Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

When it came to recording the pilot, Invasion of the Bane, in October 2006, Colin did a lovely thing. I don’t know if it was for the kids’ benefit or mine, but we recorded everything in chronological order. That’s so rare today, but it helped immensely – we really got a sense of story.

I was a bit surprised at how rusty I was. Technically, there were things I needed to get my head around as well. The biggest shock was the scripts. On old Who we’d learned and workshopped the script during rehearsal then shot in a studio for a couple of days. Things had changed. The Sarah Jane Adventures, like Doctor Who, was now rehearse-record. That is to say, we arrive on set, do a run-through, then film it for real a few minutes later. From the moment we turn up we’re expected to have every word memorised. It’s a nightmare!

When you’re dealing with the amount of science-gook Sarah has to spout, there’s no room for adlibbing. More importantly, Jon and I (and then Tom and I) had developed so much of our characters’ relationships in those rehearsal rooms at the Acton Hilton, not on set. There’s also a purely pragmatic point. Without wishing to sound too luvvy, if you’ve learned it one way and your co-star has learned it another, by the time you come to perform it together you might be way out of pace.

On top of every night spent pacing up and down my hotel room trying to cram for the following day’s memory test, I wasn’t prepared for the added pressure of being number one on the call sheet. I was the first to be picked up, the last dropped off: the whole episode revolved around my character, there was no hiding place.

But, God, how I loved it! I’d only been in Cardiff a few days when I realised just how much I had to thank Russell for. He’d let me come back to do something I adored. I didn’t realise until I started how much I’d missed it, how much I’d really, really missed it.

At this point in my life it’s all that matters.

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I was really pleased with how Invasion of the Bane turned out. Russell T Davies and Gareth Roberts had written a feisty, fun adventure story where, thank goodness, the kids got to do the majority of the running. The special effects were light years ahead of anything we ever had in the 1970s – and I did enjoy being given a ‘sonic lipstick’! After decades of watching the Doctor get himself out of any writer’s cul-de-sac with his handy sonic screwdriver, now Sarah could do the same. (Although I still haven’t got the hang of the rules yet. Every so often Sarah Jane is in a fix and I say, ‘Well, why doesn’t she use the lipstick?’

‘It won’t work on this, Lis!’

‘Why not?’

And I get back, ‘We’re not going to open that can of beans!’)

Working with Samantha Bond, as Mrs Wormwood, was great. If this was a sign of the calibre of things to come, I couldn’t wait until recording on the proper series commenced the following year.

Of course, it was all very well recording a good show: the proof would be in how the BBC treated it and how the viewers themselves reacted. Whereas Doctor Who bestrode the divide between kids’ and adult drama, our show was pitched squarely at the children’s strand. I had a nasty feeling that it might get overlooked again, just like the old Who. And just like K-9 and Company.

But then I saw the TV schedules.

If you’d told me a couple of years ago that I would be starring in a show to be broadcast on BBC1 at 4.50 p.m. on New Year’s Day, I would have called for your tablets. But that’s what happened. After more than thirty years, I finally felt appreciated by the BBC.

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Since my first day onscreen in The Time Warrior, letters and notes from fans have never been in short supply. Suddenly, though, I was sure I’d be struck off the postman’s Christmas card list as he began turning up with satchel after satchel of correspondence from new young Sarah Jane admirers. A lot of people have told me they’ve since gone back and bought the Tom and Sarah DVDs and occasionally I even receive invites to appear on the other side of the world at millionaire’s children’s birthday parties. That’s not something I like to do, but it’s nice to be asked.

The first series proper of The Sarah Jane Adventures went out the following autumn and I have to say we were shocked by the response. Consistently number one in its time slot and well reviewed everywhere. Lovely! Best news of all, the commission for a second series was just around the corner. Not bad for a pensioner, as my daughter kept reminding me.

I couldn’t have done it if it had seemed too much like work, though. Having Russell, Phil and Julie as our executive producers was such an incredible safety net. Their notes on each episode were never short of amazing. Alice Troughton was the perfect director and Matthew Bouche was great as our producer.

That was just the behind-the-scenes talent. We had some mouthwatering guest stars, too – Phyllida Law, Chook Sibtain and Jane Asher, to name only a few – but it was with the regular cast that I really formed relationships. The kids were wonderful and juggled their acting and their educations extremely maturely. Joseph Millson, as Alan Jackson, was always a pleasure to have around, while Juliet Cowan (Chrissie Jackson) was especially lively, and Jimmy Vee and Paul Kasey are the Terry Walshes of their day, popping up in all manner of different costumes.

Even so, as an actor you’re never far away from your worst nightmares. Those little voices sniping away at your confidence seem to get louder whenever you’re not working. The Sarah Jane Adventures was doing well but there were still occasional whispers that ‘it’s only children’s TV’. It never feels nice to be overlooked. But when I got an invite to the premiere of that year’s Doctor Who Christmas Special I knew things at the Beeb had changed. The country’s press would be there. This was their way of making our programme feel part of the main one. Little sister we might be, but important nonetheless.

It was a great event, actually, watching The Voyage of the Damned – the big Kylie and David double-header – on a huge screen at the Science Museum with all the great and the good – and the press – in attendance. No expense was spared, especially on the aftershow party. Angels hung from the ceiling, all the glitterati were milling about desperate for a word with David. Some of them even wanted to talk to me.

I was chatting to someone when I saw this little fella kind of duck behind a pole, occasionally looking out. I thought, Oh, a bit of a stalker there. It happens occasionally.

Every time I glanced over, he ducked furtively back behind the column.