Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

down in front of you, especially with the whole bar looking on. I didn’t know whether to comfort Jon or run. To be honest, I just wanted the ground to open up. I think I stood there awkwardly for a second, but it felt like an age. Then I felt an arm around my shoulder and I was led away. I learned later it was Peter Pegrum, one of the visual effects guys. Right then he was my knight in shining armour.

‘Don’t worry about Jon,’ Peter said. ‘He just misses Katy, that’s all. It’s not personal.’

It was nice to hear. But by the end of the night I was ready to punch the next person who even mentioned that woman’s name. (Of course, I didn’t mention this when Katy and Matt Smith joined me on the Sarah Jane Adventure Death of the Doctor. But then why would I? You only have to spend a second in Katy’s company to realise how wonderful and scatty and delightful she is. The idea of anyone holding a grudge with her is inconceivable. In my defence, I didn’t know her then …)

So it wasn’t the most comfortable evening I’ve ever had. Jon quickly recovered his normal bubbly self and a bit of a party atmosphere picked up again, but the feeling lingered: whatever I did onscreen, I just wasn’t Jo Grant.

But sod that, I thought. This is the age of Sarah Jane.

I’m sure if you ask anyone else about that night they’ll say I was quite drunk. I can reveal now that it was an act. I still wasn’t much of a drinker – I might have had one gin, but I pretended to be a lot further gone than I was. It just seemed easier. Almost the diplomatic option, actually, because the next day I could say I didn’t remember anything. But I’ll never forget that night – as everyone relaxed and got to know each other, good friendships were made. Apart from Jon’s episode, there was quite a lot of ribald joking going on, and more than one fellow saying a blue joke then panicking when he saw me. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Lis.’ As if I’d never heard swearing before! Jim Acheson’s assistant, Robin Stubbs, really took me under his wing. He’d been on my episode of Some Mothers … and I became strong friends with him and his wife later. That night he was my guardian angel.

At breakfast the next day there were one or two people nursing hangovers. Jon was as lively as usual and afterwards he and I were led into a big room, where Sandra Exelby was waiting to do our makeup. You know I love actors’ tales and Jon rattled off a couple of stories that had Sandra and me in stitches. Half an hour later we climbed on the bus with everyone else. I sat next to Kevin and braced myself for the day ahead. The real work was about to begin.

*   *   *

The reason we were in Cheshire can be answered in two words: Peckforton Castle. Although built as a folly in the 1800s, to the untrained eye Peckforton looks exactly like a mediaeval castle. And that is exactly why we wanted it. Strictly speaking, we needed it to be two mediaeval castles.

The Time Warrior, written by future script editor Robert Holmes, was a four-part serial featuring warring neighbours Irongron and Wessex. Irongron, the local aggressor, wants to conquer all before him and unquestioningly accepts the fantastic weaponry offered by the stranded stranger Linx – a Sontaran whose ship has crashed in Earth’s Middle Ages.

A Sontaran – an alien! I’d never encountered the like.

In the story, Linx kidnaps scientists from the twentieth century to aid in his repairs, conducted in his laboratory at Irongron’s castle. The Doctor sets off in the TARDIS to investigate and Sarah Jane stows aboard. That, in a nutshell, was the start of my adventure.

I’ve always loved being part of a repertory company, so travelling with everyone on the bus was in my comfort zone. Both regulars and newbies had bonded pretty well the night before so there was a real buzz in the air. The first day’s shooting looked like it might actually be fun.

While the supporting cast, including June Brown – later Dot Cotton from EastEnders – were getting to grips with their cumbersome mediaeval costumes, I had no such problems. Jim Acheson had found me a smart brown trouser suit, large-collared shirt and jumper. After the state of me in Z- Cars and my shopkeeper’s overalls from Some Mothers it made a change to actually look nice for once.

I think Barry originally hoped to direct The Time Warrior himself but had become tied up with Terrance Dicks in preparation work for the BBC’s new sci-fi show, Moonbase 3. Instead we had a chap called Alan Bromly. When people talk about the ‘old school’ ways of the Corporation in the 1950s, it’s people like Alan they’re referring to. The image of pipe and trilby sums him up to a T.

I don’t know why Barry hired someone who hadn’t worked on a Who before – I suppose everyone needs their chance but handing him a new companion to introduce to the series was quite an order. Or maybe it wasn’t. Perhaps it only seemed important to me. I found Bromly hard to connect with. Not unpleasant, just distant – we were on different wavelengths. But no matter how hard I tried to retune to his frequency, he wasn’t terribly receptive. I thought, I could really do with a bit of direction here. I’m in this show for 26 episodes. If I don’t get the first one right, it’s going to be a nightmare.

But my legacy wasn’t at the head of Bromly’s agenda: he had a job and a schedule to stick to and no silly little actresses were going to delay him. About the only words I heard from him were, ‘Action!’ and ‘Cut!’ Point and shoot, move on quickly. Meanwhile I just had to trust my instincts that I was doing Sarah Jane justice.

I wasn’t the only one introducing an important recurring character, though. Kevin Lindsay, as Linx, would do such a sterling job that the Sontarans would return again and again – even popping up in The Sarah Jane Adventures. Jim Acheson designed the costume and Sandra Exelby helped the effects people with the head mould. Linx looked like a squashed frog in shining armour with a big bowl-shaped helmet. Of course, the joke was that when the Sontaran took off his helmet his head was the same shape underneath. I love twists like that. About the only bit of Kevin you could make out were his eyes and tongue. It was an incredibly inventive look created on the usual BBC shoestring budget.

For Kevin’s first scene he had to step out of his spaceship, which looked like a giant silver golf ball. With one hand on his hip, he announced, ‘I am a Sontaran.’

Kevin’s lazy Aussie vowels really made the word sing: ‘Son-TAR-run.’

Bromly was puffing away on his pipe, not saying much as usual. Then he beetled over, script in hand, and said, ‘Kevin, I think it’s “Son-terran”,’ emphasis on the first syllable.’

‘Well, I think it’s “‘Son-TAR-run”,’ Kevin snorted. ‘And I come from the fucking place, so I should know!’

And that’s how it’s been pronounced ever since.

To his credit Alan didn’t push it and we all had a laugh.