Magnus Mills - Three to See the King

‘Well, I think Michael deserves some space to himself,’ remarked one of the other women. ‘After all he’s done for us.’

‘And what’s that exactly?’

The abruptness of Jane’s question caused those nearby to stop work and look round. It had clearly caught the woman unprepared, for she hesitated a moment without making any reply. This lapse provided Jane with a further opening.

‘I’ll tell you what he’s done,’ she said. ‘He’s played a trick on us.’

‘Oh Jane!’ exclaimed Sarah, ‘How can you say that when he’s building a great new city, entirely from clay?’

‘Cos I want to live in a house of tin!’ cried Jane at the top of her voice. ‘That’s why I came here in the first place!’

‘So did we all,’ said Sarah, ‘But now Michael’s asked us to take a further step.’

This caused Jane to laugh aloud. ‘And then what after that? Eh? What will the next step be then? Another promise? Something else to keep us working like slaves? If you want my opinion he’s led us all a merry dance and we’ve fallen for it! At this rate we’ll be stuck here waiting forever!’

Sarah gazed at her dumbfounded, and next moment Jane had gone stalking off towards the footpath. The whole party watched in silence as she made her way across the canyon towards the ladders, and then began climbing upwards.

‘Are you alright?’ someone asked Sarah, who looked a little shaken.

‘Just about,’ she replied, staring at Jane’s diminishing figure. ‘I don’t know what’s come over her lately.’

‘Well, she has got a point hasn’t she?’

This last comment came from a man I’d met once before, at Simon Painter’s house. On that occasion he’d directed us all to listen to the wind under the eaves, as though it was some great and original discovery he’d just made. For this reason I didn’t much care for him. Now, it seemed, he was taking Jane’s side of the 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 tarpaulins.’

This wasn’t entirely true, of course, as my preferred dwelling would always be one of tin. The real problem was that I felt unable to tackle the climb again without Michael being present, and he hadn’t left the canyon for some time now. As a result, neither had I. Every time the others trooped home for a break I’d made some excuse about staying behind to help out, and they’d believed me because of my well-known independent ways. A little later the next batch would arrive, noisily enthusiastic as they came down the ramps and ladders, and I would be amongst the first to greet them.

As it turned out, there was only a trickle of people this evening. The few who descended and headed for the encampment were nowhere near enough to replace those who’d just left, and vaguely I wondered what had happened to the rest.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘It’s time to have something to eat.’

I was aware that the camp would not be Mary Petrie’s kind of place at all, so rather than head there directly I took her on a brief tour first. We followed a meandering route along the various planks and footpaths as I showed her the excavations where I’d been involved, and then we called on Steve and Philip. They were carrying out some maintenance on one of the hoists. The moment Steve saw Mary Petrie he stopped work and started giving her a full technical explanation of how it operated. I could tell she wasn’t at all interested in the subject, and thought she showed remarkable forbearance in listening politely until he’d finished. After asking one or two questions in the manner of a visiting dignitary, she then began slowly to move away, leaving Steve stranded in mid-sentence as he rambled on about ropes and pulleys.