Dot (Araminta Hall)

probably wouldn’t speak to me and who could blame you.
You looked amazing today. It’s not the first time I’ve sat in a car and watched you, by the way. Sometimes I wait outside your school and see you with your friend, the girl with the ginger hair. I don’t think either of you realise how striking you look, with your flaming hair and determined expressions. The boys probably ignore you a bit now as boys are very obvious at your age and are scared of anything different. But don’t change for anyone.
I am trying to find the right words to say I am sorry but I don’t think I possess them. I don’t think they’ve been invented. If I knew why I left like I did I’d explain it to myself. I am still with Silver and we have two sons, Adam who’s coming up for 9 and Jake who’s 7. God, I’d love you to meet them. I’d love to be able to tell them about you. And you’d love Silver. I know your mother has probably told you lots of things about her and she has every right to do so. But Silver is the woman I was always meant to be with. She is kind and warm and generous and wants me to be in contact with you almost as much as I do myself. She wanted me to tell Alice before we left and she spent the first year badgering me to let her know where we were. I don’t know why I didn’t. I can’t explain it.
You look happy and well. I hope Alice and Clarice are as well.
Please write or call (07700 900961).
With much love, Dad x
5th June 2002
Dear Alice,
I know it will be a shock to hear from me and I cannot begin to say sorry enough for what I did all those years ago. Not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought about Dot and longed to make it better, but something has always stopped me. My leaving had less to do with you than me; I hope you know that. I hope you recognise me for the angry, stupid young man that I was. I hope that time is nothing more than a bad memory for you now and that your life is full and happy.
I am still with Silver and we have two sons, Adam who’ll be 11 this year and Jake 9. We live in Kelsey, which is only an hour and a half from where you are. The reason I am writing is that we are moving house tomorrow and I wanted to send you my new contact details. I know how stupid that must sound considering you didn’t know where I was living before. But it’s time we sorted all this out. I want to be a father to Dot, if you’ll let me. I would love to get to know her again and for her to be part of our lives. She should know her half-brothers, apart from anything else. I’d also like to start contributing financially. I know you don’t need my money, but it seems immoral somehow not to be paying in some part for my daughter’s life. I have been putting money aside for her each month, which of course she can have, but I’d like to do more. Really, I’d like to get to know her again.
I really hope you and Clarice are well. Please write or ring or email and we can set up a meeting.
23 Downland Avenue, Kelsey, KT1 2GH, 07700 900961, [email protected].
Hope to hear from you soon,
Love, Tony
20th November 2003
Dear Dot,
I read today in the paper about a girl who was murdered on her way home from school. She got off a train near her home and walked down a busy road, taking the same route that she always did. But she never arrived. Her parents probably went mad, calling everyone they knew, trying to persuade the police that it was out of character, calling her mobile incessantly. She was exactly the same age as you and she stared out of the newspaper at me today with her sweet smile and eager look in her eyes and I realised that if anything ever happened to you I would have to read about it in a newspaper. And then I realised that I would only read about it if it was newsworthy and actually a million things could happen which I’d simply never know about. I could be sitting here thinking about you and you could not exist any more. And then I thought, What’s the difference anyway? How do you exist for me? Or how do I exist for you? Just because you are there is not the same as knowing anything about you. And surely you have to know about someone for them to be real. Are you not just the same as someone I’ve never met on the other side of the world? Why do I feel like we are connected just because we share some genes? The whole thing makes no sense. Everything I’ve ever thought is wrong. Which is no great news really as I am the man who walked out of his daughter’s second birthday