6

Ted had been waiting for Israel in the police station. He was working his way through a giant book of Sudoku puzzles.

‘Blinking things,’ he said, as Israel shuffled towards him in his borrowed clothes.

‘Oh, Ted! God, am I glad to see you.’

‘Aye. Well, fancied I’d run into ye–you look like somethin’ shot at an’ missed, mind.’

‘What?’

‘And fancy dress, was it?’ asked Ted: Israel was dressed in a three-piece pin-striped suit, with a pair of size 11 shoes.

‘No.’

‘You swap with Coco the Clown?’

Israel was too tired for repartee.

‘Aye, well,’ continued Ted, ‘you look smarter than usual.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Not that it’d be difficult. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

Ted strode quickly towards the doors, Israel following.

‘They treat you right?’ asked Ted, as they hurried down the ramp.

‘God, Ted. No,’ said Israel. ‘It was awful. It was—’ Israel broke off. He found his hands were shaking.

‘Aye, all right, son.’

They made it across the yard to Ted’s cab.

‘D’you get Billy?’

‘What?’

‘Your brief? My cousin, Billy Biggs, he saw you right?’

‘No, no. I got some young bloke called…Hussain.’

‘Indian fella?’

‘I don’t know. No. He was from here, I think.’

‘He’s Indian-looking, but?’

‘Well, yes, him.’

‘Aye. He’s from Belfast. Top of his year at Queen’s apparently. Billy swears by him. So?’

‘Ted.’ Israel stopped walking. ‘I think they’re trying to frame me.’

‘Frame ye?’

‘Yes! They’re saying I carried out the robbery and the kidnap.’

‘Kidnap?’

‘Mr Dixon, he’s gone missing.’

‘Ach.’

‘They’re trying to blame me for it.’

‘Aye. They’re just trying to rile ye.’

‘Well it certainly worked. Ted, you wouldn’t believe the conditions they keep you in.’

‘I think I would, boy. Come on, let’s go.’

They got into Ted’s cab.

Israel found he was shaking so much he couldn’t do up his seat belt.

‘Ye all right?’ asked Ted.

‘I don’t feel well, Ted.’

‘Aye, well, you’ll be all right once we’re out of here.’

‘It’s a violation of basic human rights.’

‘Ach, Israel.’

‘They’re framing me, Ted. I really think they are.’

‘You’re getting carried away now.’

‘I am not getting carried away, Ted!’ There was a hoarseness to Israel’s voice, as though he were about to cry.

‘For goodness sake, you’re not going to be blubbing now, are ye?’

‘No, it was just…’ Israel swallowed hard and tried to compose himself.

‘Look, you’re getting yerself all highsterical. Just calm down.’

‘But I was in prison, Ted!’

‘You were in a police cell. It’s no’ the same thing at all.’

‘But, Ted, what if they manage to pin it on me?’

‘Pin it on ye?’ Ted laughed. ‘What are ye blathering on about now? Pin it on ye? They’re not going to pin it on you, son. You’re just being silly. You’re too sensitive altogether.’

‘Too sensitive! Ted…’ Israel took a deep breath. ‘They’ve arrested me, released me on bail for a crime I didn’t commit, and you’re telling me I’m too sensitive!’

‘Aye, that’s exactly right. Get a grip of yerself.’

They drove out of the police compound and into the streets of Rathkeltair. Israel lapsed into silence.

‘Linda wants to see you,’ said Ted.

‘What? Now? Oh, no. Ted, no.’

‘Yes.’

‘I can’t, Ted. Not today. I don’t even know what day it is. What day is it?’

‘Saturday.’

‘She wants to see me on Saturday?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘I can’t, Ted. I need to…Not now. Not today.’

‘You’ll be all right.’

‘Ted. No. I’m…I’m tired.’

‘Aye, well. Get the name of rising early and you can lay on till dinnertime.’

‘What?’

‘It’s just a saying.’

‘Not now, Ted, please. I need a cup of coffee or something, and something to eat.’

‘Aye, right. The old prison food not to your liking, eh?’

They stopped off at the garage and picked up an egg mayonnaise sandwich and a bottle of Coke for Israel, and drove on to Tumdrum.

