The Delegates' Choice aka The Book Stops Here

'I've really not got a head for heights,' said Israel.

They were outside, looking up at the guttering.

'It's not that high,' said his mother.

'Wouldn't Ted be better to climb up?'

'He might fall,' said Israel's mother.

'Well, I might fall!'

'Yes, but Ted's a guest,' said his mother. 'That'd be awful. Up you go! Go on!'

So Israel, too tired to do otherwise, climbed the ladder, Ted and his mother down below holding it steady.

'What d'you see?' shouted Ted, when Israel, coffeeless and still in his pyjamas, had made it to the top.

'Ah. The gutter's full of…ah, God! The smell is…It smells like…'

'What?'

'Pigeon shit.'

'Aye, well, that'd be right,' said Ted. 'How thick's it?'

'Ugh. Really thick,' said Israel.

'Inch?' said Ted.

'I don't know,' said Israel. 'I've not a tape measure with me.'

'Just stick your finger in,' shouted Ted.

'I am not sticking my finger in!' said Israel.

'Does it fill the gutter to the top?' said Ted.

'Pretty much,' said Israel.

Ted whistled.

'Well?' said Israel's mother.

'We'll need pigeon wire all the way along,' said Ted.

'Hello?' Israel called down. 'Can I come down? Hello?'

His mother and Ted were discussing where best to find pigeon wire in Finchley.

Israel looked around him. London had always seemed to him to be fully alive, but from up high it seemed to be a place in rigid repose. He surveyed the houses-row upon row, blocks of flats in the distance. The tiny suburban gardens, patio heaters and decking. It looked like a little model village.

'Quite a view!' he shouted down to Ted and his mother.

'Aye. But scenery doesn't get the job done,' said Ted.

* * *

It was a beautiful crisp morning. The sun was shining, birds were singing. Israel could see glass glittering on pavements, signalling the extent of last night's fun and the loss of yet more stereos, CD players, and old hot hatches to the many local joyriders and thieves.

'I can probably see the van from here, Ted,' he shouted down. 'If I twist round a bit.'

He carefully twisted round on the top of the ladder. Some neighbours had planted leylandii. But through the gaps he could clearly see where he'd parked the van.

Except the van wasn't there.

'Erm. Ted?' he called down.

'Can you not interrupt please, Israel,' said Israel's mother. 'It's very rude.'

'What?'

'Don't interrupt!'

'Did you move the van, Ted?'

'No. I'm just talking to your mother here,' said Ted.

'But, Ted!'

'What?'

'I can't see it.'

'Well, you're looking in the wrong place, sure.'

'No, it should definitely be over there.'

'Aye, right. Wind your neck in, will ye?'

* * *

Israel started climbing down the ladder.

'Everything all right?' said Israel's mother.

'Mum, you've not moved the van, have you?'

'What van?'

'The mobile library van?'

'No. Moved it? Of course I haven't moved it. What would I want to move it for?'

'It's just, it's not there anymore.'

'Where did you leave it?'

'It was round the corner, outside the Krimholzes.'

'The Krimholzes!'

'Yes.'

'No! You shouldn't have parked it there!'

'You made me park it round there!'

'I did not!'

'You did!'

'I said park it round the corner, not park it outside the Krimholzes!'

'It was the only space I could find.'

'Oh, Israel! We're all in trouble now.'

'What do you mean, we're all in trouble now?'

'The Krimholzes!'

'So? Can't you just ring them?'

'What for?'

'To see if they've moved it.'

'Mr and Mrs Krimholz?'

'Do they have keys?' asked Ted.

'Of course they don't have keys!' said Israel's mother. 'And I'm not ringing them to ask about your mobile library.'

'Why not?' said Israel.

'Because,' said his mother.

'Because you're ashamed of me working on a mobile library?'

'No! I am not!'

'Are you sure that's where you left the van?' asked Ted.

'Of course I'm sure!' said Israel.

'Well, there's only one way to find out,' said Israel's mother. 'Which is for you to go and check.'

'Fine. I'll go and check,' said Israel.

'You might want to get dressed first,' said Ted.

'Give the neighbours a shock, wouldn't it!' said Israel's mother.

'Thank you.'

'He's probably just forgotten where he parked it,' said Israel's mother, sotto voce, to Ted as Israel went upstairs. 'He's like that. Very dreamy.'

Once he was dressed, Israel went round the corner to check if the van was there.

The van was gone.

9

Stolen cars in London are of course ten a penny, but a stolen mobile library is a little rarer: maybe ten a twopenny, or five to two farthings, or two to half a sixpence; none of your old tu'penny ha'penny or how's your father, cor blimey, guv'nor, would you Adam and Eve it, Jesus H. Christ, there's a funnyosity, you're having me on, I beg your Covent Garden, there's a turn-up for the books.

A stolen mobile library? It was certainly unusual.

But, still, nonetheless, the police weren't interested. When Israel's mother rang to report the missing vehicle, she was simply issued with a crime number, and that was it.

'That's it,' she said, putting the phone down and explaining the procedure to Ted.

'That's it?' said Ted, who'd gone into shock when he realised the van really was missing. Israel's mother had been feeding him with hot sweet tea and soothing words, but Ted just kept saying, over and over, 'I don't believe this. I don't believe it.'

They were all sitting around the kitchen table.

'It's post-traumatic shock,' Israel's mother whispered to Israel. 'We need to be gentle with him.'

'I just don't believe it,' mumbled Ted.

'You'd better believe it, Ted,' said Israel. 'We have been well and truly TWOCed!'

'Israel!' said Israel's mother.

'TWOCed!' repeated Israel.

'What?' said Ted who, despite the shock, could still rise to irritability with Israel; it'd take more than a shock to stop him getting annoyed with Israel.

'That's what they call it. Taken without owner's consent,' said Israel.

'That's only on television,' said Israel's mother.

'I just don't believe it,' said Ted.

'You can report it online, apparently,' said Israel's mother.

'I don't believe this.'

'TWOCed,' repeated Israel. 'T. W. O. C.'

'D'ye not know a local policeman we could talk to?' said Ted.

'No,' said Israel's mother. 'We've never had anything to do with the police.'

'Ach,' said Ted, putting his head in his hands. 'I don't believe this.'

'There, there,' said Israel's mother. 'Don't worry.'

'Don't worry,' repeated Israel, trying to be helpful.

'Don't you be telling me not to worry!' said Ted. 'It's your flippin' fault in the first place!'

'How is it my fault?'

'I knew we should never have come over to the mainland!'

'It's not my fault!' said Israel.

'Well, whose fault is it, then?' said Ted, who was definitely returning to his usual self; the hot sweet tea was taking effect. 'I never should hae listened to yer stupit slarrying nonsense.'

'My what?' said Israel.

'It's you that brought us over for this stupit Mobile Meet and now look at what's happened!'

'Don't be blaming me for someone else stealing-'

'All right, calm down now, boys, please,' said Israel's mother. 'I'm sure it'll turn up.'

'It's a van, Mother. It's not a pair of spectacles,' said Israel.

'I am aware of that, Israel, thank you.'

'What are we going to do?' said Ted, slumping down in his seat.

'Well, first of all, I'm going to put the kettle on, and then we can make a few calls,' said Israel's mother.

'Who're we going to call?' said Ted.