There's Something I've Been Dying to Tell You Page 8

  Interestingly, this divide also used to happen between film and television actors too. More so in America where you would hear a film actor (out of work naturally) announce grandly, ‘Oh my God I would never do episodic – it would ruin my film career!’ Episodic refers to any kind of TV serial. As I say, they usually were working as a waiter or waitress at the time. But that has all changed in the last few years and now American TV produces some of the best drama in the world. But where is the UK in all this? Still filling three-quarters of screen time with ‘celebrities’ in reality shows, because it is easy and cheap. It breaks my heart. Of course there is room for reality shows, but constant, non-stop wall-to-wall moving wallpaper?

  I was asked to present an award at the Olivier Awards 2013 in the West End. These are the awards for Theatreland, so I was very chuffed to think I was still considered worthy of mixing with the proper actors. When I was doing panto in Bradford, that winter, I became close to the lovely actors playing the ugly sisters. Well, I already knew Brian Godfrey but not Ben Stock, who is a super young actor. One evening a whole gang of Ben’s friends came to the show and I met a guy called Julian Bird, who is the chief executive of the Society of London Theatre and Theatrical Management Association and runs the Olivier Awards.

  ‘How fortuitous to meet you, Lynda. We would love to invite you to present an award for us if you would consider it?’

  ‘Would I? Not half!’

  The gong was for best male performance in a musical which was to be awarded to Michael Ball in Sweeney Todd, no less. I knew Michael so that was an added bonus, and the cherry on the cake was I would present the award with Brian May who I know because his wife, Anita Dobson, who needs no introduction from me, took over from me in Calendar Girls.

  I was so nervous as the night drew closer, and was encouraged to hear that Brian was also having stage fright. When we met up on the night we had very cleverly managed, without intending to, to colour co-ordinate ourselves into black and white, and though I say so myself I thought we looked rather smart!

  I had such a good evening because I didn’t care what anybody thought of me or whether I had a job to match those of the fine actors and actresses who surrounded me because actually I did have a fantastic job to go into, which was A Passionate Woman, and at that time I couldn’t wait to show the world what I could do.

  I always felt that Calendar Girls did not get the appreciation it deserved because it was such a commercial success. Once again we hit the snob button because some people seem to think that making money is not the ‘done thing’. It is considered better to appear in a financial flop that is ‘true drama, dear’, than a play that played to full houses for four years and drew standing ovations!

  I was thrilled to be made privy to the plans to turn the play into a musical. David Pugh told me that they were working with the original creator of Calendar Girls, the writer Tim Firth, on the project and I thought it was a terrific idea. Sure enough the work has been progressing and at the beginning of July 2014 David rang and asked me if I would like to hear a couple of songs from the show that Tim and Gary had written. One of them was entitled ‘To My Russian Friend’ and it sees my original character, Chris, singing to a bottle of vodka. Not wanting to appear ignorant and ask, ‘Who the hell is Gary?’ I trotted along to a studio in North London somewhere, and waited to be enlightened. Boy, was I enlightened! In through the door came Gary Barlow who sat down at the piano and sang to me! Me, little old lady with a stoma bag, being serenaded by Gary Barlow. All I can say is Take That and shove it up your jumper, Mrs.

  It was brilliant, absolutely wonderful, and a week later I watched a workshop with tears rolling down my face, it was so moving and the cast were all perfect. I know I must sound so theatrical and lovey-like, but sometimes, folks, you see something being created, and it is so inspiring, and it makes me realise how lucky I am to do something I still love so much. For all the bullshit in the business, there are also incredible moments of brilliance and teamwork, and lifelong friendships made.

  Talking of lifelong friends, my bridesmaid three times over, and lovely friend Lynda La Plante, was recently interviewed about her new book and she also talked about a play she has written which will go into production next year. It is called Murder Weekend and stars Elaine Paige, Christopher Biggins, Lesley Joseph and me. She had already mentioned it to me but I explained that I would probably have to be ruled out because no one would insure me with cancer. ‘I will pay for your insurance, Bellie.’ (That is my nickname by the way, rather apt bearing in mind my stomach problems. Oh the irony.) Bless her cotton socks for that kind of loyalty. Friendships have always been important to me but never more so than now I was going through something so daunting as cancer treatment.

