funny, Nicholas!’ Smurf fumed. ‘I’m not having her chuck lies about me left, right and centre. I’m going to take this all the way, you know. I’ll take a DNA test if I have to.’
‘Quite right, quite right,’ said Nicholas, looking concerned. He hastily changed the subject. ‘Anyway. How are you feeling, Mervy? Recovered from your battle with the Styrax?’
‘I think so. Thank God we didn’t have the money to make the things in aluminium.’
‘Good was it?’ said Smurf eagerly to Nicholas. ‘Didn’t see it meself.’
‘He fell beautifully, dear heart. Such grace. What a stuntman he was. Duggie “Don’t lean against that window” Fletcher would have been proud.’
It was Smurf’s turn to giggle along with Nicholas, and Mervyn’s to scowl.
‘Just what is Bernard’s problem?’
‘Don’t be too hard on him, Merv. I don’t know if you know this, but Bernard’s had a rough time of it these last few years. He couldn’t get another job in telly after the incident. After you—’
‘After we —’
‘Alright, after we caught him leaving the BBC with half of studio 6 up his jumper. And after I had to fire him.’
‘So what’s he been doing?’
Smurf had wedged a large cigar in his mouth and lit it with what looked like a small flamethrower. ‘He set up a special effects company in the late 80s, didn’t he? Lasted all of ten minutes before it went tits-up.’
‘I hardly see why he should fail. He made great model spaceships.’
‘He did it just before computer graphics became the in thing.’
‘Oh dear.’ Mervyn felt guilty now. I definitely shouldn’t have sent that young fan to show Bernard his ‘improved’ footage. Perhaps I should apologise to Bernard.
Their chat was interrupted by an unhealthy revving. They turned to see a huge wedge-shaped object growl into the hotel car park. It was a much larger and vibrantly coloured version of the Styrax Sentinel. Built around a car (a clapped-out Mini Metro, to be precise), it was a formidable-looking beast. A bunch of fans were clustered around it, giving off appreciative noises. Bernard stood to one side, eyeing them suspiciously. Occasionally, one would get near enough to touch it, and he flapped them away as if scaring crows from a field.
Mervyn whistled appreciatively. ‘Crikey, that’s the Styrax Superior, isn’t it? I’d forgotten how damned impressive it was.’
‘God yeah,’ said Smurf, admiring the fibreglass monolith. ‘A bit more bloody comfortable than the little ones, I can tell you that for nothing. Me and Sheldon used to fight over who got to operate it. Sheldon always won. Always. Let him do it just to shut him up. Prickly little bugger he was. Always giving it that.’ He flapped his hands like a glove puppet. ‘Yap, yap, yap… Used to call me “small fry” he did! Half an inch between us, and he called me small fry! And as for his politics… To tell you the truth, I’m glad the little fascist got turfed out during series two.’
Mervyn glared at Smurf reprovingly. Smurf realised what he’d been saying. ‘Course, I wasn’t glad about the other thing that happened. Not his burning to death. No,’ he gabbled hastily, ‘not that.’
‘It’s the best thing Bernard ever made,’ said Nicholas, looking at the Styrax Superior with genuine awe. ‘He really is a very good designer.’
‘So how did he get hold of it, then?’ said Mervyn. ‘I doubt he was able to shove that thing down his trousers during a quiet moment.’
‘No, he didn’t.’ Smurf piped up. ‘He bought up a lot of props quite legit after the series ended. He exhibits that thing around the country, doing fêtes and conventions. He does charity events too.’
‘Ah! Enlightenment dawns!’ Mervyn snapped his fingers under Nicholas’s nose. ‘I now understand this “Don’t be too hard on him” stuff. Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You and he are putting a little something together, aren’t you?’
‘Me?’ Nicholas said