Then I realised: he didn’t want to be the one to push us over time. The show must go on, and all that.
Right, I thought, and threw myself to the ground.
‘Sorry, everyone!’ I called, ‘I just tripped. Sorry, my fault.’
I looked behind me and the Ice Warrior was slumped over, struggling to get his helmet off. When they checked, we’d been in such a rush to get going that they’d forgotten to plumb his breathing apparatus in. He was gasping in that airtight helmet and he hadn’t said a word. That’s what Who means to people.
Although there were no outside scenes for The Monster of Peladon we still had a week’s location shoot. The only difference was that the shoot took place in another studio. And I couldn’t have been happier.
As a film buff I can tell you there are a few studios in the world that really have a history. Ealing Studios is one of those few. The Cruel Sea, The Lavender Hill Mob, so many classics were filmed there. They’ve got the big sea tank used on all those war films. The magic that has been created there! It’s one of those places where you can feel the past as you walk around. It also made a change not to be in a chalk pit or a quarry or even a dust bowl in freezing January. And, of course, it was so close to my home!
I really think Lennie achieved wonders with the mood on set. Everyone was willing to go that extra mile for him – just look at that Ice Warrior. The new rapport between Jon and me probably helped as well. We certainly tried to lead from the front. Jon was suffering quite bad back pain at the time and had to wear a corset to keep everything in place. Although Terry Walsh was always on hand to step in (although you probably shouldn’t see as much of his face and Pertwee perm-wig as you do during one fight scene), Jon still insisted on doing as many of his own stunts as possible – afterwards he’d literally have to be stretched on a human rack. A couple of chaps would grab Jon under the arms, hoist him up and wait for his spine to click back into place.
I had my moments of sacrifice, too. There was a scene where Jon and I had to leap into the pit with Aggedor, the so-called ‘monster’ of Peladon. I agreed to do the stunt myself and Terry talked me through it.
‘Now, Lis, we’ve got cushions at the bottom, perfectly safe. We can get someone else to do it, if you like, but I think you can do it easily.’
I looked down at the hole. It was only about six feet but in the darkness it seemed to go on for miles.
‘I’m not sure about this, Terry.’
‘You’ll kick yourself if you don’t.’
So like an idiot I agreed. Lennie gave the cue and off I jumped.
Terry came rushing up to me afterwards.
‘Well, did you enjoy that?’
‘No, I bloody didn’t!’
But he was right – I was glad I’d done it. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten that I’d have to do it again – and again – until Lennie was happy.
By coincidence Todd Joseph was on set that day. Agents never miss a trick, do they, and I saw him talking to Barry.
‘Half past nine and look at the energy she’s got!’ Always trying to squeeze some negotiating power out of a situation.
Afterwards I knew how Jon felt with his back because my ankles were killing me and I’m sure my hip was out of joint. Max Faulkner, who played one of the miners, said, ‘You’re walking oddly. Lie down on that table.’
I was desperate for a rest so I climbed on while he had a look.
‘Thought so,’ he said. ‘One leg is longer than the other. You’d better go and see someone.’
I didn’t do any jumps after that and I’ve had weak ankles to this day, but at the time I was just pleased to have managed the stunt. At least we got our shot. It should look pretty spectacular on-screen.
Anyone who has seen the episode knows it didn’t. It looked about as dangerous as hopping into a bath. What a waste of time – all that pain for nothing. Wait till I see that bloody Terry …
* * *
As usual there was a lot going on in the Peladon story. Some of it, perhaps, passed over one or two viewers’ heads. If I’m honest, even I might not have noticed the allusion to the then current miners’ strike if it hadn’t been pointed out to me. I mean, yes, workers on Peladon are abused and so, according to them, were the miners in the UK, and they had no choice but to strike and fight for their rights. But, you know, I had enough to do: remember your lines and don’t bump into the furniture and all that. At the end of the day, it’s a kids’ programme and it’s an adventure and that’s what I preferred to focus on. If Barry and Terry wanted to put anything else in, then that was fine.
It wasn’t just the miners’ dispute that Barry asked the writers to focus on, though. After a couple of serials building Sarah Jane up as this thoroughly modern Millie, there’s a cracking scene where the Doctor gets so frustrated by Queen Thalira’s backwards thinking that he unleashes Sarah Jane to give one of her ‘feminism’ talks. He doesn’t stay around to hear it, of course, but I get to say that unforgettable line: ‘There’s nothing “only” about being a girl, Your Majesty.’
Once again there were some marvellous older actors in the show who I adored chatting to. Rex Robinson, who played Gebek, was great. And Donald Gee (Eckersley) was another fun one to have around, always a twinkle in Donald’s eye. He got to swan about in marvellous black leather. I think he’d been in Coronation Street by then and he was doing something for kids with Bob Hoskins, because he was talking a lot about that.
Stuart Fell had me in stitches, of course, playing Alpha Centauri, the alien with a giant eye for a head and myriad arms beneath his green cape. It’s hard to keep a straight face when you’re talking to what looks like a bobbing head in a curtain. In rehearsal Stuart would just stand there, saying his lines and hopping up and down like he needed a wee. Hysterical. Originally he didn’t have a cape but someone said he looked like a ‘giant dick’. So they draped this shawl around him, then Lennie, I think, said, ‘Now it looks like a giant dick in a cape.’ Not my finest, hour, I think, acting with Alpha Centauri. It was like doing Romeo and Juliet with a Teletubby.
While we were having a blast, I guess Jon was going through his own turmoil. On 8 February, a Thursday, Barry authorised the press announcement that he was leaving. I remember when David Tennant made his big goodbye speech live at the TV Awards – that made headlines around the world. I don’t think it was quite such a big deal in 1974, although it didn’t stop the press door-stepping us for a couple of days on our way into White City and Acton. The question on everyone’s lips was: ‘Do you know who the next Doctor will be?’ And of course I didn’t have a clue. Jon swam through it without a care in the world. Or so it seemed.
We didn’t have to wait that long to see the true impact of Jon’s resignation on him. If Peladon had seen him attack the part with renewed vigour, his swansong, Planet of the Spiders, saw a very morose Doctor trundle into work each day. I couldn’t blame him. By then, of course, the whole world knew he was leaving. Even worse, they knew his successor – that announcement had been made a week after Jon’s farewell. And as we trudged into rehearsals at the start of March, we only had a month before the Third Doctor regenerated into the Fourth.
You can’t say the Beeb didn’t pull out all the stops for Jon’s finale, though I think Barry should take most of the credit. As producer he may have kept a tight grip on the purse strings, but as a man he was determined that his friend Jon should go out in a blaze of glory. Clearing his schedule, Barry announced that he would take the helm for Planet of the Spiders himself. And, he promised, he’d make it one for Jon to remember.