Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

by Sladen, Elisabeth

  ‘Classic’ Who – as people started calling it – was still calling on my time, however. When I joined the show I’d just missed out on its tenth anniversary but I’d been involved in the twentieth and thirtieth celebrations. Even so, I was surprised to get an invite to the Houses of Parliament to celebrate Who’s fortieth. It was quite a low-key affair. Peter Davison was the only Doctor present, but there was a big cake and K-9 put in an appearance as well. It never fails to astound me how wherever you go, fans appear. I was told MPs were leaving the Commons chamber just to come over and say ‘hello’, before darting back in to vote.

  ‘Hi, I’m Glasgow North! Any time you want a chat just pop up there.’ Bizarre.

  As usual, I was upstaged by the bloody dog! All the MPs wanted to have a word with him. Ann Widdecombe, of all people, absolutely adored him. She came running over for a hug and a photo.

  The biggest celebration for the fans, of course, was the news that Who was being given the kiss of life by the Corporation that had killed it off in the first place. Was I bothered?

  Not in the slightest, actually.

  Barry always said they could never bring it back, its time had passed, and I was inclined to agree with him. I hadn’t watched the programme before I joined and I’d barely seen more than a few minutes since I’d left. Doctor Who for me is the relationships I built up during those couple of years in the 1970s: Jon, Tom, Barry, Terry (all the Terrys, in fact), Robert, Chris … everyone who made it such a special time. Maybe the show itself had run its course.

  Television had moved on since we’d run around wobbly sets with Plasticine dinosaurs. I thought, If this show is to stand a chance it will need serious investment. You can’t skimp. Modern audiences won’t stand for it. In the end, you have to say it was backed to the hilt: the money is there to see on the screen.

  As soon as I get home from an event such as the Parliament party, I become Mrs Miller. Elisabeth Sladen, star of TV’s Doctor Who, is hung up in the hallway with my coat – I’m not interested in carrying on that life unless I’m working. Even so, word from the new production occasionally filtered through; you had to be impressed with the calibre of personnel they were assembling. From what I was hearing, they had the imagination and the passion – and the budget. What impressed me most was they had the manners as well. Barry and Terry Dicks were both invited down to Cardiff by Russell T Davies. That just proves how much he cares – he’s as much of a fan as anyone. Barry hadn’t been there long when he signalled a big ‘thumbs-up’ to Russell (just as he had to hire me all those years ago). That would have meant everything to Russell.

  There was such a buzz about the programme from people like Barry that I did find myself sitting down in March 2005 to watch Rose, the first episode. Five minutes later I was reaching for the ‘off’ button. Not that I didn’t like it – I was just too nervous on their behalf. I just thought, It’s their first night, they’re going to be pulling out all the stops, trying to tick so many boxes to prove it was the right thing to bring it back. I could almost feel their anxiety from Cardiff – I’ve been in that position. So I decided to wait a few episodes and tune in when they’d hit their stride. I’m actually glad I did. Chris Eccleston was tremendous, magnificently dark, and it was a shame he didn’t continue longer.

  The revival had registered on my radar, then, but that was all. Then fans started writing in – young correspondents who’d seen the new show and gone on to discover old tapes and DVDs of my serials. They were all asking about Sarah – ‘What do you think she would be doing now?’ Although it was nice to know the interest was there, again this didn’t impact on my life greatly. It was outside of what I was doing and thinking at the time.

  When the press rang – as they did in their droves – to ask how I felt about Who coming back, I gave the most honest answer that I could. I said, ‘Brilliant news. It’s better to come back than not come back – on many levels. Actors working for a start.’ Ever the pragmatist …

  I never for a moment thought one of those actors might be me.

  * * *

  When Russell pushed his script across the table I instinctively did what everyone in my profession does: I checked how many lines I’d have. How else do you know if you’re an important character or not? I thought I’d be rifling through for my appearance but I couldn’t believe it: there I was on virtually every page! This wasn’t a cameo – this was a whole story.

