy of Hello!. Want their autographs? Why not meet them? I’ll take you over.’

  Gabriel looked across at Karim and Charlie, so frivolous and self-absorbed. If he had their money, he would be able to make his film; he wouldn’t be sitting here.

  ‘Maybe later,’ Gabriel said. ‘There’s something on my mind.’ He leaned forward. Archie was right there with him, giving him strength. ‘I wanted to see Lester’s picture.’

  ‘There it is, pal. Over there, under the light. Come in and take a good look whenever you want. We’ll get you an armchair if you want to get comfortable. This is an artists’ hangout.’

  ‘Lester Jones didn’t give the picture to my father. He gave it to me. He wanted me to have it because he liked me. That’s what people can’t see, Speedy. It wasn’t a money thing. It was freely given – a gift.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Lester said I was talented.’

  ‘Really? At what?’

  ‘Painting. Making films. I know how to do it – I know I do – and that’s what I’m going to do. A lot of the stuff around at the moment is no good at all. I want to be the best, Mr Speedy.’

  ‘When you grow up?’

  ‘Yeah. On that day.’

  ‘Wow. That’s an imprimatur enough for me.’

  ‘Underneath it all, Dad’s talented, you see. I get it from him.’

  ‘No. If you’ve got it, you get it from yourself and don’t you forget it. You can inherit an old tie but not a gift, that’s one thing I know.’ Speedy was looking at him. ‘You think I haven’t tried to write scripts and make films? I sat still at a desk for – for quite a long time; at least it seemed a long time to me – and I couldn’timagine a thing! The only thing I ever wrote was a cheque!’

  ‘For some people, imagining is the most natural thing in the world. They don’t have to sweat blood over it. You just hit the groove and see stuff!’

  ‘You might, Gabriel. But I don’t. Or, the moment I see something, I know I’ve seen it before in a better film than I could ever make, and there’s no point writing it down again. You’re one lucky guy, Mr Gabriel.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Every idiot in this bar is trying to write a script. Not one of these people doesn’t have a badly written story in their drawer. But, in the end, how many of them are really prepared to put the work in? They might be able to spell, but they can’t write to save their lives. If you can really do it, you’re the top man. But I know those guys, the creative artists. They’re selfish and self-obsessed; the desire for success isn’t pretty. It’s a hunger that never goes away or can be satisfied. That’s what makes people into stars.’

  ‘Mr Speedy –’ interrupted Gabriel.

  Gabriel saw that Speedy, unlike most other people, didn’t leave gaps in the conversation; however, he didn’t seem to mind if you butted in. For him listening was an opportunity to peruse his restaurant and wave.

  Gabriel continued, ‘I think Lester will be annoyed at the picture being here. My father shouldn’t have sold it to you. It doesn’t really belong to him. Dad’s a good guy but he was desperate and depressed and living in a dump. He’s admitted he did a bad thing. He knows he made a mistake.’

  Gabriel started to empty his pockets of their notes and coins onto the table.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Take it, Mr Speedy. Please. Let me buy it back – my picture.’

  ‘Wait. Lester annoyed – did you say? Who gives a damn. To hell with Lester. He’s got everything a guy could want. He’s such a big man he doesn’t even pay his taxes. Why would he worry about a picture? He could paint more pictures. That one can’t have taken him more than ten minutes. Well, twenty, maybe, with the words and all.’

  ‘I’m worried about the picture.’

  ‘How can anyone worry about a damn picture?’

  ‘That this is the right place for it.’

  ‘Wherever I am is a good place for any picture – I can assure you of that, baby. Have you got a problem, Gabriel?’

  ‘Mr Speedy –’

  ‘If you want the picture so badly, there must be a reason.’

  Speedy was sitting close to him; Speedy was stroking his knee and going higher, into the softer flesh. Gabriel could hear Archie screaming. Gabriel told him not to be so touchy; wasn’t he used to it, from school? There would be worse things.

  Gabriel said, ‘You purchased it. You have a lot of money. But Speedy, I want to say: is there anything I can do for you?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Is there?’

