At times like that you really need your partner’s support – that’s why Bedroom Farce was so perfect; it meant Brian and I could be together. Then I had a small part in a telly thing called Betzi, which only involved a few days up in Norwich for Anglia. The cast was amazing – people like Roland Curram, Sheila Gish’s husband – but the director had some funny ideas. When we got to the rehearsal room there were footprints all over the floor telling you where you should be and how you had to get there! I’m glad I didn’t have a very big part – it’s not at all easy to walk where someone else wants you to; it’s like playing Twister.
I had more luck on my next telly. Send in the Girls – the story of a group of ambitious women in a high-pressured sales promotion team – was made by Granada, who had always been good to me. I auditioned for Ollie Horsburgh and won the lead part of Beverley. Then he said, ‘Now, we need to find you a husband.’ Guess who they hired?
I didn’t even know Brian had been asked. Ollie had no idea of our relationship so it had nothing to do with that. In fact, he got himself into a terrible panic when he realised.
‘Lis, are you OK with this? We had no idea – I’m not sure I can handle this!’
But I couldn’t see what the problem was: I was delighted. It was also nice to have strangers think we made a good couple!
The close links didn’t end there. Sadie’s future godfather, Ray Lonnen, was in that one. Brian had known him longer than me, so we had lots of fun being back in Manchester together. And one of my idols, John Carson, was in it as well (I still find myself delivering lines in The Sarah Jane Adventures in a Carson style). He was amazingly influential on me – but on the day of the last dress rehearsal he did a wicked thing. There I was in full slap and frock when he said, ‘Lis, you know my wife wrote this – and she doesn’t think you’re right for it.’
I could have hit him. Ollie was pleased, the producers were pleased. If his wife had a problem, she’d had months to voice it.
If this is what you have to put up with doing adult drama, then I’ll take kids’ telly any day! I thought.
My next ‘grown-up’ thing, a sitcom called Take My Wife, wasn’t much fun either. Once again it was up in Manchester, where Brian happened to be working on something else. The director, a dour Scot called Gordon Flemyng, went up to him and said, ‘I am giving your wife a hard time.’
‘Thanks,’ said Brian. ‘I’ll be looking forward to going home tonight!’
I loved Dougie Brown in it, also Joan Benham and Victor Spinetti. Victor was very funny. He rang me up afterwards and said, ‘I am doing this story about D.W. Griffith the film director, and I know you adore Lillian Gish.’
‘Yes,’ I said, wondering where this was going.
‘Can you sing?’ he then asked.
‘God,’ I said, ‘no, I can’t!’
So he put the phone down. No goodbye – just hung up! I wonder what I missed out on …
* * *
If I’d been the sort of person to dwell on these things – and I certainly wasn’t – I think I would have felt quite content with how the 1970s were ending for me. Consistent work in some high-profile television programmes, a few adverts as well, and the possibility of a role in a film coming up – that wasn’t bad. And I’d done it all without stepping anywhere near a science-fiction programme. I’d managed to maintain a career and successfully put some distance between me and Who. Yes, I missed Tom, and Ian – although I occasionally bumped into him in Ealing – but I was actually quite proud of making a clean break. I’d never seen an episode before I joined the show and I hadn’t watched one since. It wasn’t exactly sour grapes because I’d never been a fan.
Which is why I surprised so many people with what I did next …
Chapter Thirteen
Affirmative, Mistress!
ON DAY one of filming School Reunion back in the summer of 2005, I found myself sitting down next to the Tenth Doctor during a break. Believe it or not, this was actually the first time David Tennant and I had had a moment to ourselves since I’d first arrived in Cardiff. On any production, there are so many people buzzing around all the time – crew, cast, friends – that private moments are genuinely rare. He was such easy company and straightaway confessed that he’d been a big fan of Sarah Jane. Wanting to keep it that way, I said, ‘Whatever you do then, don’t watch K-9 and Company.’
‘Too late,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve seen it!’
‘Gosh,’ I said, ‘you must really be a fan if you’ve seen that and you still want to work with me.’
Because it had been such a crushing disappointment: K-9 and Company should have been my first leading television role and on paper it had all the potential to become a Sarah Jane Adventures for the 1980s. That was the plan at the time but it didn’t work out like that. In retrospect I should never have got involved, and I very nearly didn’t, but John Nathan-Turner, of whom more below, could be extremely persuasive. The rotter!
* * *
The world of Who never stays still. JNT had replaced Philip Hinchcliffe’s successor, Graham Williams, at the start of 1980. He arrived in all-guns-blazing mode and you’d hear all kinds of stories – he was thinking of dropping the sonic screwdriver, K-9, and even the TARDIS! I think he just wanted to shake things up a bit, although he eventually got his way with the dog. Not all his ideas were about breaking with the past, though. In the summer of 1980 I received a message asking if I’d go and see him. What on earth for? I wondered, but in the end decided, Why not?
So I pootled along to Threshold House: I have so many happy memories of that building, it’s a shame they don’t use it any more. Even the stroll up to the front door seems like a trip down memory lane, all those familiar shops and restaurants.
John’s reputation was as a bit of a showman, so I was already primed for the flamboyant gestures and shirts as
