Ted had faced enough drunks in his time in the back of his cab to know exactly how to deal with them: you just agreed.

'Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted,' persisted Israel. 'Come back to me, Ted. I'm never going to…I can't…Without you, Ted.'

'Aye, all right, no problem,' said Ted. 'I'll come back and help you.'

'Mmm!' groaned Israel. 'Hey!' he shouted, to everyone and no one in particular, throwing his arms up in the air. 'Hey, hey, hey! Did you hear that? Ted! Is going to help me…On the mobile…Learning Centre!'

At which point he went to put his arms around Ted, missed, and fell off his stool.

'You're barred,' said Elder, from the other end of the bar. 'Barred!'

16

'Here,' said Ted, taking a hand off the wheel and fetching into his pocket.

'What?' said Israel.

'Take these.'

'What are they?'

'What do you think they are? Boiled potatoes? They're headache tablets.'

'Ugh. Thanks. Have you got any water?'

'I'm not your mother. And don't make a habit of it, all right,' warned Ted. 'Sets a bad example.'

Israel took the tablets dry.

'Yeeuch.'

'And remember, I'm only back because of the van,' said Ted. 'Not because of you.'

'Eerrgh.'

'You made such an auld mess of the van, I can't believe it. I shouldn't have let you out on the streets alone in the first place.'

The morning after the night before had not got off to a good start. Back at the farm, George and Brownie had been less than sympathetic towards Israel's hangover, and the permanently aproned Mr Devine had offered up last night's leftover grilled fish and onions for breakfast, the mere thought of which had delayed Israel's departure when Ted had arrived to collect him.

'How's he doing then, the king of comedy?' Ted had asked Brownie, while he waited for Israel to compose himself.

'Israel? Oh, he seems to be settling right in,' said Brownie, as Israel scuttled back and forth, whey-faced, to the toilet. 'Wee touch of the skitters just.'

By the time Israel was steady enough on his feet, Ted had finished off a pot of tea, two plates of grilled fish and onions, and had successfully set the world to rights with the elderly Mr Devine, who agreed absolutely with Ted about young people today, and that another war might not be such a bad thing and lock 'em all up and throw away the key.

'Here,' said Ted, in the van, fetching into his pocket again.

'What's this?'

'It's a tie.'

'I know it's a tie, Ted.' Israel was having to take deep breaths to prevent himself from… 'I mean what's it for.'

'Ach. What do you think it's for? You got a dog with no lead?'

'No. Is it a hangover cure?'

'Of course it's not a hangover cure-unless your hangover's that bad you're thinking of doing away with yerself.'

'I don't…wear ties,' said Israel weakly. And he certainly didn't wear this tie-which was fat, and purple, and nylon, and shiny.

'You're a librarian, aren't you?' said Ted.

'Yes.'

'And this is not a disco, is it?'

'No.'

'So?'

'I'm not wearing a tie.'

Ted slowed the van as they approached some lights.

'Sorry, Ted!'

'Aye?'

'Could you just…' Israel gestured for Ted to pull over, which he did, and Israel almost fell out of the van as he went to be sick at the side of the road.

All done, he clambered back in, ashen-faced.

'Well, look at it like this, son,' said Ted, as if nothing had happened, 'if you're not wearing a tie, I mightn't be pulling over at your convenience.'

Given Israel's track record of working without Ted, this did not appeal to him as a pleasing prospect.

'We're doing things my way now,' continued Ted, who was warming to his theme, 'since you've made such an outstanding success of things on your own. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, Ted.'

'Which means wearing the tie.'

'I'm wearing a T-shirt though, Ted.'

'I don't care if you're wearing nothing but a vest and pants, if you're out with me in the library, you wear a tie.'

'All right, I'll wear the tie.' Israel laid the long thick purple tie in his lap. He felt as though someone had hoovered out his stomach lining.

There was a pause at the lights and in the conversation, as Ted waited for the green and for Israel to put on the tie, and Israel attempted to overcome his feelings of nausea.

'It's not really my colour though.'

'Aye, well, next time bring your own tie. If you're out in the mobile library with me, you're representing the library, which represents the council…which represents the…' Ted was struggling a little with his extended metaphor here, but he ploughed on. 'Government…which represents the…'

'People?' offered Israel.

'That's it,' said Ted. 'So put on the tie.'

Israel slowly and carefully knotted the tie round his neck and looked at himself in the wing mirror. If he said so himself, he was looking pretty bloody rough.

'And you'll need to get a haircut,' said Ted.

'Ted, I'm not feeling well.'

'D'you want me to stop again?'

'No.'

'I don't want you bokin' in here.'

'No. I'm not going to.'

'Sure?'

'Yep.'

'Good. So, what's that supposed to be, your hair?'

'It's my hair.'

'Aye, right. It looks like a bird's nest.'

'Thanks.'

'If it touches the ears it's too long. You're a librarian, you know, not a pop star.'

'Yeah.'

'There's a place in town.'

'All right. I'll get it cut. OK?'

'Good.'

Ted was picking up speed now on the outskirts of Tumdrum.

'So, where are we heading exactly?'

'Listen. I'm telling you. We're doing a service run. We're doing it all methodo…Methododo…'

'Methodically?'

'That's it.'

'OK.'

'So we're collecting in all the books that are overdue first, to try and establish exactly how many are missing.'

'Right.'

'Rather than just running around accusing people willy-nilly and at the drop of a hat. You've got to be disciplined with this sort of thing. You've got to think…'

'Methodically?'

'Logically.'

'Of course.'

'You can add up, can you?' said Ted.

'Yes. Of course I can.'

'Aye, right. Because you're keeping the tally. As far as I can work it out, currently we're missing…See that notebook there, on the dash? Open her up. What's the figure there on the first page, where I've written it?'

'Fifteen thousand.'

'Aye.'

'But I've found some already.'

'Aye. How many?'

'Not many.'

'Well, let's say fifteen thousand, then. That's our starting figure, give or take a few. Let's go round 'em up.'

The further they drove out of town the more exotic the housing became-the whole landscape becoming freer, and wider, and looser, taller, stretching itself out and slipping off the grey render and the pebble-dash and stripping down and relaxing until you might actually have been driving through southern Spain, there were so many fine, bright, hacienda-style bungalows, with spreading palm trees standing tall against the pale sea. If it wasn't for the cloud and the drizzle and the signposts for places like Brablagh and Ballycleagh and Doomore you might have thought you were gazing at time-shares along the Mediterranean.

Out on a stretch of road with no one coming and nothing around Ted slowed the van and pulled over.

'Are we stopping?'

'We're stopping.'

'Here?' Israel looked around.

There was nothing around: just road and hedge and cliff and sea.

'Aye.'

'Are you all right?' said Israel. 'Is there something wrong with the van?'

'The van's fine. It's a pick-up,' explained Ted. 'This is a service point. You know what I told you about service points?'

'Erm. What? The stops? The places where the mobile library stops?'