Nikki Logan - It Had To Be You - Man of the Year 2016

Your artistic efforts made me smile. Have you ever thought of a new career as a cartoonist?

I’m very keen to see a Chelmon rostratus (thank you for the helpful labels). Those fish are gorgeous, with their bright black, yellow and white stripes and their long snouts. And I’m fascinated by the anemone fish.

You were right about the crocodile. He was caught in Florence Bay—six brave fellows from the National Park manhandled him, trussed him up like a giant Christmas turkey and relocated him further north. Apparently he won’t come back this way now that we’re approaching the winter. Thank God.

So I can’t wait to start diving. You’ve certainly whetted my appetite for discovering what lies beneath. …

Molly, I’m very pleased to hear that you’ve got the Tube business sorted. I know my mother enjoyed meeting you. Well done.

It’s getting a little cooler here at last. Today it’s hard to believe it’s autumn. The temperatures are almost down to those of an English summer’s day.

If you’d like any help with looking for your father’s birthplace, do sing out.

Best

Patrick

To: Molly Cooper

From: Patrick Knight

Subject: PS

Molly, another thought. You might be surprised to know that you could quite possibly help me with this novel by sharing your reactions to London.

You were worried about sending me extra-long messages but I’ve enjoyed the descriptions in your e-mails … and I’ve found them helpful.

I’m still learning the ropes, so to speak, and it would be extremely useful to see my home town described through a fresh pair of eyes. In fact your reactions to life in general could be helpful, as it’s hard for a fellow to get inside the female mind. In other words, feel free to continue sharing your discoveries and insights. Positive or negative—you won’t hurt my feelings.

Just if the whim takes you.

Warmest wishes

Patrick

To: Patrick Knight

From: Molly Cooper

Subject: My London eye

Dear Patrick

I’m more than happy to rattle on to you about my London adventures, and please feel free to use anything I say in your novel. Wow! What an honour.

I’ve been thinking that writing must be a lonely occupation, so I can imagine you’d enjoy getting e-mails at the end of a long day at the keyboard.

But if I get too carried away, flooding you with too much information, please tell me.

I had to laugh at a sign I saw today in a Tube station: A penalty fare will be charged to any passenger who fails to hide true emotions fully or makes any attempt to engage with other passengers.

That is so what it’s like. I do love the way the British poke fun at themselves.

Yesterday I spent the loveliest morning checking out the Kensington Roof Gardens. They’re gorgeous. Have you been there? It’s amazing—one and a half acres of trees and plants growing thirty metres above Kensington High Street and divided into three lovely themed gardens.

There’s an English woodland (which I think might be my favourite), with curving lawns and surprisingly large trees, a stream and little bridges, even a lake with ducks and pink flamingos. I’m so glad it’s spring, because there were also lovely flowers everywhere, but unfortunately I don’t know their names.

There’s also a Tudor garden, with a courtyard and creeper-covered walls and brick paths laid in a herringbone pattern. It’s filled with fragrant flowers—lilies, roses and lavender. And the Spanish garden is very dramatic, with its stunning white walls. Apparently it’s inspired by the Alhambra in Spain.

By the way, thanks so much for offering to help with my family history research. My grandmother kept a box of papers that belonged to my parents, including their marriage certificate. When I was younger I used to take it out often and read every word. I haven’t done that for ages, but I’m almost certain I remember that my father was born in Clapham. I used to want to call it Clapham. I know the year he was born was definitely 1956.

Molly

PS Would you like to send me a list of questions that might help you with getting inside your female character’s head?

To: Molly Cooper

From: Patrick Knight

Subject: Questions

It’s very generous of you to offer to help with my female character. I hesitate to make these kinds of demands on your time, but authors do need to know an awful lot about what’s going on inside their characters, and I’d truly appreciate your input.

My heroine is Beth Harper and she’s a bank teller, about your age, and I’m supposed to know about her likes and dislikes—her favourite kinds of clothes and jewellery, favourite colour, music, animal, etc; her least favourite of these; her spending habits; her most prized possession; her talents (piano player, juggler, poet?); nervous habits. Any thoughts along those lines would be welcomed.

I’m hoping to create a girl who feels real and unique.

So … whenever you have time …

Gratefully

Patrick

PS If you could tell me your father’s full name, I just might have the right contacts to do a little research for you.

To: Patrick Knight

From: Molly Cooper

Subject: Re: Questions

Patrick, I feel like I’m always thanking you, but the very thought of finding out more about my father makes me feel quite wobbly with excitement and emotion, so thank you so much for offering to help. His name was Charles Torrington Cooper, which I think sounds rather dignified, but I’m told that in Australia he was only ever known as Charlie Cooper.

You will no doubt already know what he looked like as there’s a photo of him and my mother on my bedside table. You can see that he’s to blame for my brown curly hair, but don’t you think he has the nicest smile?

Now, about your book. I have to warn you, Patrick, that if you want your character to be unique, I may not be your woman. Truth is, I’m careful and conservative—as ordinary as oatmeal. And, whatever you do, don’t give Beth Harper my hair.

Also, my favourite clothes—a bikini and a sarong—might not ring true for a teller in a bank in London.

So last night I sat down and tried to pretend I was Beth and to answer your questions as if I was her—and I suddenly understood your dilemma. It’s really, really hard to just make someone up, isn’t it? But it’s fun, too.

So let’s see. If I was Beth, working in a bank, I think I’d be super-prim like a librarian during the day, but I’d wear sexy lingerie underneath my work clothes (to remind the reader of my wild side and because it feels so lovely against my skin). And I’d wear wild colours on my weekends—rainbow-coloured leggings or knee-high red boots with micro-mini-skirts. And I’d be the queen of scarves—silk, crocheted, long, short. For when it’s cold I’d have a coat with a big faux fur collar.

I’m getting carried away, aren’t I? But it’s so much fun to pretend to be English. I don’t get to wear any of that sort of gear on the island.

Beth’s favourite colour would change every week, and her spending habits would be a perfect balance between thriftiness and recklessness—because she wants to enjoy life, but she’s also a sensible bank teller. Unlike me. I’m always the same about money—as penny-pinching as they come. I have to be.

Beth’s most prized possession is the ridonkulously expensive little red (not black) dress that she bought for the one time she went to the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden with the man of her dreams. (My most prized possession is my house. As I’m sure yours must be for you, Patrick.)

In case you were wondering, my grandmother left Pandanus Cottage to me, but she left me a mortgage, too, because she had to refinance to keep me through the high school years. She sent me to a good private school she couldn’t really afford, the darling.