'Oh God. I'm going to have a lie down here,' said Israel. 'You two keep quiet, all right? Wake me up when something interesting happens.'

Israel's sleep, when it came-muddy, twiggy, to the sound of Ted and his mother whispering and distant bongos-was utterly wretched.

First, he dreamt he was wandering through the streets of Tumdrum with a seven-flamed candelabrum, with people trying to blow it out. Then he dreamt he was outside a locked door, and there were people inside, laughing. And then he dreamt of Gloria.

Vivid, terrible dreams of Gloria. He was somewhere waiting for her. He called out to her, but just as he caught her she reached the front door of their flat. He grabbed her by the arm and swung her around. And it wasn't her. It was another woman. And she stood still, this other woman, terrified, looking at him. It wasn't Gloria. She had her mobile phone raised to her mouth. And she started to scream at him. 'I'm so sorry,' he was saying, in his dream. 'I thought you were…' The woman was yelling at him. 'I'm calling the police,' she was screaming. He was running through the streets.

They were not pleasant dreams.

He woke with Ted poking him sharply in the ribs. His throat was parched. He was sweating and shivering. His body hurt all over.

'Wake up! This is us!' said Ted.

'This was me,' said Israel, wiping away dry mud from his face.

Even though he was awake, what happened next seemed to take place in dream time rather than in reality: the whole thing was complete chaos, lit by a weird, looming blue and pink dawn light.

'This is like a film by Peter Greenaway,' he mumbled.

'Peter O'Toole,' said Ted. 'Zulu Dawn.'

'Mary Poppins,' said Israel's mother. 'The bit at the fair.'

The travellers had formed themselves into a series of concentric circles. They stood holding hands in silence. Some kind of totem had been erected in the middle of the field, with brightly coloured ribbons pinned to it. They began circling the totem, chanting. They closed their eyes. The chanting grew louder. The sun was rising.

'What are they saying?' whispered Israel's mother.

'I couldn't care less,' said Ted. 'But I reckon this is our chance. Come on. Israel, any trouble, anyone approaches ye, ye land a quick right under the ribcage, and then a left behind the right ear, and they'll go down.'

'What?'

'A wee short un under the ribcage and then a left round the butt of the ear!'

'I'm not punching anybody,' said Israel.

'Well, let them punch you then. See how you like that,' said Israel's mother.

They stepped quickly from the cover of the trees, and Ted began shambling up alongside the hedge, Israel's mother following, up the hill, towards the van.

'Ted!' gasped Israel, behind him. 'Wait!'

'Come on, Fatboy Slim,' said Ted. 'Let's go.'

Somehow, stumbling, hugging the hedge, they made it to the van without being seen by the travellers, who remained absorbed in worship.

Ted had the keys. They clambered inside.

'Home!' said Ted.

'Hello, van,' said Israel.

'So this is the van?' said Israel's mother. 'It's quite cosy, isn't it?'

'Ah!' said Ted, opening up the glove compartment. 'Me Sudoku. Good.'

'Now what?' said Israel.

At that moment the sun rose decisively above the treetops, yellow light flooding the scene before them-the travellers circling and chanting-and the sound of the chanting was joined by the sound of distant drumming.

'What's that?' said Israel.

'I don't know.'

Israel ran to the back of the van and peered out.

It was the police, advancing in a line, banging their riot shields.

'Shit! Ted! I don't like the look of this, Ted.'

'What?'

'It's the police! I think the police are on to us, Ted.'

'They're not on to us. They're after these crazies. Just stay calm, we'll be fine.'

As Ted spoke, the police began beating on the sides of the vans with their truncheons.

'Ted!' said Israel's mother, who seemed frightened for the first time. 'This isn't good, Ted.'

'Sshh! Just stay down. We need to pick our moment.'

'For what?' said Israel. 'Ted? Pick our moment for what?'

The police had reached the mobile library and began banging on its sides-the sound like earth being piled upon a coffin-and then they passed on by, and then, when he could safely see the backs of the police officers moving down the hill towards the travellers, Ted turned on the ignition, slammed the van into reverse, and in one movement managed to pull the van out of its tight spot and started gunning up across the field.

'Oh shit!' said Israel. 'Ted! What are you doing?'

'We're going home!' said Ted.

'Yee-ha!' said Israel's mother.

'Ted! Stop!'

'I'm not stopping!'

'This is fun!' cried Israel's mother.

'Look! Stop! I'm serious! Stop! Up ahead there. There's a ditch! The police have dug a ditch! That's why they had all the-'

'We'll be fine,' said Ted.

'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.