There's Something I've Been Dying to Tell You Read online

  I have seen so many marriages fall apart because the couple are not together enough, and Michael and I were never without each other in those four years. I don’t know how we survived without a cross word, but we did. He was able to work from a laptop so had his own agenda and I spent a good deal of time doing work for the various charities I support. It was fantastic to get out of London and see how things really work in our society. We tend to think London is the centre of the universe, but it is only like every other capital city around the world. Oh yes it is diverse and multicultural, and exciting, but it is not remotely connected to the rest of the UK.

  When I had finished touring Calendar Girls, I had to think about the next step for me. David Pugh and Dafydd Rogers were the producers of Calendar Girls, and David Pugh and I had discussed several times what I should do next. I did not want to go back to Loose Women as I felt I had no more to talk about. The problem with being on TV week in week out is that one runs out of stories about one’s life; and the day-to-day stuff is not always thrilling and exciting and worth discussing. I also had the feeling that my career as an actress was not being taken very seriously. It is all very well having a high profile but if one is not careful these days you can become famous for being famous, which is not something I had ever wanted in my career. Television did not seem to beckon so I looked to the stage, and there was David one day, sitting in the alleyway outside Sheekey’s restaurant in Covent Garden, which David uses as a second office, with a fantastic suggestion. He still owned the rights to A Passionate Woman by Kay Mellor. He had produced it in the West End nearly twenty years ago, starring that wonderful actress Stephanie Cole, and this would be the play to set me back on course. It is a brilliant piece of writing, a very dark comedy about a woman in her late fifties on the day her son is getting married. She is in a loveless marriage, and the thought of life stretching before her without her beloved son produces some surprising reactions from her, and everybody around her. I was so excited about this production.

  I had an action-packed day when we auditioned five Polish actors to play opposite me. We already had Christopher Timothy onboard to play my husband, so that was great as we had been married before in All Creatures Great and Small and he is just so lovely. We had also auditioned for the role of my son and cast Peter McMillan, who gave a very impressive audition. The plot involves Betty, my character, having had a passionate affair, many years ago, with a young Polish immigrant who then gets shot and dies. During the course of the play he appears to Betty and brings back so many memories, not least how attracted she was to this very passionate young man. David Pugh decided he wanted a Polish actor who spoke English, rather than an English actor trying to speak with a Polish accent, so instructed the casting director, Sarah Bird, to come up with some names. Being the brilliant woman she is they duly arrived at Luton, by easyJet, one May morning. I then had the onerous task of spending a morning snogging five young handsome Polish actors. I didn’t mention this to hubbie at the time!

  Kay Mellor, who wrote the play and was to direct it, and David Pugh and Dafydd Rogers, the producers, all sat in the stalls and watched with great glee as I grappled with my would-be lovers. I can’t remember whether Mateusz Demięcki came in second or third, but it was one of those theatrical moments where, when he opened his mouth to speak, we all just stopped and watched, completely caught up in his performance. He had learned the lines for the scenes instead of reading them, which is always very impressive, and he had no inhibitions at all – and just swept me up in his arms and made love to me there and then. Well of course when I say “made love to me” he was acting! But he was fantastic. After he had left the stage we all recovered our breath, especially me. I was having a hot flush, frankly!

  David said we must see all the other actors before we made any decisions, and of course that is absolutely right. We did so and then we broke for lunch and went to sit at a table in the alleyway outside Sheekey’s. There really was no contest and David rang Mateusz and told him to come back at two o’clock to go through the scenes again. All those other poor lads had all day to wander around until their flight back in the evening. Two o’clock duly arrived and we all trooped back into the theatre. I had had a glass of wine to fortify myself against another onslaught of passion. Who am I kidding? I couldn’t wait! Sorry, hubbie, I’m only joking.

  After we had gone through the scenes again David came up onto the stage and announced that Mateusz had got the job. The young man looked absolutely stunned and said, ‘Please don’t make joke with me. Is this candid camera?’

