The Elephant to Hollywood - Michael Caine [99]
By the time I met David, there was very little I could do for him except make him comfortable. I got him a bigger room and his own television and the nurses said he was just happy to know that he had a family who cared for him. He died in 1992, not long after this, and his ashes are buried alongside our mother’s, together at last in the way they were never able to be during their lives.
It is, I think, an incredible story – but although it is unusual, such stories are not unknown. Now, of course, the birth of a child outside wedlock is nothing to be ashamed of; when my mother was a young woman, it was a terrible shame. The tragedy is that, had David’s epilepsy been properly treated, he might well have gone on to live a fulfilled and normal life; he might have had the chances that I did. But out of the tragedy emerged something else – the story of a courageous woman. My mother kept David a secret initially, because of society’s condemnation of her ‘sin’ and later because she was convinced that the existence of a half-brother in an asylum and not right in the head would ruin my career, and she was determined to protect me at all costs. As I’ve said before, there was nothing Ma wouldn’t do for her boys – but perhaps that was also because there was one boy she hadn’t been able to do much for.
14
Kitchen Sink Dramas
The death of my mother, the discovery of David and the publication of What’s It All About? were all watershed moments in my life. And when these were coupled with what looked as if it might become a permanent gap in my movie schedule, I was forced to take stock and consider the future. The book had gone brilliantly, and I had loved writing it, so I decided that writing might be one way to go – and then there was my restaurant business. It had been part of my life for thiry years, but it had definitely played second fiddle to my movie career. I could, I decided, perhaps take this chance to move it more centre stage – although, given some of my experiences with the ‘talent’, this wasn’t a step to be taken lightly!
The London I grew up in after the war was a bit of a culinary desert, to put it mildly. Restaurants were the province of the rich and the dress code of suit and tie was meant to keep the likes of me out. But gradually things began to change and when two Italians, Mario Cassandro and Franco Lagattolla opened their Italian restaurant La Trattoria Terrazza on Romilly Street in 1959, it had no dress code at all. Not only that, it stayed open until the last customer had left and it was open all day Sunday. The waiters were all friendly and helpful – unlike many of the English waiters who used to start looking at their watches and sighing before you were even halfway through your meal – and the whole atmosphere was fun and relaxed. As the Sixties got into full swing and London began to be the cosmopolitan city it is today, eating out started to be part of our culture – and I loved every minute of it.
I enjoyed eating out in other people’s restaurants, and as the London restaurant scene began to liven up, an idea began forming in the back of my mind: I wanted to open a big brasserie, a bit like La Coupole in Paris. This might have remained a fantasy if it hadn’t been for Sidney Poitier. He and I were in London together, working at Pinewood putting the final touches to The Wilby Conspiracy in 1974, and he and his wife Joanna and Shakira and I would eat out together a few evenings each week. When it was Sidney’s turn to take us, he always chose Odin’s, a great restaurant just off Marylebone High Street. On this particular evening, we had just been seated at our table when a short fat man reeled towards us, rather the worse for wear. He seemed to know Sidney. ‘Hello!’ he said and stood there, clutching the back of a chair for support. Sidney, who is a very polite man, immediately introduced us. ‘And this is Peter Langan, the owner of Odin’s.’ Peter stood there