There's Something I've Been Dying to Tell You (8 page)

6

LOW TIDES AND HIGH TEA

The great thing for me during this period was that although I was no longer in the public eye much, and there was certainly no sign of offers flooding in, I discovered I had a different kind of life, and one I had missed out on so much while being away on tour. I also discovered with genuine surprise, and real joy, that I had so many people and fans who really cared about me. I have received over a thousand letters of encouragement and sympathy and they are just so amazing and uplifting. I was very aware when I started writing this book that I wanted it to be for everyone who has suffered or is suffering, not just cancer, but any potentially life-threatening illness. I am fortunate enough to tell my story like this because I have been in the public eye for many years, but through all the letters I read I learned so much about the human spirit and just how much people will go through to hang on to their lives and their families. It has been a salutary lesson.

It was also very interesting how many people assume, because I am a woman, that I have breast cancer. I am reminded of a story of a young woman who was suffering from bowel cancer and said she almost wished she had breast cancer because it got so much more press attention because somehow it was seen as sexier. She received a good deal of flak for those comments but I understand completely where she was coming from as bowel cancer is so difficult to talk about or present in an attractive way. Yet more people die of bowel cancer than they do from breast cancer, can you believe?

I am hoping to start campaigning for Justin Stebbing’s charity Action Against Cancer, I have already worked with Macmillan Cancer Care in the past because my cousin was a Macmillan nurse, and I have done some work for Marie Curie Cancer Care as Jane Cotton, a charity worker I was close to, worked with them. It is only now that I have so much more knowledge of the whole set up that it has become clear to me that the most important, really the most vital, problem is raising money for research. That is the beginning and end of cracking these diseases.

So over the following months I spent a good deal of the days answering all these wonderful letters, many from the readers of
Yours
magazine for whom I write a fortnightly column. I also received mountains of flowers – some from people I had not seen for years. I could not believe that word can spread so fast. I could have adopted a serious and expensive habit of having fresh flowers every day in my flat. I loved it. The door would ring and there would be another bouquet. Thank you again to everyone for your kindness and generosity, you made an old woman very happy!

I had been starting to write my second novel,
The Boy I Love
, which is all about a band of actors in the early 1980s. It was due for delivery in October, but it was proving slightly more difficult than I had anticipated as I was not 100 per cent. My usual practice of getting up at five and writing until noon was a struggle. It was also apparent to me that I was writing a book which opens with a bright optimistic young actress setting out full of hope on her first job in the theatre. This was not my state of mind, and I had to keep reminding myself to be happy. Mind over matter again you see?

It was slowly coming together and helped by various outings away from home, like our visit to Bosham to see Mr and Mrs Albert Finney. A few years ago I appeared as a wicked widow in a series for ITV called
My Uncle Silas
, starring Albert Finney. I make no bones about my admiration for this amazing actor and I was so thrilled to get to work with him. He has two films that people will recognise him for:
Tom Jones
, a fantastic film made in 1963, and the second is a more recent one – James Bond fans will know him from his performance as Bond’s oldest friend and guardian of the family home in Scotland in
Skyfall
. Of course he is one of our greatest British actors and he was first discovered from RADA in the 1960 film
Saturday Night and Sunday Morning
, but there have been so many since including
Erin Brockovich
,
Annie
, and a wonderful rendering of Hercule Poirot in
Murder on the Orient Express
. He is just a lovely man and his wife Pene is also gorgeous. She was a great friend of a mutual friend, Sally Bulloch, who was the entertainments manager at the glorious Athenaeum Hotel.

So I had rung Pene Finney and all but invited ourselves down to visit. They could not accommodate us as they had a dear friend visiting, who I also knew well from the old days, called Julian Holloway. Julian is the son of actor Stanley Holloway, and had moved to Los Angeles and had a successful career there. Julian and Albert were very old sparring partners, and ardent cricket fans, and according to Pene glued to the television coverage of the cricket, so she was delighted we could come and give her moral support.