  Another dear friend is Helen Worth, of Corrie fame. Here is another very talented actress and to my great delight she got married on 6 April 2013 at St James’s in Piccadilly, with a fantastic reception at The Ritz, no less. It was a wonderful day, though dare I whisper, full of traps, because I absolutely did not want to call any of the Corrie actors by their character names – which is so easy to do when you become so familiar with their characters and the world they create in these programmes, but a heinous sin in my book. After a couple of glasses of champagne I had to keep stopping for a second before I introduced anyone to anyone and re-run their names through my head! It was a nightmare. Helen had been on her own far too long in my opinion, so it was jolly good to see her snapped up by the handsome, and very talented music teacher and choir master, Mr Trevor Dawson. Take a bow, sir, and congratulations to them both.

  With so much of my time now taken up with my treatment, I was over the moon to receive another lovely invitation in April 2014 to present an award at the British Craft Awards. So I am not completely forgotten, I thought to myself. I am a great supporter of the production team on any television show or film. For years they were sort of treated like second-class citizens. The big boys – the cinematographers and art director and the like – get all the attention in the spotlight but the guys making the props, the wardrobe lady sewing the hems and the hair and make-up girls and boys who have to wrestle with a smelly, still drunk, actor or film star at five in the morning should be acknowledged too. I was therefore thrilled to be involved in this ceremony to honour their talents.

  One of the decisions Michael and I made when we got married was that we would make time to travel. We both loved the same kind of places and the same luxury! We are not campers or walkers I am afraid, we love luxury and retreats. This can make the holiday rather expensive so my husband is often on the laptop for days scanning possible bargains. We have been very lucky sometimes and because of a job I can manage to wrangle a deal, though I hate those people who spend their entire lives trying to get everything for nothing.

  In May 2012 we set off for Malaysia. Having finished the final tour of Calendar Girls, and wrestled with our court case, we were in dire need of peace and quiet. Thanks to a lovely lady called Kathryn Peel who has a PR company called Ophir, which deals in luxury travel, we booked to go to two different spa resorts. The first was on the east coast of Malaysia and called Tanjong Jara. The second spa was on a small island off the west coast of the mainland called Pangkor Laut, which we went to afterwards. Both were part of a group owned by a Chinese company called YTL and we were so impressed with their whole ethos.

  Tanjong Jara was wilder and more natural than Pangkor Laut. Hidden up a long drive in thick leafy vegetation, with the usual wood and rattan villas, there were beautifully laid out paths down to the sea and round the resort. There was a hidden oasis where a discreet bar by a pool could be found and there were tall palm trees swaying above us. One could walk along a practically deserted beach, as the waves crashed onto the shore, and imagine life on a desert island. We were very lucky to be upgraded to a beach front villa. I was primarily there to write my first novel Tell Me Tomorrow. I had just under three weeks to break the back of the manuscript, so time was precious. We made a plan w
here I would rise really early, before the sun rose in fact, and start on the laptop. I would sit on the veranda of the villa and watch the sun rise, and the birds dip and dive above and, most exciting of all, the arrival of the large monitor lizards waddling along the seashore, their huge tales flicking sand behind them. It was like being in a Hemingway novel writing my own novel. Sometimes when I couldn’t write and I gazed out to sea, desperate for inspiration, my eye would be caught by the activities of a huge spider weaving a web just above my head. I did not find that quite so inspiring, though, and would leap up and flap it away. What a wuss!

  Michael and I would walk across to the restaurant and have breakfast together and then he would take off up the beach until he was no more than a pink speck on the horizon. He loves to wear pink shirts so he was always easy to spot. I would try to write until at least two in the afternoon and then allow myself some sunbathing and a snooze. We ate dinner really early, which was always delicious, and I became addicted to cream coconut prawns.

