I wasn’t sure about showing Des’ film as it stood to anyone, especially a rival. At the same time, I needed someone who could take it on to the next stage and I suspected Alan might be that person. I also had a few worries about going to Des’ cottage with a relative stranger.

“We’ll need to go to Des’ cottage to see the film, such as it is,” I ventured.

“I have a meeting in an hour, could do something after lunch, say half two three.”

I looked in my diary, I knew I was free, but he didn’t. “Yeah, I could reschedule something. Okay, I’ll see you there then.” We shook hands and I left whilst he collected together his laptop.

What did I think of the rather large man half hidden by this wondrous beard and I was half minded of the old nursery rhyme about the birds nesting in the old man’s beard. Then the thought struck me about it possibly being allegorical, old man’s beard being a name for wild clematis, which swarms over hedgerows on the chalk and limestone soils of southern England.

Perhaps it was a limerick not a nursery rhyme, I pondered as I drove home for some lunch. I collected some more flour and yeast from Asda and went home starting a loaf before I left. I set the machine to produce the goods about six.

I had to make a new loaf or buy some bread as I’d eaten the last of it for my lunch, bulking out a rather boring tuna salad I made myself. I sent Simon a text, telling him I was meeting this Alan White at Des’ cottage that afternoon. Then if he murdered me, Simon would be able to tell the police. What a strange thought–being murdered. I shivered for a moment as if I’d walked into a freezer.

I got to the cottage at two fifteen, Alan hadn’t arrived. Maybe I should set up a sound recording device, then there’d be evidence of my demise. What was I thinking? So far he’d been rather nice not at all murderous. I comforted myself with the thoughts that my initial feelings about Simon, all those months ago had been very strange. I wondered if he was a maniac and a cannibal. I chuckled to myself, only to jump about a foot in the air when the door was knocked.

It was Alan. I welcomed him in and offered him a cup of tea or coffee, he opted for tea. I’d taken milk and tea bags with me, just plain bog standard Typhoo, but it was warm and wet.

After we had the tea and a biscuit–plain chocolate Hobnobs, I unlocked the studio door and he whistled, “Blimey, I didn’t know he had all this stuff here, it’s better than mine, he must have had some luck on the horses to get this lot.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that it might be on credit, no one had come forward to say so, unless it was to the solicitors, which would be the appropriate course. Maybe they had, so we’d better get a move on.

“This is still all waiting for probate and stuff, so how long it will be here, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, course–well, let’s get stuck in then,” and he did. I passed him the DVDs and he ran the first. He kept making comments about this and that, mostly complimentary. An hour and a half later he said, “He has some cracking stuff here, can I see your script?” I got my copy out of my brief case and handed it to him. “Hmm, there’s still a bit to do before we get to editing and so on. There’s several bit still to shoot, including you doing your David Attenborough stuff. Where are the nearest dormice?”

“I’ve got some sites in the Forest of Dean with confirmed status.”

“Hmm, the weather is supposed to be good mid week. We need to do some daylight shots of you strutting your stuff and talking to camera. What you say isn’t too important, we can mix that in by over dubbing and stuff later. You need to decide what you’re going to wear to do this and then stick to it for the same locations. It’s very distracting if you change your clothes every two seconds–spoils the continuity.”

“Will we need to do any night time filming?”

“I don’t think we do, unless we can get some shots of dormice running along branches or something.”

“Possibly, but wouldn’t you need to leave the camera and work by remote?”

“Yep, plus it would have to be an infra red, you’re talking megabucks agai…”

“…Like this one, I held it up to him.”

“Bloody hell, who’s funding this–the CIA?” We both laughed at his remark.

“Is it okay?”

“It is fabulous and would do the trick.”

“I’m afraid, where it goes, there go I,” I said, parodying a bit of Shakepeare.

’Where the bee sucks, there suck I
In a cowslip’s bell I lie.
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily:’

Alan started the verse and I joined in, we completed it together. “The Tempest, we did it for A-level English. What’s your excuse?”

“We did it for English, only at GCSE, it’s just one of those that sticks in your mind, it’s so ridiculous.”

“Did you know there is a suspicion that Shakespeare came from Bristol?”

“I thought he was a Midlander from Stratford.” I felt very puzzled by this remark, doubtless down to some arcane professor spotting word patterns in his plays and deconstructing it.

“Nah, he goes on about Ariel, musta been the Bristol areal.” He laughed at his own joke. In Bristol the locals often add the letter ‘L’ to vowels as a suffix, so a good idea becomes a good ideal.

“Ariel appears in The Tempest, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed he does, which is probably the only reason I remember him. The important question is: was he an FM or UHF aerial? “

I shook my head in surrender, this could be as damaging to my sense of humour as working with Des would have been. “You enjoy your puns, I see.”

“Absolutely, except you have to be with someone who knows what you’re on about, or it gets lost. Looks like we’re compatible.” He beamed a smile at me.

“So you could finish this film?”

“Yep, sure could.”

“I need to maintain editorial control.”

“That I don’t find so easy, but I can see what you’re trying to do, so I’ll go along with it. All we have to do is negotiate a fee and agree contractual terms.”

That worried me for a moment, I needed some professional help with that, an agent or a lawyer. I would speak to Des’ uncle. I felt a little easier after that.
Alan left after we agreed where we’d meet in the forest, the day after next. He was prepared to get the filming done without the contract being ready, because time was going on.

I could see me getting very little for my part in the film, Alan was going to cost me twenty thousand, but that included the editing, sound and continuity. Now I had to sort out the legal stuff.

I browsed through some of Des’ files, but couldn’t seem to find anything remotely legalistic, except a threat from the council to take him to court if he didn’t pay his Council Tax. I went through two drawers of his filing cabinet and there was nothing. It struck me as strange, even if his uncle did it all, surely he’d have copies?

Then I noticed a couple of box files under the desk. There it all was. I decided I needed to get home for my bread maker, or the loaf would be spoiled. So I locked up and took the files with me–bedtime reading.

It wasn’t as dry as I thought it would be. Des was actually quite a good businessman and made quite a reasonable living. His house was paid off and so was the equipment, so I was no longer worried about it being repossessed from under our noses. However, this was certainly something I wouldn’t be sharing with Alan. I got the name of Des’ agent and left a message on their ansafone. Things were slowly coming together.

I had fresh bread and Cheddar cheese for my supper, with a few bits of pickle and salad. Then I went to bed, all in all it was a productive day, but very tiring. Simon called while I was in bed, but I fell asleep listening to him going on about how he and his father had been talking with the Chancellor’s office and had helped draw up the strategy for saving Northern Rock. It was deadly dull to me and I nodded off.