Dot (Araminta Hall)

party and never came back, never sent a letter, never picked up the phone. I play the part of the family man with Silver and our two sons, but really I am not that man. I don’t even know the person I am. I wouldn’t recognise him if he punched me in the face right now. Men fly planes into buildings, countries flood, people sleep on the streets every night, parents abuse their children in their homes, wealth is unfair, society is diseased. And I sit here and think I am any different. Nothing is real. It’s all a joke. We’re all a joke. And a bad one at that.
23 Downland Avenue,
Kelsey, KT1 2GH
07700 900961, [email protected]
8th July 2005
Dear Dot,
This letter will come as a surprise to you, but I have, in some senses, been writing it for sixteen years. It is 4 a.m. right now, a time I’ve become well acquainted with over the years. I spent most of yesterday and last night watching the news, as I’m sure you did, as I’m sure most people in Britain did. It sounds stupid to say that it made me think of you, but it did. As I watched other people’s lives fall apart on streets a few hours’ drive from us, I wondered why I was ruining my own life. It seemed almost rude to all those people who were losing their children or parents or sisters or whatever yesterday. I’ve spent all these years feeling scared of contacting you in case you hate me and it suddenly seemed so pointless and such a waste of time.
I’ll start with the easy bit and tell you something about myself. I’m sure your mother has filled you in on the whys and wherefores. Everyone in the village must have known that I left with Silver, who was the barmaid at the village pub (it was the Hare and Hounds back then, but now it’s the White Crow). I know that she will have told you about that and I know how awful it must sound. All I can say is that I knew I was meant to be with Silver from the first moment I spoke to her. I don’t know if it will make you feel any better to learn that we are still together and we have two sons, Adam who is coming up for 14 and Jake who is nearly 12, who are obviously your half-brothers. I did love your mother, but we were very young and totally wrong for each other, which is not a good combination. I always hoped that she would meet someone who could make her happy. I have sat outside your house quite regularly over the years; it’s only a ninety-minute drive from our home and in my darkest moments it’s calmed me to see you. In a sense I’ve watched you grow up. You look like a lovely young woman. I’m so pleased that your hair has stayed as bright as it ever was and I love the way you dress, so different from all those tiny skirts and Ugg boots and skinny jeans that every other girl of your age seems to wear as a uniform. In all my watchings I’ve never seen anyone else, apart from Alice and Clarice of course, and a nice-looking girl of your age who also has ginger hair and who I presume is your friend. It makes me think that your mother hasn’t met anyone else; she certainly still has that far-off look in her eyes and this has brought me much sadness. I am often consumed with the thought that I ruined her life and that you will hate me for that. Often I hate myself.
I work in a shop that fixes things. It’s a really old-fashioned shop, owned by a lovely man called Ron, who has become like a second father to me, or maybe more like a first father. I’ve spoken to him about you so much over the years I probably should be paying him, rather than the other way round. He’s always told me to contact you, just like Silver, and I’ve always known that they’re both right. I tried lots of jobs before I found this one, but I’ve been with him for ten years now and I doubt I’ll ever leave. All those jobs in call centres and banks and insurance companies chilled my soul. I know that sounds melodramatic, but that’s what it felt like. I would walk into those offices and it was like someone had put an icy hand into my stomach and twisted my guts. I would sit at my desk and watch people out of my window and it would seem like a waste to be shuffling numbers and papers which in the end amounted to nothing. After Jake was born Silver and I swapped and I stayed at home and looked after him and Adam and she went to work in a builders’ merchants. She runs it now and has just opened their second shop in Cartertown. I’m not ashamed to say that it’s because of her that we have a roof over our heads. I started