Gabriel's Gift

Chapter Fifteen

His father was at the table, in his usual place, with mustard and butter, and Branston pickle and ketchup and salt to hand. Underneath was the newspaper, open on the sports page; Dad moved the objects around in order to read the part of the page he required. He was listening to Verdi’s Requiem while wondering aloud whether Nottingham Forest would make it to the Premiership.

Occasionally he looked up in puzzlement; he’d never been in the house with Hannah there. Unintentionally, she kept making him laugh. Gabriel could see how nervous she was by the fact that she kept raising food to her mouth, and putting it down again, as if she couldn’t believe that the world had tilted once more.

Dad said, ‘It’s funny you dreaming about me, Gabriel. I thought I saw Archie last night.’

‘What?’

‘I was sitting there with friends when I became convinced your twin was looking through the window of Jake’s house. I even made an excuse, went outside and walked about. There was no one there, of course. Weird, eh? By the way, what’s this about you and Archie talking and stuff?’

Gabriel hesitated but said, ‘He’s with me, Dad.’

‘Of course he is. He’s with me too. That’s where the kid should be, with his family.’

‘You talk to him?’

‘Every day.’ Gabriel was relieved. Dad went on, ‘Don’t tell Mum. It upsets her.’

When Gabriel’s mother joined them, Hannah went and stood across the room, folding clothes with ostentatious care.

‘I can’t wait to hear how it went last night.’ said Gabriel. ‘Did you get champagne at the door?’

‘Champagne and canapés, of course.’

‘Then what did you eat?’

‘Wait a minute. I have to give you good news,’ said his mother. She was in her dressing-gown and her hair was everywhere. She must have been tired after last night but she seemed content. ‘Your father was too sensitive to ask about the camera. But I did. It turned out that years ago Carlo’s father, Jake, was a camera assistant, and he’s got what you want in his garage. He’ll show you how to use it.’

‘I’ll be able to start my film?’

‘He suggested you shoot it over the summer. The days will be longer. There’ll be more light.’

Dad said, ‘Fluffy, you forgot.’ She blushed at the name. It had been a long time since he’d called her that. ‘Someone else was there last night, too.’ He was looking at Gabriel. ‘A friend of yours.’

‘That’s right,’ said Mum. ‘Lester Jones turned up, for drinks. He asked how you were getting on.’

‘He did?’ Gabriel said, ‘He didn’t mention anything else?’

‘He’s doing a concert in a small venue in London and has invited us to visit him backstage.’

‘That’s great,’ said Gabriel. ‘I’m pleased. He didn’t mention the picture?’

‘No.’ Mum was regarding Dad with annoyance. ‘Oh, God,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten what a noise you make when you eat. You sit back — you’re thinking, I suppose — and there’s a sort of animal chewing.’

‘I’d forgotten what a noise you make when you’re talking,’ said Dad. ‘And I’d forgotten the pleasures of living together. Was it like this all the time?’ Mum lowered her head. ‘By the way, Christine, I wanted to ask you — who’s George?’

‘What?’ said Mum.

Gabriel and his father were watching her.

Dad said, ‘Last night Gabriel was shouting in his sleep about George. Who is he?’

Gabriel was aware that Dad knew who he was. Dad was getting himself worked up.

‘No one,’ said Mum. ‘There’s no George.’

‘There better not be. Is it true, Gabriel? And don’t lie to me.’

Mum said, ‘Don’t forget, Jake invited us to his country place. He’s had the new indoor pool installed and thinks we might like to try it out.’

‘All three of us?’ said Gabriel. ‘Are we going?’

‘Would you like to?’

‘Yes. I can work there.’

Dad got up. ‘We’ll see,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I haven’t got time to gossip.’

While Gabriel sat next to his mother and asked her to describe the previous evening’s food, as well as the plates, clothes and conversation, Dad picked up his bag and went to the door.

‘I’ve got a lot of work to do today,’ he said. At the foot of the stairs he turned. ‘I’d like to get started while I’m here, if that’s all right, Christine.’

Mum was looking at him. She wasn’t sure.

‘All right,’ she said at last. ‘There can’t be too much harm in it.’ When Dad had gone upstairs to the bedroom she said, ‘I did invite him here, but he seems to be getting comfortable again.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’

She got up and walked about restlessly. ‘I loved him for a long time. I loved him far more than he loved me. But it was hopeless. He was kind of gone. So I turned it off. Now he’s decided he wants to start again. I was about to begin a new life.’

‘Maybe you will, now, together.’

‘You’re soppy, Gabriel. What makes you think I’m such a pushover?’

‘Give him a chance. He’s trying to do something now.’

‘Why the hell should I?’ She relaxed a little. ‘Just tell me — whisper — what “work” is he doing in there? After breakfast in the old days, when you’d gone to school, he’d read the paper on the couch, and ask what was for lunch. How do I know he’s not doing that?’

‘He’ll be playing music and making notes about his pupil’s progress. He keeps a file on each one. I’ve seen them.’

‘He’s taking it very seriously.’

Gabriel said, ‘He’s decided that making music and talking about it — the whole thing — is therapeutic.’

‘How can it be? I’ve known musicians who’ve been playing since they were teenagers and they’re still a bunch of deadheads.’ She sighed. ‘Still, have you noticed how much Rex’s limp hasimproved? He’s become a fortunate man, your father. He’s found something at last that he’s good at. I’m jealous.’

‘How can you be? Of what?’

‘I suppose I believed that only talented people had a vocation or were important, while the rest of us were slaves. Your dad isn’t exceptionally talented and often he’s paralysed within. But it doesn’t mean he can’t be useful.’

‘He is very useful,’ said Gabriel. ‘He’s gone off the dole. He’s even given me money. Maybe he’ll give you some, if you beg nicely.’

‘D’you think so? How much does he get paid?’

‘I’m not sure —’

‘Aren’t you? Per hour, right?’

‘I think it’s —’ Gabriel told her the figure.

‘Is that it? That’s not much more than I earn,’ she said.

‘Jake pays more. He just gives Dad what he feels like giving him. I don’t think Dad knows how much to expect. He feels ashamed, asking every time.’

‘He shouldn’t have to put his hand out. He must send a bill. I’ll do it on the new computer we’re getting. I bet he’s not paying any tax. He’ll get into trouble. I’ll sort it out. Now I’d better go and see my girlfriends. It’s our coffee morning. They’ll want to hear about last night.’

There was a café near by where she and her friends had met for years. They’d talk about husbands, kids, movies and TV; they’d compare what they’d bought in the antique market, and they’d give one another advice.

Before she went out she said, ‘Last night Rex was really sweet and polite. He held my hand — he knows I love that. He even talked to me and took an interest in what I have to say, probably because he was too scared to talk to anyone else. He promised to buy me some new clothes. If only it could always have been that way.’

Later that morning, when Dad emerged from the bedroom and left to give Carlo his lesson, Gabriel accompanied him to see Jake’s camera.

Dad had a hangover. On the way they stopped for coffee. The café was on the main road and it wasn’t warm, but they sat on iron chairs outside, drinking juice and watching people. Dad liked to count the lunatics.

‘There’s one,’ he’d say, nudging Gabriel. ‘And look at that nutter, chattering and gurgling! He’s got no chance, poor guy.’

It seemed to reassure him to realize he was less messed up than other people.

Then Dad said, ‘It was really good last night, Gabriel. You might have guessed, your mother and I have been meeting a bit, just to see what’s there. To see if we get on.’

‘And?’

‘Yeah, we do get along, at times. Anyway, last night, after she invited me to come home with her, I was getting undressed. I found her dressing-gown behind the door, where it always was. I showered and cleaned my teeth and all that. I started to think: she’s in bed, she’s waiting for me. She’ll be hot in there, practically boiling — she’s a high-temperature woman, at night — and soon I’ll be snuggling up to her back, her legs, her arse, which is like a two-bar electric fire. Her feet will be on my legs, touching me, and that’s where I want to be, kissing her neck. Excuse the details, but I’m telling you, Angel, that’s what a man wants at the end of the day — and at my time of life — when he lays his tired head down. To know that a woman has chosen you, that she wants to be with you — it’s an achievement.’

‘You don’t live together.’

‘We’ll see about that.’ He went on, ‘People are rarely a perfect fit. These days they walk away from one another too quickly. Why does everyone have to break up? If you can sit still through the bad bits you can find new things. For me, being with her again is like having a new girlfriend. Your mother suffered a lot over Archie. She deserves a break. I don’t like her being a waitress. What I want is to support her financially, so she can do what she wants. I’d be proud of that.’ He looked at Gabriel. ‘You’re not listening. You’re thinking about something else altogether.’

‘Yes. I can concentrate on the things I really want to do.’

‘But I still don’t know whether she’ll have me back. I’ll have to keep thinking of what might seduce her.’

At Jake’s, Dad and Carlo went upstairs to work.

Gabriel was standing in the hallway when Jake himself, accompanied by a uniformed servant, and wearing a suit and shoes so elegant they were, in effect, golden slippers, led Gabriel into the low garage at the side of the house. There sat two green Lotuses, a Jag and a Bentley.

Behind the cars, Jake found the big camera. He removed his jacket, put a sheet down, opened his tools, and took the camera apart on the floor. He wanted to ‘reacquaint’ himself with it. As he rebuilt it, he talked of the films it had been used on and the famous actors it had photographed. Then Jake asked Gabriel about the film he intended to make. Gabriel recounted the story, becoming excited as he talked. He hadn’t forgotten it; in fact the little movie had become clearer in his mind.

‘Sounds like a pretty good contemporary movie to me,’ said Jake, nodding. ‘Full of funny detail, too.’

Afterwards, in Jake’s office, surrounded by movie posters, awards and an Oscar — ‘Everyone should have at least one of these,’ he said, patting it — Jake showed Gabriel stills from the films.

‘Why don’t you take these with you?’ he said, wrapping them in tissue paper. ‘They’re more use to you than they are to me.’

‘Jake, why didn’t you become a director?’ Gabriel asked, putting them in his bag.

‘Good question,’ began Jake. ‘I think it’s because I knew Jimi Hendrix, when he lived in Notting Hill.’

Gabriel almost choked. ‘What?’

This was how Jake liked to talk, impressing the kid. For Gabriel it was like someone saying they’d been on holiday with Shakespeare.

Jake said, ‘I’m that old, I saw Jimi play a lot of times, at the Marquee and those places. I thought, I’ll never be a genius like this guy. Who do we have to turn to these days for spiritual guidance? Not the priests, politicians or scientists. There are only artists left to believe in. So: I am a supergroupie. I love those artists who pant after chimeras. But I’d rather puff a cigar in an easy chair myself. It’s my loss — doing art gives a man big balls. It’s probably never occurred to you that you can’t do things. But I never had the confidence to believe I could be talented, or had an imagination.’

‘Where did it go?’

‘I had it once, you think? As a child, perhaps. I don’t know. I was sent away to school. Must have been refined out of me.’

‘Jake —’

‘Something on your mind? You’re looking tense today.’

‘Yeah … Mum’s got this strange idea.’

‘What’s that? Tell me, Gabriel.’

‘She’s started thinking that I should be a lawyer. A show-business lawyer, you know. Doing contracts for bass players and stuff.’

‘Yeah.’ Jake seemed to understand immediately. In fact he found it funny. ‘That’s what I was supposed to be.’

‘And you’d recommend it?’

Jake stuck his tongue out. ‘What’s the point of doing something you hate?’

Gabriel said, ‘I want my work and my life to be the same thing.’

‘That’s what the successful people — like Lester Jones — have. Most people don’t find out until it’s too late what they want to do.’

‘Or who they want to be?’

‘That’s right. Why don’t I talk to your mum? I’ll take her out and explain what your prospects might be if you work hard and do well.’

‘Have you got time?’

‘I can’t think of anything that’s more important than the future of young people like you.’

When Carlo and Dad had finished and came downstairs, looking relaxed, Jake said that when Gabriel was old enough he would get him a job on a movie as a ‘runner’.

To Gabriel’s surprise, Jake did keep his word about Mum.

A few days later Gabriel returned from school to find her at home. Her face was flushed; she’d been drinking but she was cheerful. Dad was in the kitchen, making tea.

‘I’ve just got in,’ she said. ‘Guess what happened! Jake called this morning and asked me out to lunch. I’ve been on more dates in the past few weeks than I have for years. Where are you going to take me?’ she called to Dad.

‘You wait and see,’ he said. ‘Is it all right, Gabriel, if I go out with Mum for a bit?’

‘Sure. Mum, what did Jake say?’

‘He rang me up out of the blue and said he wanted to take me to the Ivy. I couldn’t refuse! I called up work and said I wasn’t well. What a place the Ivy is! I was looking around at everyone so much I hardly heard a word he said. Danny La Rue was there, looking great!’

Gabriel said, ‘What did Jake want?’

‘He was praising both my boys. Said Rex was a great teacher for waking up his lad and everything. And you — well … He seemed to think you wouldn’t necessarily make a lawyer. It would be a waste.’

‘What did you say?’

‘All that matters to me is that Gabriel doesn’t turn out like his father.’

Dad didn’t find this amusing.

Mum was blushing. She said, ‘Jake promised to keep an eye on you, Gabriel. Like a godparent. What an impressive man that Jake is. His head — in fact his whole damn body — should be on a stamp.’

‘Then you could lick it,’ said Dad.

