by Dawn French
‘Not sure I can.’
‘He wanted a little girl so much. Dead chuffed when you turned up. Chest expanded by a foot, I’d say.’
‘Nice. Good men really love their daughters, I find.’
‘Yes. We both love you very much. All six foot and fifty years of you.’
‘I know, Mum. Thanks. For everything. For … you know … the cake … and everything.’
‘Oh do shut up, you sentimental twerp.’
I dropped her off at home and she wouldn’t let me go until she had furtled around in her ‘special’ box under the bed, and found Dad’s old wristwatch. She thrust it into my hand and said, ‘Find the right home for that, would you? Somewhere safe.’
We talked a bit about how Dora’s audition for X Factor had gone the week before. I explained that I had taken her there and that she was extremely nervous. She took off her specs, went into the room and came out two minutes later, explaining that she’d got through to the next round, which meant singing in front of Simon Cowell and co. She was delighted, streaming with tears.
On the way home in the car she suddenly shouted out, ‘Not going any further!’
I went to pull over, a bit shocked.
‘No, don’t stop! I don’t like, mean now, in the car, do I? I mean on X-Factor. I’m not going to go any further because if I like stop now, I’ll always think I could have made it but if I keep going I’ll probably get rejected and just feel ordinary like everyone else. I’d rather stop now and dream about it, but still be me … d’you get me?’
It was typical of her convoluted, pessimistic logic, but it was also magnificent. She was preserving her aspirations and honing her survival technique and finally being realistic. Attagirl Dora! All the way home, she yabbered on about how fantastic it was going to be at Manchester Metropolitan on the Food Tech course and how fit she’d heard the guys were there. My baby seems to have growed up quite a bit.
My birthday itself was low-key, exactly how I’d asked for it to be. I am fifty. And I can believe it, because it’s true.
The kids and Pamela brought me champagne and beetroot cake with clotted cream all over it, in bed. We stuffed our faces and felt sick. Excellent. Then came the gifts. The remarkable, beautiful gifts. Pamela finally gave me the splendid coat, which I put on immediately and wore all day, indoors and out. Oscar gave me a poem he’d written, very much after Shakespeare, extolling the virtues of my everything. My mouth, ‘item: two thin lips in mocha red, item: two green eyes with lids to them, one neck, eight chins and so forth …’ Cheeky bugger.
Dora totally floored me by presenting me with her A level art final piece, which was a triptych of three drawings she described as ‘Beauty Across the Age Divide’. There was a charcoal portrait of Pamela, one of me and, finally, one of herself, which pleased me the most since she had included herself under a title which contained the word ‘Beauty’. At last, she has given in. Surrendered to the truth. There we were. Three generations of our family, all women, all connected in such a profound way. She had drawn all three with such love, such attention to detail. All the flaws I had seen before in Mum’s face and in the mirror were here, but interpreted as lovely, by Dora. These are the faces that made her and that love her, so she was showing her appreciation like this in return. I was deeply, sincerely touched by this beautiful thing and wept like a silly baby. As did Mum, then Dora, then Oscar. Husband was the only one with a dry eye and then … It was his turn to give.
He handed me a small box. Inside it was a simple gold ring.
‘It’s a ring.’
‘Well spotted.’
‘Is it an eternity ring?’ I asked.
‘Yes, s’pose so … but read what’s engraved on it.’
I did. It said simply, ‘REMEMBER’. I looked at him, at his lovely nervous, broken face.