  David was so excited. He told me later that one of his most favourite things in life is when he gets to tell someone they have got the job, which I thought was so lovely of him. We all went back to Sheekey’s in the alley and had a glass of champagne to celebrate, and as we were sitting there a man came over and asked Mateusz for his autograph. They had a conversation in Polish and then the man left happily clutching his piece of paper.

  ‘I am so sorry, Mateusz,’ I said. ‘Are you very famous in Poland?’ It had not occurred to any of us, I don’t think, that maybe this very talented young man had a great career in another country.

  ‘No not really,’ he replied modestly. ‘I did a series for TV and everyone got to know me a little bit.’

  A little bit?! It turns out he is the sort of David Tennant of Poland and his whole family is in the theatre. He works for their National Theatre and is feted wherever he goes. Not great news for our producers, who could see the wage bill rising in their mind’s eye! But great news for the play and, as we waved goodbye at the end of the day and agreed we were all looking forward to the read through in a few weeks’ time, I was on cloud nine.

  The day of the read through did indeed arrive on 28 June 2013, a day I will never forget. I had been told there was a problem with a shadow on my liver that morning, and that I must cancel my holiday to Greece, starting that Sunday, and go and see a colon specialist on the Tuesday.

  By the time I got to the read through I was in pieces. I told no one except dear Chris Timothy, who just gave me a big hug and said to try not to think about it until Tuesday. Just enjoy today. I took his advice and threw myself, heart and soul, into that read through. When we had done I was on such a high but as I gradually came down to earth while we sat celebrating the successful read through, I could no longer push the negative thoughts aside. Thank God my wonderful, special husband came round the corner in the nick of time and whisked me away.

  We decided to meet our dear friends Angie and John Chandler for lunch on the Saturday and we discussed the holiday that we had had to cancel. They had been intending to join us for the last week. It was not a very jolly lunch, I have to say, and by the end of the weekend Michael and I had run out of positive things to say to each other, we just wanted to get the meeting on Tuesday over with, and done and dusted. The day finally came and those unforgettable words resounded round the surgeon’s office, ‘Now about your cancer, Miss Bellingham,’ and, well, you know the rest by now.

  With A Passionate Woman I had finally found a project that was exciting and would set me off again on the road to acting glory! I joke, but believe me, acting is a very tough and cruel business to survive in, and I intended to survive to my dying day.

  Yet now suddenly, ironically, I faced my dying day, and I was going to have to give up my dream. I was devastated when I realised that I would have to cancel the tour. The Monday after my first chemo I spent hours on the phone to my agent Sue Latimer. She also happens to be a dear friend, and so I could talk honestly and freely with her. David and Dafydd were prepared to postpone and wait to see how I got on with the chemo.

  I asked my oncologist if there was any way I could have my chemo sessions at different hospitals around the country when I toured. Or maybe I could come back to London every fortnight and have the chemo on the Monday morning before travelling to my next theatre date. I was clutching at straws and I knew it. Although I had no terrible side effects from the first chem
o I was experiencing fatigue already, and flu-like symptoms which I tried to disguise with painkillers. It would be impossible to hold a performance together night after night.

  The final nail in the coffin (if you will pardon the expression) was insurance. There was no way the producers would be able to insure me for a nationwide tour. So that was that. My career was to end, just like that. Oh I could maybe do the odd appearance in a TV drama. Or maybe some reality things and documentaries, but as to any more life-changing career roles?

  Well it now seemed that I was destined to create my role as a cancer victim. The bloody disease had beaten me before I had even started. I cried my heart out. I know it must seem very odd to some people that I seemed more upset about my career than my family. Believe me, that was not the case, but the weird thing about death or the idea of leaving one’s loved ones, is that somehow it’s easier for the person with the problem. It is the thought of leaving them alone that is so awful. For them it is a terrible loss in their lives, but for me I would be off wherever, and out of it.

  But in the meantime to live without working was just unbearable to me. I have been an actress for forty-five years. It has saved me from disaster so many times. I am defined by my work, in a way, as so many of us are in life. Yes, I have my sons, but they are grown men, and although I know they love me, they have their own lives to lead. My marriage to Michael has been so wonderful and such a surprise, and I am only too aware that I would be leaving him just as we were embarking on the twilight of our lives. We had so many plans to travel and enjoy ourselves. Michael also understood I needed to work as well. Everything was set up to move forward to a happy ending. But as we all know life is not like that.

  I only found out my prognosis two days before the news was announced in the press. I had really had no time to digest my situation myself and, to be honest, I was still in a state of disbelief.

  It is so hard to explain – although I wasn’t in denial, I could not help but think there had been a mistake. I kept asking Justin Stebbing whether I would be able to cope with eight shows a week, and all the travelling. I think he too wanted it to be OK, so he never really gave me the definitive ‘No’ that had to come. David and Dafydd wanted me to take my time and make absolutely sure that I could not combine the play with the chemo sessions, but for them it was about the nuts and bolts of salvaging any funds, so they had to go to the insurance company which, in turn, left no option but to tell the press and the people who had already bought tickets that the deal was off.

  Then the barrage of questions began. The main one being what kind of cancer did I have? I have been criticised by some people for not responding with the truth, but I was still in shock, and it was not my choice to put myself in the spotlight like that. The public and the press assume that all actors and everyone in show business court publicity as a matter of course, but that really is not the truth of the matter. I, personally, have always been wary of the press and for good reason. Many times they have tried to creep up on me, or my family, and I am often misquoted. I guess it is par for the course, and when I sign a contract for a job there is always a clause stating the actor must do a certain amount of PR. This I understand, but in general I would rather be left alone and judged on my work, not my social life. Nowadays the whole social media thing is a nightmare, and we are all tarred with the same brush. It is assumed that anyone in the public eye must expose themselves to minute scrutiny, and divulge every facet of their private life. Many ‘celebrities’ thrive on it. Well good luck to them, but that is not the answer for everyone, and certainly not me.

  However, I have had enough experience of the media to know that if I did announce what sort of cancer I had there would be endless discussions about it, even if I was not present. Especially if I was not present. How many times have you seen someone on the sofa of a morning television programme who has been dragged in because they have similar symptoms to whoever is ill? Someone with the same cancer? There they are professing to have intimate knowledge of another person’s illness. I did not want that, and anyway my body is my body, and why should I share everything with the world? So I declined to comment.

  Then the attention turned to my hair colour. The papers made such a fuss about the fact I had gone grey, well white, when I appeared on This Morning. It was mad. I had tried to explain that the reason I had returned to my natural colour was because I had been hoping to do this play, A Passionate Woman, and wanted my hair to be grey and didn’t want to wear a wig. Little good it did me. No one was interested in the truth! I spent the next month trying to come to terms with my situation. I was mortified that I had let down the two Davids and Kay Mellor. But they promised they would not do it without me, which made me feel a million dollars and gave me such inspiration to fight back.

  However, it still left me with a gaping hole in my life and an uncertain future. Suddenly I was no longer in control of my life.

  5

  A TEXTBOOK CASE

  July–September 2013

  My new regime began in earnest. I was given various pills to take every day and lined them up on the kitchen counter. What a palaver. I had anti-sickness pills, painkillers, indigestion pills and the telltale sign of approaching age: blood pressure pills.

  Without going into too much detail the one big problem I was facing was the bowels. Oh what joy to wait in anticipation for movement, then when it happened it was not exactly pleasant. Do not fear, dear reader, I will stop there but it is important to note that unfortunately, due to the nature of bowel cancer, there is a good deal of attention centred on things of that nature. One needs a sense of humour to get through it all and I want to be as honest as I can to get the message out there.

  Justin Stebbing had explained to me that there would be side effects to the chemo which was something to look forward to. However, initially, through the first couple of weeks, things were not too bad.

