“You don’t just want this part for the money, do you?” His father’s comment sounded more like a statement than a question. They were in the garden. Most of the country was enjoying unusually warm weather for the time of year. Jonathan Sandford was showing off his new shed. If anyone in the house believed that was the reason the two men were out here, Nick would eat the script that had spun him on his head.
“No.” He might as well be truthful. “It’s a brilliant script. The type of film I’ve always wanted to make. It’s fantasy blended with contemporary issues, and the effects will be—” he laughed, “—fantastic. There’s much green screen work and wire work and…” He hesitated.
“Lots of other things that would make your mother frown in puzzlement?”
Nick laughed with his father. None of his fam
