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My husband, Jim [Carter, an actor], and I were together for 10 years without ever wanting to have a family — we had cats and holidays. Then, at 36, I suddenly found myself looking at prams, which was all very weird. It was my body clock saying, “Hello!” And it was incredibly powerful.
We were creatures of habit by then, so it was good for us to have to make way for Bessie. She was great from the beginning. Very kind and patient, even at a few days old.
Growing up, she was everything I could never be. She was tall and could swim and dive like an Olympian by the age of six. At sports days, she’d be in it to win. I entered the mums’ race one year and came last, laughing, because losing doesn’t matter to me. I turned round and realised Bessie was crying because it really mattered to her. Then suddenly, the child disappears and this gorgeous, striking woman arrives. I find it absolutely thrilling to have produced someone so physically unlike me.
Jim and I made a pact long before we had Bessie that we wouldn’t be away from each other for longer than two weeks. That was doubly enforced after she was born and we’ve stuck to it, though I have been away a lot in my head because I’ve done so much theatre.
During the entire run of Downton, when Jim [who played the butler, Mr Carson] was also running our local cricket club in north London, I was appearing in Sweeney Todd, Gypsy and Virginia Woolf — singing, shouting shows where you have to protect your voice, so you don’t use the phone much and no one comes for coffee. It was a seven-year-period when we were both working flat out. You’re like an athlete with those parts, the adrenaline feeds you, but also in the end does for you. Having said that, I don’t feel stress and I hate catastrophising. Bess is similar. If I moan to her about something she’ll say what my mum used to say, “Don’t worry, it’ll all work out.” She’s got positivity in spades, Bess.
Humour is a given in our family. Jim’s funny, I’m funny, my mum was a good craic. Jim and I laugh every single day. I’ve always thought if you can make people laugh, you can make them listen. But when people ask, “Was it fun filming?” I think, “No, it’s my job. Fun is what happens at home.”
Mother and daughter, aged three. “Mum and I were more like siblings,” says Bessie
I was never the kind of mother who shouted “Come on!” in the morning. Bess and I would start the day with a boogie to Bette Midler, then she’d cycle off to school with Jim on the tandem. Raising her was glorious, actually, I enjoyed every minute, though I sometimes think we worked too hard at trying to create the perfect childhood. When I look back it feels like one long summer day in the garden with her mates. The thing she doesn’t have as an only child is a set of emotional tools for dealing with criticism. Neither of us has built up any emotional armour, so we’re both easily hurt.
I feel very fortunate in that I’ve never had that empty-nest feeling because she’s in the business. Whereas I was catapulted into the theatre, she’s been born into it, and she’s grown up with our mates who are like her uncles and aunts. Honestly, there’s nothing nicer than the acting tribe, and knowing she’s moved out to be with this extended family feels very good indeed. Jim and I would really like to be at the stage door every night going “Hi!” But you can’t do that. You have to keep your distance. The only unfulfilled ambition I have left is for us to one day work together.
Mum and I were more like siblings than mother and daughter when I was growing up. This is partly to do with height. She’s very, very small — 5ft. And she’s getting smaller. Dad is 6ft 2in and I’m 5ft 10in, so I was always going to tower over her. When I was about 13, I came home from school very upset about something and had a little cry in the hall. She rushed up to hug me, but we realised I was the one comforting her. She said, “Wait, wait!”, and climbed up three stairs until she was high enough to envelop me. Now, whenever I’m heartbroken, she’s waiting on the stairs.
Mum is so brave and strong and fierce — she doesn’t sugar-coat anything and she’ll speak up if something isn’t right or fair, but she also has this soft, emotional charisma. She can read a situation quickly and tries hard to understand everyone’s point of view. It’s what makes her a great actor, but also a great mum. She’s everything you see in her work — she’s funny, quick, sharp, but also heartbreakingly vulnerable. Even as a small child I remember thinking how everything she did seemed truthful.
She’s one of the funniest people I know and she doesn’t care what anyone thinks. She’s really instilled that lack of self-consciousness in me. Her mum, Granny Bridie, was a ferociously strong Irish lady who played the fiddle and drank and smoked and loved a laugh. She came to England in the 1950s and ran her own hairdressing business. Mum was her only child and she was fiercely ambitious for her. You can see in Mum that same strength, resilience and determination to work to the bone. I’ve never seen her do anything by halves.
It’s quite hard to talk about Mum without talking about Dad too, because we are such a unit. Mum calls me Bebo, Dad calls me Trousers. No idea why. Their love is palpable. I adored being an only child. I think I asked about a sibling once or twice without knowing what that entailed, but it was never on the cards. They were the two people who were everything to me and I couldn’t imagine sharing my world with anyone else.
Their great skill as parents was to go from jobbing actors to household names without anything at all changing at home. One of them was at the school gate throughout my entire childhood. And every time I moved into a new flat when I was a drama student, they were there with the cleaning stuff and the dog in the back of the car.
Mum and Dad have a pillow upstairs that says “Happiness is being married to your best friend”. They’ve set the bar for romance high because they’ve been married 35 years and they’re still incredibly happy and bonded. They make each other laugh every day and that’s something I look for in relationships. I’ve never seen either of them really stressed — we get nervous, but we’re not worriers. All three of us are big list makers and we need to be constantly busy.
They’re both in this blessed position where they can choose how much work they want to do and when they want to do it. I find it really heartwarming watching Mum and Dad spending time together, happily pottering in the garden, rearranging plants and perfecting the house. There’s this extraordinary sense of pure contentment.
Bessie Carter is in Beecham House on ITV, June 23 and 24 at 9pm. Imelda Staunton is in A Confession, also on ITV, later this year
Imelda on Bessie Whenever I phone, she always answers in an Australian accent
Bessie on Imelda Mum explains to me what’s in the fridge, even though I am standing looking at it. “There’s some hummus and some…” “Yes, Mum, I can see that for myself, thank you very much”
