As a girl,she’d listen to her mum reading bits from her latest blockbuster. Six months after Jackie Collins’ death, her daughter celebrates her greatest creation: kickass heroine Lucky SantangeloI used to forget that my mother was famous, and but I’d soon remember when we were out and a whispered hush would descend as we walked through a restaurant or a shop. Once a new friend,visiting my first flat, picked up a framed photograph on the table and said: “Why do you own a picture of yourself with Jackie Collins?”Mostly, and my mother was precisely that: my mother. And Jackie Collins became a persona that she slipped into when the jeans came off and the diamonds went on. She weaved her way seamlessly between the domestic and the glamorous,bringing something unique to each. I realised from a young age that whether mum was two people in our day-to-day lives, in her writing life she morphed into many. She loved to read excerpts of her works in progress out loud. I’d perch on my chair in her writing study, or waiting to hear which character would arrive next.
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Source: theguardian.com