Both my parents were Irish immigrants. Dad, Joe, was a labourer and my mum, Bridie, was a hairdresser. I grew up in Archway, north London and we lived above the hairdresser’s. Mum was a real grafter, which I’ve inherited. She had me at 21 and shortly after was managing a large hairdressers, which she later owned. I wasn’t spoilt, but I didn’t want for anything.
Weekends were lovely and spent at my granny’s just down the road in Highbury. I also had a lot of great teenage aunts, so although I was an only child, I always felt part of a bigger family.
Mum insisted on paying for me to go to a private convent because she wanted me to be educated and have opportunities that she didn’t. The urge to perform came from her. My parents never spoke about their ambitions for me. You didn’t talk about a future then, you just grew up and worked. All the working-class Irish immigrants they knew all worked mainly on building sites driving JCBs and that kind of stuff. Mum had the best job of any of the women.
It was my elocution and drama teacher at school who told me I had to audition for drama school. She convinced Mum I had to be an actress. My parents came from a generation where if someone in authority told them this was what their daughter was going to do, they accepted it. They weren’t worried about me going into acting, because they didn’t know anything about it.
My parents’ approval was very important to me. I remember writing in my diary, “I want to be an actress, but only if my parents are OK with it.” I didn’t really think through what I’d have done if they weren’t OK with it.
I treasure the memory of the spontaneous musical parties we used to have at home. I’d lie in bed listening to the traditional Irish music coming from downstairs and the craic. Mum’s brother had a show band and he and his wife worked the clubs in Liverpool. She was very glamorous and always wore a ballgown. It was like having the Beatles arrive when they visited.
I wasn’t an outgoing child. My parents were always saying, “Ah now, c’mon, Imelda, sing”, but I wouldn’t. The darker side of being an only child is that I was alone a lot until Mum and Dad got back from work. When I was about 18, Mum and Dad separated but they would always come to see stuff I was in separately. They both remarried and everyone got on.
I’ve drawn on Mum to play quite a lot of my strong women roles, although I’d still love to play a good working-class Irish woman. Her work ethic was her greatest legacy. She could talk to anyone and treated everyone the same, and my dad was a very kind man and would do anything for you. They taught me that kindness is not a wet thing. So trying to be generous is a very big part of my life.
Jim and I [Downton Abbey actor Jim Carter] have been married for 30 years. I think the secret is, we’ve always made an effort to not work apart very often. We always travel to where the other is working, even for a short amount of time. This year’s going to be our toughest because he’s working during the day and I’m working at night.
Mum died in 2004 and dad six years later. Mum had heart disease and went into hospital for a bypass but never survived the operation. The week after she died, I got the Oscar nomination for Vera Drake. The fact she never knew and never got to experience any of that was utterly devastating.
• Imelda stars in Gypsy from 28 March at the Savoy theatre, London WC2, gypsythemusical.uk. That Day We Sang is out on DVD on 30 March.
