All the way back to Kenneth McKinley’s house I’m running through the possibilities in my head. Susan has taken Dennis’s lead and doesn’t even complain when she has to pick up his huge poo in a little black bag that Andi gives to her. Honestly – a supermarket carrier bag would be a better size. She scratches his head and calls him a ‘good old boy’, while he thumps his tail against her legs. I stay well out of his way to be on the safe side.

Susan and I wait with Mr McKinley and Dennis in the front room while Andi goes to the shed. I am terrified.

She’s comes back, holding a paper bag. ‘I’ve got it, Kenneth!’

She sounds cheery. Is it fake? I look at her face to check, but it’s giving nothing away. Their conversation is not exactly whispered, but it is taking place quietly, as though Susan and I are not supposed to be there.

‘Only one? There were two, as I recall. I’m not totally doolally yet.’

‘Yes. Just this one – with the videotape.’

‘And the other one? The one with the Dreaminators?’

That word! I feel a charge go through me like a little electric shock.

I glance over to where Susan is looking at the table of photos. For probably the first time since I met her, she’s not paying attention to her surroundings, but seems lost in fascination.

‘Couldn’t see it, Kenneth.’ Andi’s voice is airy-don’t-carey. I’m convinced now that she’s putting it on. She adjusts a cushion behind his back. ‘It won’t have gone far. It’s probably just fallen behind a shelf. I’ll have to move stuff to get to it later.’

Kenneth grunts grumpily. ‘I certainly hope so. They were the last two in the world so far as I know. Well, apart from the original …’ His voice trails off and he starts coughing again after which he says nothing and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he coughs again and says, ‘I’m afraid I’m very, very tired. I don’t feel at all well, to be quite honest. Thank you for coming. Take the video with you and have a wee look at it, eh? We’ll expand on it next time you come. Andi will show you out.’

‘Mr McKinley?’ says Susan. She has picked up a photograph from a sidetable. ‘Is this you? With … the Beatles?’ I look at the faded picture: a young Kenneth McKinley, with long blond hair, wearing baggy cotton clothes, among a group of other people, most of them with beards and moustaches and beads … I might not have recognised the Beatles, but it’s the sort of thing that Susan would know.

The old man nods weakly. ‘Aye. I knew them on and off for years. George especially. He was very interested in my work. I toured with them in 1962. I was visiting Paul when he wrote that song “Let It Be”. I might have been the first person to hear it …’ His voice becomes an almost-inaudible whisper, then the words turn into another coughing fit, and Andi steps in.

‘Time to go, you two.’

In the hallway, there’s a framed poster that Andi points to and says, ‘He has quite a story for anyone who wants to listen.’

KIRKCALDY TOWN HALL

TEEN DANCE-ATHON!

23 October 1962

FEATURING

RICKY THUNDER AND

THE LIGHTNING BOLTS

plus

England’s newest pop stars

THE BEATLES

And there at the bottom, in much smaller writing,

Full variety support acts

JERRY MURAD’S HARMONICATS

‘Madcap Music from the USA’

KENNETH MCKINLEY

‘The Mystic o’ the Highlands’

She hands the bag to Susan. ‘He wants you to see this.’ Inside is an old video cassette – black plastic with a transparent window showing the tape inside. ‘It’s VHS. Have you got a machine to play it on?’

Susan nods. ‘Yes. My grandmother watches old films like these. What is on it?’

Andi shrugs. ‘Never seen it. I wouldn’t pay too much attention. It’s probably just his old mystical, hippy ramblings.’