The Case of the Missing Books

‘Way in,’ said Ted. ‘Catches wore away years ago. Should have got them fixed. Lucky I didn’t. Come on.’ He bent down slightly and clasped his hands together ready for Israel to climb up.

‘Hang on now,’ said Israel. ‘Wait a minute. You want me to—’

‘Come on,’ said Ted, ‘none of your old nonsense now,’ and nodded to him to put his foot on his hands.

Israel hesitated. ‘This is ridiculous.’

‘Set yourself to it. Come on. Quickly. We’re not on holiday, are we?’

‘No.’

‘So then. Come on, you big glunter.’

So against his better judgement – and partly because no one had ever called him a big glunter before – Israel did what he was told and placed a foot on Ted’s big joint-of-meat hands and Ted grunted and puffed and straightened up and Israel scrambled for handholds and footholds up the side of the van, and by grappling and struggling he made it up onto the roof of the van, where there was only a few feet clearance from the roof of the barn, and he knelt down, puffing and scraping dust and rust and chicken shit out of the way.

‘Eerrgh.’

‘Good man you are!’ shouted Ted. ‘Go on then!’

‘All right. Give me a minute,’ said Israel, catching his breath and crawling on his belly towards the skylight. ‘It’s filthy!’

‘Get on with it.’

‘But—’

‘Just pop it.’

‘What?’

‘The skylight. Pop it.’

Israel had a hold of the skylight and was wiggling and wobbling the Perspex from side to side.

‘Got it?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Pop it!’ shouted Ted, like a boxer’s corner man.

‘I can’t pop it!’

‘Go on!’

‘I am going on!’

‘Put some effort in.’

‘I am putting some effort in. It’s stuck.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes!’

‘Might be rusty,’ granted Ted.

‘Might be? It’s all rust.’

‘Just yank her then,’ said Ted.

Israel got a hold of the two sides of the skylight and braced himself, half kneeling and half standing, and put all his weight into pulling up and back and he took a deep breath and then he pulled up and back, and the skylight gave a sound of cracking, and the ancient Perspex came away in his hands.

And Israel straightened upwards and backwards…smashing the back of his head on the roof of the barn.

‘Aaggh!’ he screamed.

‘You done it?’ said Ted.

‘Aaggh!’

‘What?’ said Ted.

‘Aggghh!’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Aaggh, shit!’

‘Will you mind your bloody language!’ shouted Ted.

‘Aaggh!’ shouted Israel back. ‘I nearly brained myself.’

‘Aye. Knock some sense into you.’

‘Ow,’ said Israel, rubbing his head. ‘I’m injured. My head.’

‘Only part of you safe from injury.’

‘I’m in agony here!’

‘Aye, but you’ve not lost the powers of speech.’

‘It hurts.’

‘All right. You got a bump. Now just get on with it.’

‘Get on with what?’

‘What do you think? Your eyes in your arse or what?’