She suggested we stay at The Richmond Arms in West Ashling. I rang immediately only to be disappointed. They could not do the Friday night but Saturday was free so we booked that and then for the Friday night, they suggested a B&B up the road to which they often referred their customers when they were busy. Having spent years of my early life in the theatre in B&Bs I was not overly keen but was persuaded to give it a try. Well it was like no other B&B I had ever been in. I guess I should have realised we were in the vicinity of Chichester as opposed to Blackpool. No offence Blackpool, but you offer a different kind of old world charm. This house on the water’s edge was absolutely beautiful and Phillipa, our landlady, was so charming, and even offered to drive us to The Richmond Arms because we had booked a table for dinner there assuming the B&B might be a bit lacking. How wrong can you be? We had a lovely room with our own bathroom, and breakfast was a dream of fresh fruit and croissants and wonderful coffee all served in the garden in beautiful July sunshine. It was perfect.

Our dinner at The Richmond Arms was also wonderful. Situated in a tiny village with a pond, a pub, a fantastic village green and not much else, it was extraordinary to think how far people obviously travelled to partake of this amazing restaurant’s food and drink. Albert told us he thought it was deserving of a Michelin star and we couldn’t have agreed more. Outside they had an old French van which opened to serve wood fired pizzas so there were lots of happy families which created a great atmosphere all round, while inside the diners had the peace and quiet. It was the first time Michael and I had really had the time to sit and discuss our future, or fate, whichever way one looked at it. So we drank too much fantastic wine, and ate wonderful seafood and had a little cry, but soon the whole ambience won us over, and we relaxed. It was just like being in a small village in France or Italy. We took a cab back to our gorgeous digs and fell into bed and slept like babies.

After our superb breakfast we bade farewell to Pippy and John, our hosts at the B&B, and made our way to Emsworth. Pene had come to pick us up and gave us a guided tour. Albert and Pene have the perfect home within walking distance of the sea, and as Albi pointed out the town boasts over thirty pubs! Their house has a walled garden and herb patch, and it was full of gorgeous flowers. It had that wonderful calm about it which I always associate with walled gardens, as the old brickwork seems to absorb all outside noise except the birds and the bees. We sat and had a lovely glass of something cool and fizzy while awaiting the arrival of Julian Holloway. It was good to see him again and remember old times. We then adjourned to Albert’s local, The Bluebell, and had a glorious boozy lunch. I had fish and chips, it was bliss. The two actors then went home to watch the cricket and Pene took us down to a little beach hidden at the end of an alleyway right opposite their house. We sat and ate ice creams. Michael and I left them at teatime and returned to The Richmond Arms which was to be our bed for the night. It only has two rooms but they are both delightful, so one really does have to book early to avoid disappointment. There was a free-standing bath by an open window so I sat in the water watching the birds wheeling overhead outside, and listened to the sound of doves, their gentle cooing interrupted by the harsh shriek of an occasional seagull. Another balmy night and this time we had our dinner outside and chatted to some of the locals who were very pleasant and welcoming. It really was perfect. The next morning we rose to a full English breakfast of outstanding proportions then set off back to London feeling at peace with the world. I know it is a cliché but once one has seen the horizon beckon it is a duty to take each day as it comes, and grab every opportunity to enjoy the hours and days you have left.

During these weeks though there were several pieces of sad news. My friend David Robb’s wife Briony McRoberts committed suicide on the underground. One cannot begin to understand either her state of mind, or how poor David must feel. They had such a strong and happy marriage, which is unusual in our game. The funeral was a really moving and sensitive affair, and so many actors and friends turned out to wish her well which must have meant a great deal to David. I looked round the church and saw Samantha Bond, of Miss Moneypenny fame, sat next to Elaine Paige and Nickolas Grace. I bumped into so many mates like Amanda Redman and her daughter Emily. Julian Fellowes, and his wife, and most of the cast of
Downton Abbey
, as David had been appearing in the series. I guess once again, though, for all the camaraderie in show business there is that horrible downside when you are not recognised for your work and it impacts on one’s self-esteem and can destroy gentle souls. We also lost a good friend Ian, who worked with my best mate Pat Hay, who was the make-up designer on
New Tricks
. He was such a gentle and kind soul but riddled with cancer. Mel Smith also died on 19 July – another very sensitive and funny man.

