by Ian Sansom
'Ted, we're not going to be fine. We're going to die!'
'Shut up!' yelled Ted. 'And put your bloody seatbelt on. We need to take this at speed!'
'Oh God!'
Israel fumbled with his seatbelt as Ted steered the van as close to the hedge as possible, so that at least two wheels were still—just—on solid ground when they hit the ditch.
'Brace yerselves!'
The van went down—and down—on Israel's side, knocking Israel, mid-seatbelt-fastening, forwards against the windscreen and sideways against the door.
'Aaaghhh!'
But somehow it came up again—'All right?' said Ted. 'Fine,' moaned Israel. 'Never better!' said Israel's mother—and now they were heading for the gate. Two policemen started dragging it closed.
'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.
'You off to a funeral?' said Ted.
'Sssh!' said Israel.
'Sorry?' said the man.
'Can we have a look inside?' said Israel.
'Sorry, gentlemen,' said the man, blocking the doorway to the van, 'No dogs, I'm afraid.'
Ted picked up Muhammad, tucked him under his arm and uncermoniously pushed past the man and into the van.
'Well,' said the salesman, hurrying in after Ted, 'I suppose that's okay.'
'Sorry,' said Israel, following the salesman inside the van. 'It's been a long day.'
'So, gentlemen,' said the salesman, recovering his equilibrium and warming to his sales pitch, 'this model we call the Grande.' He pronounced the word Grand-A.
'The Grand-A?' repeated Israel.
'As in the Starbucks coffee size,' said the salesman, self-amused.
'Right,' said Israel.
'And then we have the SuperGrande, and the Mega-Grande.'
'Okay,' said Israel.
'And as you can see, we take our inspiration very much from top-of-the-range touring vehicles—American Winnebagos and such like.'
'And American high-street coffee shops?' said Israel.
'Right,' said the salesman. 'This is basically a luxury range of vehicles, which we regard very much as the S class of the mobile world.'
'Super?' said Israel.
'What's all this?' said Ted, pointing towards the driver's seat.
'Well, here,' said the salesman, 'in your light and airy cab area, you have two separate heated leather bucket seats, but depending on your requirements, gentlemen, we can also provide crew cab seating with a full second row, or jump seats.'
'Jump seats,' mused Israel.
'What are these?' said Ted, pulling at something above the windows.
'Don't touch!' yelled the salesman. 'Thank you! That's your electric blinds, for privacy.'
'For privacy?'
'And then there's the tinted glass, of course, and the electric sun roof.' The salesman demonstrated.
'Wow!' said Israel.
'Woof!' said Muhammad.
'There's also ambient lighting here in the cab and around the issue desk, for when you want to create a different sort of atmosphere.'
'A different sort of atmosphere,' said Ted, trying to comprehend what he seemed to be hearing. 'A different sort of atmosphere. In a mobile library.'
The salesman continued, regardless of Ted's mumbled provocations.
'Electronic mirrors and storage area above. Transmission control in the driver's arm rest, as you can see. Sat nav…' He talked on.
'Ted, what do you think, though, really?' whispered Israel. 'Isn't it fantastic?'
Ted just stared at him, Ted-like.
'Muhammad, then?' said Israel, looking at the dog. 'Isn't it good, eh?'
Muhammad just stared at him, dog-like.
'That's great,' said Israel, when the seemingly never-ending mini-tour of the van was completed. 'Thanks very much for showing us round.'
'My pleasure, gentlemen,' said the salesman. 'My name's Paul. If you have any queries, do give me a ring. Here's my card.'
'Thanks,' said Israel.
Ted had already walked away.
'Ted!' said Israel, catching up with him. 'Can't you show a bit more enthusiasm?'
'No,' said Ted. 'I can't.'
* * *
They arrived at the next demonstration vehicle.
'Hello,' said the saleswoman, from the top of the steps. She seemed to be wearing a uniform designed for an air stewardess. 'Welcome aboard!' she said, as Ted and Israel climbed the steps and entered in. She wore a light blue jacket with a cinched waist and a figure-hugging skirt, with a red silk scarf knotted around her neck and bright red lipstick. 'So!' She sounded German; all she needed was a uniform hat and Ted and Israel might have been stepping aboard a Lufthansa flight preparing for take-off sometime in the early 1970s rather than on a luxury mobile library in a field in the middle of nowhere. 'My name is Alina. Anything I can help you with, please let me know.' Israel felt himself blushing. 'Brochure,' continued Alina, thrusting one into Israel's hands.
'Thanks,' said Israel.
'So, gentlemen, we call this the Mother Ship.'
'Right,' said Israel.
'Ach, Jesus,' moaned Ted.
