There's Something I've Been Dying to Tell You (15 page)

I left ITV Studios, but not before I had stuck my head round the door of the make-up room for
Loose Women
and said ‘Hi’ to Linda and Donna, the ladies who make us look gorgeous. I was on automatic pilot, doing what I would have done in normal circumstances after a TV appearance. I seem to remember though that I was aware that my hands and legs were shaking and I felt light-headed. Then I went to meet Suzanne Baboneau, my editor at Simon & Schuster, Gordon Wise, my literary agent, and Sue Latimer, my theatrical agent. We were going to celebrate the publication of my book. It felt just like the old days, sitting in Sheekey’s drinking champagne. But again I think I was in complete denial. It was never going to be like the old days again. Ever.

I bumped into Michael Codron, one of the West End’s most important producers. I worked for him on several occasions – in
The
Sisters Rosensweig
at the Old Vic and
Noises Off
at the Savoy and
Look No Hans!
starring Sir David Jason – so there was much water under the bridge between us. I used to be in awe of Mr Codron, but now I had other things on my mind I greeted him like a long lost uncle, and arranged to have lunch with him soon. It is so weird that one is so conditioned as an actor never to miss an opportunity to engage with a potential source of work even if, as in my case, I was in no position to do so. Actually, in some ways, not being able to work made life easier. And being able to arrange lunches made me feel I was still part of the action. I was determined not to be forgotten!

I had recently met a fantastic lady called Judy Counihan. We had really hit it off when I went to see her for a general chat about work. We talked for ages, and I was pitching her an idea that my friend Catharine and I had had floating around for years, about domestic violence. Since there had been such success on the television lately with programmes like
Borgen
,
Wallander
and
Spiral
, a French series, Judy really wanted to try and do the same with a British cast led by me, which was such an inspiring idea and so encouraging as far as I was concerned.

It was great to have met someone who could appreciate my talents beyond Oxo gravy or being a Loose Woman, as I had really struggled over the past couple of years to persuade anyone in TV to give me a break. The answer was always the same, ‘It’s difficult to get away from that image and be taken seriously.’ I struggled to understand why that was the case, because I felt that if I was popular with audiences – and the figures showed I was – why would an audience not also watch me in a drama? I did it in
The Bill
when I played Irene Radford after all. I found it especially frustrating when it seemed that when one format or idea for a television show works, then channels would stick with it until it was well and truly done then move on to the next hit. It often feels like channels just repeat the same old, same old, and mostly for the same old money!

I’d thought, now, maybe, I had the opportunity to collaborate on a new project involving my talent. I don’t wish to seem big-headed but at the same time I was still not sure the powers that be had ever really recognised my abilities as a straight actress and it had been on my ‘to do list’ for some time. I wanted to make them sit up and listen to me!

I sometimes wonder, looking back over the last forty-five years, if there was more I could have done to get those parts I craved. It is a very touchy subject among actors, male and female, the question of the ‘casting couch’. I do know people who have no compunction about sleeping with a director or producer to get the job, but it is not as easy as it seems! It takes time, months even, of chatting up the right person and then making a move and insinuating yourself into their lives. Frankly I couldn’t be bothered and assumed talent will always out. But that is so naive and untrue! Luck is what everyone needs. Right time, right place and the right face.

I had been told at drama school I would never work until I was forty. I was not pretty enough for the juvenile lead and not ugly enough to play ‘the friend’. It sounds very crude and cruel but if an actor does not learn very quickly his or her USP then all is lost.

I know my son, Michael, struggles with the same problem and it is even harder these days to be unique and different. ‘Branding’ is the buzz word. Nowhere in that idea do I see talent mentioned. I had always believed that one day I would find my role. The one part that would pitch me into the big time. It is an actor’s sad lot in life to carry on, possibly never finding that moment, but always waiting and hoping that one day they will be discovered.

Now, here was I, basically being told by the big director in the sky that I might never work again. The moment could never happen. Now that is what I call a tough break.

