Read Online Three to See the King by Magnus Mills - Free Book Online Page A

new had been left behind. There was nothing I was expecting in particular, I should add, but I thought I might find an occasional message saying how they were getting on, or maybe a ‘thank you’ note. Instead, there was only the empty basket. It soon became clear that my daily offerings were of little importance compared with the task of moving an entire house bit by bit. This did little, however, to reduce my interest, which was now starting to become obsessive. I began to recognize the ways in which the pieces of tin had been marked for reassembly, and I kept a note of them for my own reference. I’d soon worked out, for example, that FRS was an abbreviation of front right side, while LHT meant left hand top. The more I became acquainted with this special code Steve Treacle had devised, the more I suspected that it was doomed to failure. My doubts were confirmed when I came across a part marked TLH. What was the difference, I wondered, between top left hand and left hand top?
    After two weeks the pile had decreased considerably in size. Still the coffee and cakes were consumed daily, and still I received no acknowledgement. Undeterred, I maintained my regular visits. This soon caused trouble at home. Mary Petrie mentioned frequently that I seemed to be spending a lot of time away, so one afternoon I invited her to come with me on my journey. Then she could find out for herself what was so fascinating about a heap of tin, as she put it. We arrived quite late because of the speed she walked, then all she did was stand gazing in silence at the deserted site. This was actually her first visit to Simon Painter’s house, and I could see that its reduced condition meant nothing to her. Therefore, I thought I’d better explain the layout.
    ‘Simon used to live right on this very spot,’ I said. ‘The door was here and the kitchen was there, and the stove was in that corner. Don’t you find that interesting?’
    ‘Not if he’s left the place, no,’ she replied. ‘Where’s his bell?’
    A short search revealed it hidden amongst his other possessions, along with the Sandfire nameplate, the wind chimes and the rolled-up flag. I gave the bell a ring, and when she heard its familiar tone her eyes welled up with tears.
    ‘How come you’re so engrossed with Simon all of a sudden?’ she demanded. ‘When he was living here all you did was criticize him!’
    ‘Yes, but only as a friend,’ I replied.
    ‘You were never friendly to him!’
    ‘I was.’
    ‘No you weren’t!’ she cried. ‘And now he’s gone and you deserve it!’
    Next moment she had turned away and was stalking homeward. I wanted to go after her and find out what fault I was supposed to be guilty of now, but there were one or two things I needed to do first. Quickly I counted the pieces of tin to see what still remained, then I checked the rope was secure, grabbed the basket and set off in pursuit.
    It was remarkable how far she’d got in that short time. I judged she’d covered a couple of hundred yards already, which was some distance considering her earlier complaint that she couldn’t walk any faster! She marched along with such a determined stride that anyone would have thought she was trying to put as much space between us as possible.
    For my part I had no intention of exerting myself just to catch up, so I strolled along at a normal pace, knowing that I was bound to overhaul her eventually. This actually took longer than I’d estimated, and it wasn’t until we were nearly home that I got close enough to speak.
    ‘I deserve what, exactly?’ I asked.
    ‘You deserve to be left on your own!’ replied Mary Petrie.
    ‘What, just because I criticized Simon Painter once or twice?’
    ‘Don’t drag Simon into it!’ she snapped. ‘At least he cares about other people! All you care about is yourself and your silly little house of tin!’
    She was still making no effort to slow down, but pressed on with her eyes looking straight ahead. The