Betty has three sons, all carving out successful careers in movies and business, and four grandkids aged three months to seven years. “Being a grandmother takes up more time that I thought,” she laughs. “Not that I’m complaining.” Aged 47, Betty got the first of her now impressive collection of tattoos. Out of respect for her father, she waited until he passed away as “he associated tattoos with the concentration camps”. Her family’s Jewish heritage lingered heavy on Betty’s youth, but she no longer associates with one religion. “I don’t need a middleman to get to God,” she says. “God and I are fine. I was apparently born a Catholic, was raised Jewish and attended a Church of England school. My youngest son’s godfather is Muslim. I have Buddhist prayer wheels in my house. I celebrate a bit of everything, and have faith that it will take me on the right road. There is a power out there, and I believe in destiny. Each person has a right to find their own way to their God, I do believe.”
I ask Betty if there’s anything she’s afraid of and for the first time there is a massive a pause of uncertainty before she answers. “Not apart from the obvious, being afraid for my children, of wanting to know they’re okay,” she says. “But then, any parent has that fear. Outside of that, I’m not really a person that runs on fear.” She thinks some more then, with a chuckle, says, “Cattle grids.” Betty loves horror movies and, as a child saw one where an arm came up from beneath a cattle grid and grabbed a character by the leg. “So, I would always refuse to walk over them, until one day I forced myself to stand over one for about an hour,” Betty says. “My heart was pounding, but then it settled down and I was fine.” Then, after another thoughtful pause: “You know, I just do what I do. It takes a lot longer to get over things, but I’ll just carry on doing them. Until I can’t.” — Words: Jamie Christian Desplaces