Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

‘What do you mean?’

I wished I hadn’t asked. There are three tanks of fuel on a Sikorsky and when one is empty, the second and third kick in; that’s the theory. On our one the first tank had finished but there was a blockage in the second and third and the fuel couldn’t get through. That’s why he’d been stamping on the floor – he was trying to unblock it.

‘Yeah,’ the pilot admitted, ‘I was actually preparing to land on the water!’

After that, I couldn’t eat a thing. And I was still feeling sick when I heard this familiar voice.

‘Hello, Lis. It’s been a while.’

I stared at the man in front of me.

‘Dave?’

I couldn’t believe it. Dave Owen, my first boyfriend, was standing in front of me! We hadn’t seen each other for fifteen years and there he was, in army gear. I always knew he’d join the forces – although what they were up to in that particular outpost I had no idea. Dave knew plenty about me, though, from interviews and newspapers. You never quite get used to strangers or people you haven’t seen for ages having an endless supply of facts about your life. I always presume no one’s reading anything I say!

The next morning we had to fly over to the actual oil rig. The Sikorsky was being checked over so we took another helicopter. If the other one had looked too big, this thing was so small it looked like it would be blown down by the first big gust. Somehow I was persuaded on and we made it out to the rig, safe and sound.

Or so I thought.

The moment I stepped out onto that platform in the middle of the North Sea the director announced, ‘Congratulations, Lis. You are officially the first woman in history to set foot on one of these!’

I also discovered that according to old seafaring lore, it was considered bad luck if a woman boarded a vessel. I’m not one for superstitions but when I heard the helicopter we’d arrived in had somehow damaged its rotor on landing, I began to think there might be something in it. There was no way to fix it there, so we were stuck unless another one came out for us. When that chopper arrived, our bird was hogging the single landing spot so, for ten frightening minutes, our pilot had to take off with his damaged rotors and hover just long enough for the other one to put down and deliver the replacement parts. It was terrifying to watch.

Especially knowing that everyone on the rig was blaming me!

Despite their reservations, people were very kind. The food on the rig was delicious but, more importantly, I got a series of insightful interviews with some terrific characters. They took me right down to the bottom of the rig, which was even more nerve-wracking than being in the air. Every so often I get flashbacks of clinging to a post as the waves crashed around – and wonder how the hell they persuaded me!

It was such a release to just be myself for the cameras – even if you never quite do the ‘real’ you – and not to rehearse every last detail and learn pages of lines. Working without a script, using your wits, is very liberating. (Perhaps a little too liberating. I thought it hysterical to find myself talking to a man called Rex about shipping wrecks. I couldn’t say his name enough. ‘Now, Rex, can you tell me about these wrecks, Rex?’ Very unprofessional!)

As soon as we were back on terra firma I declared, ‘Right, I’m obviously jinxed. No more flying.’ So, while everyone else flew down to the Scilly Isles for our next recording date, I took the sleeper train to Penzance and then a boat. The director was worried I might run off so he sent someone with me! The train was rattling so much we didn’t sleep a wink, so we both arrived a day late and miserable through lack of sleep. I’m sure they loved me!

*   *   *

It was while we were staying with my folks during the Playhouse run that I got quite the strangest message.

Mum had taken the call. ‘Elisabeth,’ she said, ‘a man called Frank Kilbride wants to talk to you about landscape gardening, I think. He kept mentioning stepping stones.’

‘OK …’

Gingerly I picked up the phone. I’d barely got ‘hello’ out before I was deluged by a breathy torrent of words in the thickest Yorkshire accent. I managed to pick the odd one out. Yep, he definitely said ‘stepping stones’, but it was nothing to do with gardening. Frank Kilbride was a producer – Stepping Stones was his programme for pre-schoolers.

‘And I thought you would be perfect for it,’ he said, ‘with that lovely, warm personality.’

Now, this was before my Merry-Go-Round had aired. Somehow he’d decided I could front a children’s show. I don’t know if it was seeing me on Swap Shop or Nationwide, or if he was just taking a punt because I didn’t appear to be working (out of telly, out of mind), but he was right – I was looking for something. And after a quick chat with him over at Yorkshire Television a few days later, I’d found it.

To say time was scarce on Stepping Stones was an understatement. The frenzied whirl of studio days at Who seemed positively luxurious by comparison. I don’t think I’d received a single script before I boarded my train up to Leeds – and I was due to record the first of five episodes that afternoon!

It was chaotic but I had a good vibe about this project, right from the off. Frank was a sweetie and had sorted me out with a local landlady, May Brown, who ran a dear little guesthouse on the York Road opposite the Tadcaster Road racecourse. I had the best front room, bacon sandwiches when I got in, meals on a tray in my room if I wanted. Perfect.

Frank’s mind was always whirring. It seemed like I’d barely arrived when I began receiving calls from the local press. At first I thought, Wow, they really support their local programme-makers. Then as soon as I did the interviews I realised they just wanted to know the inside scoop on a former Who girl. Bear in mind I was still amazed every time an autograph hunter popped up, I genuinely didn’t think the media would still be interested in what I was up to a couple of years down the line. Luckily for Stepping Stones, Frank was cannier than that.

It says a lot for Frank’s priorities that after coming up trumps in sorting me out with beautiful May and stirring up press interest, he then completely omitted to mention my co-star on the show.