I’d only been working for a few months as a researcher on the Observer’s magazine. One late evening, the deputy editor rushed over to me in the open plan office. I’d been working on a project and didn’t want to go home.
‘Look’ he said, ‘the actor Donald Sutherland is in town to promote his latest film.’ ( I can’t remember its name). ‘Have you heard of him.’ I nodded. ‘We forgot to get anyone to go and none of the features writers are free. Would you like to try your hand at an interview?’
I told him that I wasn’t going to have sex with him. He looked at me seriously and then burst out laughing
He paused. ‘Look he can be very difficult. Even if you get a few lines it will be okay and don’t get upset if he starts shouting at you and tells you to get lost.’
Scared excitement overwhelmed me. I rushed to the hotel and someone showed me where he was. He’d chosen to sit in an armchair holding Time magazine that hid his face. I peeped over the top of the magazine and smiled at him. He smiled back. I explained that I had come from the magazine. ‘Do you know anything about the film?’. ‘No’ I shuddered, waiting for a wave of anger. ‘I was only told to come a few minutes before I rushed out to get here.’
‘Then sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.’ We talked about lots of other things too. I tried to dodge talking about myself because I wasn’t there for that and kept flicking those questions back as politely as possibly. After about two hours, by which time I had lots of material, he stood up. ‘Would you like to see the stills from the film?’ he asked. I said I’d love to. ‘They are upstairs in my suite. Let’s go.’ When we got to the door of the suite, I suddenly realised what he might be after and bravely told him that I wasn’t going to have sex with him. He looked at me seriously and then burst out laughing.
‘Why don’t you want to go to bed with me?’ My heart was pounding as I said: ‘If I do I’m almost certain I’ll never see you again. But I would like to be your friend.’
‘OK. Let’s do that,’ he said with a huge smile. He gave me lots of stills to take back to the office. I felt he was the most amazing magnetic man I had ever met. I was also realistic enough to accept I’d never hear from him again.
Just a few days later, I noticed the features secretary was getting very annoyed. She called me over and put her hand of the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘I’ve got a lunatic here who keeps claiming he is Donald Sutherland and wants to speak to you.’
I snatched the phone and he thought it was hilarious that the secretary didn’t believe him.
‘I’ve got an afternoon off would you like to come to the Tate.’ I asked the deputy editor if I could have an afternoon off and I went to meet him. It was wonderful to talk about the painting and painters, both of which he was very knowledgeable about. Many of the people who had come to see the art stared at him rather than the paintings on the walls.
From then on, when he came to London he would get in touch and we usually went to an art gallery, for a walk by the Thames, or for a smart meal where he would read me poetry or talk about the world and its problems. Occasionally he came to my home and walked round studying everything I had on my walls. It went on like that for years. He was always a gentleman, funny and entertaining. It was sometimes difficult not to change my mind about our first meeting but I didn’t want to spoil what I had.
One night he rang me at home at 2am. ‘I know it is the middle of your night and I am very sorry but is anything the matter?’ he asked. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling that something has gone wrong for you.’
I caught my breath. I had married very young and it was a mistake. That night I had told my husband that we had to split. I didn’t have any plan about Donald, it just wasn’t working.
I told him and he was kind and encouraging about my future. Our relationship went on for many years. Our friendship remained platonic but always wonderful.
Donald Sutherland has died at the age of 88