Ian Sansom - The Delegates' Choice aka The Book Stops Here

'No, I think it was patchouli oil or something.'

'Disgusting,' said Ted.

'I quite liked the smell,' said Israel.

'Aye, ye would.'

'I thought it was an idyllic sort of setup actually. I wouldn't mind doing something like that myself. Get away from it all, life on the road…'

'Aye. Bunch a ill-set good-for-nothings, so they are. They're on the pig's back, the lot of them.'

'The-'

'Pig's back, that's right. And they've stolen our van, remember. Bunch o' bandits…'

'Well, they haven't actually stolen it, have they, it was more, you know…'

'What?'

'They were sold it under false pretences.'

'Aye. From the fella selling stolen vehicles. Caveat emperor,' said Ted.

'Caveat emptor, I think you mean,' said Israel. 'Anyway, this time tomorrow we should have it all sorted.'

'Never trust a hippy,' said Ted.

'They're fine, Ted.'

'Not as long as they've got my van they're not.'

'Well,' said Israel. 'They're clearly not going anywhere with the van at the moment, are they? Let's not panic, eh.'

When Israel and Ted arrived back at the site the following day the travellers had gone-disappeared, vamoosed, packed up, beat a retreat and headed for the hills. The only evidence that they'd ever been there were a few black patches of bare earth where their fires had been, and some big rug-flattened patches of grass. Everything else was gone: no litter, no mess, no trace.

'Bloody Gypsies!' roared Ted, as he stomped around the clearing, like a bear without his honey. 'Bloody lying Gypsies! I told you! I said we should never have trusted those bloody Gypsies. Ach!'

'Is this the right place?' said Israel, looking around. 'It looks different, without the-'

'Of course this is the right place!' said Ted. 'They've scarpered, the blinkin' Gypsy-'

'Travellers,' said Israel. 'They're travellers, Ted. And at least they've left the place nice and-'

'When I get hold of them they'll feel-'

'Take only photographs, leave only-'

'My boot up the arse,' said Ted.

'Yeah. Fine,' said Israel. 'So now what?'

'I don't know,' said Ted. 'I just don't know. Ach! I can't believe this. We should never have come to England in the first place. The whole country's a f-'

'Yes, all right. I've heard it before, Ted. You're getting as bad as me on Northern Ireland. We just need to think logically and work this out. Maybe we should hunt for clues, should we?'

'Aye, Tonto,' said Ted, with a wave of his hand. 'That's right. You hunt away there.'

'Well. I just thought. You know. When we were in the Scouts we used to do this thing where we had to follow people's tracks.' Israel knelt down and began sniffing the ground. 'It had something to do with animal spoors, and…bent twigs, and…'

'Holy God,' said Ted.

'What?'

'I tell you what. I've got a much better idea, Kemo Sabe.'

'Really?'

'Aye, you get off of your knees and ring your mother.'

'Why?'

'Because she'll have a better idea of what to do than you, you eejit. Sniffing the ground, for goodness sake! God give me strength! I'm away here for a smoke.'

'I thought you were giving up?' said Israel, getting up off his knees.

'Until I came to England I was giving up. You, and the…Gypsies…and the homolosexuals…This whole flippin' country's gonna have me away to Purdysburn, d'ye know that?'

While Ted paced up and down and smoked in a furious, you'll-have-me-away-to-Purdysburn sort of a manner, Israel rang his mother on his mobile. She was preparing for a mobile library fund-raising coffee morning back at the house.

'It's the Ladies Guild,' she said, 'they'll be here in five minutes! What is it now?'

Israel explained that the trail had gone cold and that they were standing in a field in the middle of Essex, and they had no idea what to do next.

'Ah, dear, that's not good,' said Israel's mother.

'Any ideas?' said Israel.

'Can you get back for lunchtime?'

'I don't know. Why?'

'You might find it easier to think if you've had something to eat. And you could maybe brief the ladies on the latest developments in the case.'

'No, Mother! We can get a sandwich or something. We just need to-'

'Get other people involved, no?' said Israel's mother. Israel could hear her gesticulating. 'That's what we need to do at this stage. It's completely ridiculous! We should ring the police.'

'Ted doesn't want the police involved,' said Israel, lowering his voice. Ted was glowering with his cigarette.

'Well, he's not going to have much of a choice now, is he? Israel, put him onto me. I'll talk to him.'

'No. I'll deal with him,' said Israel.

'I like talking to him,' said Israel's mother.

'Yes. I know. That's why I'm going to deal with him.'

'And what is that supposed to mean?'

'Nothing.'

'Well, anyway, look, I'll ring Deborah, and see what she and Ari are doing tonight; we can meet with them. He's very clever.'

'I'm clever,' protested Israel.

'I didn't say you weren't!' said Israel's mother. 'Don't be so sensitive. I just mean Ari's professionally clever.'

'What, and I'm an amateur?'

'He'll have lots of ideas.'

'No, Mother! Don't get him involved!'

'Hold on. Just let me check the calendar here, let me see how we're fixed for tonight.'

'Mother, no!'

'Here we are.' Israel could hear her peering at the calendar. 'Oh, look. It's your uncle Bernard's birthday tomorrow.'

'Who?'

'In Montreal? He was married to the woman who was divorced, from Hendon? I must give him a ring. I always forget, but it's the same every year. Summer solstice. And National Aboriginal Day in Canada.'

'Mother! Mother! Hold on! That's it!' said Israel.

'What's it?'

'They follow the ritual year.'

'Who do? Your uncle Bernard and the divorcée from Hendon? No. They're Reform, I think.'

'No, not them,' said Israel.

'The Aboriginals?'

'No!' said Israel. 'They must have gone to Stonehenge.'

'Who? Stonehenge? What are you talking about? Hold on, there's someone at the door, Israel.'

'Fine. Okay, Mum. Look. Got to go. Bye.'

'She have any ideas?' said Ted, finishing his cigarette and grinding out the stub.

'Don't leave any litter,' said Israel.

'It's not litter!' said Ted. 'It's a cigarette butt, but.'

'That's litter,' said Israel.

'Anyway?' said Ted.

'They're at Stonehenge.'

'And where's that when it's at home?'

'It's down in Wiltshire,' said Israel.

'And ye're sure they're there?' said Ted.

'No,' said Israel. 'But it was in Mother's calendar.'

'Stonehenge?'

'Yes. It's the summer solstice, and you remember the travellers saying they followed the ritual year?'

'No.'

'Well, they did. So, I'm guessing they're going to be at Stonehenge for the solstice.'

'What, like druids?'

'Exactly.'

'Ye think they've taken the van down to be with the druids at Stonehenge?'

'Yes.'

'Ach. That's it? That's the best ye can come up with?'

'Yes.'

'What does your mother think?'

'She agrees,' lied Israel.

Ted sighed. 'When I get a hold of those blinkin' hippies…' he said. 'Does she want to come with us?'

'Who?'

'Yer mother?'

'No, she does not!' said Israel. 'My mother come with us! Honestly, Ted. And you can just stop your sniffing around her, please.'

'What do ye mean, sniffing around her?' said Ted, drawing himself up to his full shaven-headed height. 'What are ye blerting about now, boy?'

'Come on. You know exactly what I mean. I've told you once to leave her alone, and I mean it. Stop it. Just stop…chatting her up, or whatever it is you're doing.'

'Chatting her up?'

They were walking back towards the Mini.