Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

by Sladen, Elisabeth

  I really thought School Reunion would be the final word as far as Sarah’s appearances in Who were concerned. Russell, as usual, had other ideas. David was coming to the end of his third proper season and Russell wanted him to go out with a bang. So for The Stolen Earth and Journey’s End he drafted in Rose, Mickey, Torchwood and good old Sarah Jane Smith for the mother of all end-of-term parties.

  I was in Cardiff anyway for The Sarah Jane Adventures, Series Three, but it was still a joy to be involved again. From the moment I saw the script, however, I knew I had every right to be there. Or rather, Sarah Jane had.

  The villain of the piece, we soon learned, was Davros. Like the Sontarans, I’d been the first person, along with Tom and Ian, to face this monster (although this time it was Julian Bleach under the prosthetics and not Michael Wisher). Davros and Sarah had genuine history. The moment he recognises Sarah is quite enthralling and for anyone who’s seen Genesis of the Daleks, it’s guaranteed to send a shiver down the spine. It did mine, anyway, and I was in a studio surrounded by lights and wires and crew. Just think, if Sarah had got her way and the Doctor had wiped out the Daleks, this story would never have happened …

  After the regeneration cliffhanger of The Stolen Earth there was massive interest in Journey’s End and that carried us through to a funny five-minute SJA Comic Relief Special, starring Ronnie Corbett, and in turn to our third series. As we arrived in Cardiff the press were going crazy for David’s final four ‘Specials’ as the Doctor. Little did they know he was actually doing five!

  Series Three of The Sarah Jane Adventures was our best yet. The Who crossovers continued, so we got to meet the Judoon, who’d been in Freema Agyeman’s debut, Smith & Jones, while the return of the flatulent Blathereen meant another outing for the Slitheen costumes from the parent show. The guest stars this time were really top drawer. Jeff Rawle and Suranne Jones were in Mona Lisa’s Revenge, Miriam Margolyes and Simon Callow chipped in with voices in The Gift, Floella Benjamin was a hoot in The Eternity Trap and Nigel Havers almost stole the show in The Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith.

  Two men, however, stand out. The Mad Woman in the Attic had a very special guest star from London. His name was Brian Miller!

  Poor Danny had no idea. I didn’t tell anyone before the read-through and it was only afterwards that he came running over embarrassed in case he’d put his foot in it. The show’s schedule is so punishing that I barely got to see my husband working but it was refreshing to spend our evenings and lunchtimes together.

  I’m sure he thinks I moan out of turn about my work, so when Brian nearly got swept away by hurricane conditions while filming on Barry Island beach, I couldn’t help but feel a little smug – ‘Now you see what I’ve been putting up with for thirty years!’

  Apart from my real husband, it was an honour to have Nigel Havers play Sarah Jane’s groom-to-be in The Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith. But it was our other guest who I knew would seize the headlines.

  When David Tennant agreed to appear in The Sarah Jane Adventures I’m sure he didn’t expect it to be the last thing his Doctor ever did. The poor guy had already endured his regeneration, seen Matt Smith and Steven Moffat take over, basically had run himself physically and emotionally ragged for The End of Time – and now he had to do it all again! He must have been completely Who’d out by the time he arrived with us but you never would have guessed it. And it’s fitting, I suppose, that his last appearance as the Doctor is to save his former companion one more time.

  The kids – I must stop calling them that – were obviously bowled over by the whole thing. Tommy and I had been in Journey’s End and The Stolen Earth already, but having the TARDIS with us and the actual Doctor really gave the whole episode the sort of boost money can’t buy. The energy of the man is utterly incredible – he’s like an electrical storm arriving on set. Things just happen. Even K-9 seemed to behave for him!

  The only thing about the episode that frustrates me is the ending.

  Sarah says, ‘until we meet again.’

  ‘Don’t forget me, Sarah Jane,’ David’s Doctor replies.

  Loads of people wrote to congratulate me on that – ‘Oh, Lis, that was a stroke of genius!’ – and I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about.