  I started to scan the words. Toby Whithouse, now better known for having created Being Human, had written a beautiful, beautiful script and the point where Sarah realises the Doctor has returned after all those years is tear-jerking.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘No pressure,’ said Russell. ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to do it.’

  I stared again at the pages, dumbfounded that they’d actually written it already. There I was, third on the cast list. Everything already seemed to be in place.

  How could I say no?

  Afterwards Russell admitted the scale of the gamble he’d taken in commissioning the script before approaching me. If I’d turned it down they wouldn’t have gone to anyone else – Sarah was the one he wanted. She was the journalist, she fitted the script; they weren’t prepared to shoe-horn in any old former companion just for the sake of nostalgia. What an incredible honour.

  I think all that took about half an hour. Then we ordered more wine and told jokes. The perfect meeting!

  Twenty-nine years after first walking away, I was going back to Doctor Who.

  * * *

  Table read-throughs are always pressured environments. It’s the first time you meet a lot of the people you’ll be working with. When I was on Who, I was firmly ensconced in the BBC family. The extras coming in had to join our world, not vice versa. Upon arrival at a hotel in Cardiff for the School Reunion table read-through in the summer of 2005, I was as nervous as I’d ever been. The train ride down had given my doubts time to fester. What if they realise they’ve made a mistake? What if they think it’s too much of a risk pinning so much on a near-sixty-year-old?

  But if I had a dose of the first-day nerves, imagine what it must have been like for the new Doctor. Chris Eccleston had left and David Tennant was in the hot seat. And this was his first day at work.

  Because of time limitations they were doing read-throughs for all three parts of the first recording block in one day. So whereas I expected to be met by a cast well into their stride, in fact David was even more nervous than me.

  ‘I’m absolutely bricking it,’ Billie Piper admitted. ‘David is, too.’

  That made me feel better so I marched over, hand out.

  ‘Hello, Doctor.’

  He couldn’t have been nicer, although when he told me how honoured he felt having me on board I assumed it was just good manners. It was only when I saw him do publicity for the show that I realised how much of a fan he had been of Tom’s Doctor and Sarah Jane. Everything he said about them was so heartfelt. Just like everything he said about me. Bless!

  In my day, at a read-through, apart from the cast, there’d be someone from makeup perhaps, maybe another person from costume if they weren’t busy, and the script editor. This place was heaving – so many scriptwriters, the entire makeup department, lighting, sound, cameramen. The only person not there was the tea lady – although soon enough she popped in with refreshments. There were even people standing around the edges. That was the point at which I really panicked – I knew they were there to see David’s debut and not me but even so, I thought, I’m getting terrified now …

  I sat next to Anthony Head (Mr Finch, the headmaster). He’s got such a twinkle about him, which is why people loved him so much in those Gold Blend coffee adverts with Cherie Lunghi. Funnily enough, my daughter Googled my name recently – and a picture of Cherie came up! I don’t think I mentioned that to Tony but I was so glad we were in the same episode – I knew it would be a winner with him on board.

  We did the episodes in order, so Tony
and I had to sit there through two other shows first. David and Billie betrayed no sign of nerves – they were tremendous. Meanwhile, I was getting more tense by the minute. Oh God, I just want to go home!

  I stared at the script and concentrated on summoning the spirit of Sarah Jane. Unlike David, who had a pretty blank canvas, I had a duty to honour the character they’d seen me playing on and off for more than half my life – I needed to make sure this was the woman I knew, the Sarah I remembered.

  Reintroducing myself to the character was one thing. The show, I realised, was something else. I was actually shocked at how emotionally attached I felt just being back. None of the spin-offs on telly or radio had prepared me for this. Maybe I was naïve imagining I would be able to treat it like any other job. You know, come in, do the best you can, and buy something nice with the fee – that wasn’t going to happen today. The nerves told me otherwise.

  Come on, Sladen, I thought. Lots of deep breaths, lots of deep breaths …

  Suddenly it was our turn.

  Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the door opened and Stephen Fry strolled in. Just what I need – a celebrity audience.

  At these sessions you literally just sit round a table and act out, as best you can, the script in front of you. Even though you’re seated, they expect you to put in as close to a proper performance as possible so Russell and the director can then tweak if some of the dialogue’s a bit slow, or we inspire a joke or something like that. With everyone looking on it’s quite a pressured environment and some people have been known to fall apart.

  Not so David and Billie, though. They were in their stride now and Tony was just as sublime. I, on the other hand, was crap! There you go. I couldn’t bear to look at Russell. Despite his pledge in the restaurant, by the end I was thinking, I wouldn’t blame him if he swapped me for Jo Grant.

  Afterwards people were very kind to me and someone said, ‘Russell, Phil, Billie and David are going out for a meal with Stephen. They’d love you to join them.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ I said, all the while thinking, Will the torture never end?

  Even though I was staying overnight, for some reason I’d forgotten to bring any makeup – I must have been panicking even before I left home. I rushed over to the makeup supervisor and said, ‘Have you got anything for me?’ Bless her, she parcelled up a bit of blusher and a few bits and bobs then I ran up to my room and got ready.

  Stephen had been going to write an episode at one point, that’s why he was there – although he was also a friend of David’s anyway. I’d seen David in Russell’s Casanova and also Blackpool, in which he was with the only Liverpudlian who can make a Scouse accent sound sexy – David Morrissey. I must say, though, he really stood out for me in Stephen’s film Bright Young Things. I thought then, That boy knows how to deliver a line fast. Anyone acting with him really needs to be on their game.

  The meal was one to remember. How could it not be in such illustrious company? But throughout I felt a bit of a fraud and I’m sure I let the side down. Whenever the conversation swung round to technology I just had to sit there in silence – I didn’t know how to text and I certainly didn’t have an email address, so I did feel a bit at sea. For the first time I began to have doubts about how Sarah Jane would fit in. She’s from a different generation – I’m from a different generation. It’s never going to work.

  But everyone was so kind, and Stephen is a sweet, gentle man. Still I couldn’t help but think, It’s all going too fast. I’m not ready.

  * * *

  I’d said ‘no’ to returning for John Nathan-Turner in 1980 because my time with Tom Baker had been so special I didn’t want to reheat that soufflé. As I returned to Cardiff in August 2005 for a three-week shoot, it was to join a different set-up. Different Doctor, different era, different personnel … But the second I stepped into the studio I realised that the same passion was still there. The crew in the 1970s had lived and breathed Who – you can see what we achieved on such small budgets. I was delighted to take note that apart from the money, nothing else had changed. You will never see devotion like it – these people would sell a kidney if it improved the show!

  My first day started so perfectly. I loved it, I really did. Everyone was glorious with me, and so thoughtful. They were desperate for me to have fun, and to shine and be in the spotlight. Russell gave me his mobile number and said, ‘If there’s anything you don’t like, just call.’ What an honour.

  And I couldn’t believe it when I was shown my trailer. On Who I’d only ever had an umbrella to hide under before! Waiting for me inside was a huge bunch of flowers from the producer Julie Gardner, Russell and Phil. It was a touching gesture, if I’m honest, but I wished my arrival could have been a little more low-key. I had so much to live up to. (Actually, that was the difference between now and then. Modern Doctor Who is massive news and a highlight of the BBC schedule, one of the Corporation’s biggest hits. There was nothing low-key about it.)

  The crew in Cardiff were – and still are – spectacular. There’s not a weak link in the chain. Julie, Phil and Russell are so tight. But so much has to do with who your Doctor is, and David Tennant led from the front the whole time. Behind him was an incredible ensemble desperate to make the show work and he was just so pleased to be there in that moment, every moment. Genuinely. And that comes across. David is David as you see him in interviews – no one will say a bad word against him, nor should they. He’s the consummate professional but also the loveliest, sweetest man. I remember his parents came down to see him while I was there. They were so thrilled for him and he got a kick out of them seeing him fulfilling his childhood dream.

