The woman smiled. Her nose swooped over her toothless mouth, jutted chin slightly averted. Making room for the head of the puppy cradled in her arms. Her eyes, crinkling, looked into the distance, through the leather clad young woman, to the purple headland. The shell white shore, the cresting waves. How she hated it when they spoke, she smiled as if she`d won the lottery.
Nicola, in leather, rushed on.
‘We'd like to make a film about the island’
She tried to be sensitive. No need to mention the dwindling hauls, the Spanish trawlers, the proceeds of the wind farm going to a multinational.
‘We just think this is such a beautiful place, and you like visitors to come, I hear. Perhaps some young families would come from the mainland to live here, if they like the film’
She tried to read the woman's face. Nicola had jumped at the chance, when the producer said he would like her as an assistant on the island job. He had heard her go on about world issues, the power of multinationals, the effect of world debt. She would be just right for the islanders, a proud secretive bunch. She could do empathy, do it rather well, in fact.
The woman hugged the puppy to her.
‘Maybe’ She beamed enigmatically.
‘Do you think people, other islanders, would like to be involved?’
‘W…What`s in it for us?’
‘Well, as I said, perhaps more visitors, and there could be some paid roles’
‘How much?’
‘I`m not sure of the budget’ Nicola hesitated.
‘Sure, we'll consider it anyway’
Out of sight Nicola tapped her laptop.
It`s in the bag Nigel. They`ll want payment, but no doubt modest, things must be dire here. The Spanish trawlers….See you in Clapham.
Nicola.
The woman turned back into the cottage
‘AS IF!’ Smiling as though she had won the lottery. Why everyone on the island knew that Sindy was short for syndicate. She picked up her satellite phone.
‘Is that you Hamish? I`d like you to do a check for me. Fingal Films, their assets and what films they might have in the pipeline. Let's see what we can get out of them.’
‘Thank you Hamish.’