Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

As a pair of daft non-planners we dared to assume good times were just around the corner for both of us. And we were right – but not in the way we expected.

In the summer of 1984 I went along for my first costume fitting. The designer that day was Jackie Stubbs, who had worked with me on Who. Jackie put down her tape measure and then said, ‘Lis, do you think you should have a pregnancy test?’

‘A what?’

Jackie could tell I’d put on weight since we last met and that my bust had grown.

‘It’s the only explanation, Lis,’ she said.

In disbelief, I went to a chemist and took three test packs home with me – they all said the same thing.

Our neighbour at the time was Mandy, a sixty-year-old Austrian who had escaped from the Nazis over the Alps. I was always round there knocking back the odd sherry with her and Arnold. That day I was so shocked by the tests I went crying next door, ‘Mandy, I’m pregnant!’

Then I fainted on her kitchen floor.

Shocked as I was, I have to admit it wasn’t an accident. Events over the previous couple of years seemed to have been building up to it. In 1983 Brian had gone into hospital to have a bronchial cyst removed. It wasn’t in any way a life-threatening operation but I distinctly remember leaving his bedside and coming home, opening the front door and thinking, It’s so empty. So quiet. Where are the children?

Brian got a clean bill of health soon after, as expected, and later that year we went to the Greek islands to celebrate our fifteenth wedding anniversary. What could be more romantic? Then one night we were dining in a beautiful taverna and got talking to the waiter. We explained how long we’d been together and after congratulating us, he said, ‘Where are your children?’

That question again!

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but it took a complete stranger asking that to make us think: Why don’t we have children? The answer, like so many things in our lives, was because we simply hadn’t got round to it. For the first time I questioned whether our policy of not planning anything had been the way to go. And, for the first time, I decided, no. This was something that needed to be planned – and the sooner the better.

So here I was, a year later, recovering in my darling neighbour’s house from the shock of it all. I couldn’t wait to tell Brian when he came home. I planned a fancy meal and even lit the candles – I was going to do this properly.

Then I heard the front door open and before he’d even put his suitcase down I’d blurted it out!

Thirty-eight is pretty old to be starting a family – and it was even more unusual in the 1980s. When I went into hospital for the birth I overheard a matron say, ‘Better keep an eye on this one, put her by the door.’ Thank you so much.

I had a very healthy pregnancy, actually. So healthy that when the invite came a week later to attend a convention in Mobile, Alabama, I thought, Why not? I changed my mind when Brian announced he was too busy to come, but he persuaded me – ‘Go, you’ve got to do it, you’ll have fun!’

But I didn’t want to travel on my own so my agent’s assistant, Barbara, came along for a jolly. I warned her not to expect too much. ‘When Jon and I were on tour last year half the places didn’t even know we were coming, but we’ll have fun,’ I promised.

I have to admit, we had a terrific time. Not only did everyone in Mobile seem to know we were coming, they actually awarded me the Freedom of the City! There was a big ceremony and the Mayor of Mobile handed over a certificate.

As November drew close and the prospect of our annual trip to the Chicago convention loomed, my pregnancy seemed to kick up a gear. About ten days before we flew out, I just exploded – I simply doubled in size. Nothing would fit, so I was hurrying around for new clothes when I should have been getting ready. I remember getting in the lift at the hotel, wearing a pristine white frock, and Frazer Hines stepped in and did a double-take at my bump.

‘Christ, you look like a bloody Easter egg!’

After Mobile it was nice having Brian with me again, although when the organisers paid for his ticket I wonder if they realised his own involvement with the show. In January, viewers in the UK had seen him as Dugdale in Peter Davison’s Snakedance serial. Later, he would become the voice of the Daleks. It was nice to see him signing autographs as well.

Jon and Ingeborg were at Chicago, too. It was such a thrill to see them again and to rake over last year’s fun. I loved the way Ingeborg never took any nonsense from Jon. We were having lunch in the hotel when he said, ‘Inge, darling, do you want to come down and see me open the convention?’

She stared at him as if he was mad. ‘Jon, why would I want to see that? I see you every day!’

There was a really good spirit around the whole event. I don’t know if it was the hormones but I felt in an even sillier mood than usual, so when someone started signing fake names on the photographs, we all joined in. If you’ve got a photo of me from Chicago 1984, check the signature: it might just say ‘Mickey Mouse’!

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Workwise, a BBC strike put paid to Alice’s production, but for the first time in my life I didn’t care. Time off with my bump was all I could think about. Brian, though, was working on a telly programme in the Midlands called, funnily enough, Eh, Brian! It’s a Whopper, so I was alone a lot. If I wanted to see him, it meant a train up to Birmingham.

The baby’s due date was 1 February – my birthday. I learned a lot about my headstrong daughter that month when she refused to budge until the 25th. By then I was so large I’d got stuck in the larder! Mandy from next door had to rescue me.

Dad came to visit in the last weeks and finally Brian finished in Birmingham. It was all looking good until he got a weekend job at Thames Television at the end of the month.

He’d been in a couple of hours on the Saturday when at five to midnight things started.