Every joint was fixed. That was the problem.
Good as Fixed
“Try it now,” said Wilfred.
Arthur tried. His hand remained on the table.
“You haven’t put it back on.”
“I meant the fingers.”
Arthur looked at the detached hand, then at the open end of his sleeve.
“Ah.”
The hand had come off while he was reaching beneath a cupboard. Several fingers had come loose afterwards, during what Wilfred called the inspection.
Now it lay on a folded cloth, surrounded by jars, tools, and one tube of glue. Wilfred bent over it with an expression of such concentration that Arthur felt better simply watching him.
“Much stronger already,” Wilfred said.
He touched a finger. It stayed exactly where he had put it.
While We’re Here
Arthur leaned closer.
“That one’s always been a bit loose.”
“I noticed.”
A clear drop gathered at the end of the tube. Wilfred lowered it carefully and joined another small piece to its neighbour.
From the window came a pale square of light. It caught the fine thread of glue stretching between the nozzle and the hand.
“Lovely work,” Arthur said.
Wilfred sat a little straighter.
“Might as well do the others while we’re here.”
Arthur watched each finger become reassuringly still. There had been an embarrassing occasion when one had fallen into a visitor’s teacup. He had been hoping to avoid a repetition.
“The thumb too?” Wilfred asked.
Arthur considered the thumb.
“Best be thorough.”
They waited while the glue set. Somewhere behind the shelves, water dripped into an old tin. Wilfred wiped the nozzle and inspected the hand from several angles.
“Nothing coming apart there.”
Arthur nodded appreciatively.
The Egg Test
Once the hand was back on his arm, Arthur lifted it into the light.
All five fingers came with it.
He turned his wrist. They remained in a handsome curve, rather like somebody about to make an important announcement.
“Excellent,” he said.
Wilfred looked around for something to pick up. On a shelf above the table stood an egg cup with a white egg in it.
“This will do.”
He placed the egg on the cloth.
Arthur lowered his hand. The middle finger touched the shell, pushing it a little farther away.
He tried from the other side. The egg rolled back.
“Underneath,” Wilfred suggested.
Arthur tilted his hand and slid the fingertips towards it. The thumb would not move out of their way.
The egg slipped between two fingers and travelled gently across the cloth. