Hanif Kureishi - Gabriel's Gift

When Mum came in, George said, ‘Gabriel’s explaining to me about talent.’

‘Oh yes. He would know.’

Gabriel said, ‘Dad had an incredible talent, but something terrible happened to him.’

‘Yes, I heard he fell flat on his face,’ said George. ‘Everyone knows.’

Gabriel said, ‘Shall I tell him about Dad’s dream about being asked to join the Rolling Stones, but as a cleaner? He had to sweep peanuts from the stage as they played. Then, backstage —’

‘Let’s leave that,’ said his mother. ‘George is a painter.’

George was smiling at her. ‘I’m going to paint you, my dear.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You agreed.’

‘I’m not confident enough,’ she said.

‘You’re a coy little thing, aren’t you?’

‘But I am shy. You know I am, George.’

‘I do. But you’re not always shy, my darling. I’m thinking of the other night when you —’

‘Stop it now, please.’

George said, ‘Look at these, Gabriel.’

‘He’s too young, George.’

‘Rubbish. Boys of his age are more experienced than we are. I’m not too old to remember!’

George produced a bag and some slides. Gabriel went to the window and held them up to the light. There were paintings of near-naked, completely naked and obscenely naked women with Pre-Raphaelite hair made of swirls and flurries of irrelevant paint.

‘You’re in PR then.’ said Gabriel.

‘What are you saying now, Gabriel?’ asked his mother. She said to George, ‘He’s always bloody well saying something funny.’

‘Pre-Raphaelites.’ Gabriel cleared his throat. ‘Lots of colour.’

‘You like them?’ asked George.

‘I like looking at things,’ said Gabriel.

‘You like girls?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Got a girlfriend?’

‘I had five. No one at the moment.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘I haven’t had time to develop a meaningful relationship.’

‘George, don’t tease him,’ said Mum. ‘George works in Italy. In a castle on a hill. He’s invited us to go and see him there. We can stay as long as we like.’

George said, ‘The Tiber valley. It’s not far from where the Giottos fell on the monks’ heads. God’s joke, I think. My district is full of artists and writers. In the evening, when the day has cooled down, we sit in the little square. The local carpenter puts up a screen, and we watch films outdoors, smoking, drinking and arguing until late.’

Gabriel nodded.

George pointed at the wall. ‘Looks as though some of these old photographs have been up too long. Who’s that other boy?’

‘He died a long time ago,’ said Mum. ‘He was Gabriel’s twin.’

‘God Almighty, so there were two of them?’ said George.

‘Yes.’ said Mum. ‘There were. Now there aren’t.’

She was biting her lip.

Gabriel said, ‘Elvis was a twin. Then he blew up to twice his own size.’

‘Really?’ said George. To Christine he said, ‘Would you like a picture?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Mum.

‘Gabriel?’

‘As long as it matches the wallpaper.’

George was laughing.

Gabriel said, ‘Do you just paint or do you decorate as well?’

George’s colour changed. Mum looked at Gabriel. ‘I think we should have a talk,’ she said.

‘I’m ready,’ he said.

‘Christine —’ said George. ‘I thought we were going out to breakfast.’

‘All right.’ She said to Gabriel, ‘I didn’t mean now. You’ve got to go to school. We will talk, another time.’

‘I’ll put it in my diary,’ said Gabriel.

‘He’s got a lot of lip,’ said George. ‘If I had a stapler, I’d pin his lips together.’

‘Yes. Stop it, Gabriel.’

‘Stop what?’

‘Whatever you’re doing.’

When George and Mum had left the house — and Gabriel watched them going down the road, talking and laughing together — Gabriel returned to his two copies. He was pleased with them; he had done what he had set out to do.

To celebrate, he took his big music box into the ‘garden’ — a concrete patio enclosed by a fence topped with barbed wire — and danced and sang until he fell over.

Afterwards, he rolled up one copy of the picture and placed it under his mother’s bed, clicking home the padlock and rolling the wheels of the combination. He put the original and one copy in a cupboard no one ever looked in, that was full of old toys and books.

He didn’t think his mother would bother to look at the picture under the bed, as she was so preoccupied with her job and George and her friends.

However, that evening she came into his room.

‘I know you’re concerned about your precious picture, Angel,’ she said. ‘But I came home when you were at school, picked it up from where I’d put it away for safe keeping, and took it to work.’

‘To the bar?’

‘To show people.’

‘To show off,’ he muttered.

‘Sorry?’

He said, ‘Mum … did they like it?’

‘They thought it excellent.’

‘The colours … they approved of?’

‘I told them all about how I designed Lester’s trousers, and who I would hang out with in those cafés and restaurants in Chelsea. Most of the kitchen kids are too young to recognize the names of the people I knew, of course. I was unappreciated, as usual. Some of them, though, had some good suggestions about what to do with the picture.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘How to show it off to its full advantage. Meanwhile, I’m going to put it away again.’ she said. She was puzzled when she looked at him. ‘You’re not going to make one of your fusses, are you?’

‘No, Mum. As long as it’s safe. That’s all that matters. I know you know how to look after things.’

‘Yes.’ she said, a little sceptically. ‘Good boy.’

His mind palpitated with pride. He thought of everyone looking at the picture. It had been his copy of Lester’s picture that they had praised in the bar. His scheme had worked; no one had suspected a thing. His mother was happy and so was he.

He had become, in a way, an appreciated artist, though as anonymous, for the time being, as one of Rubens’s assistants.

The next time his father rang, Gabriel said he had sufficiently studied and thought about the picture. Now he was ready to lend it out. He said, ‘I’ll bring it to you after school, Dad. I can remember where you live.’

‘Whatever you do, don’t go walking about with that work of art. You might drop it! Take it easy right where you are. I’m coming to get it — now. Are you sure you’ve’ “studied” it enough?’

‘Well, I think I —’

Before Gabriel could reply, Dad replaced the receiver. Later that morning he was smiling on the doorstep.

‘What are you going to do with it?’ said Gabriel, bringing out the picture and handing it to him. Gabriel felt both proud of and guilty about the copy.

‘It’s going on the wall! Gabriel, you’re an angel!’ Dad opened it out and was looking at it. ‘It’s even better than I remember.’

Dad kissed the picture.

Gabriel said, ‘Don’t you want me to help you get it framed and put up?’

‘No thanks!’

‘But you haven’t even got a hammer!’

‘Don’t worry about that — I’ll use my dick!’

Gabriel said, ‘Why are you in such a hurry? Don’t you want to have a chat?’

‘Later. Things are starting to look up. Cheerio.’

Gabriel watched his father cycling up the road with the picture inside his jacket.

Gabriel didn’t hear from him again; he guessed his father was busy starting a new life. However, a few days later Hannah, on his mother’s instructions, was deputed to accompany Gabriel to his father’s house, where he was to spend the afternoon.