Authors: Dawn French
Dear Fatty (10 page)
WHEN I WAS
about 13, I was invited to a party by my friend Karen. I was
so
excited about this party because I knew that there was going to be a boy there called Mark who I really liked. Although we had some mutual friends and we had been in the same room on various occasions, he had paid me no attention whatsoever and was blissfully unaware that I existed at all. I found this heartbreaking and I was determined to get him to notice me. I planned to summon up my courage and somehow do this at the party that Saturday night. In order to impress him, I decided to wear my new purple suede hot pants. Hot pants were what we called shorts back then and they were the singular most fashionable item you could own. I saved up my pocket money for AGES, I did odd jobs for extra cash, and eventually I had enough to go to a big shop called Trago Mills and buy them. They didn’t really fit me, they were far too tight, but I wanted them SO much I didn’t mind how uncomfortable they were. Everyone wanted hot pants, but as is so often the cruel injustice of fashion they suited very few people. I
wasn’t
one of those chosen few. It was definitely an advantage to be tall, thin and have long, shapely legs. I had none of these attributes but I convinced myself I could carry the hot pants off nevertheless. My whole outfit was new. Starting from the bottom up (the bottom of my legs, that is, not my actual bottom): brown suede wedge heels with espadrille straps around my Miss Piggy ankles. American
tan
tights. The bright purple suede hot pants with shiny buttons on the pockets. Above the waist was a considerable overflow of puppy fat, which was forced upwards and outwards by the too-tight waistband of the hot pants. On top of this was a cream cheesecloth smock top with stringy lacing down the front, slightly see-through, with flared sleeves. Many Indian bangles about the wrists. Large dangly earrings. Round my neck a home-made pendant made of bent horseshoe nails on a black leather thong. Long straight hair parted in the centre with no fringe, a bit like Ali MacGraw, but only a very tiny bit. Green suede shoulder bag with tasselly fringing. Big round sunglasses worn permanently on head. I glanced in the mirror and decided I looked pretty damned fine. Actually I didn’t feel this at all but I knew I would have to fake feeling good in order to leave the house. So it was with this pretend confidence that I went to look for my dad to arrange my lift home. I was hoping to negotiate a later pickup just in case Mark might notice me! I met my dad in the hallway and he asked me to come in to the front room for a quick chat. He closed the door behind us, and asked me to sit down. My heart sank. I thought I was in for a good talking-to. I was right about that, but it wasn’t the usual precautionary drill, it was something else. Something I’ve always remembered, especially if I’m feeling a bit insecure – which we all do sometimes, don’t we?
It was a long time ago but, to the best of my memory, it went something like this:
Dad: Sit down, puddin’. Actually, before you sit down, give us a twirl. Wow, you look really lovely, a right bobby-dazzler. Are those shorts? Or lederhosen?
Me: They’re hot pants, Dad.
Dad: Where did you get those? Millets?
Me: No, Dad, Trago Mills.
Dad: Well, you look very … pretty. They are quite short …
Me: Yes, because they’re shorts.
Dad: I see, well you look really super in them. Very dandy. Super.
Me: Can I come home late?
Dad: Hold your horses there, missus. Before we talk about arrangements, there’s something I want to say. What’s that black stuff in your eyes by the way?
Me: Kohl.
Dad: Coal?
Me: No, Kohl. It’s Indian. I’ve worn it before.
Dad: Have you? I’ve seen black stuff on
top
of your eyes before, and maybe something underneath the bottom bit but that looks like it’s right inside …
Me: That’s where it’s supposed to go.
Dad: You might get conjunctivitis with that.
Me: I won’t.
Dad: You might.
Me: It’s … antiseptic.
Dad: Is it?
Me: No – but it’s fine, trust me. Millions of Indian ladies haven’t died of it yet.
Dad: Does it hurt?
Me: No.
Dad: It would hurt me.
Me: You’re not wearing it.
Dad: No. I never would.
Me: Good. Be quite hard to explain if you did.
