An Afternoon with an Angel

By Emily Albers

I’m sitting in the window booth of a cafe in the heart of Brighton, a lovely seaside town about a thirty minute train ride from London. I scan the crowds of people passing by, trying to spot a familiar, extraordinarily beautiful face. Finally, I see her. She’s tiny, almost childlike; just under 5ft 2 and barely 100lbs. She’s dressed against the cold in a plush coat and her hair - usually light blonde but dyed strawberry for a role - is tucked under a black Carhartt beanie. She’s wearing her trademark gold watch and silk neckerchief which is tied neatly around her neck. Upon seeing me, her face lights up with a smile so warm and welcoming that I feel like I’ve come home. She has the cheeriest demeanor of anyone I’ve ever known and it gives her a youthful glow that makes her seem much younger than her 59 years of age. This is my idol and dear friend - the one and only - Jane Horrocks.

Jane is an incredibly talented, award-winning actress; hailed as one of Britain’s finest. She’s a household name in the UK, a beloved icon of stage and screen. But her talent isn’t the only thing that makes her so remarkable. She’s also the most loving, supportive, altruistic, modest, and authentic human being you’ll ever meet, let alone someone of her celebrity status. She walks into the cafe and a palpable brightness enters with her. I stand up - that’s proper etiquette when meeting your Queen - and she

wraps her arms around me.

“So good to see you, Emily!” She chirps. My name sounds like “Emileh” in her broad northern vowels and hearing it in person again almost brings me to tears. It’s been a year since I’ve seen her and I’ve missed her fiercely. This time last year, Jane and I met in person for the first time and she treated me to tea at a French patisserie in Soho. The year before that, we were digital pen pals and once when I was feeling down, she sent a video of herself singing to me in her beautiful voice to try and cheer me up. The year before that, I discovered her and instantly became a massive fan. I was shocked to find that she didn’t have any fan accounts on Instagram - Jane is criminally underrated - so I decided I’d start my own. I wanted to provide a place where fans like me could celebrate her. I never expected her to see it or acknowledge my existence - she was a famous movie star after all and I was nothing more than a face in the crowd. But after a month of running my account, I received a DM from her thanking me for my work and apologizing that she hadn’t messaged sooner. Of course I was shaking and fangirling to the extreme; I couldn’t believe that THE Jane Horrocks not only knew about my account, but had taken the time to express her gratitude. Little did I know, this was common practice for Jane and just when I thought I couldn’t love her more, she would one-up herself in acts of kindness.

We order our food and Jane pays for my meal as she always so generously does. The next hour goes by in a flash as we laugh and chat and have a good old catch-up. Such is Jane’s charm and presence that the longer you’re with her, the longer you want to stay. When she speaks, it’s with an endlessly soothing Lancashire lilt that you could listen to for hours. When you speak, she listens to you as if you’re the most fascinating person in the world, which she does to me as I tell her the details of my class trip and the article I plan to write about her.

From 1982 up until she moved to Brighton last year, London was her home, so she’s basically an expert on the city. I wanted to ask her about some of her favorite London things since she always has the best recommendations.

I ask if I can interview her and she says yes, so as a thank you, I begin with one of her favorite subjects - food! “What’s your favorite dish you’ve ever had in London?”

“Ooo, my favorite dish!” Jane says excitedly. She furrows her brow in thought and mutters to herself, “hmm, dish…dish...”. I thought this might be a tough choice for her; it would be for me and I’ve only had a handful of London dishes. After a moment, she says, “There’s a great vegetarian restaurant in Soho called Mildred’s; every dish I’ve had there has been fantastic!”. I can fully vouch for this. I went there the next day and had the fennel bangers and mash which were divine! Hands down the best meal I had during the trip.

“And how about your favorite places in general?” I ask.

