Stamping one foot in front of my father so he can’t ignore it, I announce ‘I need a new pair of shoes. These ones are awful.’ I am 13, and black T-bar low-heeled shoes are a serious impediment to my ambitions to crack the elite social circle of my all-girls school. My father looks at me for a moment, ‘If they are looking at your shoes, darling, then you’ve really got problems’.
It was his way of gently teasing me when I was in the grip of adolescent self-loathing. When I looked in the mirror all I could see was a plump teenager with terrible skin, but my dad thought I was beautiful – and that knowledge got me through those years.
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My father, Richard Goodwin, has always been adept at handling difficult women. In his job as a producer making films like Death On The Nile and A Passage To India, he had to cater to the whims of some of the most terrifying divas in the business; he was the man who had to cajole Elizabeth Taylor on to the set with diamond watches and make sure that Lauren Bacall’s trailer was the same size as Ingrid Bergman’s.
Through it all, he handled a complicated home situation. I was five when my parents split up. My mother – the interior designer Jocasta Innes – fell in love with another man and left home, taking the dog but leaving behind her two children.
My father was determined to have custody and although I saw my mother regularly, my brother and I lived with him. Two years later, he married a French set designer. My relationship with her was never easy, but it would be hard to imagine a more diligent mother substitute. Thanks to her, I did my homework and went to bed early (in complete contrast to my mother’s more Bohemian approach to parenting). I was always trying to get my father to overrule her, but he never would. At the time, I found that infuriating, but in hindsight I think he was right to let my stepmother set the boundaries that he would have hated to enforce.
One of my happiest memories is going to the Oscars when A Passage To India was nominated for Best Picture. My stepmother hated parties so I often went with him to showbiz events. I was terrified of being surrounded by the world’s most glamorous people, but my dad was so proud of me that I felt equal to any of them.
I may have inherited my creativity from my mother, but any success I have had in life is entirely due to my father’s unwavering belief that I was the most intelligent, beautiful creature on the planet. He wasn’t uncritical, but he always assumed I would do well, and because of that, I did.
Despite being such a doting dad, he was never jealous of my boyfriends. When I brought home the man who later became my husband, he made a great point of tempting him to stay for breakfast with the promise of kippers.
My dad is still my biggest fan. He was the first to read my new novel, The Fortune Hunter, and loves my characters almost as much as I do. We both also love gadgets and there is constant one-upmanship between us over who has the most sexy piece of kit. Last Christmas I gave him a wilderness tent complete with wood burning stove. It sounds like an unlikely present for a 79-year-old but my dad likes long bicycle journeys across Europe. To mark his 80th birthday we will cycle 150 miles along the Danube. I am sure I will struggle to keep up with him.
I see Dad at least once a week. He is a devoted grandfather and likes nothing more than sitting on the sofa with me, the dogs and my two daughters, and watching a romcom. Our only bone of contention is his hair style. He has grown a ponytail, which I am finding hard to accept, although I realise that I should show him the same unconditional approval that he has always shown me.
My dad always told me that he would give me the best education that he could possibly afford but after that it was up to me. He had no doubt that I would make my way in the world. It was an uncharacteristically tough thing for my dad to say but, as so often, he knew me better than I knew myself. Knowing that I would have to buy my own shoes in the future was a necessary life lesson – it never occurred to me that I would need a man to support me. I have been blessed to have such a wonderful father – now, if only he would lose that ponytail...
Buy The Fortune Hunter by Daisy Goodwin
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