I did not want to end my career as yet another blast from the past opening fetes and doing ‘good works’, but, having said that, one of my greatest pleasures as a result of being a famous face was all the charity work I had been doing over the last thirty years. It had taught me so many interesting and important things about life and introduced me to so many lovely people, both famous and not so famous. I had recently joined PRIME, The Prince’s Initiative for Mature Enterprise, and I had been invited to a showcase event at St James’s Palace.

This charity sits at the other end of the spectrum to the Prince’s Trust which benefits young people. In contrast, PRIME is for people over fifty. The logo at the time said ‘Age has No Limits’ and I was first introduced to it a couple of years previously. The charity works with people over the age of fifty to help them turn their ideas, energy and experience into successful businesses. The work that they do is fascinating, and the invitation was to meet and greet and to enjoy the fruits of people’s labours so far, all in the presence of Prince Charles. There was a huge array of very different ideas and products for sale. I met this incredible woman there called Alison Cork who has an online soft furnishings and home design business. We struck up an immediate friendship and decided we would go out to lunch and, over a few glasses of champagne, decide how we could find a way to make PRIME a bit more sexy! While we were talking a very jolly man called Mohammed came over and introduced himself and explained that he and his wife were fans of mine, which was nice to hear. He was worried that he would not get to meet the Prince so he had decided to stick with me as I was a better bet! So for the next ten minutes I was shadowed by this gentleman and sure enough, as I was asked to form a line so the Prince could say hello, there was Mohammed at my elbow. The court official gave me a bit of a look but I just smiled sweetly. We had earlier been told that His Royal Highness did like to chat with people, but obviously time was of the essence, so would we please refrain from going into any stories about our latest family holiday, etc.! As the Prince moved in to shake my hand Mohammed eased in front of me and took over, saying: ‘Oh how lovely to meet you, sir. I am with her you know,’ pointing at me.

Well, he would not shut up and I could see the Prince was left in a very awkward position, so I put my hand on Mohammed’s arm halfway through his long involved account of how he had started his business, and literally dragged him off, turning back to Prince Charles, saying, ‘Thank you for your time, Sir, you must be very busy!’

He smiled and mouthed a thank you.

My friend Mohammed hardly seemed to notice and was off into the crowd to tell others of his good fortune.

At the beginning of September there was sad news as news broke that David Frost had died very suddenly of a heart attack. I was so sad for his wife and family. He was an extraordinarily talented man, and I had the pleasure of spending some time with him in New York when my friend Libby Reeves Purdie was his PA. I went to stay with Libby when she first moved to New York to work with Sir David, and that first time we went to see Bruce Forsyth on Broadway with Sammy Davis Jr. We had a great night and ended up in Régine’s nightclub, which was the height of chic in the late seventies, let me tell you. We danced down Fifth Avenue at four in the morning with no shoes on. Happy days!

I was getting out and about quite a bit but every now and then I would be acutely aware that I was not the same Lynda physically. There was certainly no dancing barefoot anymore but even so I was disappointed sometimes when I couldn’t even get through the day without falling asleep. I tried to stick to lunchtime events as that seemed bearable. But visits to the theatre proved a tad more difficult which depressed me, because I had rediscovered the Hampstead Theatre which was directly opposite my old drama school, the Central School of Speech and Drama at Swiss Cottage. I went to the opening of a new play,
Hysteria
, there.

I had many happy memories of this theatre, not just from the sixties, when it was more like a shack than a theatre, but as recently as 2005 when I had opened in a play there called
Losing Louis
, written by Simon Mendes da Costa, produced by Michael Codron and directed by Robin Lefèvre. In fact those three months from November 2004 until February 2005 were incredibly important to me in so many ways. I had met Michael in Spain in November and he started to come over at the weekends to visit me. I wanted to keep it all away from the press as my ex-husband was being very difficult and making things awkward for the boys and me, so I wanted to be sure that my relationship with Michael was solid before I introduced him to my sons. After all it had only been me and them for the last eight years! Alison Steadman was the other actress in the play and she devised the nickname Mr Spain for Michael. That was the secret password.

