Three to See the King

following morning I’d begun to think she didn’t like my domestic arrangements at all. I had spent the whole night conscious of her moving around above me. She didn’t seem able to settle down, and it turned out that the wind had kept her awake. I didn’t ask her about her sleeplessness directly, of course, because it wouldn’t have done for her to know I’d heard her every movement. When she came downstairs, however, the first thing she did was complain about the noise the wind made. Here was an obvious difference between the two of us. It has always astounded me that people can object to such things as being dazzled by sunlight, drenched by the rain or, as in this case, being kept awake by the wind. Surely one of the major appeals of living in a tin house is listening to that very sound! Before this woman turned up I had spent many an hour doing little else, day and night. As I said before, the wind never managed to find a gap to get inside. Nonetheless, it searched and whined incessantly beneath the corrugated eaves, producing a tune of infinite variations. There were times when it would bring with it rain, or else great dry sandstorms that rattled across the roof and added to the general din. These chance harmonics I found reassuring, comforting even, but I’m afraid my new guest heard them with different ears.
    ‘What a racket!’ she said, opening the door and looking outside. Then, to my surprise, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, sweet!’
    Apparently she thought it was quite endearing the way I’d hung out my washing on the line to dry. Personally, I couldn’t see what was supposed to be so remarkable about it. After all, clothes will dry in no time in that wind, so it stood to reason to turn it to full use. Besides, I’d already been up and about for a couple of hours waiting for her to surface, so I thought I might as well get some clothes done. The result of my carrying out this simple chore was striking. She seemed instantly to forget about the wind keeping her awake all night, and now every object she laid eyes on was ‘sweet’. She even liked the shovel that I kept on a hook on the back of the door! Maybe it was the morning sun that had put a different glint on things, but whatever the reason I must confess I enjoyed this change of tone. Without her noticing I closed the door again (to prevent the sand from getting inside), and we spent an agreeable morning getting her trunk properly unpacked. Now that the initial prickliness was over I was quite glad she’d come. All the same she took some getting used to. Later I came to understand that she was capable of enjoying my company and finding fault both at the same time, but in those first few days I wasn’t sure what was going on.
    Take the question of the mirror, for example. The one she’d brought with her was a full-length model, and it was still waiting to be moved to the upper floor. I put this job off for a while, then just when I was in the middle of lifting it up she announced it was probably better to leave it where it was.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ I replied. ‘It’s not too heavy.’
    ‘So you’re taking it up are you?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Might as well.’
    When finally I’d got it to the top of the stairs she came and joined me.
    ‘You’ve got smears on it now,’ she said. ‘Look.’
    ‘Couldn’t be helped,’ I answered.
    ‘You didn’t have to bring it up here at all. I’d have much preferred it down by the door. The light’s more natural there.’
    ‘Well why didn’t you say?’
    ‘I did!’ she snapped. ‘Thanks very much! Now you’ve got smears on it!’
    When I offered to take the mirror back down she told me not to bother, so I didn’t, and another three or four days went by before she mentioned it again. On this second occasion she pointed out exactly where she wanted it, rather than suggesting what was ‘probably better’ or what was ‘preferable’. I obliged by moving the mirror with good grace, taking care not to get any more smears on it. In this way we managed between us to smooth relations over, and most of the time we seemed to get on quite well together.
    Even so, I couldn’t work out what exactly she’d come for. I mean, there was nothing to keep her in my house of tin. She was very welcome to stay as long as she liked, of course, but I’d have thought she’d be better off living somewhere where there were more people, instead of here amongst a few scattered individuals on a wild