  Being back on the show was heady enough, but shooting my first lines with David proved a real goosebumps moment. Fittingly, we were in a school gym because there I was acting like a schoolgirl. I don’t think I’d appreciated how much the show had stayed with me until that moment. It was a beautiful little scene in every way, my absolute favourite.

  I get asked a lot, ‘What was it like seeing David instead of Tom or Jon?’ And I think, I’ve worked on The Five Doctors, I’ve been in Dimensions and I’m one of the lucky few who has actually witnessed a regeneration. This time I just thought, Ah, that’s what the Doctor looks like now. I was completely cool with it – and that’s how I played it.

  The Doctor may have changed but another co-star proved as temperamental as ever. You can imagine how thrilled I was when I saw in the script that I’d be reunited with K-9! As usual, I was in the minority, though. It was one thing MPs being smitten but this time when the dog appeared, all those hardened professionals suddenly melted, reverting to children, oohing and ahing over K-9 like it was a new baby. Once it started moving people couldn’t get enough of it. I remember Billie saying she wanted to buy one. Well, that was before it banged into her for the tenth time in rehearsal! It can actually give you quite a nasty whack. Funnily enough, Billie never mentioned it again after that.

  All these years later and it was still just an inanimate box on wheels. I foresaw plenty of uncomfortable scenes delivering dialogue crouched by its side, or take after take waiting for it to surmount a particularly tricky bump in the studio floor. Actually, full marks to Russell, he’d already thought of this. As well as Mat’s K-9 they found another one that a local guy had made. This model couldn’t move like the original – which isn’t saying much – but you could remove its side panel and see the innards. So now we had the dog on a table being fixed and all the humans in shot at the same time, without being hunched over. Genius! Why hadn’t anyone thought of this on K-9 and Company?

  Ironically, it turned out that K-9’s mobility was the least of our problems.

  At the end of the first day we had to film a scene where David and I run out of the school gym. Some things never change, I thought. Doctor Who has – and always had – more haring around than Challenge Anneka. Anyway, we just had to bolt straight forward and turn really quickly out of the door. Pretty simple stuff, re
ally.

  Unless you’re on a polished parquet floor, wearing heeled boots.

  We shot off on cue. In his trademark pumps, David stuck to the floor like glue. But I didn’t! As I went for the turn, I felt my standing leg slip away followed by the sound of something going ‘snap’.

  ‘Christ!’ I said, clutching my thigh. It felt as if I’d been shot.

  ‘Lis, are you all right?’ David asked, instinctively reverting to his natural Scottish accent.

  ‘I’m fine, it’s OK.’

  But it wasn’t. I struggled on but I couldn’t put any weight on that side and I knew in my heart I needed to go to hospital. As soon as my scenes ended I fell into my car and was driven to A&E. When the doctors said I had destabilised my pelvis and torn my quad I just wanted to cry. Back in my hotel that night my thoughts turned as black as my leg. They’re going to hate me if I ruin this. What choice was I leaving them? They’d written a whole show for me, gone to the trouble of making a very specific link between modern Who and the classic series. And now, like a silly old woman, I was about to wreck everything. You don’t let people do all this for you then bleed on them!

  I admit, I’ve had better nights.

  Eventually I decided the only thing to do was to play it down – I owed it to the team. As soon as people started worrying about me, they wouldn’t be focused on their own jobs (it’s human nature) and then the show would suffer. David already had enough on his plate without me adding to it and the last thing anyone needed was headlines saying ‘geriatric assistant ruins comeback’. So, if anyone asked I’d be just ‘sore’.

  Phil was great – ‘if there’s anything you need’ – and the director, James Hawes, shuffled things as much as possible, although I’m sure he was secretly cursing me under his breath. If you look at the programme again, you can see Rose’s boyfriend, Mickey, occasionally helping me around. And if you look really closely, you can see one of my thighs is twice the size of the other! I don’t know how I got those jeans on and off.