‘Is Mr Spain coming over this weekend?’

He would arrive with his hand luggage full of Rioja and stay until Sunday night. In the week between Christmas and New Year I fell down some stairs and was on my back for three days (and not in a romantic sense!). Rehearsals were held up and I felt so guilty.

This play was such a big deal for me because it was a long time since I had been offered a decent role and I was so thrilled that Robin the director had thought of me. However, as is so often the case in my life, the reasons behind me getting the role were probably not as I would have wanted. There was a comedy element to the role and it involved a bare bottom! So it was nothing to do with my hidden depths as an actress then? But having said that it was a wonderful scene, and though I say so myself I pulled it off with aplomb.

I was playing the part of a neglected wife and in order to spice up my husband’s sex life I agree to have my vagina pierced. He arrives in the bedroom and I turn with my back to the audience and seemingly open my dressing gown and show him the finished product. Under the dressing gown I am wearing a basque and stockings and suspenders with my bottom very naked. Why? The question begged to be asked, because for my own modesty I could at least have worn a pair of M&S knickers under the dressing gown and felt a little less vulnerable to my fellow actor, the fragrant Brian Protheroe. Why? Because the scene that followed would have suffered as I was asked to rush into the ensuite bathroom, with glass door, to make love to my husband who was suitably impressed by the piercing to ravish me against the bathroom door and all the audience see is my bare bottom pressed up against the glass!

I have to say it was very funny, and got a round of applause every night, but it was hardly Lady Macbeth and the offers from the Royal Shakespeare Company did not come flooding in.

The great sadness that cast a shadow across this whole period was the death of my father in January, followed by the death of my mother four weeks later, and being in this play that was set at a funeral could not have been more poignant or sad. I went to both funerals during the day and then did a performance in the evening. I was a wreck. However, as often happens in life, the tragedy led to great happiness as Michael was so supportive and it sealed our love for each other. I remember holding him one night and sobbing for the loss of my parents but at the same time feeling the overwhelming desire to take him and make love to him with a life-affirming need.

So here I was again, eight years later, in the foyer bar of the Hampstead Theatre with lots of old friends, including Alison, who happened to be at the same opening night as us. I had such a lovely evening and could almost forget that this was no longer going to be my life until someone would enquire about my health and I would come crashing back to reality. That has been the hardest thing to deal with so far, I think. Gradually I am becoming the face at the window looking in on a life I once knew, and trying to keep the smile straight on that face as it disappears into the distance. So there was a sadness creeping into my everyday life but I was determined not to let it win, and pushed myself to go out and have lunch and be social.

Then, just as I seemed to have found a sense of calm and pretended normality, once again disaster struck and I was back in hospital. Nobody really seemed to know what was causing these bloody pains in my stomach but they had become unbearable and my prognosis had now changed dramatically. I would not be ending my chemotherapy in December as hoped. The tumour markers were up and it would seem the course of treatment I had been on was not doing the trick. But Justin Stebbing always has a B, and C and D as far as I can see. I was told that I would probably have a couple of weeks over Christmas chemo free, then I’d be back into the routine again. The time allotted to my survival has diminished somewhat, though no one was able to give us a definitive answer. I know it is impossible to do that really, but it helps in a bizarre way to make plans. However, one thing was for sure, it was made clear to me that I would have to have chemo for the rest of my life to keep the thing at bay.

So at the beginning of November all of my social visits were called off. I missed the Christmas shopping day at Clarence House, which is a wonderful event. You can buy all sorts of rather camp presents for people: wine glasses engraved with the Prince’s crest and baubles and plants and chutney and wine. The previous year we were feeling very flush and bought a watercolour print of Highgrove House painted by Prince Charles. It is number fifty-seven of a limited edition of a hundred, so hopefully the boys will hang that somewhere suitable when I am gone! As well as the shopping at Clarence House, I also missed an incredible party thrown by Robert Lindsay for his ex-wife Diana Weston. Her fiftieth I believe! It was going to be a blast but I was just not well enough to go.