  Two days after chemo I have to take an injection for the white blood cells. I am pretty good with needles and such like, but couldn’t quite bring myself to do the injection personally, so my dear husband took on the role. I must say he seemed to relish the job, which surprised me as, like most men, he can be such a wimp about needles when it comes to his turn.

  The side effect of the injection, however, was three days of flu-like symptoms and I must say I felt pretty rough. It also made me feel a bit depressed about the whole bloody cancer business. As long as there is no obvious pain or signs of illness I could push all negative thoughts aside, but feeling grotty was not helpful. I even had hay fever. I mean, come on God, give me a break!

  By the second session I had started to develop pins and needles in the tips of my fingers and toes. It was not unpleasant but distracting all the same. The skin on my hands and fingers was starting to peel and by the end of my third session I had no ridges to my fingers and the fingerprint recognition feature on my laptop no longer recognised me – I could have committed murder and left no evidence. How quickly one is forgotten. Never mind the public, even my appliances refused to acknowledge me.

  The worst effect was that for a day after chemo, every time I swallowed it was as though I had a row of razor blades at the back of my throat slicing away at anything that came its way. It was agonising. The pain only lasted for a few seconds, but I would keep forgetting and take a sip of a drink, or something, and nearly hit the roof. There was also a problem now with cold things. If I took something from the fridge or freezer I got cold freeze burns. This resulted in very strange looks in the supermarket as I would put on gloves on a boiling hot July day to pick up my frozen food from the cabinet. The air conditioning in these places is ridiculous at the best of times but now, for me, it was like a mission to the North Pole!

  I was also suffering mouth ulcers, so had to gargle three times a day with salt water. My eyes started to weep and go all crusty, my nose would either bleed or drip at any random moment, and I was still having to monitor my bowel movements which became an art in itself. The painkillers
make you constipated so then you would have to take something to loosen the bowels, but then, after chemo, it would all run away with itself again and I would be back on the Imodium trying to slow it all down again. It was a never-ending saga. What makes me smile now is when people come up and whisper very solicitously to me, ‘How’s it going?’ I feel like saying, ‘Oh the cancer is great, thank you, but let me tell you about the chemo, mate.’

  Then there was the question of my teeth. I had struggled for many years with teeth as I had wonderful strong teeth with no fillings but awful, crap gums which were not going to do the job of keeping my teeth in my head for much longer. I had had several procedures to cut away some of the gums and had learned the hard way about flossing to keep gums healthy. As a sixties child, society was great at dealing with the pill and sexual freedom, but it would seem dentistry had a long way to catch up with the beautiful people. By the time I finally summoned up the courage to get my teeth whitened it was all in vain, because thanks to the good old chemo I could no longer use the process as it is not on the list of recommended things to do.

  The good news (oh thank God for that I hear you all breathe a sigh of relief) is with this particular chemo I was not going to lose my hair. I was rather fond of my new silver fox look so that was great news, and as work was difficult to get there was no point in pushing the networks for a starring role in the next season of Breaking Bad, though I must say I had rather fancied myself as an English Eccentric growing skunk out in the wilds of the desert. Me and Walt could have had a good thing going there.

  Excuse my ramblings but the actress in me is never far away, which is why it is tough having to include all these unattractive physical aspects to my already ageing body. Getting old in itself is a difficult enough issue for any woman to face. I had been trying for a while to be positive and embrace the positive aspects of ageing, though they are few and far between. I went to see my gynaecologist, the most incredibly wonderful Marcus Setchell who has now become Sir Marcus Setchell having delivered Prince George. I have been looked after by him and his fantastic assistant Carole for many years, and was never really quite aware of just how important he was. I feel very honoured that he has kept me blooming with implants of HRT. I asked him if they would have to stop as well now that I was undergoing cancer treatment. The answer was absolutely not, which was a great relief because I was not sure I could also cope with the change of life at this point. Hot sweats and runny poo would be just too much to bear! I must say though that all these annoyances were minor in the great scheme of things. This was now literally about life or death, so a few ups and downs had to be tolerated.