  And then the penny dropped. It was a beautiful homage to my original farewell from The Hand of Fear and I hadn’t even spotted it. The whole point of that scene had gone completely over my head! Gareth Roberts, who wrote the episode, is so clever – and I’m so stupid. I bet David knew – he is a proper fan. Me? Not a clue, I’m afraid – I didn’t tie it in with Tom’s words to me at all. If I had realised, I would have played it very differently. There’s obviously a lot of emotional baggage you can unpack with those words. All the things I could have done … But no, it completely passed me by until the plaudits started to come in.

  Still, at least I wasn’t hiding a broken leg this time.

  School Reunion had been very much me entering the Doctor’s world. Now he was coming into mine. At least, that’s how it should have been. But as soon as the team knew David was definitely doing it, the number of pages with his name on just seemed to go up and up. His heart must have sunk when he saw the amount of work in store for him. So he might have been forgiven if he’d served up some sort of Doctor-lite. But you never get that with David – it was a majestic performance, so alive and rat-a-tat-tat, and I’m proud to know it was his last performance as the Tenth Doctor.

  * * *

  I’m pretty sure my days on Who are over now as well – on the main programme, at least. We’re just finishing the fifth series of The Sarah Jane Adventures now and who knows how long that will go on? As long as our passionate audiences are still there, we will be, I suppose, although budget cuts and time constraints don’t make it any easier. (Not everything has changed at the BBC …) And Sarah Jane can’t regenerate.

  Maybe one of the kids will take over, like on Taggart. Perhaps it will run forever.

  While I knew David was coming over to us in spring 2008, I had no idea that I would be appearing in his show, too.

  It would be easier to get an invite to the Royal Wedding than squeeze any information out of the Who team these days. I don’t blame them – every single episode or piece of gossip is leaked online within seconds. So I wasn’t surprised, then, to be handed two pages rather than the whole script.

  We filmed it outside Sarah Jane’s Bannerman Road address, so nothing out of the ordinary as far as other people were concerned. Except, of course, David had just saved Tommy from a speeding car.

  Nobody told me anything. Some things don’t need to be spelt out, though. The script just read: ‘You come out, you see him and you’re upset and you cry.’

  Oh, it must be David leaving, I thought.

  And so I didn’t ask any questions – I took it that Sarah Jane would know that the Doctor was regenerating. But really, they might have given me a few pointers. That annoyed me, actually, not having any context. So I did it in three different ways and just hoped one of them would fit.

  For me, David’s real goodbye was equally disappointing. They had a no-expenses-spared party for him and emotions ran high. Russell told this brilliant story about trying to write his speech. He’d gone to a park in Cardiff, completely deserted, and sat down on one of the many benches. Then he watched a tramp enter and he just thought, I bet he sits down next to me.

  Sure enough, he did.

  The tramp said, ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I work on Doctor Who,’ Russell replied, prepared for the inevitable conversation.

  The tramp turned to study his face.

  ‘Are you David Tennant?’

  Bernard Cribbins and Timothy Dalton were at the party as well, obviously, and as Timothy left the stage, Julie said, ‘My God, we’ve got Doctor Who and James Bond!’

  Russell said, ‘Ooh, is he James Bond as well?’

  Everyone laughed but I heard Timothy’s smile was a little forced, if you know what I mean
…

  David’s father gave the best speech, revealing how the young David used to play in the garden dressed up in his mother’s hat and scarf pretending to be Tom Baker! That brought the house down but it made me feel my age, I can tell you.

  Afterwards I found David standing by a wall, a bit overwhelmed by it all. ‘Weren’t the speeches lovely?’ I said.

  ‘I was having a great time until my father let the cat out of the bag!’ he laughed.

  In hindsight, this was the perfect moment to say goodbye properly. I’d thought long and hard about the perfect gift for him and had wrapped up the old TARDIS key that George had given me when I left. Knowing David was such a fan I thought it would mean something to him and because the TARDIS is now opened by a simple Yale, I wrote, ‘In case the buggers ever change the locks.’