The food and drink cheered him disproportionately: Israel had never been so glad to eat a triangular-pack egg sandwich and drink a bottle of Coke in his whole life. And as for Tumdrum…Tumdrum! The sight of Tumdrum, with its outlying loyalist housing estates, and its little central square, and the sea down the hill at the bottom of Main Street, with the car park and the big sewage outlet pipes spoiling the view, just the sight of it, and the smell…It was…

It was wonderful.

Tumdrum! What can you say about Tumdrum?

An impartial observer–and indeed Israel himself until this morning–might perhaps have said that the best thing you could say about Tumdrum was that it wasn’t actually offensive, that it was quite neat, as though a large, plain grey linen tablecloth had been lain over it and set for an afternoon tea of bread and butter but no jam, and that it was plain, plain, plain: the bus stop with its concrete shelter and seating, the big, empty flowerbeds, the war memorial featuring the proverbial unknown soldier, whose rifle and plaque had long ago turned green, the many churches and the shops; Atchinson’s the Chemist, with its window display of a plastic set of cancerous lungs; Byrant’s Ladies and Gents Outfitters, which offered pastel nightgowns and cardigans protected from the non-existent glare of the sun by a sheet of wrinkled orange plastic; and T.M. McGrath’s, the grocer, produce displayed on a small trestle table in its window.

Tumdrum was not really the kind of place that inspired you to want to stick around for too long; it was not the kind of place that threw its arms around visitors and offered you a hundred thousand welcomes: it was more the kind of place that made you want to check the bus timetable to find out when the next bus might be leaving and you might be able to wake up from your bad dream; and not until tomorrow, by the look of it.

But to Israel, now, this morning, Tumdrum was like Shangri-la.

‘God, it’s good to be back,’ he said.

‘Watch yerself,’ said Ted. ‘Don’t be gettin’ all misty-eyed on me now.’

‘It’s just…’

‘Aye, all right,’ said Ted, with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Ye ready for Linda?’

‘Aye,’ said Israel, sighing. ‘I suppose.’

‘What did you say?’ said Ted.

‘I don’t know,’ said Israel. ‘I suppose?’

‘Ye said “Aye”,’ said Ted.

‘I did not,’ said Israel.

‘So ye did,’ said Ted.

‘I did not!’ said Israel.

‘You’re turnin’,’ said Ted. ‘You want to watch yourself. You’ll be singing “The Sash” next.’

‘The sash!’ shouted Israel, leaping up in his seat.

Ted braked. ‘What?’ he said. ‘Holy God. What’s the matter with you now?’

‘The sash! They asked me about the sash, Ted. Where was the sash worn?’

‘What? Who was asking ye?’

‘The police were.’

‘They were asking you where the sash was worn?’

‘Yes. What is the sash?’

Ted cleared his throat.

‘You all right?’ said Israel.

‘Just clearing the pipes,’ said Ted, who then began to sing, “‘It was worn at Derry, Aughrim, Enniskillen and the Boyne.”’

‘Right,’ said Israel, none the wiser. ‘And what is it?’

‘What?’

‘The sash? It’s a song, is it?’

‘Ach, Israel, you’re having me on, are ye?’

‘No. They were asking me about it.’

‘You’ll be asking me next if we’re governed from Dublin.’

‘No! What was the other thing?’

‘Another question?’

‘Yes. I know! How many counties are there in Ireland?’

‘Counties?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, what do ye think?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘In the name of God, boy. We’ve six. The other lot have twenty-six. Wouldn’t ye’ve thought they’d be satisfied?’

‘Right. And can you name the three Glens of Antrim?’

‘The three?’

‘I think they said three. Are there not three?’

‘How long have you been living here?’

‘Too long,’ said Israel.

‘Or not long enough,’ said Ted. ‘The Green Glens of Antrim are calling to me?’

‘Are they?’

‘Glenarm, Glenaan, Glenariff.’

‘Right.’

‘Glencorp, Glenballyeamon, Glendun.’

‘Is that it?’

‘Glencloy, Glenshesk and Glentaisie.’

‘How many’s that?’

‘Nine.’

‘And they all begin with G?’

‘Correct.’

‘Oh, right.’

They were turning into the council car park.

‘What in God’s name are they asking you about the Glens for?’ said Ted.

‘I don’t know. They thought I was an immigrant.’

‘You are an immigrant, sure.’

‘Yes, but not that sort of immigrant.’

