The Delegates' Choice aka The Book Stops Here

'Oh my God! Ted, no! No! Ted, we're never going to make it through that. We're going to die!'

'We're not going to die. They drove it through, we must be able to drive it out.'

'Yeah, but, Ted, they weren't…'

Israel's mother was staring, transfixed, in the wing mirror. 'There are people chasing us,' she said.

'Who?'

'Half-naked men and women!'

'The travellers, Ted!'

'Good.'

'And the police!'

'Even better.'

They were hurtling towards the gate.

'Ted! They're going to shut the gate on us.'

'Hippies!' yelled Ted.

'They're not hippies!' shouted Israel. 'They're the police!'

'They're all the same!' yelled Ted as they reached the gate, the police still struggling to drag it closed.

They just made it through and onto the road. Ted wrenched the van left.

'Oh God, that was close,' said Israel.

'Aye,' said Ted. 'We're all right now.'

'That was great!' said Israel's mother. 'It's like Thelma and Louise!'

* * *

There was the sound of a police siren behind them.

'Oh shit!' said Israel. 'Ted!'

'You take the wheel,' said Ted.

'What?' screamed Israel.

'You take the wheel.'

'Why?'

'I'm going to sort the peelers out.'

'What are you going to do? Don't shoot at them!'

'Of course I'm not going to shoot at them! I've not got a gun!'

'Good!'

Ted got up out of the driver's seat, and Israel slid across, while Ted went to the back of the van with Israel's mother and began opening the disabled access door.

'Ted!' yelled Israel. 'What the hell are you doing?'

'We're going to give the hippies their furniture back!'

'What?'

The door came open, and Ted and Israel's mother began throwing stuff out of the back: rugs, appliquéd cushions, scented candles and, with a final heave, the frayed sofa, which fell-thunk!-and effectively blocked the road.

They drove on, as inconspicuously as they could, out of Amesbury, away from Stonehenge, sticking to B roads.

'Now where?' said Israel.

'I don't know,' said Ted.

'Well, you've come this far. How far to your Mobile Meet?' said Israel's mother.

15

Britain's premier-and only-convention of mobile librarians, organised by the Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals, was taking place in a disused airfield. The event was the opposite of the gathering at Stonehenge, just a few hours' drive away. Here, there was no worshipping of the Earth Mother by people with strange names wearing eccentric clothes. Instead, here were men and women called Ken and Barbara, in sensible shoes and cardigans, standing around drinking tea and coffee from flasks, and admiring each other's vehicles, which had been polished and preened and primped in preparation. There were about fifty mobile library vans in attendance, parked in neat rows.

And in the last row, at the end of the row, newly arrived, with a small and attentive crowd gathered round it, was the mobile library from Tumdrum.

'Coming through!' Israel was saying. 'Mind your backs please!'

The Mobile Meet attracted mobile libraries from all over the country, big ones and small ones, new ones and old ones, and with every type and shape and size of mobile librarian to match, but it would be safe to say the Mobile Meet had never seen anything quite like the newly decorated mobile library and its muddy and bedraggled librarians from Tumdrum.

The crowd parted as Israel made his way through.

Mobile librarians are of course some of the finest, most open-, broad- and community-minded individuals in the world-they're basically social workers on wheels, with a penchant for Penguin Classics-but even they found it hard to comprehend exactly what Ted and Israel's mobile library was all about.

'What is this all about?' murmured the on-looking crowd.

'I don't know.'

'It's some sort of hippy van, isn't it?'

'I think they must have taken a wrong turn on the way to Stonehenge.'

The crowd had formed around the van almost as soon as Ted and Israel and Israel's mother had arrived and parked, with people pressing in close to get a look at the extraordinary paintwork, and to sneak a look inside.

Ted and Israel's mother were sitting like sentinels, or like Odysseus and Penelope, on the steps of the van waiting for Israel, who had been deputed-unwillingly, and unfairly and as usual-to go and find coffee and tea and to fill in the necessary registration forms.

'Coming through,' Israel repeated, clutching polystyrene cups of coffee. 'Excuse me! Librarian coming through! Mind your backs!'

'About bloomin' time,' said Ted, accepting a cup of coffee.

'We're certainly drawing the crowds then,' said Israel, handing another coffee to his mother.

'We're celebrities,' said Israel's mother.

'Aye,' said Ted. 'Mebbe. But we've no chance of the Concord De Le Glance, have we, after what those flippin' Gypsies-'

'They weren't Gypsies!' said Israel.

'Hippies,' said Ted, 'have done to my van.'

'Concord De Le Glance?' said Israel's mother.

'Concours D'Elégance,' said Israel.

'That's the one,' said Ted.

'It's the prize for the best-looking van,' explained Israel.

'Not a chance,' said Ted glumly.

'I don't know,' said Israel. 'Look at the crowd. The judges might look kindly upon something so…different.'

'Aye,' said Ted.

'Anyway,' said Israel's mother. 'This is the famous Mobile Meet. We're here. We made it. But I have to say it doesn't look that impressive so far. A lot of white vans.'

'Well, we've already missed a lot of the seminars,' said Israel, referring to a leaflet he'd picked up in the makeshift administration building, an old Nissen hut. 'Here we are: "Public Library Service Standards: The Future", "The Disability Discrimination Act: In Practice" and "New Developments in Livery." Missed them all.'

'Pity,' said Ted.

'But apparently the judges are still working their way round looking at the vehicles.' Israel referred again to the leaflet. 'There's awards for Livery, State of the Art, Delegates' Choice, Concours D'Elégance.'

'Hooray!' said Israel's mother.

'So we've still got a chance. We're not entirely out of the running.'

'Not a chance,' said Ted, again. 'It'll take me months to have this resprayed properly.'

'Well, whether or not you win,' said Israel's mother, 'I think you've done very well just getting here. We got the van back, and that's the main thing. And certainly what you have now, for better or for worse is…' She glanced up behind her at the painted vehicle. 'Very…different.'

'Aye, well, there's different,' said Ted, 'and then there's stark ravin' mad.'

'Anyway,' said Israel's mother, stubbing out her cigarette. 'I'm just going to have a little rest here. Why don't you two boys run along and enjoy yourselves.'

'Mother!' said Israel.

'Go on!' said Israel's mother. 'I need a lie down for ten minutes. All this excitement has tired me out. Go on! And take the dog with you, Ted, please.'

'Come on then,' said Israel, obediently, stepping away from the van through the crowd, 'let's go and look at the new vehicles shall we, Ted?'

Ted grunted.

'Is that a yes or a no?' said Israel.

'Aye,' said Ted, scooping up Muhammad. 'Show's over!' he announced to the crowd around the van. 'Shoo!' he said, waving them away. 'Go and gape at something else will ye! Go on! Shoo!'

Disgruntled, mumbling mobile librarians shuffled away.

One area of the old airfield was completely given over to companies who had set up little tents and marquees alongside their new demonstration mobile library vans. It was like wandering into a travelling circus.

'Gentlemen. Welcome,' said the salesman on the first vehicle that Ted and Israel approached, a vast white, shiny behemoth of a thing. The salesman wore a black suit and black shirt and black tie.