And so I began my new life. It sounds very dramatic, doesn’t it? But it was a new life. In writing this book I have been shocked at just how much alcohol played a part in my life, and none of its influence was good, or constructive, in the end. Yes, it’s great to have a few glasses of wine now and then. If you can do that, no problem. But some of us can’t have just one glass. It’s the same as smoking – if I could have had the odd cigarette after a meal, fine. But I could never stop at one, so it was easier not to do it at all.
And stopping drinking doesn’t mean my life is a misery, or that my sex life is ruined, or that I have no social life. But it does mean I can see life clearly now. I love my life and I intend to keep living it for a long time with Mr Spain.
WHILE I WAS doing Sugar Mummies I went on Loose Women on ITV to talk about the play. I had always loved the programme. It had started ten years before as a lunchtime chat show with a panel of four women, from an idea taken from an American show called The View. It had been moved to different time slots over the years but, for the last couple of years, it had found the perfect spot, at lunchtime, Monday to Friday.
I loved the format of women being able to chat about almost anything. The regular panellists were very open and honest and it was good fun to be on as a guest, as well.
I knew Denise Welch a little, and when I found myself riding a tandem bike with her for a charity event, I asked her to put a word in for me at Loose Women in case they needed any new permanent contributors. As I’ve said before, this industry is all about timing and sometimes the timing was right for me: I got a call asking me to go for a trial.
I was thrilled and nervous. These ladies were not to be messed with. I went on the show with Coleen Nolan, Carol McGiffin and Jane McDonald and the host, Jackie Brambles. I loved it. I think I probably tried too hard to be witty and amusing for the first few programmes, but everyone does that. Jane and I hit it off immediately but I felt that Carol and Coleen were sizing me up. In those early programmes I felt excluded or shouted down when I tried to join in. Carol is very much the rebel on the panel. She has the reputation for hard living and going out and getting pissed. Actually I discovered she doesn’t hold her drink very well so it doesn’t take much for her to have a good time. Coleen is brilliant at undercutting any discussion with a quip. I knew Sherrie a bit from our acting days and Andrea and I have a mutual friend in Penny Smith. I realised that the way forward in the show was to find my own niche and not try and compete with the other girls. I think that is what works for all of us. The combination of personalities at any one time.
As the weeks went on I discovered I had a good deal in common with all the girls in different ways. When we go into the meetings every day, to discuss the content for the show, we sometimes get really heated and really honest. It’s like going to group therapy. At first I tried to hold back, and not be too open because you don’t want everyone to know your business, but it doesn’t work like that. You have to be up front. I had been a drinker, so I could relate to Carol, but also she and I agree on quite a few things, like the role of women in society, and family values. I was happy to let Coleen do the jokes and I would slip one in sometimes, but mainly I found my own anecdotes to tell, and became a kind of elder stateswoman of the piece. We are all so different and what works for the show ultimately, in my opinion, is when we work as a team, and everyone gets a say.
The production team is also fantastic and a complete mix of the young and not so young. Karl Newton, who is the executive producer, has been with the show from day one and is a very canny operator. The producer, Sue Walton, is a wonderful woman and very good at her job. And we have an editor called Emily who has the toughest job, in a sense, because she has to make sure the content of the show has a balance. That means she not only has to keep an eye on what we talk about, but also, sometimes, keep our egos in check!
It is very difficult when we have a heated discussion not to end up all talking at once, as it does not make good television. We have earpieces so that Emily can talk to us at all times and this can take some getting used to. Sometimes when I am off about something, Emily tells me to shut up (not in so many words, but she does sometimes tell me to get a move on because time is running out). You will know when this happens because if you look closely enough, you will see my eyes glaze over and I sort of slow down and run out of steam!
As the show is broadcast live, we also have to be very careful about bad language. I have been caught a couple of times: I said ‘bollocks’ once but I have no idea where it came from (I was talking about cuckoos of all things, and suddenly out it popped!)
The worst moment I have witnessed was the live show starring Joan Rivers. She is amazing and once she starts talking there is no stopping her. She was going to be on for two parts of the show with a commercial break between the two parts. As we approached the end of the first half Miss Rivers was in full flow telling a story about Russell Crowe. Before anyone could stop her she was saying, ‘He was a fucking little shit.’ The studio audience gasped and I honestly thought I was hearing things. There was a moment when everything seemed to stop and then pandemonium reigned. The editor was screaming in our ears, ‘Go to the break!’ while we all just sat there with our mouths open. Jackie Brambles very quickly apologised to the audience and got us off air.
The producer, Sue Walton, then appeared on the studio floor and asked Miss Rivers to leave. Joan was professing her innocence, saying she thought we had a delay system that bleeped out any swear words on a live show. There were mixed messages from the production box, too. First they were saying she had to go. Then they decided to carry on and were telling Jackie to apologise again at the top of the next half.
The floor manager in the studio prepared to give the countdown to going live for the next part of the show as we all tried to compose ourselves, and Joan Rivers was being very funny and cracking jokes and telling everyone not to worry, her lips were sealed and she would not use any more swear words.
The countdown started. Ten, nine, eight … suddenly there was a decision to take Joan off! The producer appeared and literally dragged her out of the studio! I later heard Joan Rivers on a talk show describing being thrown off the set, and her Manolos dragging on the floor!
As the show started again, we were all sitting in a row absolutely speechless. Emily was shouting in our ears, ‘Say something, say something!’ I turned to Carol and asked her a question about something we had talked about earlier, but she very quickly turned it back to me and thankfully I was able to talk sensibly for the next few minutes, while everyone sorted themselves out.
It’s amazing, really, that we do not have more scary moments like that. I must say it gets the old heart racing.
In the three years I have been doing the programme we have had a couple of changes. There are more of us ladies now. I think this gives the producers a chance to keep things fresh. Jackie Brambles left in July 2009 to do other things. She was great and had masses of journalistic experience, which I think was very good for the show. Since I joined in 2007, both Jane and Carol have ended their reigns of celibacy: Carol has a lovely young man called Mark and Jane has rediscovered her old flame, Ed. Coleen got married to Ray and Denise is still married to Tim Healy! And apart from being a fantastic job with lovely people, it changed my profile virtually overnight. That is the power of television. All the theatre tours and plays are great, but the general public generally do not really register you until you are on the box!
I WAS ENJOYING MY new life, sober. And I had one wonderful moment of recognition at this time: I was offered an Honorary Doctorate of the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts.
Thanks to Nik Grace, I had done a workshop for the school a few months earlier. I was so nervous about it but Nik and Mark Featherstone-Witty, the principal, persuaded me and I had a ball. I talked about comedy, my favourite subject. So now I was going to go up to Liverpool and be presented with my diploma by Sir Paul McCartney. A Beatle!
We were all waiting to
go into the hall and forming an orderly line behind Sir Paul, and I made a rude joke. What a surprise. Everyone laughed and Sir Paul said something about how that was very like me, or something, and I replied, ‘But you don’t know me.’
To which he replied, ‘Ah, but Lynda, we all feel we know you as we have grown up with you.’
I was so thrilled. Him grow up with me? I don’t think so. Me grow up with him? Of course. I had every LP ever made of the Beatles. I have one of their songs for every event in my youth.
Sir Paul was incredible at the ceremony that day. It had just hit the headlines that he was going through a divorce from Heather Mills and you could see he was very wobbly. I was sitting next to him and asked if he was OK.
‘Yes, as long as you’re not too nice to me, because then I might start crying.’ I gave his arm a squeeze to show I understood.
The students were amazing that day. Each one either hugged him or shook his hand and he did it all with such good grace. What a wonderful example to have at the beginning of a career. I found him inspiring and I was three-quarters of the way through mine!