‘Aye, right, what sort of immigrant are ye then?’

‘I’m…Well, you know what I mean.’

‘Aye, I know exactly what you mean. You think we’re predujiced—’

‘Prejudiced,’ said Israel.

‘Predujiced, aye,’ said Ted. ‘But you’re no better yerself, ye know.’

‘No, Ted, that’s not what I meant.’

‘You’re still a foreigner to us, ye know.’

‘Yes, thanks, I know I’m a foreigner. They kept going on about me being Jewish as well, the police, at this interview. And my name.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Israel.

‘It is a funny name,’ said Ted.

‘It’s not a funny name.’

‘Sure it is.’

‘It’s my name.’

‘Aye, exactly,’ said Ted.

He turned off the engine.

‘I tell you what,’ said Israel, ‘if I was called Ali Akbar I’d probably still be in there now.’

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘I would. I bet if your name wasn’t Ted, but…Tedinski or…Muham…ted or something, they’d have you in for questioning.’

‘Ach, give over, Israel.’

‘Michael Caine, his real name is Maurice Micklewhite, d’you know that?’

‘Fascinating,’ said Ted. ‘Good luck!’ And he waved Israel out of the car. ‘I’ll be waiting.’

Israel went up to the second floor and knocked on Linda’s door.

There was no answer, but just as he was about to leave Linda appeared in the corridor. She was wearing a billowing tiger-print blouse, with boot-cut black trousers and high-heeled boots which added at least three inches to her diminutive natural height, raising her to at least five feet tall. She was red-eyed and was clutching a paper tissue in one hand, a paper cup in the other. She looked as though she’d been crying.

‘Linda,’ said Israel. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Mr Armstrong,’ sniffed Linda. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Er. Good. Well…’ Israel couldn’t think of the next logical supplementary question. He gestured at her paper cup. ‘Cappuccino?’

‘I wish,’ said Linda, dabbing at her eyes. ‘I’m on the herbals.’

‘Right.’

Linda went into her office, Israel following.

‘Peppermint,’ she said. ‘Did you ever try Atkins?’

‘The diet?’ said Israel.

‘Aye, the diet,’ said Linda.

‘No,’ said Israel.

‘Tried it last year,’ said Linda mournfully. ‘It worked for me. But the wind, honestly.’ She gave a little burp, as if in demonstration. ‘I lost nearly two stone.’

‘Right. Good.’

‘Put it all back on again. Missed the scones. Trying this GI thing now.’

‘OK.’

‘Did you…?’ said Linda. ‘Sshh.’

Linda raised a finger for Israel to be silent and she gazed around the room suspiciously. Israel followed her gaze. The office was much messier than he remembered–papers and reports everywhere. The plants on the windowsill didn’t seem to be thriving.

‘Sshh. Did you…Can you…Can you hear anything?’ said Linda.

‘Like what?’ said Israel nervously.

‘Just, a wee noise?’

‘No. I don’t think so. Are you sure you’re all right, Linda?’

‘Yes. Thank you. The noise though. No noise? Definitely not?’

‘No. I don’t think so. What sort of noise?’

‘A wee sort of squeaking?’

‘No. Definitely no squeaking.’

‘Hmm. Only, I think I’ve got a mouse in here.’

‘A mouse?’

‘Aye. The caretaker says it’s because of all the crumbs, see. Haven’t been able to catch him so far, the wee blighter. Haven’t seen him even. He leaves his droppings, like, but otherwise you’d never know he was there. I can’t decide if I can hear him or not.’

‘Right.’

‘Sending me demented so it is.’

She took a long indraw of breath and slowly got down on her knees and stared at the skirting board.

‘Mr Mouse!’ she called quietly. ‘Mr Mousey! I know you’re there!’

‘Erm, Linda, shall I…’

‘Ah,’ sighed the crouching Linda. ‘It’s the mouse, you see, and the diet, and the…Honest to God. All these little things, they add up to—’

‘Small changes in some variables can cause disproportionate results,’ said Israel.

‘What?’

‘Chaos theory, isn’t it? I read a book about it once.’

‘Right, I’m sure,’ said Linda, distracted.

‘Butterfly wings and tornadoes.’

Linda stood up. ‘He’s a wee hole here somewhere, but I’m damned if I can find it.’

