You can call me Stephie or Stepha or even Stephanie, but don't call me Steph. 'Steph's deaf! Steph's deaf!' That's what the children used to chant at school. Unbelievably cruel.

Mummy was very ill with chicken pox just before I was born. No one has ever said categorically what caused my deafness but I was born with no nerve endings in my right ear and slightly reduced hearing in my left.

All of this might have had a traumatic effect on me but then it doesn't take into account the family I was born into. Cosy is the most important word in my family's vocabulary, the one I associate above all others with my childhood. Cosiness is often derided. It suggests a state of warmth and safety, of utter dependability and contentment. But what more could a child ask for than that? Cosy is good. Cosy is perfect.

I was brought up in New Barnet, Hertfordshire, in a large house with a big garden. Daddy was a managing director for the Grosvenor Estate. Mummy was Mummy. They have had a wonderful marriage. To this day you can walk into a room and find Daddy, at 86, rubbing Mummy's feet - one of her favourite things.

My brother Richard is the eldest. He chose my name, then decided he didn't want to have too much to do with me. He's eight years older. My elder sister DiDi comes in between us, my younger sister Jenny is the baby. I adored Richard. I learnt to walk quickly and run fast because I was always trying to catch up with him. He was my big hero. He looks like Robert Redford. He was also the keeper of morality for the Beacham girls. I remember, when I was about 13, him telling me he'd been at the rugger club, where I was being talked about; what's more, in terms of respect. 'May this continue,' he said.

I was the ugly sister, the one sent - perfectly happily - to ballet five times a week to improve her posture. My mother was a raving beauty, still is, aged 80. DiDi looked like Brigitte Bardot; now she looks like Doris Day. Jenny is petite and beautiful, more sort of Audrey Hepburn.

I never quite forgave Jenny coming along because I was usurped from my father's shoulders. I started at the local convent school just when she was born. I was only four. I remember crying and saying I had to go home and kiss Mummy. I realise now it was because I wanted to find out what she was doing with the horrible new creature taking up all her time.

If I try and think of the worst thing that happened to me in my childhood I'd have to say it was when my doll's house had to be burnt when I was 10. It had woodworm and I was really upset. If that's the major tragedy of my childhood, I probably got off pretty lightly.

When I announced I'd won a place at RADA, my parents were neither delighted nor upset. They didn't take it seriously. Even later, when I was established, it was the same. I was doing a play at the Haymarket with Geraldine McEwan, Edward Woodward and Geoffrey Palmer; Mummy and Daddy came to see it. Mummy asked my father what he thought of my performance. Daddy was silent for a long time. Finally, he said: 'You know, I think Stephie is every bit as good as a real actress.'

John and I had both been with the Royal Shakespeare company and when we married in my late twenties, I was impatient for motherhood. I always wanted children - seven, as a matter of fact. I'd already co-starred with lots of big names, among them Marlon Brando in The Nightcomers when I was 24. I'd had wonderful success, which is why I didn't care if I never acted again. 'Been there, done that' was my attitude. So, without a care, I threw my career away for motherhood.

I took to it straight away. You can give me a screaming new-born baby with colic and I will calm it in a second. I know this doesn't accord with the public perception of me, but it is true.

By the time Chloe arrived, almost exactly two years after Phoebe, the marriage was over. And boy, I would have liked more children. I can't quite believe I haven't had my son. But I think, probably, I shall wait now for grandchildren.

The disintegration of my marriage was quite ghastly. It seemed like the end of my life. I didn't understand it. I can honestly say I hadn't known a moment's real unhappiness until, at 29, my marriage finally fell apart.

I think my mistake, if that is the word, was being a very good young mum. I suppose I became over-devoted to my babies. This rather sexy butterfly suddenly turned into a single-minded mother. The first bites of banana and spoons of apple purée became far more exciting than anything else. I don't think John was ready to be confined in that way.

When I was going through the horrors and unhappiness of separation, I said to my mother: 'For heaven's sake say something vile about him. Say that you'll never have him in the house again.' She said: 'Stephie, I couldn't possibly speak badly of my grandchildren's father'. Mummy is the utter embodiment of love. That typifies it most of all for me. Daddy always used to say that, if you fell off a horse, you simply had to get on it again. And I got on life again.

When I moved to Los Angeles in 1985, having re-established my career in Britain, my parents didn't approve. I think they were worried that, let down in love, I'd turned my back on the idea of finding it again and had chosen to run for the money - I'd won the role of Sable Colby in The Colbys. They can see now that I'm still the same Stephie.

The Girls were sent to boarding school in England. We had all loathed their last nanny, she frightened the life out of us. So I struck a bargain. If they went to boarding school, Chloe could have a pony, Phoebe could have what she wanted and we'd never have another nanny. No more strangers.

That's what happened and they've loved it - until recently. Like all teenagers I think they're tiring of the cloistered life of a girls' boarding school. Phoebe and Chloe have taken all my energy and a great deal of money to bring to this point, something I am proud of since I have done it pretty much single-handedly. I wouldn't advise anybody to cope with more than two children by themselves.

John and I are best friends now. I had some very good advice along the way: that I should always ensure their father's total availability to the girls. And I did.

I've never remarried. I couldn't bear the idea of the girls having a stepfather. I know they're both really pleased they never had to shuffle into a room and wonder what mummy had been doing with a strange man. They've never had to be second best to anybody.

Now I want the three of us to live together in America. I just want to be with my girls full time before they leave home for ever.

Stephanie Beacham, 45, is divorced from actor John McEnery, by whom she has two daughters, Phoebe, 18, and Chloe, 16 (main picture). She lives in Malibu. Famous for TV roles in "Tenko", "Connie" and "The Colbys" and in the cinema opposite Marlon Brando in "The Nightcomers", she can be seen on May 2 and 3 in the ITV mini-series of Jilly Cooper's bestseller "Riders".