‘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 the other evening. It struck me that this part of the world was becoming quite crowded for the time of year, and I pondered what was bringing them all in our direction.
‘I think we’ll have these shutters open,’ said Mary Petrie a little later. ‘Let some light in for a change.’
This was intended as an instruction to me, of course, and I had to spend an hour or two going round the outside of the house trying to get them all unfastened. In truth, I’d been hoping to avoid the question of the shutters because I knew some of them to be badly jammed. During previous years I’d found it much more convenient simply to prop the door open in mild conditions, and leave the shutters as they were. Mary Petrie had other ideas. Things had to be done correctly, in her opinion, which meant the shutters should be open and the door closed.
When I’d finally completed the task of unjamming catches and getting hinges oiled, it was quite late in the afternoon. For a while I considered not going to Simon Painter’s to collect the basket until next morning, but in the end I decided a stroll would be a good idea. There was a gentle breeze blowing throughout the house, not a speck of sand anywhere, and Mary Petrie was busy arranging her vases of dried grass. With a general feeling of well-being I set off on my short journey.
In former times, when I approached Simon Painter’s place the first thing I would see would be his captive balloon, followed soon afterwards by the flagpole, the chimney and then the upper part of his roof. These I would register in a casual way as I drew nearer. More recently I had become accustomed to finding a depleted pile of tin waiting for me. Today I expected to see only a basket containing an empty flask. I was surprised, therefore, when I suddenly noticed that there were three people standing where the house used to be.
For a moment I hesitated in my step, thinking it was Simon, Steve and Philip. They were still a good distance away, but I could tell from their movements that they’d already seen me coming. For this reason I felt I had no choice but to continue towards them. It was only then that I saw it was three women. They were all looking at me as I walked up, so I adopted a proprietorial air and headed directly for the basket, which had been placed on the ground nearby.
‘Do you want something?’ one of them asked, as I picked it up.
‘I’ve just come to collect this,’ I replied. ‘I brought it here earlier for some friends of mine.’
‘But now you’re taking it away.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s empty. Well, it’s not actually empty, but it’s got an empty flask inside.’
‘Where are these friends then?’
‘They were moving the house that used to be here. They’ve gone now.’
It seemed wrong having to explain myself to these three women. After all, they were the strangers, not me. The one who was asking all the questions seemed especially hostile, so I was relieved when another one spoke in a friendlier tone.
‘Oh well,’ she said. ‘I expect you’ve got as much right to be here as we have.’
Thanks,’ I heard myself say. The three of them seemed to relax slightly, so I carried on the conversation by pointing to the rectangular mark on the ground. ‘The house was right here. It was built entirely from tin.’
‘So why has the owner moved?’ asked the third woman.
‘He fancied a change, that’s all.’
They glanced at each other, and the second one even managed a smile.
‘Good place to live, is it?’ she enquired.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Great.’
‘Cos we’re looking for somewhere.’
‘Oh, right. Well, you won’t find anywhere better than this.’
I then explained in length about how the house had faced west-south-west, which is where the prevailing wind came from, and how I lived about three miles away in one direction, while there were also a couple of other people living further towards the west. Meanwhile they all stood around, gazing at the rectangle, the sky and the horizon. Occasionally they even gazed at me.
When I’d finished speaking, the first one said, ‘Where does that go?’
She was pointing at something that had come into existence over the past few weeks, namely, the beginnings of a trail. It followed the route taken each day by Simon, Steve and Philip, and consisted of no more than a collection of footprints. Even so, it appeared to lead to some far-off destination, and I could understand the interest it must have aroused in the three women.
‘It doesn’t go anywhere really,’ I said. ‘It’s all just wilderness from here.’
‘Wilderness?’
‘Yes, you know. More of the same.’
In that instant a look passed between them that I wasn’t supposed to recognize. It was one of pity, and I knew that for some reason they all felt sorry for me. Awkwardly, I opened the basket as if to check the contents. Then I closed it again. Meanwhile, the three women seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement. Lying on the ground were several bags, which they now began to gather up.
‘We’ll probably have a look along there,’ said the second one, nodding towards the trail. ‘Seems quite promising.’
She started walking and the others closed in behind.
‘Bye,’ I said.
‘Bye,’ they all replied.
I watched as they went, and wondered what it was they expected to find. Then I picked up the basket, took a last look at the rectangular mark, and started for home. When I got back Mary Petrie was engaged with closing all the shutters for the night. Some of these had been quite difficult to open, and I was impressed with how she was coping on her own. There was only one left to do, so I reached up and held it while she released the catch. Next thing it was securely fastened down.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘It’s a big improvement having shutters that work.’
‘Good,’ I replied. ‘By the way, I saw those three women you told me about. They were looking at Simon Painter’s old place.’