Three to See the King

like this. I looked at my house of tin, knowing it would be some while before I saw it glinting in the sunlight once more. The sky had turned grey, and I was sure I could expect more gales in the next few weeks. My thoughts turned to Simon’s suggestion about setting up some windbreaks. Come to think of it, this wasn’t a bad idea at all, and I began to wonder if I should give it serious consideration.
    Then the door opened and Mary Petrie emerged.
    ‘You’re being very patient,’ she said.
    ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Suppose I am.’
    ‘Not that you’ve got any choice, of course.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Still,’ she observed. ‘You seem happy enough out here with your little shovel.’
    ‘Do I?’
    ‘Yes, quite sweet really.’ She picked up a handful of sand, allowing the grains to slip gradually through her fingers. ‘Who’s this Michael Hawkins?’
    ‘How do you know about him?’ I asked.
    ‘I heard the pair of you talking last night.’
    ‘Well you know as much as I do then.’
    ‘Aren’t you curious to meet him?’
    ‘Why should I be?’
    ‘Well, he’s a neighbour, isn’t he?’
    ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘He lives miles away.’
    Mary Petrie moved nearer and lowered her voice. ‘Simon’s going to see him.’
    ‘Is he?’
    ‘Yes, he’s just told me.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘Today,’ she said. ‘He’s packing his bag at this very moment.’
    ‘Well, why didn’t you tell me before?’
    Instantly I dropped the shovel and went into the house.
    There was Simon, all wrapped up in his coat and ready to leave.
    ‘Morning,’ I said, giving him my best smile. ‘You off then?’
    ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been thinking about this Michael Hawkins and I really feel I ought to go and say hello to him.’
    ‘You’re probably right.’
    ‘So I’ll get moving this morning if that’s OK with you.’
    ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Don’t forget to take him a gift.’
    ‘Oh, thanks for reminding me. I’ll drop in at my place on the way and find something suitable.’
    He picked up his bag and headed for the door.
    Then Mary Petrie said, ‘You’d better have some breakfast before you go.’
    5
    I was really beginning to think she was doing it on purpose. I mean to say, Simon was just about to walk through the door when she said this! Next minute he’d taken his coat off again and was sitting down at the table. By now, of course, I’d worked up quite an appetite of my own, so I found myself in a very weak position. Then I realized that the best course of action was to play her at her own game. I was the host and therefore I had to do the cooking, but I certainly wasn’t going to make her anything. Instead I gave Simon the best breakfast he’d ever had.
    ‘Marvellous,’ he said, when I placed it before him. ‘You’re so kind.’
    Mary Petrie, in the meantime, retired to the upper floor without saying another word. I could hear her moving around up there, humming softly to herself. It sounded as if she was putting fresh covers on the bed. As I looked at the coffee pot heating over the stove, and listened to the sand chafing against the tin walls, the inside of my house suddenly felt very warm and comfortable. It wasn’t really a day for a person to be setting off to see someone he’d never met before, especially when he wasn’t even expected, and it occurred to me that Simon could very easily change his mind about going. He certainly looked contented enough, silting there at the table.
    After about an hour, however, he stretched himself and said, ‘Well, I think I’ll be getting along now.’
    ‘You sure you’ve had enough?’ I asked.
    ‘Quite sure, thanks,’ he replied, rising from his chair.
    After he’d got his bag he hovered awkwardly for a moment at the foot of the stairs.
    ‘Bye then Mary!’ he called.
    ‘Bye Simon,’ we heard her say. ‘Have a nice journey.’
    A minute later I said goodbye to him and closed the door. At last we had the place to ourselves.
    I won’t go into any of the details of what happened next, but needless to say my period of exile from the upper floor came to an end there and then. We passed the next three or four days shut inside the house, never even bothering to look outside. Here, I thought, was true fulfilment. With Mary Petrie lying in my bed I knew I had everything a man could need: somewhere to eat and drink and sleep without disturbance, and a good woman. We were warm and snug in a paradise made from tin! Then, just as I was about