Dad: Some men wear eye stuff, in other countries … For instance, when I was in Aden –
Me: Anyway …
Dad: Anyway. This party tonight …
Me: It’s fine, Dad. There won’t be any alcohol.
Dad: I should hope not. Alcohol? You can’t drink alcohol!
Me: I know. That’s why there won’t be any.
Dad: You’re not allowed to buy it or drink it, young lady.
Me: I know.
Dad: It’s against the law.
Me: I know.
Dad: No alcohol whatsoever. Do you understand?
Me: Yes.
Dad: Right, I’m trusting you on that –
Me: There won’t be any.
Dad: There’d better
not
be any.
Me: There won’t.
Dad: How do you know?
Me: Because Karen said so.
Dad: She said there wouldn’t be any?
Me: Yes, because her parents’ll be there, they’re going next door during the party.
Dad: Nearby?
Me: Next door!
Dad: Good. If they weren’t next door, would there be alcohol then?
Me: Don’t know. Maybe.
Dad: There wouldn’t.
Me: Wouldn’t there?
Dad: No. I’m telling you. There wouldn’t. OK?
Me: OK … Can I come home late?
Dad: Here’s the thing I want to say …
Me: Can we hurry?
Dad: Shush. How much do you think Mum and I love you?
Me: Um … a lot?
Dad: More than a lot, Dawn. Much more. When you were born, you had scarlet fever, and for a couple of days there, it was a bit touch and go …
Me: I nearly died?
Dad: Yes, and when we thought we might lose you we realised just how much we loved you already, even your brother was worried …
Me: Yeah, worried I might survive …!
Dad: Don’t be facetious, which by the way is one of the few words in the English language with all the vowels in the correct order. No, we were all very anxious. It was then we knew that having a baby girl, having you, completed our little family. That’s all we ever wanted. The four of us together for ever. We had so much to look forward to, so much to learn. So much to do, so much fun to have. Mum and I fought hard to be together and to make this family. I know it’s been a challenge sometimes, with all the different relatives who have lived with us, all the travelling and moving and new schools. I know when I’ve had to go away on my own for work it’s been hard for you all. We haven’t had much money, no surplus certainly, but we have saved and shared everything together, haven’t we? In this family, no one is lonely because we’re always there for each other, the four
corners
that keep our square whole, each connected to and looking out for each other, equally. You are a vital part of that. You and your brother are our life, our reason and our happiness. We adore you both and we feel blessed to have you, and to witness you grow into the remarkable young people you are becoming. You are both so impressive! Truly, you are our world, our joy. Never forget what a treasure you are, and if your faith in that ever wobbles, have a look in the mirror and have confidence in what you see. You are a rare thing, an uncommon beauty, a dazzling, exquisite, splendid young woman. Look! You must know it’s true, you’re a corker. How lucky any boy would be to have you on his arm. They should fight tournaments to win your affection, they should kill for your favour. Don’t you dare be grateful for their attentions, you utterly deserve it and, more than that, you deserve the very best. Don’t think for one second you should settle for other people’s rejects.
You
are the princess, you are the prize, so be choosy and take your time. You decide how, when and where,
not
them. They will wait. Of course they will. Who wouldn’t wait for someone so priceless? There is no one better. Know this: if anything ever happened to you, Moo, our lives would fall apart, we would be devastated and this family would never be happy again. So, you must take care of yourself, you must guard against danger. When you are out of this house it is up to you to protect yourself, your reputation and your dignity. We love you and we need you.
OK. That’s all. You can go now. And yes, you can come home late, 1am at the outside, understand?
Me: Yeah … Thanks, Dad.
Then we had a big hug and off I went to the party, feeling ten foot tall and fabulous in my hot pants. Mark did come to talk to me that night, but I wasn’t that interested. He wasn’t really good enough, to be honest …
My dad gave me armour that night and I have worn it ever since. I could never quite buy the bit about being the best, but I
do
believe I am worth something. My self-esteem, still surprisingly intact after quite a few attacks, is still my strong centre, my metal, and I owe that to him. He spoke honestly of his faith in me and it was such a sunshiny warmth that I grew towards it like a tomato plant.