‘Gabriel,’ said Mum. She was laughing. ‘We’ll leave you alone for a bit, OK? See you later.’

When his parents had kissed him and left, Gabriel told Hannah he was going out. She hardly listened. She was sitting in a chair singing or moaning to herself.

Gabriel went to Splitz to sketch and photograph Speedy in situ. Gabriel wanted to finish the portrait; he had been thinking that Speedy would appreciate his restaurant being in the picture. The chaise-longue wasn’t quite right. He’d take Speedy’s head and put it somewhere else. Wasn’t that called having an imagination?

After a couple of hours’ sketching and observation, Gabriel told Speedy that the preparatory work was complete. He didn’t need to see him again in the — here he could only hesitate — flesh. He would, in a few weeks, give him the finished painting.

Sitting at his Operating table’, Speedy was disappointed.’ But I love posing for you, Angel. One more time, surely?’

‘Sorry, Speedy, your face is etched in my memory.’

Speedy clapped his hands and said he couldn’t wait to see the picture.

Gabriel warned him, ‘You don’t know, I’m still only a kid and it might be terrible.’

‘The more terrible the better! Ha, ha, ha!’ Then Speedy said, ‘Have you told your parents what we’re doing?’

‘No. No I haven’t.’

‘Thought not. I guess your mum will be all right about it. But your father probably won’t like the picture and he won’t like you spending time with me. He’ll imagine all kinds of stuff.’

‘I’ll tell him when I’m ready, then.’

‘That’s right.’ Speedy was watching him. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘What?’ Gabriel said, ‘I was thinking that if I were taking photographs at the moment I’d only photograph people in close-up. I’d be so close I’d only get part of their ear, the tip of their nose or a patch of skin. I wouldn’t be able to get all of them in. Why’s that?’ he asked, confident that Speedy would know the answer.

‘You’re too close to your parents. You can’t see them — they’re on top of you.’

‘Yes …’

‘When it comes to other people, it’s always difficult to get the distance right.’

‘Yes.’

‘Now you’ve got something to think about. D’you want a taxi?’

‘Yes, I’d better get home.’

When he went into the house, Gabriel heard an unearthly noise. Thinking someone was being slaughtered, he ran into the kitchen. Hannah was weeping.

‘Hannah! Has someone died? Tell me what’s wrong!’

She didn’t want to talk. He made her a cup of tea, gave her some cake and eventually she gave way.

‘It’s worse than dead! Your mama and dadda are again together as one! Your father is carrying his things here.’

It was true. Every few days Dad would ‘accidentally’ leave something in the house, ‘until next time’. The place was beginning to resemble its former condition.

Gabriel explained, ‘It’s only a trial period.’

‘Wha?’

‘To see how it goes.’

‘Suppose it goes too good?’

Mum had explained to Gabriel that she couldn’t help having reservations about Dad. It wasn’t that she doubted he had ‘progressed in his growth’, it was whether any couple could eliminate the years of habit that had accumulated between them. She was, after all — and she hated to admit this — used to regarding Dad as a ‘bit of a fool’. There was the habit of disliking him; the habit of calling him lazy; the habit of trying to push him to do things; the habit of considering him a failure. He, too, had his own way of seeing her, as a petty nag, for instance, with a conventional mind.

There was a lot for his parents to get over; it would be big work for both of them.

Gabriel liked to think he was nudging things along by informing Mum that the mother of one of Dad’s pupils was so interested in him she had decided to take up music. When Dad asked, ‘What instrument are you thinking of learning?’ she replied, ‘Oh, anything that involves four hands.’ She had even begun to give Dad gifts.

‘What sort of gifts?’ Mum asked.

‘Oh, just little things.’ Gabriel said, helpfully.

‘Little things, eh?’ She hummed to herself but said no more. He knew she had taken it in when she bought Dad a new bag in which to carry his files, music and books.

Now Hannah went on, ‘I know they won’t want me here any more.’

‘There’s always someone left out, I suppose.’

‘It’s me!’

‘Why don’t you want to go home?’

‘I don’t! I don’t! First Communists — now gangsters!’

He fetched her a drink and said, ‘I’ll talk to Mum about it, if you want. She might be able to help fix you up with something else — people even better than us.’

‘Would you? Oh Master Gabriel, I’d be so grateful!’

This time she kissed him.

His parents were back late. As Gabriel worked, he could hear them murmuring in the kitchen below. He was intending to go down and talk to them, but their voices grew more raucous, with sudden hushes followed by mysterious lulls. Soon, the teacups in the cupboards started to rattle. The windows would be next; a love-storm was approaching.