‘Uh-huh. Should I perhaps go and come back later, Linda?’

‘No! Not at all.’ Linda threw back her shoulders and plumped down into her imitation leather swivel seat and took a sip of her herbal tea. ‘Anyways,’ she said. ‘How can I help you?’

‘You asked me to come and see you. Ted brought me.’

‘Ah, yes. Course. Couple of things. First…’ She rifled through a teetering pile of papers on her desk, and plucked out a plastic folder. ‘Aha! Yes, there’s the plan to relaunch all mobile learning centres as Ideas Centres and—’

‘What?’

‘The Department of Entertainment, Leisure and Community Services have a plan to relaunch all mobile learning centres—’

‘Mobile libraries,’ said Israel.

‘Yes, if you must.’ Linda peered over her glasses. ‘As Ideas Centres. So they’re going to be much more ideas-focused.’

‘Ideas-focused?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK. So when were you going to tell me about this?’

‘I’m telling you now, Mr Armstrong.’

‘Right. You’re just going to repaint the sign on the vans, or…what?’

‘No, no, no. You’ll have to read the report,’ said Linda, who seemed to be losing enthusiasm for what she was saying even as she was speaking. ‘It’s all still blue skies at the moment–we’re just throwing things at the wall to see what sticks.’

‘Throwing things at the wall?’

‘That’s right. To see what sticks. But I wanted you to have a glance at the report, see what you think, get your feedback.’

‘I think I know what I think about an Ideas Centre, Linda.’

‘Yes, well. Let’s not rush to judgement, eh? If you wouldn’t mind looking at the report and then…’

‘Yes?’

‘Reporting back.’

‘OK. If you want me to. That’s fine.’

Linda took a long thoughtful slug of her herbal tea.

‘Anyway, that was one thing,’ she said. ‘Point one.’

‘Yes?’

‘And the other…Point two. Is…’

‘Yes?’

‘Is that a suit you’re wearing, Mr Armstrong?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hmm. It’s…It’s smarter, certainly. But maybe a little long in the…’

‘Yes.’

‘Anyway. Where were we?’

‘Point two.’

‘Point two?’ Linda stared at Israel. ‘Egg on your chin?’

‘Mmm. Yes. Sorry.’ Israel wiped it away. ‘That was Point two?’

‘No! Silly. Point two? Ah, yes! You’re in trouble again, I hear.’

‘Ah, yes, well—’ began Israel.

‘Ah, yes, well,’ interrupted Linda, who had developed an annoying habit of imitating the way Israel spoke. Ted did it as well, and George. It was like having gone to a new school in a new town and being bullied by the locals, but because Linda was a Chinese Northern Irish woman Israel didn’t feel he could reciprocate; and besides, his only Northern Irish accent was a Gerry Adams, which was pretty wide of the mark for a Chinese Northern Irish woman from North Antrim. So he just smiled in response. ‘Go on,’ said Linda.

So, Israel explained to Linda what he knew about the theft at the department store and Mr Dixon’s disappearance, and the fact that his fingerprints were on all the safes, and how they’d come to be there.

Between sips of her tea Linda fixed Israel with a hard stare.

‘Well, Mr Armstrong, I’m afraid I do have to ask you this question.’

‘Right. Yes.’

‘As your line manager, you understand. I have a responsibility.’

‘Yes. Fine, Linda. Go ahead. Ask away.’

‘Did you steal the money from Dixon and Pickering’s?’

‘No, Linda. Of course I didn’t steal the bloody money from Dixon and f—’

‘Mr Armstrong!’

‘Sorry. No, of course I didn’t steal the—’

‘And you know nothing about the disappearance of Mr Dixon?’

‘No! I’m a fu—’

Linda merely raised a finger at this threatened obscenity.

‘Fun-loving librarian,’ said Israel.

‘Well, you understand that I had to ask.’

‘Oh, yes. That’s fine, you and everyone else assuming I did it because I’m—’

‘I was simply asking, Mr Armstrong.’

‘Yes, sure. Because you’re Perry bloody Mason, aren’t you?’

‘I beg your—’

‘You know, Linda, I have spent all morning with—’

‘What did you say?’

‘I was saying, I have spent all morning—’

‘No. Before that.’

‘What?’

‘You said I was like Perry bloody Mason.’

