Julie played the developer’s PA, a high-powered woman with a troubled conscience. In fact, everyone in the picture seemed to have a troubled conscience. The watchmaker harboured some terrible secret from his past. His apprentice, while on the surface pretending to support the old man, was in fact scheming to sell him out. The developer was in love with Julie, but he had done something awful concerning the brother she didn’t know she had. And Julie, through a chance encounter, had fallen in love with Bobby Boy, neither of them knowing who the other one was. There was enough in the way of stress to bring joy to any Hollywood producer’s heart, and the plot, superbly crafted, led eventually to a denouement so apposite and touching that there wasn’t a dry eye left in the house.

And certainly not one in Russell’s head.

Russell sat there and blubbed into his champagne. The movie was a masterpiece. There was nothing trite or schmaltzy about it. The direction was impeccable. There was excitement, there was intrigue. There was not a Cyberstar to be seen in it.

The cast was entirely composed of local folk. And all were wonderfully professional. Bobby Boy out-Hanked Tom Hanks and the sallow creep who ran The Bricklayer’s Arms all but stole the show with a compelling performance as a crippled footballer trying to rebuild his life after the tragic death of his wife.

It was a film for all the family. And not The Manson Family, as had been the case with Mr Fudgepacker’s previous efforts. There was no sex here and no violence. There was humour, there was joy. There was love and there was hope.

It was very Heaven.

Russell blew his nose on his shirt sleeve. He could already see the reviews.

Sensational. A film you’ll want to see again and again. Simply sensational.

The Times

I don’t have to actually watch a picture to know whether it’s good or bad, and I haven’t watched this one. But I love it. Marvellous.

Barry Norman

Ernest Fudgepacker is one of the rare guys who can always make me cry.

Terry Pratchett®

And so on and so forth.

When the end credits had all rolled away and the lights went back on, folk rose from their seats and set up a thunderous applause, with the occasional break for eye-dabbing and sniffing.

Ernest struggled unsteadily to his feet and limped to the screen. He raised his wrinkly hands to the audience. “I think a round of applause should go to the man who made it all possible. The man who has worked harder than any of us. For Russell. Take a bow, my boy.”

Russell flapped a hand and grew a little rosy at the cheeks. But to cries of “speech, speech” and “well done that man”, he got up from his seat and took a little bow.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” said Morgan. “Almost had me sniffling. Almost.”

“They were all so good.” Russell scratched at his head. “All those amateur actors, they were brilliant.”

“Old Ernie knows how to get a performance out of people.”

“It’s a work of genius.”

“You made it happen, Russell.”

Russell shook the head he’d been scratching. “This has got to be a dream.”

“Then it’s a bloody good one.”

Mr Fudgepacker came hobbling up. “You liked it, Russell? You think you can sell it for us?”

“Oh yes!” Russell’s head now bobbed up and down. “I’ll call Eric Nelluss,[26] he’s the man to handle this.”

“That’s my boy,” said Mr F.

“Mr Fudgepacker.”

“Yes, Russell?”

“I’m sorry about, you know, me being rude and everything.”

“Forget it, my boy. You’ve been over-working. We’ll all help you now.”

“Great. Just great.”

“As soon as the movie’s finished, we’ll all give you a hand with the marketing.”

“Finished?” Russell asked. “But it is finished, surely?”

“You have to be kidding, lad. That’s only about half of it. There’s all the other bits to go in. The important bits. The meaningful bits.”

Russell’s heart departed through the soles of his feet. The important bits? The meaningful bits? Not …? Russell’s top lip began to quiver. “Not those bits?” he managed. “Not the stuff about me? Not that thing? Oh no, not that.”

Ernie shook his ancient head. “Whatever are you on about, Russell? There aren’t any bits about you. And there’s no thing. Whatever the thing is. These are other scenes that flesh out the performances.”

“But not about me? And not about a thing?”

“No, Russell.”

“Phew,” went Russell. “Well, I don’t know how you can improve on perfection and the movie was as near to perfect as anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Not a bit of it. It will be a lot better when it gets the rest in.”

“Well,” Russell gave his head another shake, “I’ll be prepared to be amazed then.”

“You will.” Old Ernie smiled a mouthload of sunken gums. “You just wait until you see the gang bang at the bikers’ barbecue and the shoot-out with the General Electric mini-gun and the bit where the cannibal cult breaks into the convent and the amazing slow-motion sequence when the escaped psychopath takes this hedge-clipper and puts it right up this …”

15

More Horror From Box 23

The party moved on into evening, gathering mass and momentum. More folk that Russell didn’t know arrived together with a further delivery of champagne that Russell had to sign for. Music played and people took to dancing, drunkenness and bad behaviour, as is the accepted social norm at any decent bash.

Russell slipped outside and tried his hand at flying. Well, he’d always been able to fly in his dreams and if this was a dream …

But he couldn’t get off the ground and after a quarter of an hour of bunny-hopping foolishly around the car park, Russell slipped back inside again. It seemed as if this wasn’t a dream but he still had his doubts about the rest.

There was just too much to it. Too much detail. The Flügelrad and the Cyberstars and the horrible red-faced insect thing. He didn’t have a mind like that. He could never have dreamed such awful stuff.

Russell poured himself champagne and watched the revellers revel. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. Were they all in on it? All part of the great conspiracy? The great Satanic conspiracy? Russell downed champagne and poured some more and stood aside and wondered.

“Why so sad?” asked Julie, the barmaid-cum-movie star.

Russell turned to face the beautiful woman. “Oh,” said he. “Ah.”

“Yes?”

Russell made the face of shame. “I’m very sorry,” he said. “About, you know, what I said to you earlier.”

“I forgive you, Russell. But I’d rather you’d said it to me in private.”

“Oh,” said Russell, once again. “Oh. Really?”

Julie smiled her wonderful smile. “And after you’ve had a bath. You smell rather –”

“Yes.” Russell took a step back. “I was sick earlier in the day. I’m sorry.”

“You look a bit drunk now.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that too. I’m really sorry.”

“You’re such a sweet man, Russell.”

“Thank you and I really am truly sorry.”

“Just forget it.”

“Yes.” Russell smiled back at the beautiful woman. Now she was a dream. A real dream. And she did seem to like him. A relationship wouldn’t be out of the question. Russell felt sure that she couldn’t be up to anything sinister. She might well have seen something though. The Cyberstar machine. She might have seen that.

“So why are you so sad?”

“I’m confused,” said Russell. “I wonder, could I ask you a question?”

“Anything you like.”

“Well, when you were making the movie, did you use any weird equipment?”