Sure enough, he did.
The tramp said, ‘What do you do?’
‘I work on Doctor Who,’ Russell replied, prepared for the inevitable conversation.
The tramp turned to study his face.
‘Are you David Tennant?’
Bernard Cribbins and Timothy Dalton were at the party as well, obviously, and as Timothy left the stage, Julie said, ‘My God, we’ve got Doctor Who and James Bond!’
Russell said, ‘Ooh, is he James Bond as well?’
Everyone laughed but I heard Timothy’s smile was a little forced, if you know what I mean …
David’s father gave the best speech, revealing how the young David used to play in the garden dressed up in his mother’s hat and scarf pretending to be Tom Baker! That brought the house down but it made me feel my age, I can tell you.
Afterwards I found David standing by a wall, a bit overwhelmed by it all. ‘Weren’t the speeches lovely?’ I said.
‘I was having a great time until my father let the cat out of the bag!’ he laughed.
In hindsight, this was the perfect moment to say goodbye properly. I’d thought long and hard about the perfect gift for him and had wrapped up the old TARDIS key that George had given me when I left. Knowing David was such a fan I thought it would mean something to him and because the TARDIS is now opened by a simple Yale, I wrote, ‘In case the buggers ever change the locks.’
I was pretty pleased with it, I have to say, especially after David’s dad’s revelations but when I came to hand it over, David had gone. The night was young but I think the emotions had caught up with him and he’d slunk away without fanfare. I sent the gift to his assistant and I hope he got it: he deserved it.
* * *
It wasn’t just goodbye to David, though. The whole team was handing over the reins and Russell and Julie were relocating to Hollywood. I wondered how this would affect my little programme. Russell put me straight at the party – ‘Never forget, I’m only a phone call away.’ In fact, it works perfectly. We speak and text now more than ever and it doesn’t matter what time of night or day, he’s always on. I was anguishing over an awards show outfit recently so I texted, ‘Blue or pink?’
A second later: ‘Blue.’
He just knows.
It’s unprecedented, in my experience, to have that level of access to the execs but The Sarah Jane Adventures is Russell’s baby. He looks over all the scripts, looks at the edits and fires off notes left, right and centre. It’s as if he’s in the next room.
But it wasn’t just the show I was worried about when Russell announced he was leaving the UK – I also needed to give him the best farewell gift, but what? When I’d left Who, I bought Tom an engraved gin glass, which he claims to still have to this day – but what for Russell?
Then I realised I had the perfect thing at home. Russell’s leaving, the Doctor’s leaving – just as I once left, I thought. So I rooted around in my cuttings box and there it was: my original script complete with my own deliciously inconsiderate comments in the margins!
Russell being Russell, he knew exactly what it was the moment I handed it over. There’s no one else I would rather have given it to, actually. He has been so important in my life and totally deserving of something truly unique as a thank-you present.
* * *
Russell’s generosity didn’t only extend to me, though. I’ll never forget how thoughtful he was in inviting Barry and Terry to Cardiff to give their opinions on what he was doing. Poor Barry died unexpectedly in 2009. That shook me more than even Jon’s death, I think. He was my mentor, my inspiration in so many ways, and my friend. It was a dark few days in the Miller household after that. It was a very private family funeral so we didn’t attend, but we sent a card and I spoke to his daughter. I’m just so glad Barry lived to see the heights his Sarah Jane had achieved. I owe him so much. It’s fair to say, not even Russell could have rejuvenated Who if Barry hadn’t lain such solid foundations.
A few months after Barry’s passing, on New Year’s Day 2010, I sat down with my family to watch part two of The End of Time. My scene at the end is one of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it numbers but I think it works. It’s nice, actually, and says all it needs to. Matt Smith is the Doctor now and even joined us on the fourth series of The Sarah Jane Adventures. He was brilliant – so young and so tall! But I think my time on the main programme passed with David: his Doctor brought me back. So now – thirty-seven years after I first stepped inside the TARDIS, after I encountered my initial alien encounter, after having my life turned upside down by the wonderful team on Who and the fans who made it all worthwhile – we were leaving together.
As the credits on The End of Time rolled I realised it was three years to the day since the pilot episode of The Sarah Jane Adventures premiered on the same channel. Who saw that coming, back in 1973 when Brian and I sat down to watch my fledgling appearance on The Time Warrior?
Who indeed.
Epilogue
Who On Earth Would Want To Read About Me?
Lis – precious mum to one of us, dear wife to the other – worked on this book throughout 2010 with her co-writer, Jeff. In December of that year, she received a printout of the final draft from her publisher and put it in a drawer. Christmas and New Year with the family were more important to her than anything work related. Weeks passed and the book stayed in her desk. When her editor, Sam, rang to ask about progress, Lis said she was struggling to find the time to go through it. New scripts for Series Five of The Sarah Jane Adventures were beginning to arrive; they had to take priority. More importantly, she wanted to be fully focused before adding the finishing touches to her book. She didn’t want to give it anything less than her best. If only she wasn’t always so tired …
And then in February 2011 Lis’s world, and ours, changed forever.
She was diagnosed with cancer. She had probably been suffering its effects for two years – that accounted for the tiredness. Worst of all, she was informed the disease was already quite far along. Her doctor said, ‘We can’t cure it, but we’re going to throw everything we can at you to fight it as long as possible.’
That fight lasted no more than two months. Lis died at the Meadow House Hospice in the early hours of Tuesday, 19 April 2011. She was 65 years old.
* * *
The first person Lis told about her diagnosis was Russell T Davies. She actually rang him on the way back from the doctor’s in February. She loved hearing his voice. He was always so positive, always instinctively knew what to do, but even he couldn’t help this time.
Lis owed Russell so much. She had just attained pensioner status when he’d plucked her out of retirement to appear once again in Doctor Who. It’s fair to say none of us saw that coming. And as for then creating an entire TV show for her to star in – that was just magical.
Lis was so proud of The Sarah Jane Adventures. It was playing a character she’d always loved and had protected so strongly for decades. Plenty of writers or directors in the past hadn’t really understood Sarah Jane, but Russell knew. In his hands, Sarah Jane got to have the life she deserved.
Lis loved having her own show. She used to say it was such an honour, and such an unexpected one at her time of life. But she really gave it her all. She never did anything at less than 100 per cent effort – you can see that on the screen.