Sladen, Elisabeth - Elisabeth Sladen - The Autobiography

When we turned up in Wales at the beginning of May, I couldn’t help smiling at the new TARDIS. I’d been right – if they could change that, they certainly wouldn’t have thought twice about losing me. It transpired, however, that the changes had gone too far. The trusty old police box was actually painted the wrong shade of blue and had to be re-sprayed – at least the roof stayed on this time!

It wasn’t just the outside that had been tinkered with, though. There was even a new TARDIS control room waiting when we got back to the studio. To explain this there’s a nice scene where Tom and I wander through the TARDIS and find the old console. We all just assume the old girl is infinitely huge inside so it’s nice occasionally to give viewers a glimpse. And we also get to see the Doctor’s boot room, I think, and of course in Matt Smith’s first episode the library falls into the swimming pool. I might have stayed longer if I’d discovered that room!

Usually we only had a handful of extras and perhaps one stuntman on each serial but for The Masque of Mandragora (as it was eventually called after a host of earlier names), we had the full retinue. As usual, Terry Walsh led the team and then we had Max Faulkner and Stuart Fell – such an apt name for a stuntman. Terry did his usual job of doubling for Tom, but Stuart got another part: as the entertainer. I knew those circus skills would come in useful one day. But the reason we needed everybody this time was the horses. Sixteenth-century Europe bolted around on four legs – and therefore, so did we. We’d never had horses before and God, were they huge! I think it was the first time the stunt team and extras outnumbered the cast.

It was funny being there and everyone knowing I’d decided to leave. I remember one of the crew – I won’t name him – said, ‘Have you got anything else lined up?’

‘No. Nothing.’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘You’re very brave.’

I didn’t get that attitude. ‘Well, no, you know when it’s time to go. You know when the time is right. You can’t stick around just for the money, no one should do that,’ I told him.

I could see we’d have to agree to differ on that one.

Back in London again we had a fortnight to prepare for the first studio session. Before that, however, my life was about to go under the spotlight.

The BBC were announcing my departure .

I don’t know what governs the timing of these things. All I do know is that I wasn’t expecting one iota of the furore it created. Phone calls, and not just from Mum and Dad, bombarded the flat (I remember Mum being very concerned about my future income: ‘Oh, Elisabeth, you’re not leaving, are you? Dad and I are very worried.’) Strangers stopped me in the street to ask if it was true. And, most bizarre of all, the Daily Mail put me on their front page. Their front page ! When Tom was announced as the Doctor he made page one of the London Evening Standard – I’d gone national. I even got an invite to appear on Nationwide , the country’s daily evening news programme. It was absolutely mind-blowing.

I remember being at home before the press release went out. I was washing my hair when Brian called out, ‘There’s someone from the press at the door. They want to know if you’re leaving.’

‘I’m washing my hair, tell him to go away!’ I said.

I honestly can’t remember if I discussed my decision with Brian beforehand, but obviously he had heard me moaning about the show for the usual reasons for ages. He was terribly supportive – the regular income didn’t matter at all, that’s not what we were in acting for. We were always quite vagabond-like, moving from place to place, job to job. This was just the next step on the stones.

* * *

By the time we knuckled down to studio work on 23 May I was still a bit shell-shocked by all the attention. All I’d said was ‘I’m quitting a TV show’ – I was just an actress, after all. Apparently other people didn’t see it so simply. Press interest was nothing like it would be today but it was still massive. Who, when, why, what? I had every conceivable question thrown at me. My agent was handling more interview enquiries than he knew what to do with. After a while of being asked the same questions, of course, you start to trot out the same rehearsed responses. For example, I remember more than once being asked what advice I’d give my successor. Remembering the scene in The Seeds of Doom where I was tied up and thrown into a deadly threshing machine, I joked, ‘It will help if they like bondage.’ That, of course, won me even more publicity. Apparently children’s TV stars shouldn’t talk like that.

Mandragora wrapped for me at the start of June. It had been fun. All I could think of, though, was, Four episodes down, four more to go …

* * *

The Hand of Fear , my last story, had originally been intended as the closer to Season Thirteen. But by running late and moving to the second serial of Season Fourteen it had lost two episodes. That didn’t bother me – all I cared about was getting to the end.

This is the home straight, nearly there .

When I think back to how Jon soon regretted his resignation, I realise I was the opposite. I’d given as much as I could to the show; that was the best I could do. If I’d stayed, there was always the risk that it would have gone downhill. It was so exhilarating to leave on a high. Not to think, Oh, it’s not as good as it was . It was empowering, actually. I felt in control – and you can’t always say that in this profession.

Unusually, the first scenes we filmed were actually the first ones broadcast. And like a knowing nod to all the time I’d spent in one during my time on Who , they were set in a quarry – this time in Cromhall, Gloucestershire. From the moment I arrived to start filming, I was already aware the script asked for me to be buried under rubble. Now, depending on who the director is, this might be interpreted in a number of ways. Unfortunately for me, our director was the blood-thirsty Lennie Mayne.

And he fancied the literal interpretation.

It was quite a big deal when they blew the rocks up – it doesn’t matter how often you see them, dynamite and explosives always catch the eye. But then yours truly had to be buried underneath. Lennie was all for keeping me down there for as long as possible so he could get the perfect shot. Luckily for me, our First on that one was Marion McDougall. She’d been on Spiders, Ark, The Sontaran Experiment and Android as well. If you had Marion as your First, you knew it would be a good day at the office.

I had to lie on the ground and when Lennie called ‘Action!’ the rocks started to fall on top of me. Literally. They weren’t huge, they weren’t going to crush me to death. But it was terrifying and I felt every single one hit my body. I desperately covered my head with my hands for protection but even though I could stop the rocks hitting my face I couldn’t do anything about the dust. I could feel it coating my lungs with every breath. I’d never known claustrophobia before but another minute and I would have, I’m convinced. I remember thinking, You’d better get the shot, Lennie, because there won’t be a second take .

I’d been in there for God knows how long when I heard Marion say, ‘Lennie, I think Lis should come out now.’

‘What’s that?’ he asked, completely distracted by his camera angles. ‘Nah, nah, don’t you worry, Mother’s all right in there, she’s fine! Tell her to relax, we’ll just do one more.’

‘No,’ Marion replied, ‘I’m getting her out now, Lennie! Getting her out!’

They were a perfect match – Marion would look after you really well while Lennie was such fun. I still see Marion sometimes, always a pleasure to catch up with her. Unfortunately, Lennie died in quite tragic circumstances not long after we wrapped. He loved sailing and one day took his boat out in the fog and never came home. They found the boat but not Lennie – I think he was washed overboard. It’s a tragic, terrible waste of life and my heart went out to Pidge and their two daughters.