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

sound of feet tramping about overhead.
    ‘Great,’ I said. They’re on the roof now.’
    This was just the sort of behaviour I’d been hoping they would avoid, at least on their first official visit. I’d have thought it was obvious from the previous week that they had to be careful what they did, yet here they were clambering around above us within half an hour of arriving! I suppose it was the consequence of living alone for so many years. Steve and Philip were both free to do more or less what they wanted in their own homes, and had no concept of the sort of domestic life that I was slowly getting used to. If they carried on like this much longer they were likely to make themselves less than welcome.
    ‘That’s what I’ve noticed about your friends,’ said Mary Petrie. ‘For some reason they all like going up on our roof.’
    This was the first time I’d heard her refer to the roof as ‘ours’.
    ‘Well, I hope they don’t leave any dents up there,’ I remarked. ‘It’s not for walking about on.’
    We went outside and saw our two guests perched high up and not looking particularly safe.
    ‘What are you doing up there?’ I asked, in the friendliest tone I could muster.
    ‘Just reconnoitring really,’ replied Steve. ‘There’s a good few fixing places: we’re trying to find the best one.’
    ‘Be careful, won’t you!’ called Mary Petrie.
    I had to admit she was going out of her way to be agreeable towards them. She appeared genuinely concerned as the two intrepids helped each other down over the eaves, found footholds on the shutters, then finally dropped to the ground.
    ‘We’ll need a ladder to do the job properly,’ said Philip. ‘Have you got one?’
    ‘No,’ I replied. ”Fraid not.’
    ‘You’ll have been up on the roof before though, surely?’
    ‘Actually, no I haven’t.’
    ‘Never been on the roof?’ He looked quite surprised.
    ‘No.’
    ‘So you didn’t know you could see Simon Painter’s house from up there?’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ I said. ‘I knew that: he told me.’
    ‘You can hear his bell jangling sometimes too,’ added Mary Petrie.
    ‘Pity no one heard his cries for help,’ said Steve. ‘You know he was blocked in by the sand for five days?’
    ‘Was he?’
    ‘Yes, if we hadn’t rescued him he’d still be there now.’
    ‘Blimey, I didn’t know that.’
    ‘Poor Simon!’ said Mary Petrie. ‘As if he hasn’t got enough worries.’
    I looked at her and wondered what these other worries were supposed to be. As far as I was concerned it wasn’t ‘Poor Simon!’ but ‘I told you so!’
    I’d said all along that his door opened the wrong way and he was going to get blocked in if he wasn’t careful, but no one would listen. I was even barred from discussing the subject in my own house! Now, however, everyone was standing round sympathizing with Simon as though his fate-was completely out of his hands.
    7
    We were still talking about Simon Painter that afternoon when we sat down at the table for tea. It transpired in the conversation that he’d decided to call his house ‘Sandfire’, and now had a nameplate fixed to the outer wall.
    ‘What does he want to name his house for?’ I asked.
    ‘No particular reason as far as I know,’ replied Steve. ‘I think he just likes the sound of it.’
    ‘You’ve got to admit it’s a nice name,’ said Mary Petrie.
    ‘Yes, it is,’ I agreed. ‘But I still can’t see the point of giving a house a name.’
    ‘I think it’s all due to Michael Hawkins,’ remarked Philip.
    ‘What’s he got to do with it?’
    ‘Well, apparently Simon’s been out there several times now, and feels very strongly influenced by Michael.’
    Straightaway I felt my hackles rising.
    ‘What do you mean out there?’ I demanded.
    ‘Well,’ said Philip with a shrug. ‘Michael lives further out than the rest of us, doesn’t he?’
    ‘No, he doesn’t!’ I said. ‘We all live a long way out, compared with most people!’
    I was