“Oh, well there’s Hampton Court, and you can actually get a boat from central London that would take you up to Hampton Court which would be a really lovely trip. Windsor Castle - Windsor Castle’s great, they’ve got a big doll’s house there! Queen Anne’s dollhouse, and that’s amazing.” Now I’m the one listening intently, hanging on her every word and committing everything to memory. “The Tate Modern, which is a really amazing art gallery. That’s on the Southbank and that’s a fantastic walk. The London Eye,” Her eyes widen in mock fear, “which is also on the Southbank. I mean just wandering around in the evenings is great, around Covent Garden. There’s Shoreditch which is a different part of London - that’s east London - and that’s kind of like really trendy and hip.” She pauses to thank the waiter who’s just brought us our tea. I stare at the strainer in my cup, trying to remember the procedure for loose leaf tea, but thankfully Jane senses my confusion and begins making it for me. “There’s also Borough Market,” she continues, moving on to her own cup, “and they have amazing fruit and veg stalls - all sorts of different stalls!”

I’ve been to Borough Market and she’s right, it’s a smorgasbord of every kind of food imaginable, all laid out in colorful spreads. I’m picturing it in my mind and Jane must be too because her deep blue eyes sparkle like the sea. I catch myself staring, transfixed by her beauty, and quickly look away. Jane is used to this, especially from me, and she gives me a gentle, knowing smile as she continues, “There’s some table tennis clubs called Bounce, and they’re on Old Street in Farringdon. If you like table tennis - you know I do!” She giggles. I do, and she does. She plays with a team, I don’t know where but she’s talked about being the greeter for people coming in. The perfect job for a human golden retriever like Jane.

As far as boroughs go, Jane likes Dalston, Bermondsey, and Peckham, which she says “used to have sort of a bad reputation, but it’s quite nice now”. She then tells me of a place called The Cut, which is a stretch of road that runs between Waterloo Road in Lambeth and Blackfriars Road in Southwark with lots of swanky bars and restaurants. This is where you’ll find two of Jane’s favorite theatres: the Young Vic where she played Annie in Annie Get Your Gun, and the Old Vic where she did King Lear and her most recent play, End Game.

But she often enjoys being in the audience as wellshe loved the Bob Marley musical last year - so I ask, “Have you seen any plays recently that you would recommend?”

Jane thinks for a moment. “Nothing of late but I’m going to see the Lehman Trilogy which I’m excited about.” It sounds intriguing; a three-act play that tells the story of the Lehman Brothers from when they arrived in America to the founding and subsequent collapse of their investment firm. It’s directed by Jane’s ex-boyfriend, Sam Mendes, and will run until the end of May at the National Theatre.

I inform Jane that this was my last question, and she informs me that they were very good questions. There’s a lull in our conversation and only then do I notice how loud it’s gotten in the restaurant.

“Do you want to go and have a walk along the beach?” Jane asks, glancing behind me. “It’s just that I’m feeling a bit guilty”. I turn around and see that the restaurant is now packed with people, some waiting for a table. Feeling equally as guilty now, I nod and we quickly gather our things and head out.

We make our way along the busy streets, Jane leading the way and me trailing after her like a puppy. It doesn’t take long before we’re crunching along the pebbly beach and watching the waves crash into the shore with a mighty whoosh.

Jane looks out at the shimmering water and says, “It’s just incredible. So vast”. Her regency flat has an unobstructed view of the sea; she’s looked at it every day for the past year and yet there’s so much awe in her voice that you’d think she was seeing it for the first time. I feel the same about her; I’ve spent the last three years marveling at everything she is and she still feels like the 8th wonder of the world to me. I imagine she always will. My friend Malcolm has known her for thirty years and he says he still gets butterflies when he sees her. His friendship with Jane started just like mine. He was a starry-eyed fanboy and she was a young up-and-coming star whom he idolized. Jane welcomed him into her life with open arms and three decades later, having never changed a bit, she did the same for me.

We take some photos and walk around for a while, enjoying each other’s company. I never want the day to end, but it inevitably does. We give each other one last hug and wave each other goodbye. She starts off down the road and I watch her walk away for a few seconds, tears pricking my eyes. I did this the last time we said goodbye and I don’t know why. Perhaps I’m looking for the wings that would confirm my suspicion that my idol, my friend, is actually an angel disguised as a petite northern woman.