Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

I may not have known much about Time Lords and blue police boxes, but I did know something about the man who’d asked to see me. I remember, at seven years old, being taken on a school trip to the Abbey Cinema in Liverpool to celebrate the Queen’s Coronation. For some reason we were shown a film called Scott of the Antarctic and Barry Letts had been one of the actors in that. Ever the performer and looking for inspiration even at that age, there had been something about him that had captured my interest: the way he moved, the way he delivered his lines, the way he interacted with props and his co-stars … everything was so considered. Twenty years on, as I wandered over to Threshold House and through the familiar front door, I was really rather excited.

There’s always a certain trepidation when you meet someone you admire, but Barry didn’t disappoint. In fact he couldn’t have been more charming – ‘Come in, come in, so glad you could make it at short notice.’ Such a refreshing fillip after my Some Mothers’ experience; I was amazed that as producer of the show he was so hands-on. To greet and audition all the extras and minor characters struck me as a very nice touch.

Barry handed me a script and I had a quick scan through. The audition scene was a girl called Sarah Jane talking to a normal-looking chap who, when she wasn’t looking, had this snake-like forked tongue that would dart out. Typical Doctor Who stuff, of course, but I’d never seen anything like it. Still, I thought, at the moment it’s just two human beings having a conversation, so that’s how I played it.

We had a couple of goes with Barry playing the snake-tongue fellow before he shook his head.

‘This isn’t working,’ he said.

Well, that’s another audition I’ve blown then. My face must have said everything.

‘No, no,’ Barry laughed. ‘It’s not you – I can’t do this monster chap justice! Tell you what, let me get another actor in to read with you.’ He paused. ‘Thinking about it, if we go to North Acton, Jon Pertwee’s rehearsing there at the moment. You can meet him and we’ll find an actor there.’

I thought, Bloody hell, they’re very thorough. Normally you arrive, you read, you go away, you wait to hear.

North Acton – or the Acton Hilton as it was known – was another BBC building, but this one was seven floors full of entertainers. Everyone was there. Just walking through the doors that first time I saw Cilla Black, the Two Ronnies and the cast of The Onedin Line. By the time we got upstairs my mouth was agape. You soon got used to all the stars of the day coming and going, but I can’t deny I wasn’t still thrilled to spot Sean Connery there one time and I’ll never forget, for some reason, Prunella Scales – Sybil from Fawlty Towers – struggling to buy chocolate from the vending machine.

A brilliantly chatty concierge welcomed you in at the door and good old Ruby was in charge of the till and the food in the canteen on the top floor. On every floor there were three rehearsal rooms and a green room for each one. The rehearsal rooms were massive – plenty of space to work through any show and mark it all out on the floor. Each room that we used was square with two walls that were full of windows so the light absolutely poured in. It was a brilliant set-up because you could pop along the corridor or upstairs to peer through and watch other shows when you were on a break. The BBC no longer use the Hilton, which is a shame: everything you needed was there.

On that day I followed Barry into an empty rehearsal room, where a chair and desk had been set up. Barry introduced me to Stephen Thorne, who I would later work with on the Who radio plays, and I was given a bit more information on the scene: I had to climb through a window into an office and have a nose around. That’s all I was told.

‘Just feel your way,’ Barry advised.

Auditions can be very intimidating but I really enjoyed this one. It was exactly like the sort of imaginary adventure you might act out as a kid. I think it helped that I just seemed to know instinctively how to play this character. That happens sometimes – there’s no real detective work, you get a handle on what she’s about as soon as you read the words.

I was so happy when we finished that I said, ‘Thank you so much.’

‘No – thank you,’ Barry replied. ‘That was lovely, I really enjoyed it.’

Casting can be a bit of a conveyor belt and I assumed they were seeing other people, so I picked up my bag ready to leave. But Barry said, ‘Jon’s just upstairs. He’d love to come down and say hello.’

Crikey, this is thorough – all this just to meet the extras! I’m surprised they have time for any rehearsals.

Jon Pertwee was a big name then, more as a personality than an actor, although he’d done plenty of good work. Quite a fuss had been made about Doctor Who reaching its tenth season so anyone with access to newspapers, TV or radio would have been aware of him at that moment. Even I’d noticed.

And I certainly noticed him in the flesh. Talk about making an entrance.

I was standing with my back to the windows with the sun pouring in from behind me. Suddenly the double doors opened and there was Jon Pertwee, bathed in golden light, flanked by a girl on either side. Honestly, it was like the Second Coming!

I could barely look at him, though. He was wearing a denim jacket covered in badges boasting trendy messages like ‘Ban the Bomb’ – always ahead of the fashion was Jon – and the sun was pinging off these badges in all directions. He was like a walking glitterball.

It was so OTT I burst out laughing.

Jon came straight over and said, ‘Hello, how are you? I’m Jon Pertwee.’ As if there was any doubt! We shook hands and chatted about my audition and then Jon said he had to get back to rehearsals. That was it, short and sweet.

Well, whether I get the part or not, I won’t forget that meeting in a hurry, I thought. I turned to say goodbye to Barry and that’s when he dropped the bombshell.

‘The Doctor needs a new assistant. Would you like to be our Sarah Jane?’

‘His assistant? You mean I’m not just here for one episode?’