The comforting thing is, Bill, I may not have my dad around any more but I do carry his values and his belief in me. When I think of what he said to me – every word applies to you. I’m so sorry you didn’t get to meet him because he would have loved you so much and you would have loved him back. The only gift I can give you from him is this letter and the hope that you will read it, imagining his sentiments are addressed to you, through me and Dad. Hopefully, with time, you will come to know a greater and truer self-worth and know how valuable you are to us and to the family.
That’s all. You can go now. Be home by 1am at the outside, understand?
Dear David Cassidy,IT’S VERY IMPORTANT
that you read this letter because it is going to change your life in a BIG way. If this is being read by a minion or secretary or bouncer, I literally beg you to pass this on to David – he will thank you for it one day in the future. Big time. That of which, I can assure you.
David, if I may call you that, it feels so right to me, so natural, but I fear I may overstep my place to be so intimate so early on, but I am forced to be candidly open about my sheer knowledge in and about you, now and always. Let me put it like this – you don’t know me yet but one day in our future when we stand high on a desert rock with the sun on our faces instead of frowns, looking at a golden sunset after an oh-so-perfect loving day, you will wonder how you ever
didn’t
know me and how you
ever
survived and grew without me, both spiritually
AND
on the outside. Because, David, we are meant to be together, and to deny our hearts’ true path to joy would just be foolish, never mind devastating. I have never, ever in my whole life known something to be so truly real. You probably get loads of post from silly teenage girls who immaturely try to adore you just because they fancy you. That isn’t me. Let me make this clear, I
don’t
fancy you, I
know
you. My soul knows your soul even though there is a crater of nothingness between us. Sometimes when I see you on telly, I don’t even look, so that I won’t be taken in by your sheer and true handsomeness. Oh yes, I know it’s there, I know how fanciable you are, that is oh-so-obvious right from the start to me and whoreds of others but that’s not what I’m here for. I am not just some here-today-gone-tomorrow sort of person who blows hot and cold like a feather in the wind blown about by air. Oh no. Believe me, my love for you is, was and always will be true and oh-so-real. Hunt high and low over hill and dale forever and a day and you will never find a heart as big as mine for you is.
David, I am worried about you at the moment. Every time I see you on telly, you seem to be surrounded by whoreds of yes-men and yes-women. Not when you are doing interviews obviously, they are probably secreted nearby then. But David, is that what you really want? So many people around you simply doing everything you do/do not want? It is exactly these kind of people who will prevent you from meeting me. (When I came to see you at Wembley I waited outside, in the midst of a baying mob, for over two hours until someone finally had the manners to tell us you had left the area right at the end of the show before we could
even
get there.) You see? If things carry on like this, we will never meet and then how would you feel?
I have put my address on the top of this letter so that you can write back to me and we can arrange to meet up away from all those endless looking eyes and listening ears. I can personally guarantee that you will find peace here in my house. I will make sure my parents are both out – they do sometimes go to archery together, so that would be a good time to come, on Thursday evenings. (Except at half-term when my brother comes home from boarding school and we are going on our boat on the Trent canal. Again. YAWN. I would much rather see you.) However we arrange it, I can assure you of peace and quiet and my 100% full attention, with snack refreshments and whatever drink you choose. Obviously I will have to buy those ahead of time so you will need to send me a list of your favourites, with
most
favourite as No. 1 and so on. (Bear in mind that we cannot always get American drinks here, e.g. soda pops or Popsicles or ice-cream sundaes etc., but we can get English drinks like Coke, Vimto or Kia-Ora squash. Plus my parents have got some sherry and a bottle of Asti Spumante if you so need or want.) When it comes to your transport here, I expect you will arrange that and I can get directions for you from the big roundabout near school or I can even call a taxi to pick you up from the station if necessary. But David, all that nickety-pickety arrangements stuff is for later, let’s not ruin it now with all that.