'Excuse my friend,' said Israel.
'Of course,' said Alina.
'Are you German?' said Israel.
'Polish,' said the woman.
'Right.'
'Cze015Bć,' said Ted.
'You speak Polish?' said the woman.
'You speak Polish?!' said Israel.
'Not really,' said Ted. 'Sure, there's loads of Poles now over in the north. Mrs Onions has a Polish son-in-law.'
'When did you teach yourself Polish?' said Israel, astonished.
'I haven't taught myself Polish, ye eejit. If you just listened a bit more rather than bletherin' on the whole time ye'd pick up things like that as well.'
'Polish!' said Israel. 'I'd pick up Polish?'
'Lovely dog!' enthused Alina, attempting to change the subject, tickling Muhammad under the chin. 'Anyway, on this vehicle, gentlemen, we are taking our inspiration very much from the glory days of travel and the cutting edge of technology.'
'Right,' said Israel, sceptically.
'You will see on entering,' said the woman, 'our light and airy cab area—'
'Another light and airy cab area!' said Israel.
'Sorry?' said Alina.
'Nothing,' said Israel.
'This light and airy cab area is fitted with all the latest technology. Wraparound dash—'
'Has it got sat nav?' said Israel.
'Sat nav obviously comes as standard.'
'Great,' said Israel. 'It's got sat nav, Ted.'
'I've never got lost,' said Ted.
'So we also have full wi-fi connectivity,' continued the woman.
'Great,' said Israel.
'So that customers wishing to use their own laptops can connect wirelessly. And also up front here, gents,' continued Alina, 'we have new very exciting peer-to-peer capability. This has been developed by us, and by Siemens, and BMW, and Deutsche-Telekom, and allows you to pass data on to other motorists, informing them of road traffic problems.'
'In Tumdrum?' said Ted.
'Where is this?' said the woman.
'In Ireland,' said Israel.
'Northern Ireland,' corrected Ted.
'Ah, I'm not sure if this technology is available yet in Ireland,' said the saleswoman. 'I shall check for you.'
'No, it's fine,' said Israel.
'We've seen enough,' said Ted.
'But the interior?' said the woman, gesturing towards the deep recesses of the van.
'Has it got shelves?' said Ted.
'Yes—'
'Good, that'll do then. Do widzenia,' said Ted.
'Na razie,' said the woman.
'Come on,' said Ted.
* * *
Israel hurried after Ted as he strode away from the vehicle.
'Ted! Ted! Hold up!'
'Lot of nonsense,' Ted was muttering. 'Peer collectivity.'
'Connectivity,' said Israel. 'Peer-to-peer. It's all Web 2.0 and…stuff. Anyway, I didn't know you spoke Polish. That's amazing.'
'Aye, well,' said Ted.
'You're full of surprises.'
'And ye're full of—'
'Right. Thank you. But seriously, what do you think of them so far?'
'Of what?'
'Of the new vehicles, of course.'
'Not a lot,' said Ted. 'They're not a patch on our van.'
'Oh, come on, Ted. There's no comparsion. And we're going to have to choose a new vehicle.'
'Not if we win the Concourse of Elégance.'
'Ted, we're not going to win the Concours D'Elégance. Certainly not in the state the van's in now.'
'Well…' Ted huffed.
'So you're just going to get used to the fact that we're going to have to choose a new vehicle.'
'I'll look at one more,' said Ted, 'but then that's it. I've had enough.'
'Fine,' said Israel.
They walked on to the next demonstration vehicle.
'Good afternoon, gentlemen,' intoned the salesman standing in the light and airy cab area. He was a man fat and bald enough to be described not unfairly as a fat and bald man. Israel and Ted automatically reached out for and were automatically given the obligatory thick glossy brochures.
'Who are ye, then?' said Ted.
'We're Access Engineering, based in Birmingham, and we call this our Double D, for obvious reasons.'
'It's a beer?' said Ted.
'No,' said the salesman. 'It's a double decker.'
'Is it, really?' said Israel. 'Brilliant. I didn't even notice outside. Can we go upstairs?'
'Upstairs?' said Ted. 'In a mobile library? God save us.'
'This is very much a new concept in mobile learning centres,' said the salesman, leading the way, tightly, up a narrow staircase. Ted and Israel followed. They emerged into a small room set out with half a dozen chairs and a projector screen.
'So this is the Double D conference and screening room, which is fully networked.'
'Wow,' said Israel. 'Couldn't you see us in one of these though, Ted. Eh? Tootling around Tumdrum?'
'This area can also be used as a café—' said the salesman.
'I told you some of these new models had cafés!' said Israel.
'Or alternatively as a multi-purpose break-out space.'
