Free The Book Stops Here: A Mobile Library Mystery by Ian Sansom Page B

as Ted extracted the first of the cassettes from its special box. 'No! Please! Not that bloody book again.'
    'It's good,' said Ted.
    'It's not good at all. It's total crap.'
    'Have ye read it?'
    'No. But—'
    'Well then.'
    'I may not actually have read it. But I have had to listen to it being read out loud by Dan fucking—'
    'Language,' said Ted.
    'Sorry. Flippin' Brown.'
    'It's not Dan Brown who narrates it. He's the author.'
    'I know he's the author.'
    'It's another fella who narrates it. He's an actor.'
    'Yes! Fine! And I've been listening to him read the bloody thing for what seems like most of my adult life, so I think I have pretty good grounds to be able to form a judgement on the book!'
    'Maybe,' said Ted.
    'And it's crap,' said Israel.
    'It's not crap.'
    'It's even worse than Harry bloody Potter, and that bloody accordion music. It's total nonsense.'
    'What, the Field Marshal Montgomery Pipe Band?'
    'No! The Da Vinci Code . It's rubbish.'
    'It is not.'
    'It is!'
    'The Priory of Sion,' said Ted. 'Fact.'
    'What?'
    'The sacred femimime. Fact.'
    'What?'
    ' Holy Blood, Holy Grail . That was a great book also,' said Ted.
    'Oh God.'
    'Stop it,' said Ted.
    'Sorry,' said Israel.
    'And what are you reading at the moment, then, Einstein?'
    'Paul Auster, actually.'
    'Well, that's a lot of crap,' said Ted.
    'Have you ever read any Paul Auster?'
    'I don't need to: if youse are reading it then I know it's a lot of crap.'
    Israel agreed to allow Ted to play The Da Vinci Code —again—if they could stop at the next service station. Which they did.
    And which Israel instantly wished they hadn't. He hadn't been at a service station for a long time: they didn't seem to have any service stations in Northern Ireland; there weren't enough motorways, and people still believed in doing flasks and their own sandwiches, and taking rugs and fold-up chairs for the lay-by. He'd forgotten what service stations were like: they were like England, complete, but in miniature: women in tight T-shirts giving out peanut butter KitKats, men in shiny suits trying to sell credit cards, young men in football shirts, older men in baseball caps, fat women dressed for the gym, celeb mags, sweeties, super-value meals. Machine coffee. Spoliation.
    'This is great, isn't it?' said Ted, tucking into an all-day five-piece fry. 'I've not had an English fry for years,' he said. 'You miss the potato bread, but.'
    Israel had gone for the vegetarian option—a fried egg on toast. The egg had not been recently fried.
    When they got back into the van, Israel got into the driver's seat.
    'Look, Ted, you have a rest. I'll drive. You can navigate.'
    'No,' said Ted. 'You navigate. I'll drive.'
    'No!' said Israel. 'I insist. We need to share the responsibility.'
    Ted sat with the burgundy AA Illustrated Road Book of England & Wales unopened on his lap.
    'Concord De Le Elegant,' said Ted sleepily to himself as they motored down the M6, down, down towards the south of England.
    'Concours D'Elégance,' corrected Israel.
    'That'll give that wee nigger bitch Linda a—'
    'What?' said Israel. 'You can't say that.'
    'What?' said Ted.
    'That! What you just said.'
    'What? Wee nigger bitch?'
    'Yes! That! That's racist! And sexist!'
    'It is not.'
    'Of course it is.'
    'Are ye calling me a racist?'
    'Yes, I am. You can't call someone a nigger bitch.'
    'Why not?'
    'Because it's offensive!'
    'Aye. But Linda is a wee nigger bitch, so she is.'
    'Ted! No. No. Also, Linda's not black, she's Chinese.'
    'I don't mean she's black, ye fool.'
    '"Nigger"?' said Israel.
    'Aye. D'ye not say that in English?'
    'No, we don't. Unless you're…you know.'
    'Like, "niggerly" but?' said Ted.
    'Niggerly?' said Israel.
    'Aye.'
    'Niggardly, do you mean? Nig- gard -ly?'
    'Aye,' said Ted. 'Same thing.'
    'It's not the same thing at all, Ted.'
    'Well, it might not be to you, but it is to me.'
    'Well, it's still outrageous. You better stop talking like that now we're here.'
    'Oh!' said Ted, again putting on the