  I was pretty pleased with it, I have to say, especially after David’s dad’s revelations but when I came to hand it over, David had gone. The night was young but I think the emotions had caught up with him and he’d slunk away without fanfare. I sent the gift to his assistant and I hope he got it: he deserved it.

  * * *

  It wasn’t just goodbye to David, though. The whole team was handing over the reins and Russell and Julie were relocating to Hollywood. I wondered how this would affect my little programme. Russell put me straight at the party – ‘Never forget, I’m only a phone call away.’ In fact, it works perfectly. We speak and text now more than ever and it doesn’t matter what time of night or day, he’s always on. I was anguishing over an awards show outfit recently so I texted, ‘Blue or pink?’

  A second later: ‘Blue.’

  He just knows.

  It’s unprecedented, in my experience, to have that level of access to the execs but The Sarah Jane Adventures is Russell’s baby. He looks over all the scripts, looks at the edits and fires off notes left, right and centre. It’s as if he’s in the next room.

  But it wasn’t just the show I was worried about when Russell announced he was leaving the UK – I also needed to give him the best farewell gift, but what? When I’d left Who, I bought Tom an engraved gin glass, which he claims to still have to this day – but what for Russell?

  Then I realised I had the perfect thing at home. Russell’s leaving, the Doctor’s leaving – just as I once left, I thought. So I rooted around in my cuttings box and there it was: my original script complete with my own deliciously inconsiderate comments in the margins!

  Russell being Russell, he knew exactly what it was the moment I handed it over. There’s no one else I would rather have given it to, actually. He has been so important in my life and totally deserving of something truly unique as a thank-you present.

  * * *

  Russell’s generosity didn’t only extend to me, though. I’ll never forget how thoughtful he was in inviting Barry and Terry to Cardiff to give their opinions on what he was doing. Poor Barry died unexpectedly in 2009. That shook me more than even Jon’s death, I think. He was my mentor, my inspiration in so many ways, and my friend. It was a dark few days in the Miller household after that. It was a very private family funeral so we didn’t attend, but we sent a card and I spoke to his daughter. I’m just so glad Barry lived to see the heights his Sarah Jane had achieved. I owe him so much. It’s fair to say, not even Russell could have rejuvenated Who if Barry hadn’t lain such solid foundations.

  A few months after Barry’s passing, on New Year’s Day 2010, I sat down with my family to watch part two of The End of Time. My scene at the end is one of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it numbers but I think it works. It’s nice, actually, and says all it needs to. Matt Smith is the Doctor now and even joined us on the fourth series of The Sarah Jane Adventures. He was brilliant – so young and so tall! But I think my time on the main programme passed with David: his Doctor brought me back. So now – thirty-seven years after I first stepped inside the TARDIS, after I encountered my initial alien encounter, after having my life turned upside down by the wonderful team on Who and the fans who made it all worthwhile – we were leaving together.

  As the credits on The End of Time rolled I realised it was three years to the day since the pilot episode of The Sarah Jane Adventures premiered on the same channel. Who saw that coming, back in 1973 when Brian and I sat down to watch my fledgling appearance on The Time Warrior?

  Who indeed.

  Epilogue

  Who On Earth Would Want To Read About Me?

  Lis – precious mum to one of us, dear wife to the other – worked on this book throughout 2010 with her co-writer, Jeff. In December of that year, she received a printout of the final draft from her publisher and put it in a drawer. Christmas and New Year with the family were more important to her than anything work related. Weeks passed and the book stayed in her desk. When her editor, Sam, rang to ask about progress, Lis said she was struggling to find the time to go through it. New scripts for Series Five of The Sarah Jane Adventures were beginning to arrive; they had to take priority. More importantly, she wanted to be fully focused before adding the finishing touches to her book. She didn’t want to give it anything less than her best. If only she wasn’t always so tired …

  And then in February 2011 Lis’s world, and ours, changed forever.

