Israel tutted.

'I speak as I find, mate,' said Barry.

'Who'd ye sell it to?' said Ted.

'To whom did I sell it?' said Barry.

'Yes,' said Ted.

'Look, I'm sorry, Grandad, I can't tell you that.'

'Why not?' said Israel.

'Well. Put it this way-that is what you might call commercially sensitive information.'

At which point Ted calmly reached a hand into his pocket-Israel winced, foreseeing violence-and took out his wallet. Ted took a wad of notes from the wallet and placed them carefully on the desk in front of Barry Britton.

'We'd like to buy some of your commercially sensitive information,' said Ted.

'Well, well,' said Barry. 'Let's have a little look here, shall we?'

Barry began counting the money: five hundred pounds in twenty-pound notes.

'You know this is more than the van's worth, do you? I mean, it's scrap, basically.'

'It has sentimental value,' said Ted.

'There's very little room for sentiment in this life, my friend,' said Barry, wagging his finger at Ted, and patting the pile of notes with the other. 'That's one of the lessons you learn in business.'

'Who bought the van?' said Ted.

'All right, I'm just getting to that. Let me think…Er…Ah, yes!' he said. 'The library van! Now I remember. It was some travellers what bought it.'

'Travellers?' said Ted.

'Yeah. I've done a few bits of business with 'em. They're all right, actually. Once you get over the smell and that: women more disgusting than the blokes really. They're not badlookin', some of 'em. But the state of 'em, you know. They'd have to pay you, if you know what I mean.'

'Where are they?' said Ted.

'The old dreadlocks and that. Dogs on string.'

'Where are they?'

'The travellers? They're based out in Essex somewhere. Out round Harlow, I think. Epping. I don't know.'

'Where's that?' said Ted.

'I know where that is,' said Israel.

'Good, well. There you are then, boys, that's you sorted. Thank you very much.' Barry got up to usher them out.

'Essex is quite a big county,' said Israel. 'Could you be a bit more specific?'

Barry sighed. 'Look, boys, I can understand you're keen to get a hold of your van, but these characters are not the sort of people who leave behind their business card, if you know what I mean.'

'So you can't be any more specific?' said Israel.

'Well, I dunno. I probably could…Under the right circumstances.'

'Can't you just tell us where they are?' said Israel.

'That sort of information might cost extra, mightn't it?' said Barry, sitting back down expectantly at his desk.

'Extra?' said Israel.

'Knowledge is power, gents, as I'm sure, you know, you librarians can appreciate. Power, you see. Knowledge. Two things. And you don't get the one…without the other. So it's got to be worth it to me.'

Ted had made his way slowly round Barry's desk, to where he was sitting.

'Is it information worth me not breaking your fucking neck for, you piece of shit?'

'Yeah, ha! All right, Paddy, calm down,' said Barry.

If he'd had the good sense to ask, Israel would have been able to tell Barry not to use the 'P' word, but it was too late.

Ted had grabbed Barry Britton by the lapels of his cheap suit and had jerked him up violently out of his seat.

'What did you call me?' he said.

'Get off! You fucking-'

'I said, what did you call me?'

'Oi!'

Barry was struggling to break free from Ted's enormous grip.

'Nothing!' said Barry. 'I didn't call you-'

'You said something.'

'Fuck off!' said Barry, spitting his words into Ted's face.

Before Israel could intervene Ted had leaned forward and head-butted Barry, and there was a crunch like the sound of a hammer cracking a sheet of nutty slack.

Israel leaped round the desk.

'Ted! What the hell are you doing!' he said, grabbing hold of Ted's arms and pulling him back.

'Ah! Fuck!' yelled Barry, cupping his hands under his nose, as blood poured down his face. 'Fuck! You've broken my fuckin' nose!'

'Good,' said Ted, straining to release himself from Israel's grasp. 'And I'm going to break yer fuckin' arm next, ye gobshite. So what did ye call me?'

'Nothing!'

Ted freed an arm from Israel's grip and gave Barry an open-handed slap around the head, with force so strong it might have made him deaf.

'Ted!' yelled Israel. 'Stop it! Leave him alone, for God's sake. Come on.'

But Ted was in no mood to be pacified. He had his other arm free now and both hands round Barry's throat.

Israel was attempting to prise the two men apart.

'Stop it!' screamed Israel.

'What did you call me?' said Ted.

'Paddy!' whispered Barry, his eyes bulging.

'Ted!' said Israel. 'Leave him!'

'Sorry?' said Ted, speaking to Barry, relaxing his grip slightly. 'I can't hear ye?'

'Paddy!' said Barry again weakly.

'That's right,' said Ted. 'You called me Paddy.'

'Ted!'

'This doesn't concern you,' said Ted to Israel. 'So what do you say?'

'What?' said Barry.

'What do you say?'

'Sorry?' said Barry, starting to cry.

'Was that a sorry?' said Ted.

'Yes,' said Barry.

'Good, thank you,' said Ted, releasing his grip on Barry Britton, and picking up his own money from the table. 'Next time, I'll punch your fucking teeth down the back of your fucking throat, you fucking English racist bastard.'

Barry Britton was sobbing now.

'You're crazy,' he said to Israel. 'You bastards. You're both…'

'Look,' said Israel, 'I'm really, really sorry.' He put an arm round Barry's shoulder. 'Do you want me to get you some tissue or-'

'Fuck off!' said Barry.

'Where are they?' said Ted.

'Who?' said Barry.

'The people who've stolen my van!'

'I don't know,' said Barry.

Ted went to kick him.

'Ted!' yelled Israel.

'Ongar!' said Barry. 'Somewhere near Ongar!'

'Whatter?'

'Ongar! Near Harlow!'

'You ever heard of it?' said Ted.

'No,' said Israel.

'Are you lying to me, you wee shite?'

'No!' said Barry.

'You'd better not be,' said Ted. 'Because I'll be back.'

'Ted! Leave him!' said Israel. 'Come on.'

It was then, on the way back to Israel's mum's car, that the real argument began.

'What the hell was that about?' said Israel. 'Are you completely out of your fucking mind?'

'Don't you dare use that sort of language with me!' said Ted.

'Don't you dare correct my fucking language! You nearly killed a bloke back there!'

'I did not nearly kill him.'

'Yes, you bloody did! You broke his fucking nose, and if I hadn't pulled you off God knows what would have happened.'

'I just don't like people calling me Paddy,' said Ted.

'Paddy! He just called you a name, that was all.'

'Yeah, but not Paddy.'

'Why not?'

'I don't like it, that's all.'

'You're a fucking grown man, Ted! You're not a kid.'

'I just don't like it.'

'Oh, grow up!' said Israel.

'No, you grow up,' said Ted.

'I'm not going to be doing this with you if you're going to be throwing your weight around,' said Israel.

'So how else are you going to do it?'

'I don't know. By our…Powers of…We just…Not by punching people!'

'I didn't hurt him,' said Ted.

'You broke his bloody nose!'

'That'll mend.'

'I'm serious, Ted. You're going to end up putting someone in hospital, or ending up in hospital yourself if you carry on like this. And I'll report you to the police.'