Three to See the King

well,’ I explained. ‘Steve’s moved house. So’s Philip. They’ve gone.’
    ‘Where else did you try?’ she asked.
    ‘Nowhere. There isn’t anywhere else.’
    ‘Great!’ she said. ‘You’ve been out all day and returned with nothing!’
    By this time I’d gently removed the shovel from her grasp and taken over the work. Actually, this was a complete waste of energy because when the storm arrived it was just going to blow sand all over the place. Under the circumstances, however, I thought I’d better make a show of doing something. Mary, Petrie took position nearby and stood watching me with her arms folded.
    ‘Anyway, the chimney shouldn’t be a problem for the moment,’ I pointed out. ‘Not now the shutters are closed again.’
    ‘I expect you’re quite pleased about that, aren’t you?’ she replied. ‘Nice dark sky, blustery wind, sand flying around everywhere. Suits you perfectly, doesn’t it?’
    I was always impressed when she made remarks like these as she seemed to know my likes and dislikes inside out. It was almost as if she’d studied me in depth and was keeping notes on the subject.
    ‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘We’ll be nice and snug inside the house.’
    ‘But it’s the height of summer!’ she declared. ‘We shouldn’t need to be nice and snug!’
    ‘It’s only summer by name,’ I replied. ‘We’re right in the middle of the wilds, don’t forget.’
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I won’t forget that.’
    Carefully she opened the door, slipped inside, and shut it again. The descending gloom now appeared close enough to touch. With it came sporadic flashes of lightning, and these told me that we could expect sand and dust, rather than rain, which would fall elsewhere.
    To tell the truth, I quite liked watching the advance of dry lightning, as I called it, when I was assured that I wouldn’t get soaked to the skin at any moment. For some reason it was never accompanied by thunder, and instead the only noise came from the rising wind as the sand scattered before it. There was nothing to be gained from further work with the shovel, so I had a rest and observed the sky for another few minutes. Then I went in and joined Mary Petrie. I told her about the group of people I’d seen near Philip’s place, and the trail of footprints heading west.
    ‘Do you think it’s got anything to do with Michael Hawkins?’ she asked.
    ‘Why should it?’ I replied.
    ‘Well,’ she said. There aren’t usually this many people coming past are there? Maybe they’re going to see him.’
    ‘I doubt it,’ I said. ‘They’re probably just having a look round, that’s all.’
    Our discussion was interrupted when a heavy gust of wind battered against the house. It was certainly going to be a rough night. With a feeling almost of glee I listened to the familiar noise of the tin walls creaking and groaning under the assault. Another hour and it would sound as if someone outside was hurling sand against them. This was the sort of weather I wanted, and with a bit of luck it would stay the same for weeks, or at least until Mary Petrie forgot about altering the chimney.
    Even so, I was quite disturbed by her suggested cause for the sudden influx of newcomers. During the past few months I’d managed to forget all about Michael Hawkins and his supposedly marvellous existence somewhere beyond the horizon. Now he entered my thoughts again, and this time he wouldn’t go away. I pictured those people in the afternoon pressing westward when the weather was deteriorating so obviously. There’d been something dogged and imperturbable about their progress, and it had shown even in the patience with which they’d awaited the straggler. He in turn had sounded desperate to join them.
    Then there was the question of Steve Treacle and Philip Sibling. They had both spoken several times of going to see Michael Hawkins, and I began to wonder if that was in fact where they’d gone. On balance I agreed it was a possibility, but all the same it seemed a bit extreme taking their houses along too.
    I was given further cause for conjecture the following day when the brunt of the storm had passed. Emerging quite early in the morning, the first thing I saw was yet another bunch of people in the distance, again heading west. I got the strong impression that for some reason they were giving a wide berth to my place. Their circumspection suited me, of course, as I didn’t want strangers coming past at