‘It’s a remember-ring so you always remember … that you mean everything to us …’
And that was it, now he was blubbing too! It was hilarious, all of us pathetically out of control. Laughing and crying together. I sprang out of bed. Well, I creaked out of bed in as springy a fashion as a newly fifty-year-old woman can:
‘Right. Come on. This birthday signifies all sorts of wonderful things – like – for instance, I am halfway through my life or thereabouts, so if I am going to make changes, I’d better buck up and do it now, eh? So today, my darlin’ family, I wish to shake it up, and give YOU presents, so please step forward to collect your giftage as your name is called, in an orderly fashion, please. First. Nanny Pamela. To you, I give this cake tin, containing the fruits of my labours yesterday, a coffee and walnut cake, made from Granny Marjorie’s own recipe. I know it won’t be as good as hers, but it’s made with the love of your mum passed through you, to me. I hope you like it. I love you.
‘Next, Oscar Battle, step up. This box is for you. It contains the very finest smoking jacket or rather, robe de chambre, money can buy, made from silk in “Gentleman’s Green”. I trust you will cherish it, and I wish you both a long and happy future together. I love you.
‘Next, is for you, Husband. Please come forward. I give you this most beautiful and treasured item. It is my own dad’s watch which he wore on his wrist for his whole adult life. Mum has asked me to find it a safe home and, hon, there is nowhere safer than you. A fact which gives this whole family our unquestionable sense of security. I love love love you.
‘And finally, for your gift, Miss Dora Pamela Battle … I’m afraid you have to get dressed and be in the car in five minutes to receive it … spit spot!’
For the first time in her life, Dora was ready on time and we sped off into Reading. She was very excited to know what it was. I was extremely nervous. Eventually, I stopped the car. ‘Dora. I couldn’t bring myself to trust anyone at “Pangbourne Ink”, but I believe the guys in here are excellent …’
It was a tattoo parlour Lisa had recommended. Dora screamed.
‘Oh my actual God, Mum! Are you going to let me?’
‘Yep. And what’s more, I’m getting one too. Come on.’
After a full hour of deliberating over snakes and roses and stars and dragons and spiky Celtic bands, a decision was made. A tiny heart for me, on my back, right in the middle, between the shoulder blades, and exactly the same for her. It bloody hurt, it really did, but now we are connected to each other. For ever. Mum and daughter. For always.
So, on my fiftieth birthday, I was branded as a mum, and happy to be so.
In the evening, we all went out for dinner at the local Italian. Husband wore his new watch plus his excellent new home-made regalia. Oscar wore his smoking jacket … and alarmingly, an added turban. Pamela wore her best rabbit fur. Dora wore a low-backed slutty top to show off her tattoo, obviously still covered by a plaster, and I wore my new coat throughout the entire evening. We all got roaring drunk on too many limoncellos and rowed about everything noisily on the walk home. Once there, I took Poo and Elvis out for a last walk and was just returning at two minutes to midnight, when I stood on the opposite side of the road looking back at my house. I felt hugely grateful it was there. That house, containing all those beloved flawed people. I shuddered at the thought of how close I had come to losing them all. I would surely have lost myself had that been the case. Midnight. It wasn’t my birthday any more and now, I knew, I had permission to get on with the rest of my life. No regrets.
EPILOGUE
On Sunday morning, I was up very early, about 5am, before anyone else was up. I got dressed. I had a cup of tea and headed out to the car. I turned on the ignition, put the car in gear, and headed out into the road. No one was about. It had been raining in the night, so it was very fresh and the sun was just starting to light up the world. I pulled over at the end of our road. I took the blindfold out of my pocket. It was one of those masks you are given on the plane so you can sleep. If I needed thrill and challenge, then I should have it now, in my fifties. I always wondered – would I do this if I wasn’t scared? Well, I’m not scared any more. So go on, Mo, drive
the route to work blindfold. Do it.
I take one last preparatory peek at the road ahead, put the blindfold on and pull out, slowly. Stay calm, change gear. Pull to a stop. Indicate left, pull away slowly, listening intently for other cars, heart beating so fast I can feel it in my throat. Pick up speed, steer, steer, steer. Past unseen shops, past unseen school. Indicate right for war memorial. Judge when to turn. Now? No … keep driving. NOW. Turn. Seems fine, straighten up. Huge clunk, car lurches as it mounts the pavement. Slam on brakes. Stop. Take off blindfold. Yes, I had misjudged the turn and very nearly driven into a bloody great tree opposite the cricket pitch, but hey, I did complete nearly half the journey. Bloody hell! That’s amazing! I look around, not a soul about. Thank God.
