C...the freezer

The sound is a four-four beat at a reasonably quick tempo. Dumph.
Dumph. Dumph. Dumph.

This, as well as the more common engine-cum-generator noise.

The other sound is a radio tuned to a rubbish local station, and the
affectedly wacky broadcaster is proposing a phone-in vote about
something or other.

Chocolate bars (standard fare, nothing too fancy) are in boxes on a
high shelf, along the side of the van, facing the hatch. There is
another parallel shelf directly above the hatch, out of customers'
view, boxing in a fairly eclectic selection of books, including
Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, Golding's Lord of the Flies,
Orwell's Animal Farm, King's Carrie, something by James Ellroy,
something by Poe, Ishiguro's Remains of the Day, and Durrell's My
Family and Other Animals.

The soft ice-cream dispenser is behind the passenger seat, facing the
rear, where the driver is sitting on the waist-level freezer, reading a
broadsheet newspaper.

Dumph. Dumph. Dumph. Dumph.

The driver puts down his paper in order to build a roll-up, which takes
the form of a neat, impressive, tight (but not too tight) work of art.
He clamps it in the mid-left of his lips, and lights it with a plastic
lighter. He taps ash into the sort of aluminium disposable ashtray you
find in greasy-spoon cafes.

Dumph.

More erratic now.

Dumph.

He reads the sports section, almost cover to cover. He looks at his
watch. The drumming has stopped now, has done for about twenty-five
minutes. He clambers off the freezer, and lifts the lid, liberating an
icy mist.

"I don't believe it," the driver says, and laughs. He pulls out a
quarter-eaten Ice Cream Mars, inspects it, puckers his lips, nods
respectfully, and takes a bite out of it.

"Cheeky little bastard," he says, with his mouth full.

The driver eases out the clutch a little, in anticipation of a suitable
gap in the traffic, keen to get back on the move again.

Dumph. That sound again.

Clutch and brake in. Neutral. Handbrake. He squeezes back through the
gap in the front seats.

Dumph. The freezer lid jumps an inch.

Having resumed his earlier seating position, reorganising his
newspaper, the driver says, "Ballsy little bastard 'n' all."