Born in Herefordshire in 1982, actor Jessica Raine studied drama at the University of the West of England, Bristol, and graduated from Rada in 2008. In 2012, she was cast as the lead in Call the Midwife; her subsequent television work includes Patrick Melrose, Line of Duty and Baptiste. Raine is married to the actor Tom Goodman-Hill; they live in London and have one child. Her sister, Sarah Lloyd, is a fashion lecturer at the University for the Creative Arts in London. Jessica stars in The Devil’s Hour, available on Prime Video now.
Jessica
I was raging when this photo was taken. The family myth is that I refused to go on stage because I hated being dressed like a robot. I didn’t understand why there even was a robot in The Snow Queen. Every other kid in the school play was wearing white leggings, with a white top and a tinsel wig. Meanwhile, I was covered in foil. Major tantrums ensued.
I was insanely jealous of my sister, the snow queen, but at the time I had no idea what that sensation was. I was quite gormless as a child and wouldn’t have had the emotional intelligence to give that feeling a name.
I really looked up to my big sister. She influenced my cultural taste, introducing me to bands like Hole and Smashing Pumpkins, and she was always doing cool things like wearing leopard-print coats. I would get sad when she went out with her friends, and hated that she was having a great time without me. By comparison, I was not the most fun kid. I was incredibly inward-looking and would cling to Sarah’s legs if I was introduced to anyone new.
Dad was a farmer, and where we grew up in rural Wales was very isolated. I spent most of my time with Sarah and our cousins. The freedom of the countryside was incredible for our imaginations; we would play outside all day, and re-enact films like Labyrinth. There was always an edge of violence, too. A lot of wrestling – Sarah would pin me down, or vice versa. Sometimes spitting would be involved; that thing where you hover over the other person, waiting for the spit to get close to their face before sucking it back up. I once kneed Sarah in the nose. I’ve never seen her in so much pain. “Sarah, stop it!” and “Jessie, don’t!” were very much the mantras of the house.
After the Snow Queen debacle, I did the odd panto. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I found my love of acting. I auditioned for Tallulah in a school production of Bugsy Malone, and Mrs Field, my amazing English teacher, gave me the part. That put a few of the other girls’ noses out of joint, but it didn’t matter – I loved the feeling of being on stage.
When I was in sixth form, a very inspirational teacher, Mr Ricks, told my mum and dad at a parents’ evening: “Jess is never going to get an A in drama.” He’d clocked how defiant I was and knew that kind of antagonism would motivate me. In the end, I got the highest A in the year.
That defiance comes through in the robot photo, but back then I didn’t know how to direct it. It has since become a very useful quality. After graduating, I was turned down by every drama school I applied to, which was devastating. But I just kept trying. I went away and taught English in Thailand for a year, to live a bit, and to stop obsessing about this career that I wanted so badly. I eventually acknowledged that there was a crucial aspect to auditioning, which was to not care so much what people think. When I came back from travelling, I auditioned for Rada and got in.
While living in Bristol, I worked at the tourist information in the middle of a shopping mall, handing out leaflets. Sarah had moved to London, and I would write her letters about how mind-numbing my life was. “Someone just came up and asked for the toilet again. How much worse can this get? Oh wait, someone’s vomited, I have to call security.” At the time, she was working in a call centre and was equally bored, but we both had to make ends meet. Those letters were a real lifeline – to be able to see the humour in our situations, and to share how genuinely worried we were about where our lives were going.
In my final year at Rada, I got plucked out to go to the National Theatre and performed play after play of new writing. I learned so much from every actor that I worked with. Then I got Call the Midwife, which was another level of TV work and fame. That show was a real turning point, and I started getting invited to red-carpet events. Sometimes I would take Sarah along with me, but it’s not exactly a natural night out. I may have even passed my bag to her once when I was getting my photo taken.
These days we prefer to spend our time together at each other’s houses, with our kids causing chaos. We never talk about it explicitly, but each time one of us moves, the other will follow. Now we live one mile apart, and I would like to stay like that for ever, until we are OAPs, together in a home.
Sarah
I felt powerful in my Snow Queen costume. Mum told me I should pretend my heart was made of ice, so my face is trying to channel evil. There was an expectation that Jess would start singing or something, but there were no lines. The robot just wandered around, looking furious.
Despite this incident, Jess and I were always great mates. I was thrilled when she was born. I remember holding her and feeling so excited. Apparently I said: “I’ve got a baby!” I also remember biting her bum.
School was rough. It was one of those places where you just had to get through it. Jess was shy, so she kept her head down. She didn’t get into acting until sixth form, whereas that’s when I left it behind. When she discovered how good she was at it, I watched her blossom. It was like a rocket to the moon. We were all relieved, because it was a way for her to channel those big emotions.
If Jess had an audition, I would sometimes help her practise her lines, but I found it quite disconcerting. There were times when it was like she had shapeshifted into the character entirely. As we are so close, it is incredibly confusing to see someone you love turning into someone else. Even after all these years, it’s still very tough if she is in a play; I can’t quite lose myself in the moment. “What are you doing Jess? Come back!”
I’m Jess’s biggest fan. I’m always talking about her at work. “Did you see my sister at the Emmys? Didn’t she look amazing?” Watching her career ascent has been amazing, but what I don’t relish is when we’re on the tube or in a restaurant and she gets recognised. When Call the Midwife was first on it was particularly prevalent. The show had such a huge following, and people would take secret pictures of her on their phone, or whisper about her if we walked into a room. It made me feel protective. Of course, there are other times when I forget that she is famous. I turn on Netflix, her face pops up and I think: “Hang on, isn’t that the furious robot?”
