Magnus Mills - Three to See the King

‘Me?’ I said, at last.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘After all, it was Michael who built your house, wasn’t it?’

Patrick spoke the words as though they were a truth set in stone.

‘Who told you that?’ I asked.

‘Several people,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you know?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Well, the story is that Michael started constructing it long ago when he was still seeking his way here. Tin was plentiful in those days, so he came onto the plain and set to work raising his house. Not until he’d finished did he realize the mistake he’d made.’

‘Which was?’

‘He’d built it on sand, and therefore he had to abandon it and start again somewhere else.’

I lay in the darkness and listened with mounting dismay. After all, this was my house of tin we were talking about! Admittedly, I’d discovered it standing empty and deserted in the middle of the plain, but never had I questioned how it came to exist. As far as I was concerned it was just there for the taking, so I’d moved in and made it my home. If this story was correct, then I was a usurper.

‘Well, why has it never fallen down?’ I asked. ‘Answer me that.’

‘I can’t,’ replied Patrick. ‘I’m just telling you what the others told me. Maybe your house will last for many years. It should do if Michael built it. Then again, he wouldn’t have forsaken it for no reason, would he? It could collapse next week for all we know.’

‘That seems unlikely.’

‘Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re here now, so you’ll be quite safe.’

‘But aren’t these houses built on sand as well?’

‘No, not according to Steve and Philip. Apparently Michael dug down and found clay underneath.’

‘I see.’

‘Reassuring to know you’re on solid ground, isn’t it?’

‘Suppose so.’

‘Goodnight, then.’

‘Night.’

Judging from the sounds he made, Patrick Pybus fell asleep more or less the moment his head touched the pillow. It took me a little longer.

The dominant news next morning was that Michael Hawkins’s long-awaited visit would have to be postponed yet again. From what I could gather, there were so many volunteers helping him with his canyon that he was reluctant to leave them unsupervised. I learnt this as I sat at breakfast with Jane, Alison and Patrick, as well as two other women who’d come in during the night. These I recognized as Alison’s travelling companions. By the time I awoke, Jane had already been out on an early morning errand.

‘I saw Steve Treacle,’ she explained. ‘He told me Michael will be staying in the canyon for another day at least.’

‘How far away is it?’ I asked.

‘About two miles,’ she said.

‘Well, doesn’t he go home in the evenings?’

‘Oh no. He always stays with his helpers.’

It turned out that the canyon was now so immense it wasn’t deemed worthwhile for these volunteers to return to their houses each night. Instead they sheltered under tarpaulins and remained on site for three or four days at a time. When eventually they did come back, they were immediately replaced by fresh recruits.

‘Our turn next!’ said Jane. ‘I can’t wait to get out there and lend a hand.’

Alison, I noticed, didn’t look quite so enthusiastic.

‘Well, I wish Michael would inform us when he’s changing his arrangements,’ she sighed. ‘He’s let us down like this before.’

‘He is very busy, you know,’ Jane pointed out.

‘Yes,’ replied Alison. ‘I am aware of that.’

Despite her initial hostility, I found I actually preferred Alison to the rest of them. She had none of the sweetness and light that exuded from all the others, and which I thought rather tedious. On the contrary, she struck me as coming very much from the Mary Petrie sort of mould, and I had a feeling we would probably get on alright together in the end.

‘Steve says he’d like to take you to the canyon today if you’re interested,’ said Jane, turning to me. ‘He’ll be here to collect you this morning.’

Before he arrived I decided to go outside for a look around in broad daylight. Patrick Pybus accompanied me. Having always been accustomed to the sight of lone structures in remote, locations, I found it most peculiar seeing all those houses in close proximity to one another. I gazed along winding passageways with tin walls no more than an arm’s length apart. These widened out in some places to create streets and thoroughfares. Even so, there were very few people out and about.

They tend to spend a lot of time indoors,’ said Patrick. ‘Especially if they’ve been helping with the canyon for a few days. It can be quite tiring work, so I’ve heard.’

‘You seem to have learnt a great deal,’ I remarked. ‘Considering you only got here a few hours ago.’

‘Well,’ he replied. ‘I thought I’d better find out about everything since I’m planning to live in these parts.’

‘You’ve definitely decided then, have you?’

‘Oh, without question. Philip’s going to show me the proposed site for my house today. They’ve all been most welcoming.’

‘Yes, I’ve noticed.’

Patrick gave me a knowing look. ‘It’s you they’re keenest to have here, though.’

‘Is it?’ I asked, slightly surprised.

‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s delighted you’ve finally turned up. It means a lot to them, you being one of the pioneers, so to speak.’

This was confirmed some minutes later when Steve Treacle arrived, attended by an entourage of fresh-faced followers. Suddenly there was a great kerfuffle, and they emerged from a nearby avenue. I could see instantly that Steve had considerable standing amongst these people, because as he approached me they held back a little.

This, I assumed, was out of respect for the pair of us.

‘So you’ve come!’ he declared, smiling and offering his hand. ‘Michael will be so pleased.’

I ignored the latter comment, and instead greeted Steve and enquired about his health and suchlike. Then I explained the purpose of my visit. ‘I want to see this canyon I’ve heard so much about.’

‘And so you shall,’ Steve replied. These are all the new helpers going there today.’

He motioned to those behind him, and they came forward at last, surrounding me and asking all sorts of questions about my life in a house of tin. I was practically mobbed, such was their zeal. The clamour of voices caused several doors to open in the adjacent dwellings, from where numerous onlookers watched the scene with interest. Soon we were joined by Alison, Jane and the rest of them, and Steve suggested we should depart immediately for the canyon.

Never before had I encountered such an eager stream of people. They seemed to flow in from all directions, and as we progressed through this burgeoning city I realized for the first time just how many travellers had crossed the plain to get here. Steve and I were at the head of a column at least a hundred strong, all talking to one another in excited, joyful voices. The exception was Alison. She walked along in comparative silence and only appeared to speak when someone addressed her. I’d learnt since my arrival that her full name was Alison Hopewell, but each time I saw her I was again reminded of Mary Petrie, whom I’d left so far behind. It was hard to believe that we had only parted yesterday. Here, in my place at the forefront of the surging crowd, it felt like an age ago.

Eventually the buildings began to peter out slightly, with empty spaces lying between them. At one such gap Philip Sibling was waiting to show Patrick where he and his friends might like to build their new home. We paused to let the main party move ahead, and then went over to have a look at the suggested site. Philip welcomed me and said he was glad I’d come, and that I would probably find all this most interesting.