Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

Of all the things to bond over! Seriously, I really think we connected on that journey. It was just one example of the incredibly sweet side to Jon that I would see so many times over the years.

Actually, if I took one thing from my first experience on Who, it was the genuine camaraderie among the whole team. It was truly the nearest I got to being back in rep in Manchester, where I’d had the happiest time of my life. There were some amazing people on that crew. I’m sure it was just another job to most of them, but it certainly didn’t feel like it as they were willing to go that extra mile, put in the extra hours, sweat blood for the show.

Some of them took the teamwork too far, I realised, when I finished a scene and sighed, ‘I could murder an orange now.’ Half an hour later Robin Stubbs appeared next to me – clutching a bag of Jaffas.

‘There you go, Lis.’

I was dumbfounded.

‘Where did you get those from?’

‘The shop,’ Robin replied. ‘In town.’

I must have looked pretty vacant.

‘You asked for some. It’s my job to get them.’

I’ve never felt so ashamed – I couldn’t apologise enough but Robin just kept saying it was his job to look after the stars. Well, that simply made it worse. I didn’t feel like a star. In fact I didn’t want to be one, I never had: I wanted to be an actress, that’s all. And if that meant fetching my own oranges, it was just dandy.

It took me a while to get used to being looked after like that. I remember getting a similar shock when I worked with David Tennant on School Reunion. It was another rainy day – that’s Cardiff for you – and this kind fellow held out a brolly for me. I thought, Oh, the perks of being part of a successful series! As I went to take it, he wouldn’t let me.

‘No, this is my job, Lis,’ he said, and just stood there holding it for me.

I must admit, I find those things a little easier to accept these days, but before any accusations of ‘pampered star’ rain down – excuse the pun – you can bet no bugger would lift a finger if we weren’t so important to a given day’s filming. An unscheduled return to hair and makeup after a deluge could be the difference between finishing on time and on budget, or not.

I don’t know if it’s my old ASM training but as soon as a break was called I found myself naturally gravitating towards the areas staffed by Jim Acheson and the makeup team. I’ve always been much more comfortable among the crew. It’s a calmer place – and, to be honest, I learned over the years that they were often the only ones who had chairs and, occasionally, a roof over their heads!

By the end of the week I’d made so many friends that the idea of a long coach ride home didn’t seem so daunting. On the contrary, there was an end-of-term feel in the air and everyone was in a party mood. The plan was to head off as soon as the last scene wrapped (so as not to waste licence payers’ money on another night of hotel rooms). I was lugging my bag towards the coach with Robin, Peter and the rest when I heard a car horn toot. When I looked around there was Jon leaning against this beautiful Lancia.

‘Lissie, you’re coming back with me!’

Am I? Thanks for asking, I thought. But I said, ‘How kind, Jon.’

OK, I’m going to sound a bit catty but I really didn’t fancy travelling with him at all. I was tired, I was looking forward to curling up on a seat on the coach, maybe having forty winks, then joining in with whatever high jinx were occurring. Besides, I saw it as a valuable bonding session – everyone would be there.

Except me.

Jon, of course, thought he was doing me the greatest favour. Why slug your way back to the Smoke on a clumsy old charabanc when you could travel in style with the star of your show? I’m sure a lot of people would agree with him but, you know, it would have been nice to have been given a choice.

Trust me, though: there was no choice. Resigned to the way of things, I humped my case into the boot and climbed into the passenger seat.

‘Here you go,’ Jon said, tossing a map onto my lap. ‘You can be navigator.’

Oh joy, I thought. I came up by train for heaven’s sake and was picked up by coach. I haven’t got a clue where I am now.

Jon was already manoeuvring the car. ‘Is there anything behind us?’ he asked, before slipping it into reverse.

I didn’t even look up from scrutinising the map.

‘No.’

Off we shot, backwards at top speed – and crashed straight into the props van!

I have to say Jon took it incredibly well. He loved his cars and the Lancia was his latest pride and joy. After a quick inspection of the damage he clambered back in and we set off. This time he didn’t ask me for any help.

For quite a while we spoke about the show and how proud Jon was to be part of such a TV institution. He was happy I was aboard as well. We were going to have fun, he promised. Then as the miles passed and Manchester became a mere dot on the map, the mood in the car changed. Suddenly I went from navigator to Mother Confessor. He poured out the whole story: how much he’d enjoyed working with Katy Manning and how it had broken his heart when she’d quit the show.

What was I meant to say to that? I just thought, Oh God, please, I don’t want to know.

Just like on the first night, no sooner had he sunk into a depression than he snapped out of it. Spotting a sign for a service station he suddenly chirruped, ‘Lunchtime, Lissie,’ and swung in. Of course he was dressed flamboyantly as the Doctor and so heads turned everywhere we went. And to everyone who came up to speak to him, he said the same thing: ‘This is my new assistant.’