  She was diagnosed with cancer. She had probably been suffering its effects for two years – that accounted for the tiredness. Worst of all, she was informed the disease was already quite far along. Her doctor said, ‘We can’t cure it, but we’re going to throw everything we can at you to fight it as long as possible.’

  That fight lasted no more than two months. Lis died at the Meadow House Hospice in the early hours of Tuesday, 19 April 2011. She was 65 years old.

  * * *

  The first person Lis told about her diagnosis was Russell T Davies. She actually rang him on the way back from the doctor’s in February. She loved hearing his voice. He was always so positive, always instinctively knew what to do, but even he couldn’t help this time.

  Lis owed Russell so much. She had just attained pensioner status when he’d plucked her out of retirement to appear once again in Doctor Who. It’s fair to say none of us saw that coming. And as for then creating an entire TV show for her to star in – that was just magical.

  Lis was so proud of The Sarah Jane Adventures. It was playing a character she’d always loved and had protected so strongly for decades. Plenty of writers or directors in the past hadn’t really understood Sarah Jane, but Russell knew. In his hands, Sarah Jane got to have the life she deserved.

  Lis loved having her own show. She used to say it was such an honour, and such an unexpected one at her time of life. But she really gave it her all. She never did anything at less than 100 per cent effort – you can see that on the screen.

  She played a surrogate mum in the show and she felt like one as well, because it was such a loving relationship between herself and the cast and crew. Lis loved fussing around the kids and being part of such a big, dedicated team. (She would have made a wonderful grandmother.) Decades after her theatre training she was still an ensemble player at heart and it gave her such a thrill to think all those lovely people around her had employment at that moment because of her. She was so happy that her good fortune could be shared with as many others as possible.

  Of course, with that realisation came great pressure. In her final days and weeks, Lis was at her most despondent when she thought about her dozens of good friends in Cardiff, and many more unseen champions of Sarah Jane in London, who would be out of work because of her. And then there were the fans, hundreds of thousands of disappointed children, who would be left with unfinished adventures. ‘All these people are depending on me,’ she would say. ‘I’m letting everyone down.’ It was typical of her – worrying about everyone else when really, she should have been thinking of herself.

  * * *

  Lis was very stubborn, extremely motivated and quietly ambitious. Once she’d recovered from the shock of being given her own show she determined to do every
thing she could to make it succeed. If that meant leaving her home and family to live in Cardiff for six months a year, then so be it.

  The BBC provided a wonderful apartment in the Bay area that Lis transformed into her home from home. But more than anything she loved coming back to her real home – and to us.

  In the early days she would return virtually every weekend. Being driven all the way to London was her one luxury, but while it was Elisabeth Sladen who left Cardiff, the woman who climbed out of the car in Ealing was unmistakably Lis Miller. She had no problem separating her two lives. Perhaps the long journey helped her adjust. Seconds after entering our house she’d find some little job to do, often in her beloved garden. You couldn’t stop her.

  ‘Mum, I’ll do that.’

  ‘It’s all right, I won’t be a minute.’

  The idea of relaxing never occurred to her. If she wasn’t pinned down with coffee and a flapjack, she would never have stopped.

  From being the centre of a creative maelstrom one minute to running around fussing and clucking over us like a mother hen the next, Lis took it all in her stride. Or so we thought. As the programme became more successful and the schedule more punishing, Lis’s trips home became less practical and we began to visit her instead. That was when she confessed, ‘Every time the car taking me back to Cardiff pulled away from our house, I cried. Every time.’ As much as she adored being Sarah Jane, she loved being Mrs Miller.

  Lis kept that secret to herself for several years, but that was her way. She was intensely private. In fact, you know she would have hated us revealing any of this!

  She was an actress, she was famous and she was often recognised, especially in the last few years, but she wasn’t a celebrity. That wasn’t the life she led, or the lifestyle she wanted. Lis only wore dark glasses if it was sunny.