  Speedy applied the back of his hand to his forehead and made as if to swoon away.

  ‘That, little baby, is the number one question I’ve been waiting for all my life! Can I have time to think about it?’ Speedy was goggle-eyed and almost choking. ‘You are quite a kid, right! Ha, ha, ha!’

  Charlie Hero passed by the table and Speedy grabbed his hand.

  ‘Hey, Charlie, Charlie –’

  ‘What’s happening, Speedy?’

  ‘Meet Gabriel. He’s my latest pal.’ Charlie raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s not what you think, Charlie. I said pal, not peach. His father’s Rex Bunch, the guitar player. He was in the Push with you.’

  ‘I’d remember that, if I had a memory,’ said Charlie. He touched Gabriel on the shoulder. ‘One thing returns. We were doing open-air gigs and in the evening, when it got chilly, Rex’s feet got cold. We had to put an electric heater in the wings to keep him warm. When his bunions were burning, he could play. He couldn’t always stand up straight, but he could stroke those strings.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s a stroker, that man. How’s Karim?’ said Speedy.

  ‘He’s good at the moment. Lester’s laying some stoical music on his new film. And he’s got a son now – Haroon, he’s called, known as Harry. Then he’s getting married.’

  ‘Party?’

  ‘I should say so.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Mental, I think, or Anus, maybe.’ Charlie lowered his voice. ‘Speedy –’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Send that waitress over to ask for my autograph. Tell her not to recognize Karim or ask him for anything, right? Ask her to give me a kiss, too. These girls do kisses, don’t they?’

  ‘Sure.’ Charlie was laughing. ‘No problem.’ When Charlie had gone, Speedy said, ‘Nice guy. No talent and with the vanity of Cleopatra herself! But bright.’ He pointed. ‘His bondage trousers are in that cabinet over there. Gabriel.’ said Speedy, ‘I’ve heard you, man. It’s gone in. It’s hit the hot spot and it’s workin’ in me.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘If a part of me belongs to you, then a part of you has to belong to me. But which part?’ Speedy was looking dangerously thoughtful. ‘What, precisely, do I want you to do for me?’

  Then, as Speedy would have said, his eyes lit up, and stayed lit.

  ‘Why are you staring at me?’ said Gabriel.

  ‘Full beam on!’ said Speedy. ‘Listen up.’

  When he’d finished talking, Speedy stood the menu up on the table and cut Gabriel a little line of cok
e to help him ‘on his way’.

  Gabriel tasted it and then said, after a moment’s hesitation, ‘No thanks. I’ve got a cold. Next time. But I’m grateful for everything else.’

  A few minutes later Gabriel was watching as one of the waiters unscrewed the picture and took it down. He wrapped it in thick brown paper, fashioned a handle from string, and handed it to Gabriel.

  ‘There you are, sir. It’s all yours. Can you carry it?’

  ‘I think so.’

  Gabriel waved to Charlie and Karim but Charlie was signing a piece of paper and Karim got up and left the table.

  Speedy stood there holding the door as Gabriel left.

  ‘See you.’ he said. ‘I can’t wait.’

  ‘See you.’ said Gabriel. ‘Me neither.’

  ‘Take care now. You won’t go back on it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. In a couple of weeks I’ll be in touch.’

  Gabriel said, ‘I look forward to it.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Great.’

  Chapter Twelve

  He was about two miles from home.

  Gabriel was used to walking about the city but it was late on Sunday afternoon and the streets were packed with concentrating shoppers. In places the crowd was so tight he had to stop altogether and lean against a wall. Blasts of heat from the open doors of the bright shops and from the Underground grilles in the pavement made him wonder if he weren’t in hell. He believed he could easily have been carried around a shop, through the changing rooms and out into the street again without touching the polished pine floor.

  The picture in its frame was cumbersome and difficult to carry. It was longer than his arm, and its edges, which had penetrated the brown paper, seemed to be made of barbed wire. Sometimes he hauled it under one arm and then under the other. For a bit he carried it on his head but it tipped backwards and if he hadn’t stuck his leg out, he’d have dropped it.