Free Three to See the King by Magnus Mills

for my final trip to Simon Painter’s. Several more days had gone by, and the pile of tin had continued steadily to diminish. In the end there were just three items left.
    Before I set off with the provisions, Mary Petrie said, ‘Are you going to try to see them today?’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ I replied. ‘What would we talk about?’
    ‘Well, they’re your friends,’ she said. ‘Surely you can think of something.’
    ‘Not at the moment, I can’t, no.’
    ‘So you’re going to leave it, are you?’
    ‘Probably.’
    ‘Suit yourself then, but I tell you, you’ll regret it.’
    Several times recently she’d urged me to time my visits so that I’d be there when they arrived, but unfortunately I still remained unable to face them. In fact, the longer I left it the more difficult it seemed to become. Today, as Mary Petrie was trying to point out, was my last chance to confirm our friendship. After that we were likely to drift even further apart.
    Arriving at Simon’s, I looked at what was left of his house. Besides the three pieces of tin, the only reminder that it had ever existed was a faint rectangle marked in the sand. His flagpole, the bell and the rest of his personal possessions had been removed on intervening days, and now there was almost nothing. With some misgivings I placed the basket in a safe position, and went home.
    When I got back Mary Petrie was still out on her daily walk, so I poured some coffee and went to wait on the doorstep. The wind had continued to lessen during the past week, and there was now little danger of sand coming into the house. As a matter of fact, the weather had taken a general turn for the better. I was almost prepared to say that spring had come at last!
    After a while I saw Mary Petrie in the distance. She’d been following her normal circuit of the house, keeping it only just in sight, and now she was on her way back. As a gesture of goodwill I went inside and put some fresh coffee on the stove. When she arrived a few minutes later, it was almost ready.
    ‘I saw some people earlier,’ she said. Three women, I think, but they were quite a long way off.’
    Quickly I moved to the door and looked out.
    ‘Where are they now?’ I asked.
    ‘Oh, they’ll have gone,’ she replied. ‘That was about an hour ago.’
    ‘Which direction were they going?’
    ‘It’s hard to say really. They looked as if they were just sort of roaming around.’
    ‘Well, which way roughly?’
    ‘I don’t know!’ she snapped. ‘Over there somewhere!’
    She waved her arm towards the doorway, which meant anywhere generally to the west.
    ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Right.’
    I didn’t bother to enquire further, because Mary Petrie quite often lost patience if I asked too many questions. A similar thing had happened some months before when she’d come home and told me about an unusual cloud formation she’d noticed. Apparently it resembled a bird, but when I asked if she meant a bird in flight, or just perching, she’d flared up and announced that it didn’t matter what sort of bird it was! Furthermore, she said she wouldn’t bother to tell me next time she saw anything of interest.
    Today’s sighting was the same. As far as she was concerned she’d seen some women, they’d gone, and that was that. The subject was closed.
    Nevertheless, I was curious about who they could be. It wasn’t unusual for people to turn up on the plain from time to time, even in a location as far out as ours. This was mainly much later in the season, though, when the weather had got warm enough to call summer. Such newcomers often pictured themselves as pioneers, or even explorers, just because they happened to be camping in the wilds for a few weeks. Yet as soon as the cold wind returned they’d disappear and wouldn’t be seen again.
    The three women spotted by Mary Petrie, on the other hand, had arrived within days of winter coming to an end. The same applied for the wandering individual I’d observed