Three to See the King

argument.
    ‘What point’s that then?’ I enquired. ‘Just out of interest.’
    ‘You should know,’ he said. ‘You’re supposed to be the great exponent of tin.’
    ‘Maybe I am, but I’ve still no idea what you’re talking about.’
    ‘It’s simple,’ he replied. ‘Jane wants to live in a tin house, that’s all. She’s not interested in these so-called extra steps.’
    ‘And you agree with her, do you?’
    ‘To an extent, yes.’
    ‘But in the long run we’ll be better off with clay, surely,’ said Sarah.
    ‘Well, if you wish to believe that it’s up to you,’ he answered. To tell the truth I’ve had enough.’
    As the debate continued, other members of the party began to join in, all offering different points of view. It soon transpired that some among them were less than convinced about the possibilities Michael had to offer. They were still prepared to give it a go, they said, but this building from clay looked like it was a hard slog. How much easier it would be to live in a city of tin.
    I decided to keep my own counsel on the matter, and was about to resume work when I noticed a woman descending the ladder that Jane had just gone up. Her movements were very familiar, so I continued watching until she arrived at the bottom, where she stood glancing around as if trying to get her bearings. Obviously a newcomer, I concluded, but next second I realized it was Mary Petrie!
    Downing tools I set off to meet her, pondering what could have brought her all this way. Then suddenly it struck me that something must have happened to the house! On the verge of panic I broke into a run, tearing along planks and footpaths to the other side of the canyon. Mary Petrie saw me coming and waited.
    ‘You’re as bad as that woman on the ladder,’ she said, as I dashed up. ‘She nearly knocked me off, she was in such a hurry.’
    ‘Is anything wrong?’ I asked, after an appropriate embrace.
    ‘I was going to ask you that,’ she replied.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because you didn’t come back, of course!’
    ‘Oh, right,’ I said. ‘Well, I’ll tell you the reason.’
    I then gave her the full story of my arrival, of all the people I’d met, and how I’d stayed a while to help with the canyon. This took about ten minutes, and when I’d finished Mary Petrie said, ‘Don’t bother asking how I’ve been, will you?’
    ‘How have you been?’ I asked.
    ‘I’m OK,’ she replied. ‘And you’ll be pleased to know that your precious house is still standing.’
    ‘It should be,’ I said. ‘Apparently Michael built it.’
    ‘Oh yes, the great Michael Hawkins! I can’t wait to make his acquaintance.’
    ‘Michael’s alright when you get to know him,’ I remarked. ‘He’s got big plans for this place.’
    ‘So I gather,’ she said. ‘It’s all they talk about in the tin city.’
    ‘Oh, you’ve been there, have you? What did you think?’
    ‘Quite sweet really, although I couldn’t live there.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Cos they talk such nonsense all the time. Really, I thought you were a bit obsessive, but at least you’ve got your head screwed on properly. This lot babble on and on about tin houses and clay houses, and it’s obvious they don’t know what they’re talking about.’
    ‘Well, that’s as may be,’ I replied. ‘But you have to watch what you say round here: they’re a bit touchy on the subject.’
    ‘I don’t care,’ said Mary Petrie. ‘I’ve told you before, it’s not where you live that counts but who you live with.’
    ‘I know, I know, but just while we’re here … ?’
    ‘Well, how long’s that going to be?’
    ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘It depends.’
    Such an answer, needless to say, was totally unsatisfactory, and Mary Petrie seemed on the verge of telling me so when our conversation was interrupted. It was the time of day when volunteers who’d done their three or four days’ service left the canyon and were replaced by fresh recruits from the city. As a result, the area around the foot of the ladder became fairly busy for a while, and we were obliged to move out of the way. We watched as the various squads passed by and began their ascent. These included the group I’d recently been working with on the clay beds.
    They’re having a few days’ rest,’ I explained.
    ‘What about you?’ asked Mary Petrie. ‘Aren’t you going up as well?’
    ‘No, I don’t usually bother,’ I said. ‘I’d much rather stay down here under the