From the Cutting Room of Barney Kettle Read Online Free Page B

Albert Anderson had offered his friend, Hwan, the apartment above Comic Strip. Hwan – who was rather emotional – had clasped Albert Anderson in a passionate embrace of gratitude which had made Art bark in alarm.
    ‘Our saviour!’ Hwan had cried, into Albert Anderson’s chest. Thank goodness, thank goodness, they had been searching for two months, said Hwan, time was running out, the baby was due in December, but no one seemed to have any room at the inn –
    Blimey! thought Barney in that instant. He’d been reclining in the old La-Z-Boy chair in the reading nook of Comic Strip, turning over possible stories for the Summer Short and half-listening to Hwan and Albert Anderson chew the fat. Now he jerked the La-Z-Boy stick and sat up ramrod straight, his brain on high alert, the ideas popping thick and fast, like backyard fireworks at Guy Fawkes.
    A twenty-first century Nativity ! Fern and Hwan could be Mary and Joseph! They were perfect!
    For a start, Fern’s middle was as big as a Halloween pumpkin,which was very realistic. And they were actually tired and fed-up with looking for a house and they didn’t have much money or even a cot for the baby. (They planned now to put the baby in the top drawer of Albert Anderson’s spare dresser until some cash came in. Barney assumed they would leave the drawer open.)
    Two days later the tandem bicycle had turned up at Busby’s and after that everything had fallen gloriously into place. Barney just loved the way this happened when he was putting a film together … one idea always led to another, and then another and another. For instance, Fern’s baby had come early so Lovie had been obliged to step in with a big pillow stuffed up her middle. But then, happily, they’d had an actual baby to put in the manger. One thing led to another . It was brilliant. It was heaven. It was, Barney told Ren gravely, at one of their Kettle Productions meetings, the thrilling alchemy of the creative process . He’d read that in So, You Want to be a Filmmaker? and copied it into his occasional Filmmaker’s Diary.
    Alas, the thrilling alchemy of the creative process seemed to have gone doggo. No new ideas had come to Barney since Feliz Navidad had wrapped. On Boxing Day, feeling anxious about it all, he had gone down to the Emporium and wandered from room to room, searching for inspiration. He had browsed the costumes; the bric a brac; the old suitcases covered in labels; the fob watches and ugly dress rings; the cupboard of ancient ferocious-looking medical instruments. He had considered the large glass cabinet with the salt-and-pepper shaker collection. He had stood in front of Mrs Pankhurst, Kate Sheppard and Susan B. Anthony, the headless dressmaker’s dummies. He had leafed through the sheet music and smiled half-heartedly at the old song titles. Nothing.
    Barney had lain then on the Victorian reclining sofa and turned the pages of Grimms’ Fairy Tales , an old edition from the Vintage Books shelves.
    He paused at the illustration of the Wicked Queen in Snow White . It reminded Barney of Mia over the road at Toto’s (the videostore; est. 1985). Mia had asked more than once for a part in one of Barney’s films. She was infatuated with the screen, she said. And she wouldn’t really have to act the Wicked Queen, thought Barney. Mia was glamorous and slightly fierce in real life.
    There were enough children on the Street to play the seven dwarfs, too, if you counted Lovie’s little sister, Bingo – which you probably shouldn’t. (Bingo had brought Red Riding Hoodie to a halt by refusing to play unconscious. Barney had wanted to fire her in the tradition of all great film directors, but Mum had forbidden it. All great film directors had vicissitudes, she said, and Bingo was his for now.)
    But no, he really couldn’t do a version of Snow White . It would be disrespectful. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs had a special place in Barney’s personal film history. It had been his most