Three to See the King

learnt from experience that we would have to undergo a violent storm before the climate reverted to normal. With this in mind I put my head down and hurried on towards Philip Sibling’s house.
    It was even longer since I’d been there than it had been for Steve Treacle’s, but if I remembered rightly the last occasion was in the aftermath of just such a storm. The previous evening had seen a gathering of clouds in the distance, and sometime around midnight the rain had come. This was a fairly rare occurrence in these parts and quite welcome as the tank could always do with a top-up. It had been falling heavily for an hour or so when I put on some waterproofs and went outside to check that the downpipe was clear. A minute later the sky was lit by the brightest bolt of lightning I’d ever seen. The fork struck the ground somewhere in the vicinity of Philip’s house, so the following morning when things were drying up I went over to make sure he was alright.
    I should have known he would be, of course. Philip Sibling wasn’t the sort of person to go out in a deluge like that, and I found him sitting in his kitchen staring at the ceiling.
    ‘I’m trying to work out if any rain came in last night,’ he explained.
    ‘Have you got a leak then?’ I asked.
    ‘Oh no. It’s tight as a ship.’
    ‘So how could rain get in?’
    ‘Capillary action,’ he said, giving me a significant look. ‘You can’t trust it.’
    That was just about the longest talk I ever had with Philip. He was a man of few words, and didn’t like to waste them in conversation. This suited me fine, and for the remainder of my visit we sat quietly at his table, sharing a pot of coffee and not exchanging more than the most necessary remarks. Just before I departed, Steve Treacle had arrived, apparently for the same reason as me. Philip invited him in, then all three of us sat together for a while, saying very little, until I decided it was time to leave. Something like a year must have passed since that visit, and now, as I walked once more towards Philip’s, I recalled Steve drumming frantically on the table. I could still hear him after I’d said goodbye and gone outside, but I could also hear the pair of them beginning to chat away quite freely. That must have been the day when their friendship first started to flourish, and I had no doubt that they discussed more interesting things than capillary action.
    I was interrupted in my thoughts by a faint cry. It came from somewhere up ahead, and reminded me of the plaintive call of a bird on some remote and forsaken strand. Except I knew it wasn’t a bird. Stopping in my tracks I peered into the distance, where a group of six or seven people was slowly moving towards the west. They were about a mile away, but I could see that they too had been halted by the cry. A moment later another tiny figure came in sight, apparently running after them. They waited while this individual caught up, and then the whole group clustered together for several minutes before continuing westward again.
    As they gradually disappeared from view I watched with an odd feeling of disquiet. These people had made their appearance more or less in the area where Philip lived, yet there was no sign of his house nor Steve’s. Surely, I thought, the pair of them can’t have just upped and gone. Of all the men I knew, Philip was the last I would have expected to dismantle his dwelling and move it somewhere else. After another quarter of an hour’s walking, however, I discovered the truth. There, marked on the ground in front of me, was a large empty rectangle. Beyond it lay a trail of footprints. Overcome with disappointment I sat down and ate the cakes myself.
    By the time I got home Mary Petrie had been round and closed all the shutters against the oncoming storm. The weathercock pointed west-south-west. So far the breeze had only risen slightly, but already sand was beginning to accumulate against the windward side of the house. As I approached I saw her at work with the shovel, clearing some of it away.
    ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ I said.
    ‘Well, someone’s got to do it,’ she answered. ‘And you’re never here these days.’
    ‘I had to go and see about the chimney, didn’t I?’
    ‘That’s no excuse. This storm’s been building up for hours. You should have come back.’ She ceased shovelling and looked at me. ‘So where is it then?’
    ‘Where’s what?’
    ‘The new chimney.’
    ‘Ah,