‘Well, yes, I—’

‘I resent the implication, Mr Armstrong.’

‘What implication?’ said Israel.

‘Clearly, I am not a man,’ said Linda.

‘No one said you were a man, Linda.’

‘And I am certainly not a bearded man.’

‘I didn’t say you were a bearded man.’

‘Or an overweight bearded man.’

‘Linda, come on, it was a—’

‘Joke?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Well, I’m afraid many of us here don’t seem to share your fancy London sense of humour, Mr Armstrong.’

‘No. That’s right,’ said Israel. ‘You don’t. Because everyone in this bloody country has had a sense of humour bypass.’

‘Thank you, Mr Armstrong. Less of your racial stereotyping would be appreciated,’ said Linda. ‘But anyway.’ She took another–unconvinced–sip of her herbal tea, and fixed Israel with a stare. ‘I’m afraid given the seriousness of the charges we’re going to have to suspend you from your duties.’

Israel was having trouble following Linda’s logic: he wasn’t guilty of anything, after all.

‘But—’

‘With immediate effect,’ said Linda.

‘From now?’

‘That’s correct. That’s why I’ve had to call you in today. That’s what immediate effect usually means over here, Mr Armstrong, in this bloody country. I don’t know if it carries a different meaning over in England’s green and pleasant land?’

‘No. It doesn’t. It means the same.’

‘Well then.’

‘Suspended with immediate effect.’

Linda waved a finger at him, in dismissal.

‘But—’

‘There’s nothing I can do about it, Mr Armstrong, I’m afraid.’

‘But I haven’t done anything wrong. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

‘Well, I believe you obviously. I hardly think you’d be capable of pulling off a daring and audacious robbery.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. But, I doubt the Mobile Library Steering Committee will be of the same opinion I’m afraid. So…’

Linda made for the door.

‘Hang on,’ said Israel. ‘That’s it?’

‘Yes,’ said Linda. ‘That’s it. Thank you, goodbye.’

‘Hang on! Who’s going to be doing the mobile?’

‘Ted. He’ll be doing it on his own for the moment, when he can, although we’ll have to be operating a reduced service, obviously.’

‘But…’

‘Ah, yes!’ said Linda. ‘Which brings me to the third thing. Point three. Before you leave, please.’ She walked back behind her desk and sat down. ‘Sit down. Please,’ she said. ‘Sit down! Thank you. Yes. About your lovely assistant on the library.’

‘Ted?’

‘No. Not Ted! Rosie.’

‘Rosie?’

‘Rosie Hart has been helping you out, I believe, in the fulfilment of your duties.’

‘Yes. That’s right. She’s very good with the readers.’

‘Yes.’ Linda sipped at her tea. ‘I’m sure that’s not the only thing she’s good with.’

‘What?’

‘With your reputation, Mr Armstrong, you need to be very careful.’

‘My reputation?’

‘Yes. We’ve not forgotten your dealings with the gutter press, Mr Armstrong—’

‘If you mean by that my…friendship with Veronica Byrd of the Impartial Recorder—’

‘Not something we wish to go into, Mr Armstrong. Has Ms Hart been offering her services to you for free?’

‘Her services?’

‘On the mobile library? Has she been working for you for free?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘So you’ve been paying her yourself?’

‘Well…I’ve been…’

‘Yes?’ Linda peered over the top of her glasses.

‘Erm. Yes, using the petty cash to…’

‘Yes?’

‘Give her a few pounds. Just to help her out, you know.’

‘I see. This is what we’d heard. So you have been using the monies of the Department of Entertainment, Leisure and Community Services to pay for an extra member of staff. Do you deny it?’

‘No, not exactly.’

‘With no authorisation.’

‘Erm…’

‘Or agreement. With no advertisement. No Equal Opportunities monitoring.’

‘Well—’

‘Which is in itself an extremely grave matter, Mr Armstrong, as I’m sure you can appreciate, never mind your unfortunate position vis-à-vis the robbery and kidnapping.’

‘I don’t have an unfortunate position vis-à-vis the robbery and kidnapping!’

‘We want her off the bus, Mr Armstrong.’

‘But—’

‘Thank you. And I’m afraid during your suspension you will have to attend a disciplinary hearing of the Mobile Library Steering Committee.’

