Let’s Do It: The Authorised Biography of Victoria Wood

by Jasper Rees

  The shoot had finished by the end of June and Victoria’s thoughts returned to Cakes on a Train. Although she had plenty of experience of filming on steam trains, she sounded out Amie Beamish, who lived in Dartmoor, about visiting a steam railway in Devon and invited Jane Wymark on a research trip to the west coast of Scotland to ride along the famous railway between Fort William and Mallaig. Flights were booked for the end of August. But at the start of the month it was no longer certain if it would go ahead.

  There had been signs that all that was not well. During the filming of Fungus the Bogeyman Victoria developed what she thought was a sore throat which inhibited her appetite. The visible impact was evident to Sammy Murray when she showed her a photo of herself in costume: ‘My first impression was she’d lost a lot of weight.’ After the Fungus shoot she went on a holiday in Turkey with Piers Wenger, who when he got back to his desk at Channel 4 reported to his colleague Beth Willis that Victoria had not been herself. ‘We both knew,’ says Beth, ‘and we were desperate for her to go and get checked, and there was a slight delay as she wanted to go to the Lakes with Henry and we were frustrated she was not going to the doctor.’ Victoria was reluctant to put off the trip north because it was the first time Henry and his girlfriend would stay in Swiss Cottage. Henry noticed that ‘she was definitely uncomfortable, and just wasn’t in a good space. I didn’t wonder what it was consciously, probably for not wanting to. She was still willing to be gung-ho. We did a zipline near the cottage. We went on a canoe on the lake. But she was very tired and seemed like she was struggling a bit.’ While there she met the Glossops in Bowness. ‘There’s something really wrong,’ she told Charlotte Scott. ‘I’ve got to go back and see the specialist. It’s nothing good.’

  Back in London Victoria met Harriet Thorpe, who insisted on ringing a doctor friend. Over the next few days she underwent a series of tests that grew ever gloomier. She was initially encouraged that it might be a hiatus hernia, but by early August she was reporting otherwise to her sisters: ‘Don’t be too upset but it turns out that I have a lump outside my gullet and it’s malignant … I am sure it will be fine but of course I am pissed off having thought my cancer was behind me.’17 Her trip to Scotland now looked doubtful. ‘Tricks not good,’ she told Jane Wymark as she was ‘swept back into that world of backless gowns and injections … Oh well just have to get on with it.’18 Even a short overnight in Chichester to see Michael Ball in Mack and Mabel, choreographed by Stephen Mear, was cancelled.

  She kept the brutal news to a small circle of her closest friends. Damien Timmer, whose family were frequent visitors to Victoria’s home, texted the good news that they were buying a house two minutes away. She texted back: ‘I’ve just today found out the cancer’s returned.’ The shock of its return was intensified by disquiet about its location. ‘She had spent a couple of months wondering if there was something wrong and not knowing what,’ says Grace. ‘What was completely surprising was that it was in a completely new place in the body.’ Grace, who was once more singing in the chorus at Glyndebourne, was not surprised to find her mother reluctant to communicate with her children: ‘It was not just to shield us but because it was painful to talk about. She just didn’t want to be dealing with it at all.’

  In mid-August Victoria readied herself for a course of chemotherapy in Harley Street. ‘She was being very positive and practical about it,’ says Beth Willis, who sat with her in the garden before the treatment started. Her attitude was ‘just have to get head round it and get on with it’.19

  Her agent Lucy Ansbro’s job now was to fend off offers and enquiries. The trickiest came from BAFTA, which was keen to award Victoria a fellowship. Eventually Hilary Bevan Jones, who was on the BAFTA committee, was enlisted to explain to the chief executive that ‘as much as Victoria would love to accept a BAFTA Fellowship, this wasn’t the right year for her as she was juggling a number of things and didn’t know where she’d be at the time of the awards but to please ask her another time’. Even with her circle of friends, Victoria’s desire was to keep the news of her illness to a small and manageable group. She talked to Nigel Lilley about ‘slightly stripping down the friend group as things progressed. I don’t think she felt that she could maintain the levels of friendship that she’d had with everyone.’