But enough of this gloom and doom. On 22 July Kate Middleton presented the nation with the gorgeous Prince George. What a lovely big bouncy boy! I felt a bit closer to the action – if only a smidgeon – because we share Sir Marcus. In fact, later in the year Sir Marcus Setchell announced his retirement and there was a wonderful lunch in his honour and I was lucky enough to be invited. I arrived at the Hilton on my own, knowing no one, but thank goodness I bumped into Victoria Wood and we chatted away quite happily. I couldn’t quite understand why there were so few guests in the room until the lovely Carole, Sir Marcus’s assistant, explained we had been chosen as special guests to be introduced to the Duchess.

I then proceeded to completely mess my introduction up, because while we were waiting I saw Carole across the room and I knew she wanted to have her photo taken with us. I made a beeline for her, not even noticing who she was talking to, and even started to interrupt the conversation until I turned to the pretty girl to my left to apologise and realised it was Kate Middleton, and they were just about to have their photo taken with her. I was mortified and fled the room and hid in the toilet! When I came out I went straight to my table in the main dining room and waited for the arrival of the royal party and their special guests. I had missed my moment. Still I did get a lovely close-up look at the Duchess, and although I think she is too thin she is very lovely both to look at, and in her nature. So I think Will is a lucky man, as are we as a nation, to have a couple representing the country who are such a down-to-earth couple, but also who have a great deal of style and class. Please let our younger generations aspire to them, rather than being a celebrity style bling society who value nothing but too much money and no taste. Ooh, listen to me. But I can say things like this now, because I have got cancer!

July ended on a high note with tea at Claridge’s with my sister Jean, a birthday present from a lovely friend, Katie Mallalieu. We met on Twitter, can you believe? She was a big fan of
Calendar Girls
but we have become good friends ever since. Jean and I stuffed everything in our mouths – in a ladylike way naturally – and toasted ourselves with a glass of champagne as we hoped it wasn’t going to be our last supper! I was aware that this sort of diet was maybe not quite what I should be having but so far nothing else I had tried had worked, so I might as well indulge in a little something I’d enjoy for soon enough it would be back to the grindstone and my new routine of chemo, drugs and tests.

7

FIGHTING BACK

September 2013

I talked to the dietitian at the clinic and she put me straight on a few things. Basically all my healthy cooking was doing me no good at all! My particular form of colon cancer cannot cope with too much strong raw food, such as the spinach juicing, or the lemons. Fruit can be also awkward because of pips in the system, and basically I must revert to bland – and heavier – foods such as white bread, pasta and dairy products. How bizarre is that? Also, I was told, because the chemo takes so much out of you, it is important to try and eat 3,000 calories a day to fight the side effects of the treatment – 3,000!

I consider myself to be a little bit of a piggy when it comes to food, and as someone who seems to be on a lifelong diet it had sometimes been a nightmare starving myself of all the things I love. And suddenly here I was being encouraged to eat full fat milk, cream and butter. Mind you, I have always maintained that dairy produce, as in animal fats, is so much better for you than anything processed. I wish there was more education on food and especially where it comes from, so young people get a balanced idea of a healthy lifestyle, and more emphasis on the importance of eating proper meals too rather than snacking and grazing all day on rubbish. If you eat properly at mealtimes and sit and digest your food correctly you won’t feel hungry. The whole sugar thing too is a minefield. When I was young cakes and sweets were a rare treat, not given endlessly as a way of shutting us up and keeping us quiet. We never had fizzy drinks in the house, it was water or nothing. I have always fed my children a balance of good and bad.