‘But—’

‘You are going to have to learn, Mr Armstrong, that you can’t just come over here and start playing fast and loose: there are rules here, you know, same as anywhere else. It’s not a free-for-all.’

Linda once more made for the door, but then paused.

‘Keys, please.’ She held out her hand. ‘For the van.’

‘I can’t give you the keys,’ said Israel.

‘Keys.’

‘But I’ll be stranded without the van.’

‘Well, you should have thought of that before—’

‘Linda, it’s still at Dixon and—’

‘We’ll collect it. Thank you. Goodbye.’ She was holding open the door.

‘This is ridiculous, Linda,’ said Israel. ‘I have been unjustly accused of a crime I did not commit. This is a civil liberties issue.’

Linda laughed–and a wave of hot peppermint tea fumes came over Israel.

‘You’re hardly Nelson Mandela, Mr Armstrong.’

‘I didn’t say I was Nelson bloody Mandela, did I.’

‘Racist remarks of any kind, Mr Armstrong, are a serious disciplinary offence, and I have already had to warn you about this today.’

‘I wasn’t making a—’

‘Nelson Mandela was the father of a nation.’

‘Yes. I know.’

‘Which is not a category you find yourself in, unless I’m much mistaken.’

‘No. I didn’t—’

‘Unless you do have anything of any substance to add, I think that’ll be all. Keys. Please.’

‘I haven’t got the keys, the police have got the keys.’

‘Very good,’ said Linda. ‘Thank you, Mr Armstrong. You’ll be hearing from me about the disciplinary committee. Goodbye!’

And with that she was gone.

Ted was waiting for Israel outside the council offices, smoking.

‘Well?’

‘I’m suspended,’ said Israel, hurrying after him.

‘Aye,’ said Ted. ‘That’d be about right. On full pay though?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask.’

‘Ach, are you soft in the head, man? Ye didnae ask?’

‘I didn’t think.’

‘No. Did it go all right though?’

‘No,’ said Israel. ‘It didn’t go all right. And Linda seemed a bit…’

‘Aye. Ye not heard? Her husband’s away.’

‘What, gone?’

‘Aye. Left her. And they’ve five weans.’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘Mind,’ said Ted, lowering his voice. ‘People say she’s a Libyan.’

‘What? I thought she was Northern Irish Chinese,’ said Israel.

‘No, a Libyan, you know,’ said Ted, winking.

‘A Libyan? You’ve lost me, Ted, I’m afraid.’

‘She’s not as other women are,’ said Ted.

‘A lesbian?’ said Israel.

‘Sshh,’ said Ted. ‘We’ll not have that sort of language round here, thank ye.’

They got back in Ted’s cab.

‘So now what?’ said Ted.

‘I don’t know,’ said Israel.

‘We’re just going to have to clear yer name, aren’t we?’ said Ted.

‘We?’ said Israel.

‘Aye,’ said Ted. ‘You’re going to need some help with this, aren’t ye?’

‘Well, it’s very nice of you and everything, but—’

‘What?’

‘I think I’m going to have to handle this one on my own, Ted.’

‘Handle it on your own?’ Ted laughed.

‘What’s funny?’

‘You’re a geg, you know that?’

‘Am I?’

‘How ye going to handle it then?’

‘Well, I just need to work it out and demonstrate to the police that—’

‘This is the PSNI we’re talking about here, ye know?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what, ye think you’re going to prove your innocence to them by using your powers of superior intelligence? Present them with a wee dossier setting out what a good little boy ye are?’

‘Well…’

‘Ach, you’re better value than watching the telly, d’you know that?’

‘Thank you.’

‘Priceless, honestly. So, what, ye’ll get back to me when you need me then, eh?’ Ted was chuckling.

‘Sure.’

Ted checked his watch. ‘That’ll be tomorrow teatime then, I would have thought.’

‘Ha, ha.’

‘No. Afternoon. At the latest.’

‘Fine, Ted. If you could just take me home, please. I’m really—’

‘Midday, we’ll say. Half twelve max,’ said Ted.

‘Fine. Ted—’

‘You’ve got my mobile number?’

‘Yes.’

‘If You Want To Get There, Call the Bear.’

‘Sure. I’ll keep you informed.’

‘You’ll keep me informed?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Brilliant. Priceless. I’m looking forward to this.’