Three to See the King

tin houses and who came bearing gifts made me feel quite uneasy. Yet one look at Simon told me he believed he was stating a fact.
    The picture itself, of course, couldn’t have been less interesting. After all, who wants a view of someone else’s home? There was hardly any difference between Simon’s dwelling and mine but, nevertheless, the picture remained on display for the entire duration of his visit.
    This turned out to be almost a week. Mary Petrie made him feel so welcome that it would have been difficult for him to leave any sooner. At the end of the first evening she smiled at us both before saying goodnight and heading up the stairs. Hours later I realized she was no longer moving around restlessly above me. Instead, I was being kept awake by Simon talking in his sleep. The corrugated walls creaked and groaned as they sheltered us from the steadily rising wind. A few days more and I would be alone with Mary Petrie. For the time being, however, my house of tin had three residents.
    In the morning I overslept. When finally I awoke the first thing I heard was Simon clumping around on the roof. Mary Petrie had risen before me and stood tending the stove.
    ‘How come you’re up so early?’ I asked.
    ‘I thought I’d make the pair of you some coffee.’
    ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘What’s he doing up there?’
    ‘He’s seeing if there’s anywhere to put a flagpole.’
    ‘I don’t want a flagpole!’
    ‘He seems to think you do.’
    ‘Well, I don’t!’
    I got up and went outside just as Simon came clambering down.
    ‘I hope you haven’t left any dents,’ I said. ‘That roof’s not for walking about on.’
    ‘No, no, I’ve been quite careful,’ he replied. ‘Did you know you can see my house from up there?’
    ‘The balloon or the house itself?’ I asked.
    ‘Both,’ he said.
    ‘No, I didn’t.’
    This was the sort of news I’d rather not have heard. As far as I was concerned, Simon Painter’s house and those of my other neighbours were positioned somewhere beyond the horizon. I found it quite disconcerting to think that, after all, we might each live within sight of one another, even if it was only from the roof. For a long time I’d been convinced that I occupied a remote and unusual part of the world. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure.
    ‘You could fix a flagpole up there no trouble if you wanted,’ declared Simon.
    ‘Well, thanks for having a look,’ I replied. ‘But I don’t really want one.’
    ‘I’ve a spare pole back at home.’
    ‘No, it’s alright.’
    ‘Well, if you ever do put one up, don’t forget I’ve got plenty of flags.’
    ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
    Prior to going back inside I intended to clear away the sand that had drifted against the walls overnight. I quite liked doing this first thing in the morning as it gave me a bit of an appetite before breakfast, but when I got hold of the shovel I realized the job had already been done. The loose sand was all lying beyond the ends of the house where it could blow away freely. It had been moved there by Simon.
    ‘You ought to set up some windbreaks,’ he said. Then you wouldn’t have a problem with sand.’
    ‘It’s not a problem,’ I replied. ‘I like clearing it away actually.’
    As I stood there with the redundant shovel I noticed Mary Petrie watching through the open doorway.
    ‘Now how are you going to pass the time?’ she asked.
    ‘Can you close that door please?’ I snapped. ‘I don’t want sand getting into the house.’
    She closed it slowly and deliberately, watching me intently as the crack grew smaller. Mary Petrie, of course, knew better than anyone just how difficult the next few days promised to be. How indeed was I to pass the time until Simon left? Before now I’d seldom been concerned with such questions. Existing in a house of tin was an end unto itself, a particular state of being, and time didn’t come into it. You did not need to know what time it was, for example, to witness dry lightning as it flashed across the plain at dusk. Or to feel the threat of an approaching storm. These things occurred independently of time, which was why there was no clock in my house. I simply had no need for one. Nonetheless, as I led Simon back inside for breakfast, I realized that time was already beginning to slow down.
    It didn’t help that until yesterday he hadn’t spoken to anyone for weeks. Silence was clearly not his vocation, and now he was making up the deficit. I’d never come