Intimacy (12 page)

I pick up my bag from the centre of the bedroom floor. I walk downstairs and open the front door. Tired but determined, I step outside. It hasn’t rained for weeks. The blossom is out. London is in bloom; even I am in bloom, despite everything.

It is a lovely day for leaving.

I shut the door behind me and walk away. I consider going through the park and seeing the boys. But my distracted demeanour would give me away and any questions could cost me the little courage I have. Perhaps I should turn and wave at the house.

I can’t say I haven’t learned more in this crucible than I’ve learned anywhere: the education of a heart, slightly cracked, if not broken in places. Whether I will survive the knowledge and put it to good use – whether any of us will – is another matter.

Victor is sitting at the table in his black dressing gown, black socks and slippers, chewing on a piece of toast left on the table from last night, no doubt. But when I come through the door he gets up and kisses me.

‘It’s done?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It is done.’

Victor watches me and looks jaunty. I notice that the flat has been cleaned. There is not a pickled onion in sight.

I consider unpacking, so as to make it clear to myself that I am staying. But looking around, I cannot see where I will put my things. He will leave for work later, and I will be here alone. I don’t feel like going to the office. Perhaps I will go for a walk.

Victor takes my bag and puts it down in the corner. I notice that the coffee is fresh. There are croissants in the oven. I sit down and look at him, a friend. For a while – for how long I don’t know – this place will be my home.

I wonder what time Susan will unfold the note and know, and know. She will not be back until the early evening. It is not too late to retrieve it.

‘Did you know I’d come?’

‘I thought you’d make it – eventually,’ Victor replies. ‘Perhaps in a few weeks. It had become inevitable.’

‘You could tell?’

‘How could I not?’ Then he says, ‘Have you told the kids?’

‘No.’

‘That is the hardest.’

I bite my lip.

‘I’ll speak to Susan first,’ I say. ‘Then them. I’ve got a lot to say to them … about the whole business of people trying to live together.’

He looks at me. He knows this. Still, he is unusually cheerful.

‘What’s making you smile?’ I enquire.

‘I have a new interest. We are having lunch in that new place, and then a walk in the park – ’

‘And then?’

His eyes shine.

He says, ‘By the way, that girl rang.’

‘Which girl?’

‘Nina. She heard you were looking for her.’

I can only think of how good life on earth can be, at times. What grief two people can give one another! And what pleasure!

He says, ‘I’ve written her number down in case you’ve forgotten it.’

‘Thank you.’

He hands me the slip of paper. I pick up the phone and push the buttons; then I replace the receiver.

‘Later,’ I say. ‘There will be time.’

We walked together, lost in our own thoughts. I forget where we were, or even when it was. Then you moved closer, stroked my hair and took my hand; I know you were holding my hand and talking to me softly. Suddenly I had the feeling that everything was as it should be and nothing could add to this happiness or contentment. This was all that there was, and all that could be. The best of everything had accumulated in this moment. It could only have been love.

Hanif Kureishi was born and brought up in Kent. He read philosophy at King’s College, London. In 1981 he won the George Devine Award for his plays
Outskirts
and
Borderline
, and in 1982 he was appointed Writer-in-Residence at the Royal Court Theatre. In 1984 he wrote
My Beautiful Laundrette
, which received an Oscar nomination for Best Screenplay. His second screenplay
Sammy and Rosie Get Laid
(1987) was followed by
London Kills Me
(1991) which he also directed.
The Buddha of Suburbia
won the Whitbread Prize for Best First Novel in 1990 and was made into a four-part drama series by the BBC in 1993. His version of Brecht’s
Mother Courage
has been produced by the Royal Shakespeare Company and the Royal National Theatre. His second novel,
The Black Album
, was published in 1995. With Jon Savage he edited
The Faber Book of Pop
(1995).

His first collection of short stories,
Love in a Blue Time
, was published in 1997. His story
My Son the Fanatic
, from that collection, was adapted for film and released in 1998.
Intimacy
, his third novel, was published in 1998, and a film of the same title, based on the novel and other stories by the author, was released in 2001 and won the Golden Bear award at the Berlin Film Festival. His play
Sleep With Me
premièred at the Royal National Theatre in 1999. His second collection of stories,
Midnight All Day
, was published in 2000.
Gabriel’s Gift
, his fourth novel, was published in 2001.
The Body and Seven Stories
and
Dreaming and Scheming
, a collection of essays, were published in 2002.

His screenplay
The Mother
was directed by Roger Michell and released in 2003. In 2004 he published his play
When The Night Begins
and a memoir,
My Ear At His Heart
. A second collection of essays,
The Word and the Bomb
, followed in 2005. His screenplay
Venus
was directed by Roger Michell in 2006. His novel
Something to Tell You
was published in 2008. In July 2009 his adaptation of his novel,
The Black Album
, opened at the National Theatre, prior to a nation-wide tour. In 2010 his
Collected Stories
were published.

He has been awarded the Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres.