This Much Is True

The star of our year was blonde, caustic, brilliant Susan Andrews. She died five years ago from Alzheimer’s — Liz Hodgkin, Annie Whitehead, me and a few others scattered her ashes in the River Lee. There were two other Jewish girls — Liz Miller from Hull: very elegant and beautiful, a gentle soul; and Laura Kaufman, reading Law: intense and nervous, unsatisfied, with a perfect, chiselled face. Her family background was unhappy; I wasn’t surprised when I visited her dark Mayfair home and met her tight-mouthed mother, so different from mine, but in Old Hall Laura laughed a lot. And there was glamorous Jill Corner, from Darlington, reading Modern Languages: glowing dark eyes and a soft North East accent; all the boys adored her. She was Catholic, plagued with stomach problems, often fainting but always lovingly surrounded with admirers, a loyal friend even now. And my closest friend, Sophy Gairdner, from a magical Cambridge family of four sisters: calm, thoughtful, compassionate. Sophy is still part of my life. My Newnham friends became my family. I cannot imagine being without them. I honour and cherish what they have given to me and continue to give.

First-year students to Cambridge, as with most universities, are invited to attend the Freshers’ Fair, where the different societies display their wares. Each society had a table with their leaflets, programmes and badges, and the president of the society sits there to answer questions and encourage the freshers to join. Mummy always went to the Ideal Home Exhibition — it was similar and equally mouthwatering. I knew I would join the Jewish Society and as many drama clubs as possible, but the Cambridge University Social Services Organisation (CUSSO) was a delightful surprise: their leaflets explained that they visited prisons.

My OHS obituary in the Form magazine had predicted I would become a probation officer rather than an actress. My delight in criminals had started as a schoolgirl; one of my hobbies had been to go to the Oxford County Court sessions and listen to the cases, sitting in the public gallery. I saw and heard the details of crime close up, and joining the social services organisation was a continuation of that. I sometimes wonder if the appeal of the criminal community might stem from the DNA input of my felonious grandfather.

I went to visit Broadmoor (an institution for the criminally insane) with CUSSO; I’ve never forgotten it. We were taken around the jail to meet the inmates, and we were left alone with them. I can remember this very vividly, because many of the incarcerated at Broadmoor looked as mad as snakes. Sorry if that offends some of you, but it is so. They looked vicious and deranged and of course I knew that they were nearly all murderers. Our group was taken to the carpentry workshop, full of saws, drills and screwdrivers — useful tools for murder. And I was so interested in talking to the inmates that I got left behind: everybody else continued the tour, and I was left chatting to the men making cupboards and shelves and toys. I suddenly realised that I was on my own in a room full of sharp objects and mental patients; for the first time, I became scared.

I remember thinking: ‘I must not show that I’m terrified. That would be very rude.’ So I said, ‘Oh, blimey, I am so sorry. It’s been fascinating talking to you, but I’ve got left behind. I’d better hurry up and join the others.’ And I left.

Naturally, at the Freshers’ Fair, I joined the drama societies: the Mummers and the CUADC — the Cambridge University Amateur Dramatic Club, which has its own theatre called the ADC.

It was then that I started to act regularly and, I suppose, determined that I would become an actress. You had to audition to join the ADC, and the piece I chose was Lady Bracknell’s interview with Cecily Cardew. On stage, I wore trousers tucked into hockey socks because it was so cold — perhaps unsuitable garb for Lady B, but I must have made the right choice because Christabel Keith-Roach (bless her) saw my audition and immediately said, ‘We’ll have her. She’s good.’ So, I joined the Amateur Dramatic Club and worked a lot with all the college drama societies, including Queens and Trinity Hall (every college, apart from Newnham, had its own drama group), doing Shakespeare and Marlowe and many obscure modern plays too.

Acting became the focus of my Cambridge world. That, and my crush on my moral tutor, Lesley Cook, on which more below. Oh, and sucking people off.