  Victoria’s main mode of communication was texting, but Jane Wymark became an outlet for chatty updates about programmes she was watching, books she was reading as well as medical travails she was undergoing. She visited her hairdresser to prepare for the impact of chemo, then at the end of August Chrissie Baker, who for thirty years had crimped and primped Victoria for public appearances, came to Highgate for a different sort of commission: ‘Very exciting day yesterday … got Chrissie to shave my head which feels quite chilly so am wearing Last of Summer Wine style woolly hat.’20 A couple of days later she had her second course of treatment, which left her sense of humour unimpaired: ‘Left chemo at 8 45 last night … I was the last baldy standing – I thought they would tell me to turn out the lights and pop the keys back through the letter box.’21 Her morale was not always so invulnerable. Before the third course she insisted that ‘I don’t really have much fortitude – I feel very weedy and wimpy most of the time.’22 The wig she had was too itchy to wear for long and she awaited colder weather when she could go out in a hat.

  She was cheered in September when Grace took part in a competition at the Avignon Opera House and from a field of over 150 singers won a couple of prizes. For the next five months Grace would return to Highgate most weekends while resuming her studies at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland in Glasgow, where she had been for the previous year. Henry, who was a self-employed songwriter, was a more constant presence. ‘Because we’d been through it before,’ he says, ‘there was a feeling of, right let’s just get back to it then. Let’s do everything we can.’ His mother was glad when he and Steph, who had moved in, managed to get away for a weekend: ‘It must be a bit oppressive here at the moment tho he seems to deal with it very well.’23

  While the chemotherapy continued there was no chance of working, ‘as at least a week after each chemo I feel pretty bad and then slowly recover … but never totally bounce back before the next lot’.24 Victoria’s reading grew ever more escapist. From Agatha Christie she progressed to The Wind in the Willows and Mapp and Lucia: ‘Just want a cosy world as opposed to grim reality.’25 The television offered Strictly, Bake Off and Downton, for which she delighted in supplying alternative dialogue. In October Daniel Rigby came over to watch a stock of MasterChefs she’d recorded. Other methods of filling the time, such as learning Spanish or taking on a complicated jigsaw, proved too challenging.

  In late October Victoria received a visit from Sir Marcus Setchell, her retired former gynaecologist, who lived nearby. ‘He heard on the Prof grapevine I was sick again and offered himself for a cuppa – very sweet … it was all a bit best behaviour – but he’s said I can text him any time and he will tell me what questions to ask my consultant – which could be very handy.’26 By now she was off not only alcohol but even tea ‘which makes most trips to tea shops a bit pointless’.27 A round of chemo in early November made her anxious and tearful: ‘And then I feel a wimp and think there is probably someone in the next room who is having their leg cut off with just a slug of gin and a rag to chew on and I should just shut the fuck up.’28 A week later she regretfully had to forego a singing competition at the Wigmore Hall, where Grace was to sing. She asked Cathy Edis to go for her and, ever keen on evidence that her children’s talents might bring an income, was pleased that Grace came second and won £1,000. Spending so much time reading or in front of the television, she decided to replace her sofa cushions, which, she told Jane Wymark, were ‘so old they give no support and every time you plump them it’s like you sacrificed a chicken’.29 She continued to watch DVDs as a BAFTA judge and compared notes on some of the new releases with Jonny Campbell. Still the jokes came: ‘Hen is a tower of strength and may even tackle
his first Horlicks later for me.’30 But there were days, increasingly, when she stayed in bed: ‘Too much work to get dressed and what am I trying to prove? … am running out of patience with the whole sorry saga.’31

  This was a rare glimpse of deeper fears as Victoria courageously submitted to invasion by medical science. Stephen Mear had a portent one day that autumn when she agreed to leave the house to meet him: ‘She had a wig on, not a particularly great wig. The first time she’d ever done this to me – she gave me a hug and said, “Love you loads,” and she’s so not like that. She gives you a quick hug and that’s it. I rang Sammy and said, “I think that’s the last time I’m going to see her.”’ When friends got in touch she had to decide whether or not to loop them in. ‘I’m glad you emailed as I didn’t really want to text my news,’ she told her favourite tour manager Amie Beamish. ‘I wouldn’t have told you out of the blue – just letting people know as and when and trying to keep it quiet.’32 Friends not in the know approached about potential work. Shaun Dooley and Radford Neville, who in May had asked her to write up their drama idea about a disparate group on a long walk across Britain, came back to her in December. In her reply she admitted to ‘a few health problems lately’ which had impacted on her own project: ‘I don’t think I can stack anything else up behind it – I only want to be thinking about one thing at a time.’33

