VANESSA: My ambition had always been to get married and have children, and I'd done that by the time I was 23 and I was very happy. In fact, I got pregnant within three months of being married — we were so poor it was the only way to keep warm.
Long before Allegra was born, I adored her. At Betty Parsons's antenatal classes, which were very Sloaney and posh, I was the only short, fat Jewish mother. I felt Allegra squiggling around inside me and I knew she was going to be remarkable. From the moment she was born, I loved her unconditionally. She was like a little crushed-up flower who slowly unfolded. I found her magnificent. Every single thing about her was completely enrapturing, and that's the way she's been ever since.
Long before she could talk, I found Allegra the most diverting company. She was hilarious and immensely responsive. She wasn't one of those lumpy babies who lay in the corner and slept through the good stuff. She was always awake and you could see she was loving it.
Then, three years later, Allegra's sister, Saskia, was born. I would read to them both for hours. I was married to a junior hospital doctor, so we didn't have any money. And I only worked because I needed the money. Me becoming a "celeb" was a by-product of God knows what, but it certainly wasn't on purpose.
When it was discovered that I was rather good at what I did, it was delightful, because they ask you to do nicer and nicer things and you get paid more and more. So I went from writing pieces on hair conditioner in the middle of the night when Allegra was a baby, to having my own talk show. But I was imbecilically naive about the fame aspect. In 1995 I had The Vanessa Show and I was doing The Big Breakfast. If I'd been asked what I thought other people thought of me, I'd have said: "She's a jolly nice girl. She's married, a good mother, bit podgy, works hard, is a diligent and decent person."
Then my husband left me and I was portrayed as this nymph-divorcee-on-the-prowl — which couldn't be less like my personality. In 16 years I'd been totally faithful to my husband. But my life went up in a puff of smoke. My mother had died, I'd lost my job, then my husband left. Paparazzi were taking pictures of my children the day their father left. And my researchers had let me down on The Vanessa Show by booking fake guests. As the presenter I had to take the rap. So my stock fell and I went from being someone so desirable that the BBC poached me from ITV, to being someone so undesirable no one wanted me.
Allegra was 13 and Saskia was nine when my husband left. I genuinely didn't see how the sun would rise and set again the next day without him. I felt I could feel my heart breaking, but I also felt the children shouldn't know that I felt like that. I wanted them to think everything would be okay in the end. That was hard, because I'd always had a totally honest relationship with them. I wanted my children to have security and a cocoon of love. I also promised them we'd have fun. I used my material from when I was a stand-up comedienne. We decided to use the C-word one day. They weren't allowed to swear at home, but I said: "On this occasion, there's only one appropriate word." So we shouted it all the way to Edgware in the car, and felt much better. We also all went blonde. My hairdresser and I agreed that you can never be too rich, too thin or too blonde. Whoever of their friends visited us at the time went blonde too; their parents had to live with it. All this stuff about children being resilient is rubbish. They are just as capable of having their hearts broken as the rest of us. I made sure they saw a counsellor so they could be upset without feeling they had to protect me.
Soon I started going out with someone else. People say you should wait two years, and grieve and mourn. I thought: "F*** that." I wanted to find someone to kiss me again so much that I practically walked up and down Hampstead High Street wearing a sandwich board saying: "Please marry me. I really am very delightful, I make good soup, give good head."
So going out with someone very quickly was a good thing. Then I started going out with Dennis Duhaney, who'd been there as my personal trainer every day for 10 months. One evening he said something suggestive and I thought: "Oh, marvellous!" And that was it. It wasn't like the children had to meet this total stranger, because he'd been around so much. When Allegra went up to Cambridge she asked for him to come.
Throughout all this, Allegra has been the most enchanting person. She's absolutely captivating, immensely clever and hugely modest. Unlike me — I'm showing off every day of my life. She was always at the top of the class at school. She is also extremely beautiful but not self-consciously so. Since she was two, she's had besotted swains at her feet perpetually. She's one of these girls boys just want to put on a pedestal and worship. I never was. I wish I had been.
I haven't tried to be her pal; I'm her mother. I read that the Duchess of York said she and Beatrice go pulling together and I felt nauseated.
Despite my own shattered dreams, I really cherish the notion that Allegra will live happily ever after with her Prince Charming, with a nursery full of babies, and that she will also have a successful, nourishing career. I want for her the impossible: having it all.
ALLEGRA: When I was little I'd follow Mum around, just like I do now. She's such great company and I'm her little companion. When we were little I remember her doing lots of reading and singing, laughter and cuddles. People tend to say Saskia is more like Mummy, because she's more theatrical, while I'm more serious and a bit quieter. But I think all three of us have similar qualities.
When we were little she was a stay-at-home mum. She did her journalism at the kitchen table, then she went on to do Richard and Judy, then she did The Vanessa Show. Fun is the key word with her. You can't not have fun when she's around. She cracks me up. There isn't much of a difference to the way she is on her radio show and the way she is with us when we're at home. Any old activity becomes exciting, fun and dramatic.
I've always been able to talk to Mum about anything, and she's always made it clear she's on my side. That was always important to me when I was small. At a swimming gala I remember everyone being nervous and flustered, and one girl said to me: "You don't look nervous. But it's all right for you, Allegra: your mummy doesn't mind if you don't win the race."
When my father left, it was a total shock to all of us. Looking back, we had no idea how Mum was hurting, but she put her suffering on hold when she was around us because she knew we were in such pain. She did anything she could to have a good laugh and to make us feel better, including us swearing and going blonde. Am I angry with my father?
I'm an adult now — I don't feel it's productive to hold onto anger towards him. But we all believed in happily-ever-after. To have that totally shattered changes things.
People ask me what it's like to have a famous mother. Well, at the beginning it was weird, watching the prerecorded Vanessa Show with her sitting next to us. Now I'm just so proud for her to have been that successful. Sometimes I work on her radio show answering the phone. Once a lady rang to say: "That woman on the radio is very good. It sounds like a best friend talking to me."
Mum is such a role model. Although her life fell apart, she bounced back 100%. She's extremely hard-working but never complains about anything and never seems tired. She has this thirst for life and ensures everyone else is having a lovely time. I imagine I'll be following her around for some time to come.
