Wigs, cigs and vodka — life with the luvvies
Early on in her career, theatre producer Thelma Holt found herself dealing with robert Maxwell. The first words he spoke to her were: ‘There are three things you need to know about me: I don’t drink, I don’t gamble and I don’t sleep with women.’
‘Mr Maxwell, how splendid,’ replied Holt. ‘at least we have two things in common.’
Thelma, a red-headed force of nature, could only ever have worked in the theatre — her name is an anagram of Hamlet — and the one quality she didn’t share with robert Maxwell gets plenty of coverage. Unable to master the instructions for her dishwasher, she stored wine in it instead.
She can be absent-minded. Distracted one evening by a phone call from the director Sir Peter Hall, she forgot to put on her dress, and only realised halfway through watching a play that, underneath her coat, she was wearing just a bra and tights. It’s inevitable that the memoirs of an assistant will be as much about the person to whom she’s an assistant as they will be about herself.
But Sweetpea Slight is a good enough writer to recognise this truth and to mine Thelma — her boss for nearly 20 years — for every bit of material she can.
Mavericks like Thelma can sometimes think their genius excuses them from the demands of common courtesy.
assured that the fridge would be full for her house-sitting spell, Sweetpea arrived to find ‘one bottle of vodka, one egg and a small bowl with a plate resting on top of it, inside which were cold peas and a sausage cut into tiny pieces’.
But, in the end, it’s clear that Holt cares for her employees dearly, and for others, too. When a visiting russian actor stole all her vodka, she arranged for him to visit an alcoholics anonymous group. He was grateful: ‘Telma, just great fun at the club — I meet anthony Hopkins!’
Sweetpea came to london in 1984, an 18-year-old from Dorset with dreams of becoming an actress. These were soon abandoned and, instead, she found herself helping Thelma, who gave Jane her nickname.
It caused confusion when Dustin Hoffman was in the room, as he also answers to Sweetpea on account of climbing everything as a toddler — but Slight took to the new moniker, eventually changing it on her passport.
Her duties ranged from fetching the ‘urgent biscuits’ (shortbread) needed at times of anxiety to booking flights and accommodation for touring companies.
On one occasion, the armourer for a production that used guns was found dead in his Zurich hotel room with all his weapons stolen.
Vanessa redgrave cut a £1,500 wig as
she thought her character should have short hair, while the actors in another production complained about their costumes looking cheap.
The solution? Thelma and Sweet - pea bought some scarves at Tie Rack, replaced the labels with Chanel and everyone was happy.
The book contains just the right amount of ‘stars-behind-the-scenes’ reporting. Helen Mirren responded to Sweetpea ’s fan letter with a brand-new £20 note and another for her friend, instructing that the enclosed was ‘for fun’.
The actress Fiona Shaw mistimed her cooking so badly, her guests had to eat pudding first. And no matter how old Alan Rickman got, his hands remained ‘boy-like’.
Understandably (but frustratingly), Sweetpea refrains from naming the ‘world-famous actor’ who grabbed her right breast while his wife was in the next room.
But this book is more than a lightweight collection of anecdotes. It’s a superbly written and moving account of one woman ’s efforts to understand the world and her own place in it. Part of its beauty comes from the air of sadness that hangs over it. And in Sweetpea ’s own relationship with Thelma, there’s a sense of ambivalence.
It’s almost a parent- child close - ness, but you get the impression, too, that as much as Thelma allowed Sweetpea to grow, she also stopped her from growing.
In the end, this is a story about learning who you are by pretending to be other people.
One of Sweetpea ’ s jobs was answering playwright Ray Cooney’s fan mail. She did it so well that Thelma ‘couldn’t tell the difference between a genuine Cooney and one of my inventions’.
And Thelma herself taught Sweetpea how to do her signature so she could use her credit card.
Perhaps Sweetpea didn’t abandon the acting after all.