  Christmas approached, and friends looking forward to the annual invitation to mince pies and carols started to notice that Victoria had gone quiet. Two days before Christmas she received an anxious letter from Richenda Carey and felt the need to reassure her by return: ‘I suppose I have just changed myself over the years and I don’t seem to have the same energy or enthusiasm for being social as I did before I was ill three years ago. I was diagnosed with another cancer earlier in the year and have just gone through a lot of chemotherapy and am just starting to get over it. Not many people know and I find it easier that way and now I’m on a breather I’m trying to forget about it over Christmas.’34 This could easily have been sent to any number of old friends. Norah Wellbelove, whom Victoria had informed by email the day after her result in August, was kept at arm’s length having lost her husband to cancer after many years of illness. ‘I don’t want you to get back on the cancer bus,’ Victoria told her.

  Grace and Henry bought a Christmas tree and decorated it. As for the day itself, ‘in some ways it was difficult and in some ways it was really nice,’ says Grace. ‘Henry and I made the Christmas dinner and she ate as much of it as she could and said she was satisfied.’ She was exhausted for the next two days. Over the holiday they were visited by Piers Wenger, Daniel Rigby, Jonny Campbell and Beth Willis. Victoria was too unwell to join in a charades-type game they called In the Bag. ‘She was absolutely weeping with laughter,’ says Beth. ‘I remember her sitting on the sofa and just saying, “I can cope with the pain, it’s the dying I’m not OK with.” That’s the only time she acknowledged that she may not come out of this.’

  A couple of days after Christmas, Victoria, Grace and Henry sat down to Fungus the Bogeyman, then she spent New Year’s Eve feasting on the original Crossroads with Piers. In the Christmas episode they watched, Noele Gordon turned to the camera to sing a show tune while the cast had to look on. In Victoria this bizarre breach of the fourth wall provoked delight that could barely be contained.

  Very early in January Victoria was in the Princess Grace hospital for a small operation to insert a stent which would help her swallow. She was meant to go home that day but severe chest pain kept her in. Then she moved to the London Clinic to begin having radiotherapy as an in-patient. ‘It’s all been a bit of palaver,’ she told Rosalind, ‘so I am glad to be looked after here and not have to monitor my own symptoms.’35 She was happy too to give Henry a rest from responsibility. Two weeks on she was confident of going home soon. In fact, she stayed until beyond Easter.

  The room Victoria was given was on the first floor with a view over the Marylebone Road to the Royal Academy of Music, where she was an honorary fellow. She felt positive about her new surroundings. ‘It’s quite nice to have a change of scene,’ she told Jane Wymark. ‘I was getting utterly sick of the bed/sofa/radio 4 extra ground hog existence and the food thing became very depressing. So actually I feel quite peaceful here.’36 For the first month, as she underwent invasive treatments and procedures, she was reluctant to receive any visitors. At one point she lost her voice thanks to the radiotherapy and when she tried to explain to a member of staff that she had to be off anti-coagulants for two days it ‘was a struggle as I don’t think Jane Winearls ever taught me the international sign for Riveroxaban’.37 (Jane Winearls was the dance teacher at Birmingham University.) Ten days later her voice returned ‘in a Fenella Fielding kind of a way’.38 While Henry was there often, her tireless conduit to the outside world was Cathy Edis. ‘You are a huge help to me,’ she emailed in the midst of it all, ‘and we will have a jaunt when this is over. Love Vic.’39 Those friends who knew of her illness didn’t know who else knew – Victoria’s assistant for nearly twenty years kept them updated. Several supplied reading material: ‘Of course I keep getting books I’ve already read but there’s a misspent youth for you.’40 As she devoured book after book in a room on her own, it was as if the conditions of her solitary teenage existence in Birtle Edge House had been reconstructed fifty years on.

  By the end of January Victoria was open to the idea of a visit from Geoffrey, who scored a bullseye by introducing her to the novels of Tana French. ‘Geoff coming in this aft … should be OK I guess.’41 His presence tacitly acknowledged that the situation was now grave and that Grace and Henry needed parental support. Prompted by Cathy, who felt strongly that Victoria should have company, a trickle of visitors arrived. Rosalind was let in. Penelope came down from Yorkshire. Imelda Staunton was encouraged to go soon after returning from a long holiday. ‘I kept it fairly light,’ she says. ‘I wanted to say hello but was of course saying goodbye, but I don’t think she felt that at all. She was sitting by the window looking at the Royal Academy of Music across the road. She said, “It’s very good to see life going on.” She also said how wonderful Geoffrey was at that time. She said, “He has so stepped up. He has been absolutely brilliant.” Vic, whatever the circumstances, would give credit where credit was due.’

  Aside from Cathy and Henry, the most constant presence from February was Piers Wenger, who for ten years had been Victoria’s bulwark against loneliness: ‘To begin with she didn’t let me see her. I basically in the end managed to create a reason to go and went. Once I’d been once I was allowed to go quite a lot.’ Beth Willis arrived pregnant and loaded with books: ‘She went through each of them going “read it, read it”, this most random pile, and there were only about two she hadn’t read.’ She tired easily. Sometimes with her visitors she wanted to sit in silence, other times to read. Daniel Rigby, who was practically family, was aware that ‘if someone came in actively trying to buoy her up it didn’t feel genuine to her’.

  Mostly she could not bear to be seen by some of her dearest friends. ‘I don’t want a big gay crying at the end of my bed,’ she told Stephen Mear. Sammy Murray, who was down from Yorkshire for a meeting, was walking past the London Clinic and asked if she could come up. ‘She said, “Henry’s here. I think I’ll be a bit tired. Can we leave it to another day?” That’s how she used to fob us off. I said, “OK, but I’m going to tap dance across the street outside your hospital window. You better be watching because I’m going to make a tit of myself.” And I did it. I tap danced across the lights outside just in case she was looking through those net curtains. And she didn’t text me, so I don’t know.’

  In early March Victoria took the decision to have a second stent inserted. ‘They were saying it’s a 50–50 operation,’ says Henry. ‘She was really suffering up until that point. It was me, Steph and my dad in the hospital waiting room. It was late and the surgeon came down to say it was a success. I sat with her in intensive care after and we
talked about how relieved we both were. She got through it and it was the best thing ever.’ The next day Grace came down from Glasgow to visit and, with a job at Glyndebourne that month, soon moved back to Highgate. Victoria’s desire to go home now deepened. ‘I can’t bear to be here much longer,’ she told Cathy.42 One of her last visitors in hospital was Julie Walters, who found Victoria in a state of determined denial: ‘Vic said, “I just need to get this managed – the pain. And then I’m going to write something.” They were sending her home to die in fact, but she wasn’t going home to die. It was her way of dealing with it. Otherwise you have to face, OK this is the end. She didn’t want to do that.’

  Victoria, wearing jeans and a jumper and sitting on the edge of her bed, chaired a discussion about her return to Highgate with Henry, Piers, Geoffrey, Cathy, Rosalind and various doctors. Piers asked detailed questions about nursing care and took notes. On Easter Saturday, when she was permitted to go home for an hour as a trial run for a permanent return, he drove her back to Highgate through Regent’s Park: ‘I was going really slow and she was going, “Oh my God, don’t drive so fast!” Having been in hospital for so long it was quite overwhelming to her.’ Grace and Henry were there to greet her. The house was full of daffodils and scented candles. It was a happy hour and four days later Victoria came home for good.

  ‘Feel a bit nervous leaving hosp,’ she admitted to Jane Wymark, and yet she was determined to treat her return as a chance to recover.43 She decided to order some novels by Trollope. Paul Roberts, who sat on the steps of Sydney Opera House with her in 1997, visited and found that ‘she clearly wasn’t accepting how ill she was. Because she didn’t suffer fools gladly you didn’t want to bullshit her and I said, “Vic, you do not look well.” She said, “I don’t want to hear that.” We spent a lovely afternoon once I had cottoned on to the fact that Vic was happy denying the inevitable.’ When Nigel Lilley paid a visit she was full of plans. ‘I’m going to kick this thing,’ she told him, ‘get better and get back in the rehearsal room with you and Sammy.’