  We would return to our villa and climb into this impossibly huge bed and watch English TV on the laptop, because Michael had this ingenious device called a Slingbox. I know it must sound so unimaginative to some of you but watching TV is the way Michael falls asleep while I read. However, it is sometimes difficult to concentrate on a book when you are writing one at the same time so I was able to succumb to the joys of Coronation Street from afar.

  There were some wonderful moments while we were there, especially when we were given the lovers’ welcome by the locals. You are King and Queen for the day. Every breakfast time Michael and I had watched with glee as poor unsuspecting couples were being covered with garlands of flowers and walked round the gardens with funny hats on. It was great fun really, but very loud, with loads of chanting and drum banging. One morning as we were chomping our way through a gorgeous pile of fresh fruit, we remarked on the approaching band and laughed to ourselves as we looked around for today’s recipients of the flower power. Oh dear, they were marching determinedly towards our table. Michael tried to get up and leave but it was too late. A hand on the shoulder and he was back in his seat covered in an array of foliage which actually, I must say, matched his pink shirt perfectly. Talk about colour coordinated. In a flash we were transformed into a cross between amiable pirates, with our printed scarves, and tribal warriors with our flowers and spears. Off we went to the cheers of the rest of the guests (you wait, I thought), round and round the garden, under and over ponds and streams, until we reached the ultimate destination, which was a fountain where we were doused liberally in water. Oh joy!

  Part of being the King and Queen for the day also involved an amazing massage in the spa. We were put in a bath under a kind of awning and washed. The water was very green but smelled wonderful! We were then led, wrapped in our cotton wraps of many colours, to a room full of light with two beds next to each other. We were made to lie down and we each had a gorgeous handmaiden who proceeded to scrub us, oil us, pound us and moisturise us. I felt like a piece of fillet steak! We both tried to make conversation but as the session went on we both drifted into the wonderful world of sleep. Michael insisted I woke him with my snoring and I retaliated with the same accusation. We both snored according to our lovely girls who found all our squabbling hilarious. Having had our massage we were then taken back to the bath in the garden and left to sit in water full of flower petals until I began to feel a little wrinkled. I did not want to rise up from the water resembling an ugly fruit!

  We were then left to dry ourselves and given fresh wraps. We left the spa after three hours of pampering and wandered back to our villa in a haze of sweet smelling oils. I think we virtually passed out that night we were so relaxed.

  After ten days we left Tanjong Jara and drove back to Kuala Lumpur where we took a plane to the west of the island, and then another drive to the coast where we boarded a motor launch to take us to Pangkor Laut. It was very hot, and all this travelling was not ideal, but YTL, the company who ran the whole organisation, just had it down pat. Every detail was perfect. The car was spacious and air conditioned with water ready for our consumption.

  We arrived at the landing stage and checked in, so the spa would know we would be arriving soon. A lovely air-conditioned waiting room with a cooling cocktail greeted us as we waited for our luggage to be loaded onto the motor launch, and the ride itself across the bay was exhilarating with the wind in our hair and the dramatic coastline of Malaysia in our sights. As we approached the island the huge trees and palms towered over us and the hills filled the sky, it was very impressive. The boat arrived at a long jetty and we followed the porter towards a beautiful, almost colonial-style porch and front desk. Acres of marble floors, huge pillars and enormous white sofas were the order of the day. There were no walls so there was a soft breeze lifting the voile drapes and whispering in the foliage that adorned huge plant pots. I was in heaven.

  We were greeted by a beautiful young lady, immaculately dressed in a linen suit, who spoke perfect English. After all of our details had been taken she took us through a few of the amenities, none of which I could remember afterwards – I always find that happens, and wonder, am I the only guest who nods inanely as the receptionist carefully explains what is on offer? Anyway there was plenty of time for us to discover the delights of the island for ourselves later.

