I was burned very badly as a child and that defined my early family life completely. It was awful for my parents. I had to stay in hospital from the age of 18 months until I was five, so I don’t remember living at home until after then. When I did come back I was completely and utterly doted on and very, very overprotected, which was understandable really.
My mum, Joan, was a housewife and my dad, Ron, was what you’d call an entrepreneur. He was into all sorts of stuff, buying and selling. So we’d go from having plenty of money to having absolutely nothing on a regular basis. Looking back it was a bit scary – it made me fearful of not having enough money. When I was younger, I worked very hard to make sure I was financially secure.
My dad was outgoing, the life and soul, whereas my mum was the shyer one – and, believe it or not, so am I. My friends loved coming to my house because they said there was always something going on – and there was. We were a happy, lively lot. My happiest childhood memories are the simplest – the four of us singing in the car, on our way to a holiday. It was something we always did and it was special, that feeling of togetherness.
My parents were very much in love – they adored each other. When I did my first film, they came to see me. In the distance I saw them kiss each other and hold hands. It was a great marriage and I always aspired to what they had.
My parents taught me to be brave and to do what was right. We moved to South Africa (for my dad’s job in publishing) when I was a child, and they hated apartheid. They weren’t overly political but they knew it wasn’t right and refused to play along. My mum couldn’t stand being addressed as “ma’am” and she refused to get off a “blacks only” bus. We were sent back to England after that.
As a teenager I rebelled totally but my mum handled it in style. She would invite all the much older boys and ne’er-do-wells I was hanging about with to our house, then tell them, “You are aware how young she is? She’s only just started puberty.” As you can imagine, I wanted to die!
Motherhood brought me even closer to my own mother – I realised everything she’d been through. She was with me when I had my daughter, Emily. It meant everything to me that we were able to share something so special. She kept me calm and I knew I could rely on her to be honest. I was in absolute agony and asked her, “on a scale of one to 10, how much worse will it get?” She answered “10” straight away. Ouch!
I have a wonderful relationship with my daughter. I felt so sad when she moved out – the time goes so quickly – but we’re still very, very close. She tells me everything and I tell her most things – I’m her mother, not her best friend.
I am very like my mum in lots of ways. I find myself saying things she said all the time. We always had fights – we’re both very opinionated – but I miss her terribly. She died in October and it changed everything. A light went out in my life. I’d already lost my father and brother so I am the only one left. My husband says “but you have me and Emily”, but that’s different. The one person who was there to provide that unconditional love has gone.
I can’t wait to be a grandmother but I’ve told Emily she is too young. I’d hate her to be tied down too soon. Motherhood is a massive responsibility, and there is plenty of time for that.
• Amanda Redman stars in The Trials of Jimmy Rose, on ITV1, Sunday, 9pm