Until … I look in the rear-view mirror and there, coming round the corner, on his racing bike with matching ergonomic helmet … is Husband. Just behind. Following all the way, to check I don’t hurt myself. Always there. At a safe distance. Keeping an eye out. Yep. This is my chap.
Thankfully, I seem to be in love with someone I happen to be married to. A mountain I haven’t yet fully climbed. My husband.
Den.
From Nana P’s recipe book
OSCAR’S BANOFFEE PIE
For the base
200g digestive biscuits
100g pecan nuts
100g butter, melted
For the caramel
100g butter
150g dark brown muscovado sugar
250mls double cream
For the topping
3 large bananas
300ml double cream
1 tablespoon icing sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Dark chocolate, grated
1. Put the biscuits and nuts in a plastic bag, and bash them up using a rolling pin. Mix in the melted butter.
2. Push the mixture into the base of the tin and flatten until the surface is even. Place into the fridge for 30 minutes. While it’s in the fridge, start making the caramel. Melt the butter and brown sugar together. Once the butter is melted, add the cream and let it bubble away for 5 minutes until thickened a little, then leave to cool.
3. Spread the caramel over the biscuit base. Peel and finely slice the bananas and lay them over the caramel.
4. Whip the cream with the icing sugar and vanilla extract until it forms soft peaks, and then spread over the bananas.
5. Decorate with chocolate shavings and place in the fridge until ready to serve. Run a palette knife around the edge and gently remove the tin.
6. Take swig of home-made sloe gin. For cook.
MO’S BEETROOT CAKE
180g caster sugar
3 medium eggs
180g plain flour
180g ground almonds
50g cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
pinch of salt
200ml sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
200g raw, peeled and finely grated beetroot
Icing
170g icing sugar, sifted
2 tablespoons water
¼ teaspoon cream of tartar
1 medium egg white
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
drop of pink food colouring (optional)
Handful of hazelnuts to decorate, chopped
1. Preheat the oven to 180°C. Grease a 20cm tin with vegetable oil and line the base with baking parchment.
2. Whisk together the eggs and sugar for 5 minutes with electric beaters, until light and fluffy. Add the flour, almonds, cocoa powder, baking powder and salt. Beat to combine.
3. Beat in the sour cream and vanilla essence. Squeeze out any excess liquid from the grated beetroot and fold into the mixture.
4. Pour the mixture into the tin and bake for 50 minutes. Remove and cool on a wire rack.
5. Meanwhile, make the icing. Place all the ingredients into a bowl and place the bowl on top of a pan of simmering water until the sugar dissolves, stirring occasionally. Remove the pan from the heat and place on a heatproof surface and with the bowl still standing over the pan, whisk on a high speed until the mixture forms stiff peaks
6. Cover the top of the cake with the icing and scatter over the chopped hazelnuts.
7. Take swig of home-made sloe gin. For cook.
DORA’S PINEAPPLE UPSIDE-DOWN CAKE
For the topping
½ pineapple
55g soft brown sugar
6 glacé cherries
For the cake
170g self-raising flour
100g caster sugar
1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon
2 eggs, beaten
200ml milk
½ tsp bicarbonate of soda
1. Preheat the oven to 220°C. Grease a 23cm cake tin and line with baking parchment.
2. Peel the pineapple and slice into 6 rounds, each approximately ½ cm thick. Cut out the core from each and then place the pineapple into a large non-stick frying pan along with the sugar. Cook over a low heat until the sugar has dissolved and then turn the heat up and let them bubble away for 10 minutes, turning occasionally.
