LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

he had begun to bore himself. Yet nobody felt actually alarmed by the deterioration in his morale. Only afterwards did little psychological signposts, like this one, point the way to what might have been seen coming.

      Michael Whittaker : ‘What made me think twice in 1988 was that every time I would go on holiday with my other friends I would telephone him and say, “I can’t be with you and Louie on Sunday, Kenneth, because I’m going away.” His answer was always the same, I don’t think he meant it: “I hope the car breaks down, I hope it rains. Lou and I left behind!” and bang would go the telephone. After a time this was the standard response. But in 1988 I knew he’d got ulcers, had given up cigarettes and was pretty low-spirited, and I telephoned him and said, “You know I’m away next Wednesday, Kenneth?” I thought, Here we go. He’ll say the usual and bang the receiver down. But he actually said, “Yes, I’ll be thinking of you. Think of me, won’t you?” I said, “What? What about the car breaking down? And what about it raining?” “No, no, you just think of me. I’ll be thinking of you.” All the way to Italy I was thinking, Why after eight years has he been so untypically concerned and polite?’

      Paul Richardson: ‘He died on the Thursday and I last saw him on the Tuesday, very briefly. He seemed fine. He looked slightly drawn but he was his usual chirpy self. “I’m just going into her!” he said, which meant Louie’s for his tea. “Don’t forget about Friday.” So I said that I’d see him then. “Do I need to ring you up and remind you?” he said, but I said no, I’d be there. And of course it never happened.’

      The scene in Louie’s flat, the night he died, was very much as usual, except that the TV session with his mum ended early for Kenneth. Lou herself recalled it starkly for readers of Woman’s Own:

      Louie Williams: ‘We were watching television and he said to me, “I’ve got a rotten pain. I think I’ll have an early night.” I think it was only quarter to nine. I said, “Ta-ta. Hope you feel better in the morning,” because we were having our feet done at the chiropodist the next morning. And he said to me, “Don’t forget. Be ready for half past ten.”’

      Paul Richardson: ‘I’m not a religious person but on the night of the 14th I was lying in my bed and I suddenly looked up and – this is absolutely true – I saw this figure. All I could see was the head and down to the stomach. And I looked. And it was someone grinning at me. And I pushed at it and said, “Go away, go away!” And it just disappeared. The next morning I had to go and get something at John Lewis’s, and I came out of the flat about half past eight and I always looked up at Kenny’s window, and I thought, That’s strange. His curtains are closed. Now that is odd…‘

      Experiencing the same puzzlement as the breakfast hour passed without communication, Kenneth’s mother went into his flat.

      Louie Williams: ‘He was still in bed. I touched his hand and it was cold. I said, “Ken, Ken, you all right?” And there was no answer. Then I called the porter. I was trying to keep calm. I didn’t realize what had happened. The porter said, “He’s dead.” But I didn’t believe it. I thought he was just asleep. But then Pat came and she told me he was dead.’

      Paul Richardson: ‘And I walked to John Lewis’s, and I was going to go from John Lewis on to Sadler’s Wells to do something at the theatre, and then come back and meet Ken for lunch at one o’clock. Something told me to turn back. It was as though I was being pushed. So I went to John Lewis’s after about an hour and half, and as I came back and crossed Euston Road from Great Portland Street all I could see outside were cameras, police, people milling around. I said to myself, “That’s Ken. He’s dead.” When I got to the block the porter, old Mr Dunthorpe, said to one of the press, “That’s his mate there,” and then turned to me and said, “Ken’s gone.” I just got into my flat and wept.’

      Michael Whittaker: ‘When I eventually got to the house in Italy the hostess said would I go upstairs because there was a message for me from London, and it was that Kenneth had been found dead. When Louie had found him dead she’d telephoned my office. Luckily my colleague Joan comforted her and I think, in retrospect, a woman offering sympathy to another woman was probably the best thing.’

      Michael Anderson: ‘The porter from Marlborough House rang me and said, “I’m the porter where Kenneth Williams lives and I’ve got very bad news. I’m afraid he’s dead.” Well, that was a terrible shock; I had no idea that this might happen.’

      Angela Chidell: ‘At the time Robert was at a friend’s house, and I first heard about it on the evening news so I collected him, I didn’t want him to hear the news on his own. I brought him home and we were all shocked and very surprised. We all shed tears because we all loved him very much.’

      Gyles Brandreth: ‘There is no doubt in my mind that Kenneth committed suicide. There is the end of the diary – “Oh, what’s the bloody point?” – but there’s also my knowledge: the moment I’d heard he was dead I assumed it was suicide. My mind went straight back to us sitting in my dining room and us getting to the point in his book where he wrote about his father’s death. Kenneth talked about suicide. He referred to his stash of poison to me more than once.’

      In due course these matters would be considered by the Coroner. Those public proceedings would be hard to bear, but they were for another day. The struggle to maintain daily life had to begin at once.

      Paul Richardson: ‘Pat had arrived and she had taken Lou back to the flat in Camden. I saw her the following Sunday and she was remarkably composed, it was quite extraordinary. We talked and the vicar was there, and we did a blessing with Lou and Pat. Stanley Baxter and Gordon Jackson turned up and we all had to introduce ourselves because Ken used to pigeonhole everybody so you never met anyone at all.’

      Michael Whittaker: ‘A BBC producer named David Bell, who was a friend of Kenneth’s oldest friend Stanley Baxter, organized the funeral and held the lunch at his house afterwards. Stanley’s wife Moira did the catering.’

      ‘When we arrived there was a choir and about a dozen people, close friends. It was a moving service’

      The press was taken by surprise. ‘Secret Funeral for Carry On Ken’, reported the Sun. ‘The 30-minute service, held on Thursday, was so hush-hush that many of the staff at London’s St Marylebone Crematorium did not know it was taking place.’ This article appeared on the Saturday, so the secrecy had indeed worked. Not even those who attended the service were quite sure what was happening.

      Pat Williams: ‘All we knew was that the car was going to pick us up at 4 o’clock. We’d said no flowers, because Ken hated flowers. We only had one wreath from the two of us and it looked so bare.’

      Paul Richardson: ‘It was a blustery day and nobody knew where we were going. Pat, Lou, Barbara [Windsor] and I got into this car. We drove and drove and I thought, “I know where we’re going, we’re going to Marylebone Crematorium!” Pat said, “How do you know?” So I said, “We’re going that way!” Sure enough, when we arrived there was a choir and about a dozen people, close friends. It was a moving service. He was cremated and his ashes were spread over the lawns.’

      Michael Whittaker: ‘I came back from Italy for the funeral. Many of his close friends were there. It was all rather secret. We had a lunch afterwards and that’s where I met Dame Maggie Smith, whom Kenneth was always very proud of and how she, more than once, credited Kenneth with a lot of her acting ability. He thought the world of her. I do remember asking about another famous actress, a very well-known person, what he thought of her. “Oh, very rep!” he replied.’

      Paul Richardson: ‘Pat was in bits, and in actual fact, at the funeral at Marylebone Crematorium, she was to my left and as the coffin was leaving, Pat let out this yelp. Louie turned to me and said, “What’s wrong with that silly bitch?”’

Скачать книгу