Dad went on, ‘Now I’m not living at home there’s more of a distance between you and me, Gabriel. Each time we meet we have to start again. We’ll have to put the effort in. But you’ve had a lot of me, over the years, and I have to do my job, now I’ve got one,’ Dad pointed at the gutter. ‘Angel, you know where I’d be without this work.’
‘Is it well paid?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. At the end of the lesson I’m always embarrassed when they start scribbling cheques. I want to say, “What is this for?”’
‘You don’t though, do you?’
‘You think I’m an idiot?’
‘What have got in your music bag?’
‘It’s light – and heavy. Mahler’s Fifth.’
‘Is that all?’
‘I’ll only play the Adagietto to this kid – maybe a few times so he gets it in his bones,’ said Dad, thumping himself in the stomach.
‘But you’re teaching blues guitar, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve become passionate for Mahler.’
‘Keep that to yourself.’
‘The kid will understand the sadness of the piece. What d’you expect me to play him – the Supremes?’
‘You love the Supremes.’
‘It could have been worse. I might have made him listen to that Bartók string quartet. Most of the old music bores me. The fifties not the sixties was the golden age of American music. Almost anything after that is overestimated. In my opinion, pop nowa-days is panto for young people and paedophiles. But as I discovered today, the German writer Goethe said that music begins where words end. For some people words seem to make everything too clear. So I can only say – words drop dead here, pal, with Mahler!’
‘Yeah?’
Gabriel was nervous that Dad’s pupils would mock him as they mocked their other teachers, sneering at the maddening tangle of wires about his neck, from his Walkman, his glasses and his phone; or the way he pulled his trousers up over his belly; or at his habit of scratching his body with the backs of his fingernails, and even at his enthusiasm, as he sat there with moist eyes, collapsing and wailing over some doleful piece of Mahler at their parents’ expense.
His father said, ‘Tell them to play it at my funeral. Something by Miles, perhaps. And that Adagietto.’
Originally, the mention of his own death had been an occasion for emotional blackmail, but now Dad presented his passing away as an opportunity to consider his favourite tunes.
The bus stop was a few yards away from their house, at the top of the road. As Dad seemed agitated today, Gabriel decided to wait with him.
Dad put his hand in his pocket and gave Gabriel some money. ‘This is for you. I’ve been meaning to … I haven’t been able to, before …
Gabriel took some money and went to give the rest back. ‘That’s all I need. I’ve got to pay my bill at the video shop.’
‘Take the lot. All I need is my bus fare. Give Mum the rest. Don’t forget to say it’s from me. How is the old girl?’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘What? Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. Help me out, Gabriel – does she speak fondly of me, at all?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Once hatred is expressed, love has a chance. Isn’t that always the way? What are you doing right now? Shall we have a quick drink?’
Gabriel said, ‘Dad, what’s up with you today? You’ve got that staring-eyed look. Are you nervous about teaching? What if they don’t want to learn?’
‘It’s not difficult to see that people assume you’re a sadist masquerading as an educationalist. If they don’t want to learn, I sit with them – thinking.’
‘Thinking about what?’
‘What I’m doing is teaching people how to listen to what is going on in the music, to hear what is there. You can’t make music yourself if you don’t know what the possibilities are. The kids see that. The kids don’t bother me. I can get straight to them, and them to me. It’s the older ones and their parents I mind. Have you got a minute to talk?’ said Dad. ‘Let’s have just the one. It’s not the intoxication I’m interested in – I’m parched. I only want to quench my thirst.’
Dad was already hurrying across the road, towards his old local on the corner, where children were allowed until eight, and they knew Rex and Gabriel well.
The place was full of childish men from the post office and the local bus garage gazing up at the big TV screen. Dad’s grey-faced mates were playing pool. They all looked the same to Gabriel, with their roll-ups, pints and musty clothes. They rarely went out into the light, unless they stood outside the pub on a sunny day, and they were as likely to eat anything green as they were to drink anything blue or wear anything pink.
Dad had hardly reached the bar before his pint was pulled and put down, next to Gabriel’s St Clement’s. They sat at their usual table, where Gabriel used to do his homework while Dad talked at the bar.
Immediately Dad seemed settled: Gabriel wondered whether he really intended to give his lesson. He loved his new work, and always seemed on the point of abandoning it.
Dad drank half his pint and licked his lips. ‘I wanted to say –’ he began.
‘Game, Rex?’ said one of his mates, coming over.
‘Not now, Pat. With the boy.’
‘Gabriel,’ said Pat. ‘Rex, where you been?’
‘Working.’
‘Working?’
Dad said, ‘Your surprise surprises and annoys me, Pat. Yes, working – where I’m off to when I’ve finished talking to Gabriel.’
‘Recording?’
‘That sort of thing,’ said Dad.
‘No time for your old mates?’
‘I’ll be back,’ said Dad. ‘Even you know that what goes up must come down. Don’t you worry!’
‘I am worrying,’ said Pat. He put his hands on the table and his face close to Dad’s. He had filthy nails. ‘You owe me.’
‘Yeah, maybe I do,’ laughed Dad. ‘I expect you owe me, too.Everyone in here owes everyone else and none of them’s going to get a bean!’
‘You’re working,’ said Pat. ‘I’m not.’
‘I am working this week, but I’m not carrying a lot of loose change around with me, am I, Gabriel? I can’t carry the weight.’ Dad said, ‘Pat, what about when I asked if I could stay at yours and you didn’t even bother to reply!’
‘Not my fault, pal. The wife –’
‘Oh yeah? The wife.’
‘At least I’ve still got one!’
‘Thanks. I even offered to kip on the floor of your shed in a sleeping-bag. I know who my friends are now.’
‘You’re working,’ said the man again. ‘Who are you trying to kid –?’
‘Look,’ said Dad, irritably. ‘Give me a break, will you? I’m with my boy. Just bugger off!’
‘But you owe me!’ said Pat with a horrible sense of injustice. ‘What’s that new jacket you’re wearing?’
Pat reached out and put his hand in Dad’s inside pocket. Dad forced his hand away.
‘Don’t you feel me up!’ said Dad. ‘You can fuck off now!’
‘Give me what’s mine!’ said Pat.
Everyone was watching. They were used to this and were fascinated. The manager reached under the bar for his cricket bat.
‘Not right now,’ said Dad. ‘You can wait a couple more days, can’t you? I always know where you are – here or in front of the telly.’
‘Look –’ said Pat.
Gabriel was pulling out the money Dad had given him.
‘Here we go,’ said Pat. ‘You’ve got a good, sensible boy there, man.’
‘No, not your pocket money,’ said Dad. ‘Put it away, Gabriel, right now!’
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.’
‘D
ad –’
‘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 go
t 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 …’
Chapter Fourteen
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.
Gabriel's Gift Page 16