Natalie Cassidy looks back: ‘EastEnders’ amazing matriarchs taught me everything about acting’

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Natalie Cassidy in a bridesmaid-looking dress, holding a trumpet, in 1996 and 2026Natalie Cassidy in 1996 and 2026. Later photograph: Pål Hansen/The Guardian. Styling: Andie Redman. Hair and makeup: Alice Theobald at Arlington Artists and Hair Gain. Archive photograph: BBC

Born in Islington, London, in 1983, Natalie Cassidy is best known for playing Sonia Fowler in EastEnders. She joined the soap in 1993, and after leaving in 2007, she returned several times before making her final exit in April 2025. As well as theatre work, Cassidy has appeared in TV shows including Psychoville, Motherland and Boarders. She hosts the podcast Life With Nat and co-hosts Off the Telly. Natalie Cassidy: Caring Together is on BBC One and iPlayer now.

This was taken on the freezing cold set of EastEnders when I was 13. It was Sonia’s mum’s wedding, so they’d given her a trumpet to play at the ceremony. A genius idea from the writers, as the trumpet brought light and comedy to the role. Sadly, like most soap characters, she got downtrodden over the years. Humour has a tendency to fade after a long time on Albert Square.

I’d been doing EastEnders for three years by this point. I was a confident kid and an old soul. Instead of hanging out with the other child actors on set, I’d always sit with Wendy Richard, June Brown, Pam St Clement or Barbara Windsor. Those amazing, matriarchal women taught me everything I needed to know about being an actor. It’s been really sad losing most of them over the years. Lots of my friends are in their 70s; if I keep befriending old people I have to accept they’re all going to die soon.

I loved working as a kid – I was a consummate professional and never late. The cast and crew were like a family, and I wanted to be there all the time. Whereas I couldn’t really win at school. As much as I loved learning, the other students were jealous because I was on the telly. I’d get a bit of stick, so eventually thought, if you can’t beat them, join them. I ended up hanging out with the naughty lot, which was a shame.

My childhood was very loving. It was a calm, quiet house, as my parents were in their 40s when I came along, and my brothers were 15 and 18, so were more independent. Nanny Liz was with us, too; Mum cared for her until she died when I was nine. I think that’s why I loved going to work with lots of noise and people doing a turn – I’d never really been around that kind of energy growing up. That being said, I would often go and sit in hospital wards when my nan was poorly and entertain all of the elderly patients. Singing and dancing, trying to make people laugh.

I was eight when I joined Anna Scher’s theatre school in Islington. She was extraordinary, someone who set up the sort of creative environment where anyone – any race, gender, age or religion – could pay £2 and join in. She always gave me a chance and was the one who put me up for the EastEnders audition in 1993, even though I’d not been going that long.

When I got the part, the magnitude of what was about to happen was lost on all of us. Nobody in my family was in entertainment – my dad was a newsagent – and we didn’t even watch EastEnders, my parents liked Coronation Street. If they’d known what a huge show it was, I’m not sure they would have let me do it. They would have liked me to remain their little girl for longer, to run around outside and be free, rather than work.

Despite the strict schedule, I did love to let my hair down. In my teens I’d go clubbing, sometimes with some cast members, but mostly my own friends. I was good mates with H from Steps at one point. We used to go to gay clubs in Soho and bump into Gok Wan and have a brilliant, random night out. I have very fond memories of drinking a warm can of Red Stripe and dancing to the Smiths at the 100 Club on Oxford Street.

My mum died a week after my 19th birthday. I feel a lot of guilt and anger about the way I dealt with it. I kept working and partying, and didn’t stop when I should have been there for my family. At 19, you’re selfish and you don’t want to be around your parents. The grief of losing her didn’t hit me properly until I lost my dad, five years ago. But I did things differently with him. I bought a house with an annexe so he could live with us. For four years, we had quality time together. I had the honour of being with him when he passed.

The first time I left EastEnders was in my early 20s. I had been there for 14 years and wanted to try something new. I did a brilliant play called Bedroom Farce, and The Cherry Orchard at Chichester Festival theatre. To subsidise those amazing projects I also put out a fitness DVD, and signed up for all the reality shows like Strictly and Celebrity Big Brother. Theatre work doesn’t pay the tax bills, unfortunately.

I’ve had a lot of memorable moments on screen: teen pregnancies, being arrested for murder, a kidnapping. But during the dress rehearsal for our live 40th anniversary episode, I got completely carried away. Sonia was giving birth in the rubble of the Vic – as you do – and I was being pushed and pulled and strained, until I heard this little pop. I carried on, of course. Finished the rehearsal, then afterwards mentioned I was feeling really sore. Everyone was telling me I had to go to hospital, but I kept saying no, we had rehearsals to get through, I’d be fine. Eventually I went the next day, had an X-ray, and the doctor looked at me and said: “What have you done? Have you been in a car accident?” Apparently I’d fractured my sternum. It’s a very rare injury. I asked what I could do, and they said there was nothing – just rest, don’t put it under any pressure. I said: “I’m going live tonight, unfortunately. I’ve got to do it all again.”

My daughters are 15 and nine, around the same age that I started on EastEnders. I wouldn’t want them to be famous, that’s for sure. Mostly because of the internet, but also because I don’t like the celebrity world. I’ve met a lot of people in this industry who I worry about. Fame is so important to them. I’ve had it all my life, and I don’t know what it’s like to not be famous. I can’t remember not being recognised in the street. It’s not a big deal to me. Plus, I am lucky – I don’t tend to think about or care how anyone else perceives me. I have never given a shit.

Earlier this year, I left EastEnders with my trumpet in the back of a car with my sister Bianca and the new baby, Julia. It was a lovely, funny send-off, but I won’t miss the relentless schedule – having to skip the kids’ assemblies, never being able to book a doctor’s appointment or make plans with friends. This industry isn’t very friendly for mums, and I want to be home a lot more now.

A lot of actors are very bitter about their soap origins. When I look at this picture, I just see a character who has given me so much. That’s why I’ve been able to leave again in a really amicable manner, and why maybe I’ll go back once more. I love Sonia, and the trumpet. All of her is a part of me.

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