A relief for me was seeing Brian fit in so easily. He and Ian really hit it off – it would have been awful if he’d felt like a spare limb. I think they both had their experiences of being at the periphery of the Who spectrum – even Ian – and so they bonded over that. Most of that bonding, naturally, took place at the bar way into the small hours. On one occasion it also included a drunken paddle in the surf.
Ian, Barry and the rest left after a week, then Brian and I drove down to Key West for another fortnight’s amazing holiday. We’d only been there a few days when we were stopped by a policeman.
‘Is everything all right, officer?’ Brian asked.
‘It will be if Sarah Jane will give me her autograph!’
As I’ve said, it’s amazing where you find Who fans.
* * *
Filming on Gulliver in Lilliput began in June 1981. I was so excited to be working with Barry again, and I was even looking forward to slipping into the old rehearsal/record routine at the Acton Hilton and Television Centre.
Technically it was quite a tricky shoot. Gulliver was so much bigger than me that the actor – Andrew Burt – had to stand at one end of the studio and I was up the other end by the blue screen. Luckily the Beeb still used monitors then so I was able to position myself on Gulliver’s outstretched palm. If he moved, I could react – I don’t know why they ever took the screens away.
We had several weeks of filming but time was extremely tight by the end. It was touch and go whether we’d complete on time and Barry’s nerves passed down to the cast. I remember at the very end of our studio time I had to blow Andrew a kiss but I just didn’t do it. I was so anxious about cocking it up and making the whole production run over schedule that I just skipped it.
Costumes on the whole film were stunning – thanks to Amy Roberts – but mine was out of this world. I was scaffolded inside the narrowest corset they could find. So decadent, it felt like being in an opera – people kept wandering in just to see our underwear! (There was one marvellous scene where I had to tease my husband pulling on my stockings. Still a favourite, I believe, for some fans.) The downside is it took so bloody long to get into that outfit there was never time to take it off again. From early in the morning until ten at night, I was trussed up like a Christmas turkey. For lunch I could just about manage a hard-boiled egg and I still felt as though I’d eaten a whole chicken. When I was cut out at night, my body was covered in striations.
It was such a minxy part and there was not a minute of Gulliver that I did not enjoy. I know Barry felt the same. I have a letter from him in which he says that production was one of the highlights of his career. Mine too, Barry.
If only I could have said the same about my next project.
* * *
Unbeknownst to me, John Nathan-Turner had not taken my earlier ‘no’ for an answer. Just because I’d refused to return to the main programme to oversee the transition between Tom and the Fifth Doctor, Peter Davison, he reasoned, that didn’t mean I never wanted to appear as Sarah Jane Smith in anything else. Then at the start of 1981 he discovered the perfect vehicle. Following the announcement that K-9, the Fourth Doctor’s robot dog, would be phased out of Doctor Who, there had been uproar among the fans and in the press so, he decided to give K-9 another show – with me as the human star.
‘We’ll call it Sarah and K-9!’ John enthused. ‘You’ll have your own show – it will be brilliant!’
I had to agree that it sounded a fabulous idea: Sarah Jane striding out into the world on her own, pursuing her journalistic instincts to solve crimes – with her trusty robot dog at her side. Even when they changed the title to Girl’s Best Friend I was still on board. The plan was to shoot a pilot then hopefully be picked up for a full series the following year. ‘That should be a formality,’ John winked. ‘We’re all behind it here.’
I couldn’t wait – I was so intrigued to discover how Sarah would operate away from the Doctor. that was the challenge. I wanted to see how she would interact with other people and how she would save the universe on her own. I didn’t have a clue what K-9 was – I’d never seen him. But, I figured, if Tom Baker had worked with him then it must be all right. Of course, that was before I heard the stories of Tom booting the thing across the studio in frustration every time it ruined a scene.
I signed up in May then disappeared to work on Gulliver. Barry was fascinated that his creation was to get a new lease of life – I really wanted it to work for him as much as anyone. After half a decade away from it, I was suddenly more embroiled in the Whoniverse than I’d ever been. Life was good.
And then the script arrived.
I read it in between shooting as Flimnap. Sadly, it was only her corsets that took my breath away. The script was terrible. I called a meeting with John and Eric Saward, the Who script editor, with a list of complaints as long as my arm. First: it was now called K-9 and Company.
Company? Is that what I am now, John? What happened to it being my show?
More importantly, the characterisation of Sarah was totally wrong.
‘Eric,’ I said, ‘she wouldn’t do or say half these things. This hasn’t been written for Sarah at all!’
Eric agreed. The writer, Terence Dudley, had his own way of doing things and was not exactly keen to bend. ‘But,’ John insisted, ‘we’ll fix it – won’t we, Eric?’
They promised and, assured by their enthusiasm, I returned to Lilliput a happy bunny.
What an idiot I was. When the final script arrived shortly before rehearsals began, nothing had been changed. I think Dudley had refused Eric’s changes wholesale and gone straight over his head to JNT. The politics didn’t bother me – my only concern was injecting some character into my leaden lines.
Costume fittings ran for a fortnight into November. I think most of that time must have been spent on me. I can’t believe how many changes I went through! Three or four different coats, jogging clothes, a journalist’s Mac, a big Sherlock Holmes’ autumnal three-piece suit, body warmers and lots of gloves. There was even a green silk dress bought specifically for the last scene that I seem to recall took up most of our budget. I remember seeing the Sherlock Holmes’ number on a model in a magazine and thinking, That would be good because you can just remove layers rather than keep changing. Of course, the model was about a foot taller than me. When I stepped out of the car in my opening scene, the hem was sweeping the road.
In November we all met up for the first time at the Acton Hilton for a read-through. Delivering some of those lines still grated but I had a few solutions to try during rehearsal. They would have to wait, however. As soon as we wrapped in London it was onto the bus and down to the Cotswolds. As I sat watching the countryside blur past I realised for the first time that I was on my own. There was no Jon or Tom to soak up everyone’s attention – I wasn’t sure I liked it.
My mood didn’t pick up on the first day of shooting. I’d been asked to bring some of my own clothes.
‘Why? There’s nothing in the script.’
‘We’re starting with opening credits,’ the director John Black said.