Three to See the King

she was certain of this, so I immediately gave up arguing.
    ‘That must have been why Steve Treacle lengthened his chimney,’ I remarked. ‘I wondered what he did that for.’
    ‘So he could show you how to do it, could he?’ asked Mary Petrie.
    ‘Oh yes, he’s got all the stuff over there.’
    ‘Well, you’ll have to go and see him then.’
    ‘I can’t really, can I?’ I protested. ‘Not the way things are at present.’
    ‘I don’t care about that!’ she said. ‘I’m not putting up with all this soot when there’s a perfectly simple solution! It’s only pride that’s keeping you away from Steve, and Philip for that matter, so you can get yourself over there tomorrow!’
    The following day I set forth in the sunshine bearing gifts. I’d decided overnight that there would have to be one for each of my remaining neighbours, and that the best thing to take would be some cakes.
    ‘Won’t they have had their fill of cakes by now?’ asked Mary Petrie. ‘That’s what you took every day when they were moving Simon. Maybe you should give them something else instead.’
    ‘No, no,’ I replied. ‘Cakes’ll be fine.’
    ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘Well, give them both my regards, won’t you?’
    ‘OK then. Bye.’
    A good while had passed since I’d last been to Steve’s, but I was quite sure of the way and hardly even thought about it as I walked. After a couple of hours, however, I began to wonder if maybe I’d strayed off course a little. There was no other landmark in the vicinity apart from Steve’s house, and I’d expected it to appear ahead of me at any minute. Instead I saw nothing, so I decided to stop and have a good look around me. The view, I thought, seemed familiar. In all directions a vast red plain stretched away into the distance, crossed occasionally by eddies of drifting sand. Yes, this was definitely the right place.
    Where, then, was the house? As I glanced about me my eyes fell on a large rectangular shape marked on the ground, and suddenly I knew the answer. With ease I traced the perimeter of Steve’s former abode, recognizing the places where the door, the stove and the stairway used to be. Now it was all gone, and so was the collection of spare parts he kept stacked round the back. These, I recalled, included some lengths of chimney pipe. The whole lot had disappeared, and I could only assume that he’d decided to move nearer to Philip. I wondered if he’d used the same system to notate the pieces of tin from his own house as he had with Simon Painter’s. If so, it would be interesting to see the result, which was why I decided to press on in the direction of Philip’s. This was only another hour’s journey away, and as long as I got a move on I’d have plenty of time to get home again before dark.
    After taking what I assumed was my last ever look at Steve Treacle’s old residence, I started off. My inhibitions about seeing the two of them again had now disappeared, and I found myself eagerly anticipating the prospect of a pair of tin houses standing side by side. I could just imagine the carry-on when Steve, impetuous as ever, had rushed about reassembling his components right next door to Philip. Meanwhile, his companion would have lent a hand in a staid sort of way, saying little apart from passing the odd droll remark. I speculated that Steve might well have found a method for coupling the two structures together. What a sight that would be, and maybe they’d even have a chimney to spare! Surely, I told myself, when I arrived and presented them both with cakes, the three of us would be able to forget recent events altogether.
    During the past hour I’d become aware that the wind had swung back towards west-south-west and was increasing slightly. I felt quite pleased that I’d detected this change without the aid of a weathercock, but something else gratified me as well. To tell the truth, I found the mild, gentle conditions of summer rather irritating, much as I imagined a sailor might feel when stuck in the doldrums. Warm, hazy days were alright for a short period, but after a while I found them frankly tiresome and longed for a return to ‘proper weather’. By this I meant louring grey skies, a cool temperature and a bracing wind. A glance at the horizon told me that my wish was about to be granted, although I knew there would be a price to pay. Some regions are simply not suited to summer, and this plain of ours was a perfect example. I’d