In 2007, I continued with my new broom to sweep my life clean. I also appeared in a fantastic play called Vincent River by Philip Ridley. It starred myself and a young actor called Mark Field. It was very dark and dramatic, and ran for an hour and a half without an interval. It was a marathon for both of us. I have never been so frightened as I was on the first night. We opened at the Trafalgar Theatre Studio, a tiny studio holding seventy people. All the leading critcs came and I was very aware of them because they were so close.
Well, it was a triumph. I got the best reviews of my career. I was thrilled. Typical of my luck, though, we only played for three weeks so hardly anyone saw me and once it was over I was back in my box.
Michael and I decided to move. I had always said that as I got older and the boys left home I would want to move into a place that was serviced and safe. Having lived in old houses for the last thirty years, I had always had to deal with leaky roofs and all sorts of maintenance. So I wanted a, preferably, modern house, where all outside repairs were done for me. Mind you, I had Michael now, which made a big difference. Men who can actually ‘do’ things are few and far between: one afternoon he was repairing my gatepost, and got several offers from various ladies in the neighbourhood to do odd jobs!
So I found my present home, which is in an old converted hospital. I had passed it many times and seen the board advertising luxury apartments and done nothing about it. As usual it was Michael who suggested we take a look. I fell in love with the whole place straight away. The apartment we wanted had lovely big floor-to-ceiling windows, so the light was fantastic. There was also a courtesy bus, every fifteen minutes, to take people to the station and the local supermarket. How perfect was that? Michael organised a ‘For Sale’ board and within two days had sold my flat. The man is a miracle.
We had also decided to get married. Michael had thought about it a while before and had proposed, but I had said no. What a silly woman! But my life had changed so dramatically, so quickly, after all those years of misery, that I did not trust that Fate was at last being kind. Also, having made such a huge error of judgement with Nunzio, I still didn’t quite trust my instincts now. I also wanted to make sure that I was truly in love with the man, and not just a little grateful to him for helping me through the deaths of my parents. I had been so vulnerable then, emotionally, that it would have been easy to mistake my feelings. But now, having given up the drink, and able to see clearly for the first time in years, it just felt right.
The night I said yes, we were having dinner at the Ivy, as we are wont to do. Since giving up alcohol our bill was positively tiny! Suddenly the waiter brought us two glasses of champagne. I raised my hand to stop him putting them down but Michael stopped me.
‘That’s fine. Thank you.’ I looked at him in amazement. Was he going mad?
‘But that’s stupid, Michael. We don’t drink.’
‘Go on, just this once, have a sip,’ he prompted. ‘One won’t hurt you.’ He raised his glass and clinked it against mine. ‘Here’s to us!’
I took a small sip, unconvinced it was a good idea and actually thinking how horrible it smelled. Something brushed my lips and I put my finger to my mouth as the champagne spilled a little. There was something in the glass. I fumbled around in it and found the object causing the trouble. A ring. An engagement ring. Rather a big ring! He is such a romantic and also the master of surprise. He gets me every time.
The journey to my finally saying yes had been a bit rocky. The first time Michael proposed to me, I was so confused. I was embarrassed because I could not say yes spontaneously. I tried to make light of it and explain how I felt but I could tell he was disappointed. Then he mentioned it another time, but in a more jokey way, which made it easier to refuse, but even so, he pointedly announced he was not going to ask again.
Then, one day, we went to see a solicitor to organise our wills. Because we were now sharing property together I wanted everything very clearly set out. What was his and what was mine. I had always been very clear that I could never go through what I went through with Nunzio again. I needed the security of knowing what was mine would stay mine. I know that is not very romantic but, believe me, when you have lost everything once you are never going to do it again.
Michael was great about it and completely understood. However, while we were with the lawyer going through everything, it became abundantly clear that it would all be so much easier if we were married and that if we were, the taxman would not reap all the benefits. I made a comment to that effect and caught Michael’s eye. We just sat there looking at each other. I loved him so much in that moment. It absolutely seemed the right thing to do.
