Hanif Kureishi - Gabriel's Gift

‘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?’