I don’t know if the BBC were trying to squeeze in as much as they could before I left, but before we began filming on the new series a couple of other jobs were passed our way. At the end of April we found ourselves in a BBC radio studio as the Doctor and Sarah contributing to an episode of the schools programme Exploration Earth called The Time Machine. Who better, I suppose, to talk about that? More excitingly, we also recorded a record – an actual LP! It was called Doctor Who and the Pescatons and I suppose it was the precursor of the audio books and those ‘Big Finish’ plays. Although the novels had always been popular, we had no idea back then how big a business that side of things would become. Still, it’s nice to be in at the beginning.
Then it was finally time to start the day job.
It was Philip’s idea to set the new serial in Renaissance Italy, Robert’s idea to commission an expert on the subject (Louis Marks) and director Rodney Bennett’s idea to film the whole thing on location in Tuscany. Guess which one of those three didn’t get their way?
Obviously if you can’t get the rolling Tuscan hills, the next best thing is Wales – specifically, Portmeirion. Actually, this wasn’t so random a choice as it could have been: it was already famous as the setting for The Prisoner. It’s a vast estate of Mediterranean-style buildings designed by Sir Bertram Clough Williams-Ellis, so perfect for capturing a hint of Italy. We actually shot in a different part of town to Patrick McGoohan’s lot (The Prisoner looked extremely barren by comparison). Our location was meant to look very verdant and lush, rich and Italian. And it did, it really did.
There’s a lot to be said for living in a mock Italian village, too. I was given a charming room in the hotel, full of character, and as soon as we arrived we had tea and cakes. It was really beautiful and so welcoming. There were lots of outbuildings on site as well, where people could stay. We were there for four nights and I think we had parties on every one.
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.