‘OK, let’s get married, then,’ I said. The solicitor looked horrified.
‘Oh, no!’ she said. ‘You can’t get married just because of the taxman!’
We laughed and explained to her that we had discussed marriage before but that I had been reluctant to take that final step. Now, we could move ahead. It was a great feeling and we started to make plans straight away.
We decided we would get married at Christmas. Embarrassingly, it would be my third time and Michael was determined to make sure it was the last and the best! I had only ever been married in registry offices so it was going to be a white wedding, in every way, even if we had to manufacture the snow.
Tragedy struck, however, when my sister Barbara was diagnosed with lung cancer. The wedding plans were put on hold.
I must say I was very conscious at this time that as my life was coming together, my dear sisters were going through hell. Jean was struggling with her divorce – what could have been a civilised split as far as the money side was concerned turned into a nightmare, thanks to her husband’s selfishness and cruelty. It never ceases to amaze me how people that one thinks one knows can change overnight. So Jean had to deal with Barbara’s illness and the betrayal by the man she loved. She gave up her job to nurse Barbara and help David, Barbara’s husband, keep things together.
Barbara was incredibly brave during the next six months. She was determined to set her house in order. I was full of admiration because she chose to be positive and realistic at the same time. The prognosis was not good but she really tried to fight the disease. Never did any one of us concede the fight was hopeless and she fought right to the last, God bless her. I have so much to thank her for, not least because her death put a whole new perspective on my attitude to life. Similarly to when my parents died, her death made me want to live. I wanted to grab Michael and hold on to him tightly and never let him go.
Barbara passed away on 31st October, 2007. It was devastating for David and her two children, Louis and Bonita, but also for Jean. Of course, we had both lost a sister, but Barbara and Jean had been especially close, right from birth. Jean had not only lost our parents two years ago, but then her marriage and now her sister. It was a devastating time for her and I wa
s acutely aware that I was about to embark on a new life with Michael.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THIRD TIME LUCKY!
I HAVE TO ADMIT that I was embarrassed. My first wedding had resembled a press call for the film, Confessions of a Driving Instructor (I really had nothing to do with it at all and can only plead, in my defence, that my intentions were good, even if I was completely naive). My second wedding was a romantic attempt to dispel my first wedding day and show the world that love could conquer all, which was also incredibly naive. So why the hell, at nearly sixty, would I want to risk repeating it all? And what kind of wedding do you have at my age?
I desperately wanted to do the right thing for Michael, but in a way, I felt he had had his big day the first time around and I was not sure how he felt about doing it all again. It is difficult to explain my confusion. I loved him with all my heart, and I believe that one of the main reasons for getting married is to make that commitment to a person in a church before God, and to show the world you are prepared to share your life with this person, so it should be enough to just go off and get married with a few friends privately. But there was still a bit of me, deep down, that wanted the wedding I had never had. Michael knew this and encouraged me to go for it.
I had also always wanted a big party. I had tried to organise it for my fiftieth birthday but just could not afford it at the time, so now Michael suggested we do it for my sixtieth and have the wedding at the same time. Michael does not do things by halves! I feel that part of the success of our partnership is that Michael is just bigger and braver than me. We have the same dreams and aspirations, but whereas I tend to think they can never be more than just dreams, Michael makes them happen.
He swept me up in the plans and set me tasks to do. I spoke to Richard Barber, a good friend but also a journalist who works a lot for Hello! magazine, and one thing led to another, and we arranged a deal to turn my wedding fantasy into reality. I was very wary about teaming up with a magazine because I always felt that it would turn into a circus: much as I appreciated now having the resources to make the day special, I wanted to make sure it remained personal. I have to say that the Editor and staff at Hello! were terrific and never tried to influence any of my decisions.
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