3. Arrange the pineapple slices in the cake tin, in a neat pattern around the edge with one slice in the centre. Fill in the core of each slice with glacé cherries.
4. Combine the flour, sugar and cinnamon in a large bowl and create a well in the centre. Add the eggs and milk into the well and stir, pulling the flour into the centre little by little until combined.
5. Whisk in the bicarbonate of soda and then pour the mixture over the pineapple slices. Bake for 15 minutes, until set and golden.
6. Leave to cool in the tin for 5 minutes and then turn out on to a wire rack to cool completely.
7. Take swig of home-made sloe gin. For cook.
DENYS’S WHISKY CAKE
150g currants
150g sultanas
200g mixed peel
2 tablespoons whisky
1 tablespoon orange juice, plus zest of half an orange
100ml water
180g caster sugar
180g butter
3 medium eggs
180g self-raising flour
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 teaspoon mixed spice
pinch of salt
100g chopped walnuts
Icing
60g butter, softened
210g icing sugar
1 tablespoon orange juice
1 tablespoon whisky
1. Soak the dried fruit in the whisky, orange juice, zest and water. Leave for at least 30 minutes.
2. Preheat the oven to 180°C. Grease two 20cm cake tins with butter and line with baking parchment.
3. Cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, and then beat in the eggs, one at a time.
4. Beat in the flour, salt, mixed spice and bicarbonate of soda.
5. Finally fold in the walnuts, dried fruit and the liquid it has been soaking in. Divide the mixture between the two tins and place in the oven for 30 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean.
6. Leave to cool for 5 minutes and then turn out on to wire racks to cool completely.
7. Meanwhile, make the icing. Place the butter in a large bowl and sift in a third of the icing sugar, beat until combined and then add the remaining sugar in the same way. Finally beat in the orange juice and the whisky. Spread a thin layer of icing on one cake, place the other on top and cover the top with the rest of the icing.
8. Take swig of home-made sloe gin. For cook.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thanks to:
Louise Moore, for taking the plunge. And for cake. And for secrets.
Emma Kikoyne, for constant encouragement and tuna tips.
Sue Perkins, for kicking me off.
Kathy Burke, for speed-reading and reassurance.
Sue Hunter, for not minding my handwriting, and for endless typing.
Ian Williamson, for consultation and advice.
Dr Cassie Cooper, for
Kleinian guidance.
Diane and Nigel Bray, for being my top back-up team.
Millfield Val, for food-tech tips.
Debb Gabb, for keeping my chick safe in her coop.
Reevesy, Claire, Liz, John, Sarah, Colin, Sarah and all the team at Penguin for such care.
The Mighty B. F. for so much. So much.
Gareth Carrivick, who was always so full of life.
And finally, Len and Bill, for their patience and love.
‘Beautiful’ – Linda Perry
Copyright 2002 Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Stuck In
The Throat Music.
All rights administered by Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
All rights reserved. Used by permission.
‘Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)’
Words & Music by Annie Lennox & Dave Stewart
© Copyright 1983 D’N’A Limited.
Universal Music Publishing MGB Limited.
All Rights Reserved. International Copyright Secured.
Used by permission of Music Sales Limited
‘I Believe I Can Fly’
Words & Music by R Kelly
© Copyright 1997 Zomba Songs Incorporated, USA
Imagem Music.
All Rights Reserved. International Copyright Secured.
Used by Permission of Music Sales Limited.
‘Between Yesterday and Tomorrow’
Written by Alan Bergman, Marilyn Bergman and Michel Legrand
© 1991 F Sharp Productions Ltd
© Alamar Music Co.
All rights for Alamar Music Co. controlled and administered by Spirit Music Publishing, Ltd (PRS)
All rights reserved. International copyright secured. Used by Permission.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
Dedication
A Tiny Bit Marvellous
ONE: Dora (17 yrs)
TWO: Mo (49 yrs)
THREE: Oscar (16 yrs)