Maybe that gave me a little too much confidence. The director called action, I slammed my foot down and we shot down that hill! We screeched to a skiddy halt inches from where the sound guy was holding the boom mic.
‘Christ, Lis,’ he said, ‘I think my underwear’s changed colour!’
Z-Cars aired in November 1971. Doomwatch went out in June the following year. I can’t remember where I was when they were broadcast, but I know my parents were glued in front of their set. Around this time I was beginning to pick up a few little adverts as well, but you never knew when those were going to be aired, much to Dad’s annoyance.
Meanwhile Brian’s run in How the Other Half Loves was finally coming to an end. I think he was ready for it by then. Then he announced proudly, ‘They’re taking it to Toronto!’
Obviously I was delighted for him, if insanely jealous, and we did discuss me flying out with them but with his regular salary ending and mine being so hit and miss we really couldn’t afford it. A few days later I was backstage at the Lyric when Robert Morley’s distinctive tones bellowed out from his dressing room.
‘Hello, my little star’ – he always called me that, I don’t know why! – ‘I hope you’re coming out to Canada with us?’
‘Oh I wish, Robert,’ I said, ‘but I don’t think we can run to it.’
‘Nonsense,’ he boomed. ‘Brian, you have to have her out there. Lissie has to come. Production will pay!’
And off he stormed to inform poor Peter Bridge what he’d committed him to now.
Well, obviously we couldn’t allow that, but Morley insisted and in the end, once we were sure Peter really didn’t mind, we said yes. I was so excited. Sod’s law, then, that Todd Joseph called practically the next day with more work. It was only ten days but slap-bang in the middle of the Toronto run.
Obviously I couldn’t – and didn’t – turn it down, especially when the job was another Z-Cars and it was such an honour to be offered that part so soon after the first. Shows very rarely do this. It messes with the implied realism of the episode a bit too much if an actor pops up playing different parts too close together. It wasn’t quite so prominent as Freema Agyeman being cast as a Torchwood employee in David Tennant’s first series, then coming back as the Doctor’s companion, Martha, in his next, but you get the picture.
I’d never had a female director before so I was quite looking forward to working with Julia Smith, but she was some taskmaster. This was years before she created Angels or EastEnders but I could tell she was a person who would go places – and probably not quietly.
She was a name to be reckoned with even then, but she could turn on a sixpence. I was happy she’d cast me so obviously against type as Rose, one of three Liverpool scrubbers accused of shoplifting. I just loved this part and relished making myself up for it. I thought I looked gorgeous in a trashy sort of way: false eyelashes, torn stockings, skirt hitched up.
Then the note came down from Julia: ‘Could you tell her to make her skin look a bit more unpleasant?’
Bugger off! I’m trying my best to look beautiful here, I thought.
I think Julia was having a relationship with one of the other actors on it, John Collin. John had a drink problem, so some days Julia would come into rehearsal and yell at us for no reason. Or so I thought, but it was because he’d annoyed her at home. I remember the first time she tore into me – just bollocked me in front of everyone because I wasn’t doing exactly what she wanted – and I wanted to burst into tears. But her PA, the chap you’d call a ‘First’ today, came over afterwards and said, ‘It’s not your fault. She’s having a bad day.’
The PA’s name was George Gallaccio and we became really tight friends. He was a jolly, even-tempered sort, which I like, and I was delighted later on when I bumped into him again on the set of Invasion of the Dinosaurs. In fact, by the time Tom Baker joined Who, George was production manager for the show. If you needed money for something, he was the one you had to persuade.
Someone sent me a copy of this episode recently – God knows where they found it, because I thought so many of these things were lost. But there’s one scene which I just love watching, of me and John Collin. There’s this cream cake and all that matters to him is that he wants the cake. It’s fascinating to witness. Of course it’s very difficult to talk with food in your mouth but he was all over it. I’m sure this sounds disgusting, but it’s a terrifically powerful scene, one of my favourites.
After the one-woman ordeal that was Julia Smith it was a relief to head for the airport and Toronto. At least I thought it would be. In fact, the plane jumped all over the place the whole way, like a toy being pawed by a kitten, and by the time we finally landed I was a nervous wreck. My fear of flying started there and then.
Toronto was a beautiful city and, just as I had done in London, I wandered all over the place, simply exploring. And with no rehearsals or any other prep during the day, Brian was able to join me. At nights I’d either watch television in the hotel or go to see another show. It was quite idyllic.
While Brian and I were happy to saunter around the local area, Robert Morley, of course, had grander plans. Morley loved gambling and thought nothing of hopping onto a plane for a day trip to the casinos of Vegas. He was always back for curtain call, sometimes only just, but imagine poor Peter Bridge’s nerves every time he disappeared.
The only thing worse than losing your star is to lose the entire show, and that nearly happened, too. Morley – of course – invited the whole company for a day trip to Niagara Falls. What fun! We looked so funny, like giant penguins, smothered in black water-proofs as we darted underneath the torrents. It was so slippery and of course Morley couldn’t help dashing up and down, ‘Ho, ho’-ing in glee. Suddenly we’d hear a thunderous, ‘Whoops, nearly went there!’ But then he’d be laughing again against the deafening roar of water. I don’t know how much of it was for Peter’s benefit but the producer had his hands in his mouth the whole time.
‘He’s going over, he’s going to fall. This is it. Oh my God!’
Just when Peter thought his torment was over, Morley marched us all over to the cable car which stretches across the widest part of the river. I loved it, but gosh it was a rickety ride! The wind was howling, the whirlpool below crashing spray up and we seemed to be boinging all over the place like a conker on a string. Peter looked terrified enough – until I saw Brian, completely green. I’d forgotten how much he dislikes heights. Just taking an express elevator in Toronto had been enough to floor him.
Morley did so much for us. He took us to lunch in Niagara with his friend Paul, the brother of David Tomlinson – Mr Banks from Mary Poppins – and it was such a pleasure to hear those old hands rattling away. The Skylon restaurant was at the top of a tower and as you ate it revolved so you could see for miles. Of course, poor Brian hated it.
We were always scratching our heads for ways to pay Morley back, but when someone is so patrician and controlling, not to mention rich, you rarely get the chance. But when we visited an old pioneer village and saw him wandering around on his own we invited him to join us for once. Ever the gentleman, he wouldn’t intrude.
‘Come on, Robert,’ I insisted. ‘Have some pie.’ Eventually he agreed and we had a marvellous afternoon. It was nice to treat him.