We were staying in a place called Chagford in a charming old hotel, the emphasis being on ‘old’. The main problem with the place was the hot water. I don’t think the hotel was geared up for an army from White City descending upon it out of season. Basically, the first person to run a bath in the evening had the lion’s share of the hot water. I came home shivering and almost cried when I ran an ice-cold bath the first night. The second night I was cleverer. As soon as the closing scenes for the day were set up, my dresser offered to scoot back to Chagford and hit the hot tap. What a treasure! She dived in it first, which was fair, then I leapt in as soon as I made it back. Tom, Kevin and the rest had to make do with boiled kettle water or the icicle option.
Filming had some odd highlights. Back on The Time Warrior I discovered the amazing ability of Who fans to come out of the woodwork, no matter how remote the location. Sure enough, halfway up a rocky crevasse in Dartmoor, Ian and I were leaning against a rock with a flask of tea when a burst of giggles erupted behind us. Suddenly we were surrounded by a dozen schoolkids with autograph books. The difference this time, of course, was that I was the only one they recognised!
Towards the end of the week the weather improved enough for us to hang around the location for our snacks. Base camp was at the foot of the steepest hill so we all huddled for shelter in the makeup tent or behind the largest rocks. It was all a bit much for Kevin, though, whose scenes were shot at the top of the hill. His new suit was still pretty cumbersome to walk in and the head took ages to get on and off. So he said, ‘Look, I’m just going to stay up here during lunch.’
I said, ‘I’d love to stay and join you but I need to go down for a wee.’
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I’ve found this cosy little nest in the rock. I’m all covered.’
So that day someone took his lunch up for him on a tray, with a little salt and pepper pot and a drink, and he sat there on his own, bless him! As soon as I’d finished, I started the long crawl back up. As I came round the last corner I saw the empty tray on a rock and Kevin relaxing in full Sontaran head and suit.
‘How are you?’ I asked.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I am fine, but a woman and her dog who came by will never be the same again!’
Jeez we had fun with Kevin! It was so sad, about six months later, when we heard he’d died of heart trouble – a great loss of a great character and a great friend.
* * *
That woman and her hound weren’t the only ones to get a rude awakening, though. At the end of September we shifted base to Hound Tor, near Manaton, to capture the scenes with Styre’s spaceship. In typically gung-ho fashion, Tom threw himself into recording. While he wasn’t as keen for his Doctor to be the ultimate Fighting Champion that Jon had enjoyed playing, he didn’t want him to be a pushover either. When the script called for a duel between himself and Styre, Terry Walsh offered to take over but Tom insisted on handling his end personally.
Meanwhile I’d been caught with manacles on my wrists that turned into snakes. With so many adders in the undergrowth anyway, it wasn’t hard to fake a reaction. The hardest part was keeping still enough for the overlaying images. As the fight went on, I was sitting on the ground on some sort of plastic sheet. Everything felt so damp it was like sitting in a wet nappy. I had my eyes closed when I heard this ‘crack!’ and a shout.
God, that sounded realistic, that’s good! I thought.
Then I heard fussing and Tom squealing in agony. The whole area was full of rocks, and so slippery and wet and muddy. But he hadn’t fallen – I think he was so cold that a sudden jerking movement had been enough to do some sort of damage. He was carried down the hill and then driven to the nearest hospital. Word soon reached us he’d broken his collarbone. I thought, Well, that’s the end of this serial. We can’t do it without the Doctor. With his new TB wig and coat, Terry stepped in to complete the fight (as I think you can see from the final version!) and took over lots of the other, more physical tasks, but the following day Tom was back, bandaged and sore, to take his place again in front of the cameras. We were grateful for that scarf and oversized coat because they hid his neck brace so well.
A lot of actors would have been quickly irritated by something so impossible as a long multi-coloured scarf but Tom revelled in it. Just having it there, potentially underfoot or wrapped around the wrong prop, gave every scene that sense of danger. He thrived on that, though. I did, too. Playing with uncertainty is one of the strongest things an actor can do – a quality we each admired in the other.
Speaking of costumes, I enjoyed a spot of fun with mine at Tom’s expense. I was trying – and failing – to get the Doctor’s attention while he was inspecting the transmat system. Tom naturally turned into an irascible grump for the scene – as you would in a relationship when one of you is concentrating and the other is messing around. I responded by taking Sarah Jane to an even more childish level. One minute I’m trying to talk to him, the next I’ve pulled my hat down over my eyes. Pure, ridiculous attention-seeking – boy, it felt good!
In that little scene I think we cracked the relationship between the two. It was so much more than master and pupil. Tom’s Doctor allowed me to have fun but there were plausible parameters, just as there would be in real life between two companions. He could be playful or stern and I would respond accordingly. It was so warm, not artificial in the least; instinctive as well. We found a way to read every script that just made perfect sense.
I was watching a scene in preparation for a DVD commentary a year or two ago when Sadie said, ‘Tom handles you so gently, Mum. It’s beautiful to watch.’ And it is. He was just so caring and utterly rounded as an actor and a character. There are no shortcuts with him, everything counts.
Tom hit his stride far quicker than I did. He walked into the Doctor’s role and I think even he was surprised at how well it fitted him. He never had to reach for it, it’s the part he was born to play.
I wasn’t the only one impressed with our star turn. The Sontaran Experiment’s director was Rodney Bennett, a graduate of Z-Cars and Thirty-Minute Theatre. After a run of happy experiences I was back at square one with this guy: it wasn’t that he didn’t like me, he just didn’t seem to notice me. He only had eyes for Tom. It was like working on Some Mothers again – the star was all, the rest could work it out for themselves. I had no empathy with him at all and I’m sure it was mutual.
The Sontaran Experiment was the first serial in five years which didn’t have Barry Letts as producer. His protégé, Philip, was a visible presence in Dartmoor. Without a studio shoot for this one there was little choice. I got on very well with Philip, as did most people, I think. But one comment – a compliment, actually – made me reconsider my entire future.
I was at the top of the hill shooting the scene where I’m captured with ropes. There was one camera and a microphone with me. The director and the rest of the team were at the foot of the hill as usual watching on monitors. We captured the scene in the first or second take, then as I was getting ready for my next scene I noticed Philip puffing his way over. He’d climbed all the way up the hill just to have a word.
‘Lis,’ he said, ‘that stuff you did with the ropes really was top drawer. We were all watching below and a shiver went through us. How did you do it?’
I’ve thought about this moment many times over the years, wondering if I overreacted. Whichever way you look at it, Philip was simply paying me a compliment. Not only that, he’d put his body through the agony of hiking up a steep hill to deliver it. Yet, my instinctive response was: I’ve been training for this all my life. I’ve dedicated my career to getting the most out of every line, every look and every physical action. I can struggle with ropes all day, it’s what I do.