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.'