A month before she died, the acclaimed dialect coach Joan Washington recorded a poem to be played on her daughter’s wedding day. Washington died on 2 September 2021 from lung cancer, concluding a 38-year marriage to the actor and diarist Richard E Grant. Olivia, the couple’s daughter, celebrated her marriage this past September at the house Grant and Washington shared in London. Grant wore an elegant tuxedo, his blue eyes startling, and the house was swollen with flowers. His speech included “all the things a father says. You want it to be as humorous and as heartfelt as possible, in that combination, so people aren’t stabbing themselves with their forks.” But the family couldn’t bring themselves to play Washington’s recording: “It would have wiped everybody out.” The event, with Washington absent, was bittersweet. “That’s the brutal bit,” Grant goes on. “You so want to share that with her,” and then, referring to Olivia, “Not having her mum there…” He trails off.
Grant and I are meeting at a hotel in Richmond, a brisk uphill walk from his home. He has arrived punctually, impeccably clothed and groomed, with a watch on each wrist, his dark hair greying slightly now at 67 years old. Olivia’s celebrations are fresh in his memory. In the end, someone close to the family read Washington’s selected poem. Olivia was supported by, among others, three women in the congregation, all good friends of Grant’s, who have “appointed themselves her fairy godmothers, like something from Sleeping Beauty.” The thought seems to cheer him. “They took her to buy her wedding dress. They took her to lunch. They’ve offered themselves up as mother mentors…” He shrugs in astonishment.
