Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

I counted to ten.

‘I think it works as it is, Jon.’

I know he was only trying to be helpful but that rubbed me up the wrong way, I’ll admit.

My first studio day finally arrived on Monday, 28 May. I was up at six, hair washed and then at BBC Centre in White City by seven. As I was led along the labyrinthine corridors to my dressing room, I wondered whom I’d be sharing with. We stopped outside a door and I noticed the tag on the front: ‘Elisabeth Sladen’.

I had my own room!

When I told Jon how surprised I was, he just grinned. ‘Number two on the call sheet, Lis,’ he said. ‘It does have its perks, you know.’

Sandra and her team managed to get on as much makeup as they could, but the priority was putting the rollers in my hair. By the time the camera rehearsal started at ten, I looked a complete state. Over the course of the day we went through all of that first episode, going over everything again and again so the lighting chaps had us where they wanted us, the sound man had the right places miked up and the cameras were ready to follow the action. Tape went down on the floor to mark out everyone’s spots. Stray too far from the spot and you could end up out of shot.

One more thing to remember.

Every time there was a lull in shooting or I wasn’t required for a particular scene I’d disappear to the sanctuary of the dressing room. It was such a thrill having my own private bolt-hole – with its own bathroom! But I’d only snatch a couple of minutes before a knock on the door and I’d be summoned to see Sandra again for a bit more makeup. That way, by the time shooting started in the evening, we’d all be ready.

The first casualty on filming days was lunch. Only once rehearsals finished about six o’clock did the food trolleys come out, but I couldn’t eat by then. Now the nerves really started. Costumes had to go on, touch-ups to makeup happened, then at half-past seven we did it all again – for real.

BBC studios in those days had extremely hard, flat surfaces to enable the cameras to whizz around. My feet were killing me before the cameras were even turned on. But the biggest difference back then was that the director sat above the action in the producer’s gantry with all the other technical staff, whereas these days he’s virtually by your side crouched behind a monitor. Instead we had a floor manager with headphones permanently fixed to his ears, whose job it was to relay commands from on high. The thing I liked most about the studio – and which you don’t get now – was the camera screens hanging from the gantry. These were monitors showing exactly what the director was seeing. There was no downside to having them, as far as I could tell – I could be just about to start a scene and realise that I was too far over for the scenery. They’d really come into their own, however, in the later story Invasion of the Dinosaurs when the monster models were shown on those screens and I could see where I was in relation to them.

As break time came to an end the tension in the room built up. The cameras that had been hovering around all day were about to be switched on. Rehearsal time was over, now we were doing it for real.

I like to get into the zone before going on stage, as I mentioned. Script rolled tightly in my hand, like a relay baton (although more for comfort at that stage), I went through my first scene. OK, I thought, let’s go. I’m ready to be Sarah Jane.

Suddenly there was a holler from the other side of the studio.

‘We’re over here, Lissie!’

What now, Jon?

I trotted over to where Jon, Nick and the others from the episode were all huddled.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked.

Jon winked, beaming like the Cheshire Cat. ‘After three, everyone!’

And then on three, everyone who’d gravitated around a hanging mic bellowed out the name ‘Harry Roy!’

‘It’s just our little tradition,’ Jon explained afterwards. Apparently it got the mouth loosened up and was a good team-building exercise.

It might be your tradition, I thought, but it’s not mine.

A lot of actors have superstitions. Mine on The Sarah Jane Adventures is always having to pull my left boot on first – don’t ask me why, it’s just something I follow. In my defence, it’s a minor thing. No one knows (until now!), and no one else is impinged upon.

Bloody ‘Harry Roy’ was different. I’d just spent ten minutes getting into the mindset of Sarah Jane – I didn’t want to be thinking of some old actor. And more importantly, I didn’t want to be made to do things just because the last girl did them, but I went along with it.

Anything for a quiet life, Sladen …

*   *   *

Recording on Episode 1 finished at half ten on the nose (the unions were very powerful in those days so the knock-off time was fixed in stone). Then on Tuesday we did it all again for Episode 2. It was hard work, but God I had fun.

I was very happy with the way Sarah Jane was set up. You could see a genuine twinkle in Jon’s eye when the Doctor first meets her – especially when he rumbles her lie about being Lavinia Smith, her aunt. There was also the indignant feminist tease, ‘If you think I’m going to spend my time making cups of coffee’ from me before Jon disappeared inside the TARDIS to boil his own.

What I adored most of all about filming, of course, was the feeling of being part of a company. Yes, the ‘Harry Roy’ thing annoyed me intensely (we had to do it again on Tuesday and again the following week) but Jon was right: it did make the supporting cast feel part of ‘us’. I was hired for twenty-six episodes while some of them were only with us for one or two, but for that night they were made to feel as essential to proceedings as the Doctor himself.