Hard
to say what Sable Colby would make of the place. She'd appreciate
its size; she couldn't fail to thrill at its location - but there
might be a worrying lack of glitz for her rather ostentatious
tastes. But then Stephanie Beacham, the British actress who
crossed the Atlantic and made a killing in The Colbys, is
an altogether different creature from the small screen monster she
created.
"Welcome
to Oregon," she says, as she throws open the front door to
her beautiful, high-ceilinged, Spanish-style home. The greeting
is ironic. In fact, Stephanie lives in Malibu, overlooking the
ocean, but it is, nonetheless, a good hour's car journey from
the centre of Los Angeles.
It's
worth the trip. The steep flight of stairs that leads directly
from the front door to the main living area in no way prepares
the visitor for the magnificent view waiting at the top. Beyond
the wall of sliding glass doors lies the Pacific Ocean, a
constant source of joy and pleasure to Stephanie.
"I
tell you," she says, the well-modulated accents unaffected
by years spent on the west coast, "the sunrises and sunsets
in this house are unbelievably beautiful. I regard them as my
time of prayer; they make me feel closer to God. Just this
morning, I saw a migrating whale out in the ocean. I cannot tell
you the satisfaction that gave me deep inside."
Outdoor
pursuits
This
love affair with the ocean doesn't extend to swimming in it -
although Stephanie is keen on boogie-boarding. "That's
surfing on a flat board," she explains. "I can't do
that clever standing up stuff."
Unlike
most occupants of Tinseltown, she doesn't have her own swimming
pool. "But there's a pool in town if I feel like a warmer
dip. The Pacific is pretty chilly, so I wear a wet-suit to
boogie board."
Standing
contentedly in her quarry-tiled kitchen, Stephanie is the first
to acknowledge that she is far from being the world's most
gifted or enthusiastic cook. "I'm lethal." she says
cheerfully. "Quite terrible. How I ever managed to present
family meals, I do not know. But the food in California is so
good, you can't really go wrong. A salad in Britain can be a
rather limp and sad affair."
At
fortysomething, Stephanie Beacham - dressed today in classic
white shirt and black jeans and boots, her hair tied simply in a
pony-tail - is in enviably good shape. "I manage to stay a
very trim size in California," she says. "By English
standards, I think I work out quite a lot, although my American
friends say I'm one of the biggest flakes ever. When I get on my
mountain bike, I cycle to the shops. But then, I can't simply
use a walking machine at the gym: I like to read a newspaper at
the same time.
"I
also do what Americans call a lot of repetitions, with very
light weights. American women of a certain age are fond of
telling you never to wave goodbye, unless, of course, you want
your wobbling upper arms to be your departing guests' last sight
of you. That's why I've got little arm- and ankle-weights. I can
spend four hours on the telephone, so I do exercises while I
talk."
Those
telephone calls ("I must phone home more often than ET")
are one of the few acknowledgements that, idyllic as life in
Malibu may be, part of her heart lies back in Britain, where she
remains much-loved by family, friends and the public alike.
(Homegrown fans will have seen her most recently in Anglia's
adaptation of Jilly Cooper's best-selling novel, Riders.)
Her
parents, who live in Somerset, receive numerous calls, as do her
two daughters (Phoebe, 18 and Chloe, 16). Both girls will soon
be joining her full-time when the summer term is over. And you
won't hear either of them complaining, says their mother. "They
both love it in America. They like the completely different
lifestyle. Chloe is a great learner, so a lot has to get done.
She isn't content to mellow out, as Americans would say.
Phoebe's happier listening to music and getting involved in a
painting, which, I must say, is more my style." Four
self-portraits, based on a recent photograph of Stephanie, adorn
the wall nearest the dining table, in a generous alcove of the
open-plan living area.
The
sunny side
When
she first moved to California, Stephanie's parents were
concerned, she says. "They were desolate when I opted for
money rather than work in the legitimate theatre. But then, as I
pointed out at the time, money gives you so much more security.
They were unhappy, I think, about the whole notion of Hollywood.
But they've been over here now and I'm still the same old me.
It's just that I've based myself in the sunshine."
She
looks across the ivory-coloured sofa with its brilliant array of
cushions, and out towards the sweep of the bay. "The lovely
thing about Malibu is that it's got no hotels, so you never get
a sudden influx of visitors. But I do like having neighbours,
some of whom, of course, are very famous. That's lovely, because
it means no one takes the slightest notice of me. With Dustin
Hoffman, Goldie Hawn and Sylvester Stallone living on the
street, who's going to care about me? You get no Brownie points,
either, for wearing make-up or dressing up. It's a very casual
place, which suits me fine."
She
likes where she lives so much, that she cannot now imagine being
back in Britain. "I think I could live in the south of
France, but that would rather depend on my career."
A
brief pause. "I know it's rather an obvious thing to say,
but the weather really does make a difference, you know. If I
plan a barbecue here for next Sunday, for instance, it happens.
Tennis games don't get rained off. Sure, the wind can get up a
bit in Malibu, but that's about it." A megawatt smile
flashes across Stephanie Beacham's lightly-tanned face. "Oh,
it is fun to live by the sea and work in the movies."
Perhaps
Sable Colby would approve after all.