  We were escorted to a buggy and driven to a jetty further down the beach. We then walked across the wooden walkway, with the sparkling turquoise sea below us, towards our villa which was rising out of the water to greet us. The porter opened the door and I just gasped, it was so perfect. There was a huge bedroom with a door leading onto a veranda looking out to sea and the islands beyond. The bathroom had a huge bath by a window which opened to the sea and everything was rattan or bamboo with rather beautiful wood furniture in the bedroom. The bed was huge and covered in flowers and there was a welcome note addressed to Michael and Lynda which was a nice touch and a clever sell too, don’t you think? Everywhere we went in the hotel and spa the staff always greeted us by our first names. The very first morning as we walked to breakfast staff smiled and waved saying,

  ‘Good morning, Lynda and Michael.’

  ‘How do they know our names?’ I whispered to Michael over breakfast.

  We asked one of the waiters who laughed and replied, ‘When you arrive at the boat house to take the launch we take your photo and then you are pinned on a wall and every day the staff have to study the photos and learn all the names of the guests.’ I think that is incredibly impressive if not a little scary!

  We quickly fell into the old routine from the first part of our holiday and I would rise early and write for a couple of hours then Michael and I would walk to the restaurant. The restaurant was a lovely stroll along the walkway then through some of the gardens, and finally we would arrive at the main restaurant which served absolutely everything you could possibly imagine and from every corner of the earth. Chinese breakfast specialities such as boiled fish and noodles stood alongside porridge and cream, or a full English fry up, it was fascinating. I would then return to the villa to write and Michael would set off to the spa. He would return a few hours later smelling like a curry, wrapped in a tie-dyed sarong, looking as if he had been smoking something naughty because he was not on the planet, he was so relaxed!

  I loved every day spent there. We ate sushi some nights, and there was an incredible Chinese restaurant built in a tree which served food like I have never tasted before. Our wedding anniversary and my birthday arrived and our bed was covered in garlands and good wishes. We had a beach dinner on the sea shore watching the sun go down, and then we walked back in the moonlight. The moon was so huge and so bright which was just as well, as we suddenly encountered an enormous monitor lizard on our walk way. He looked at us, and we looked at him, and nobody moved. I shushed him rather pathetically and he started towards us.

  ‘Help!’ I squeaked. ‘Michael, do something.’

  ‘Like what,’ whi
spered my beloved. ‘He is bloody enormous!’ And he was about twelve foot long, like a small dragon, and not friendly.

  We must have looked so pathetic standing there in the moonlight in our glad rags, waving our arms about. Fortunately they have members of the staff patrolling at night and a very nice young man came and moved the lizard on. It waddled away and slipped into the water silently. Phew!

  It was the most memorable holiday because I used all the emotions I went through in that beautiful place in Tell Me Tomorrow. The holiday also served as a reminder of how lucky I was to get another crack at a relationship aged sixty, which is when Michael married me. We have actually been together now for ten years this November and I have never known time go by so fast. Sometimes during these last few months I have marvelled at how deceptive time can be. A minute can last for hours and an hour passes in a minute. I have tried to grasp each moment and savour it because, although it is such a cliché, it is so true that we just do not appreciate what we have, and we must learn – I must learn – to live in the moment, especially now that I know my time is limited.

  In a way living in the moment is what one does on a holiday, I think. We take these precious moments and keep them close, often capturing them in a photo or a film, but for me it is keeping them in my heart that really counts. Writing now about Pangkor Laut, I can smell the flowers in the room and taste the sushi on my tongue, it is so vivid to me.

  The other holiday we have had more recently was a trip to Lake Como. I am a huge fan of George Clooney and we were joking one day about how wonderful it would be if, as part of my bucket list, I could visit Lake Como and bump into George and persuade him to let me play a cameo role in one of his films. I would even be happy with a non-speaking part in a Nespresso commercial if I could sit on his lap! I do not have a bucket list as it happens, as I am too busy enjoying what is around me, but still it prompted us to get out and do something and we booked to go to Lake Como.