Photography: Babiche Martens.
On a warm afternoon at her eclectic Point Chevalier home in Auckland, actor-journalist-playwright Elisabeth Easther charms immediately. Self-deprecating and funny, she walks and talks fast. She’s painted each room a different colour. And after pouring the last of the syrup onto her lemon drizzle cake (yes, it’s delicious), we move into the lounge where her late mum’s Adler Gabrielle 25 typewriter sits proudly above us on a shelf.
Raised in Hamilton in a book-lined home by writers and readers, she grew up valuing words and ideas above everything. Elisabeth now writes for this very magazine – as well as stories for other publications – and has just published her first novel, Seed, which was a response to a painful time in her life.
Over an instant coffee – “it’s my dirty little secret” – the amiable 55-year-old shares why she’ll never shake her Kiwi television infamy as Shortland Street’s first murderer and why she’s just as comfortable holding a shovel as a pen.
Your book Seed follows the lives of four women facing different fertility issues. How was it inspired by your own experience?
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I wrote the play feverishly at my dining table over a short period of time. My son Theo – then three – was with his dad for a whole week, which I found incredibly difficult. Separating from Theo’s dad when he was two, and navigating the hurt when the child you love more than anything is not there, was so hard. I missed Theo so much and sharing him was tough, and I gave that experience to the character Hillary.
I then went on to have a couple of miscarriages with a subsequent partner, which led us to fertility treatment. Harrowing. So I was processing all this loss and regret, and decided to write about it. The script, which started as a novel, took shape quite quickly and I entered it in the Adam NZ Play Award, which I won. Then over a much longer period, I turned it back into a novel.
You never imagined having a child, so how did it feel to find yourself pregnant?
I never thought about becoming a mother because doctors told me I couldn’t have children without medical intervention due to polycystic ovaries. I had never held a baby and didn’t have any particular maternal yearning, so I accepted that fate. Then Theo came along – surprise! He’s now 19 and after him, I wanted more babies. His dad and I gave it a go, but the marriage didn’t last and thankfully he loves Theo just as much as I do.
What was your favourite part of motherhood?
I loved the playing. Climbing trees, Lego, all these things I wouldn’t otherwise have done. And reading stories. I often laughed that Theo had a private professional voiceover artist doing his bedtime stories. I also concentrated all my freelance work into the time Theo was either at school or asleep at night so I could be home at 3pm for him. We survived on a very limited income, so landing the role as the mum in the Countdown ads for three years felt like winning Lotto.
You also became a travel writer, taking Theo on assignments. How was that?
Theo was my angel from the age of three… “Mother and son go wild in the jungle!” We went on a cruise to Tahiti and snorkelled with giant stingrays.
We visited the Galápagos Islands and the Amazon. Theo always knew he was a little ambassador for his mum, so if he didn’t like the meal, he still said thank you.
One time, we went down a zipline in Ecuador and I remember thinking, “Why did I put my son on a zipline in front of me?
If he falls, I’m broken. If I fall, how is a seven-year-old going to get home to New Zealand?” But we survived.
Do you think readers would be surprised to know you’re really a homebody who likes to bake?
You mean a total hermit?! I discovered on Outward Bound that I’m an introvert. Somehow, I’ve ended up with this life where I spend the bulk of my time alone. And I flipping love it! I only really like to leave the house to trap rats or plant trees. I’m obsessed with nature.
Do you feel like your Shortland Street character evil nurse Carla will haunt you forever?
Whatever else I do, even if I go to the moon, I will forever be known as a former star of Shortland Street. It certainly opened as many doors as it closed and it was fun playing dress-ups. I don’t do a lot of grooming in my everyday life and I got six hair colour touch-ups in 18 months! When I left Shorty the first time, I had to get rid of Carla. I was out with one of the make-up artists one Sunday afternoon and she shaved my head in a number two. I remember walking home to my flat in Grey Lynn and feeling rain on my scalp and it felt incredible. But it wasn’t what you’d call flattering.
When you were asked back five years ago, did you hope Carla would have some redemption?
I was mostly happy to be bad again, although I did always see her as misunderstood. I actually asked them to put in my contract that they couldn’t kill me because I do still hope for redemption or just more badness. I starred as Carla at 25 years old, then I went back at 50. Imagine if I went back at 75? If Shorty ever finishes, and I hope it doesn’t, I’d like to be the person who blows everything up at the end.
Tell us about your family life in Hamilton…
My father Michael was a GP who wrote a cryptic crossword and a poem every week in the Waikato Times, and my mother Shirley Maddock made television and wrote books. I went to Auckland with her when Hudson & Halls was taping and she was a guest, which was so exciting for a girl from Hamilton. But my parents didn’t meet until they were in their mid-thirties, so they were older parents. Mum even lied about her age when they first met in case Dad thought she couldn’t bear children. So she had my two older brothers at 38 and 40, then me at 42. One is now an astrophysicist and the other works in the kiwifruit industry.
Was your mum your feminist role model?
Mum was New Zealand’s first female TV producer and the first Kiwi to make a documentary series. She took no s**t from people who said “You can’t do that as a woman!” One time, she wanted an onscreen credit like the men had for doing the same work. She deliberately waited until someone was drunk at a party, extracted a promise for credit, and reminded them the next day that they had signed something. She was my role model, but she died from cardiomyopathy when I was 30. I still feel a bit ripped off.
Did you know she was on borrowed time?
Mum got cardiomyopathy after having the flu when I was 15. She was in Wellington working on the Official Information Act. When David Lange’s office rang asking her to be involved, she assumed it was a prank and hung up. She ended up going to Wellington several times a year to work on that. On one of those trips, she caught the flu, came home two days later and nearly died. We were told we should say goodbye. But she lived for another 15 years with her dodgy ticker.
Has her death had an impact on your own health and wellbeing?
Well, I’m pro-vaccines and I’ve been alcohol-free for two years, but that’s more me just wanting to be my best person. I definitely used alcohol at times when things were tough. The thought of not drinking was actually quite scary. Then menopause hit at the same time I started to rewrite the novel. I was waking up dripping wet and if you add a few glasses of wine into that mix, I decided the wine had to stop. So I downloaded an app to quit drinking in 30 days. By day 12, I was like “this stuff is really bad for you” and that was that.
Name a book that’s had the biggest impact.
I read Ann Patchett’s book Commonwealth soon after my father had died, eight years ago. Theo had friends staying and there was a tangle of boys asleep in his room. I went outside to read really early, and finished this incredibly poignant story about blended families and love, loss and grief. I got to the end and held the book to my chest, then had a big old cry. When the boys stirred, I made a huge batch of pancakes. In spite of all the pain, life went on and life was good.
What does 85-year-old Elisabeth want to be?
I want to be useful, and still be cycling, snorkelling and planting trees. At 55, I’ve come to a place where I like who I am – robust and sensitive, with lots to look forward to.
Seed by Elisabeth Easther (Penguin Random House, $38) is out February 3. Elisabeth will be appearing at HamLit in the Hamilton Gardens on February 22. Visit hamiltonartsfestival.co.nz/hamlit
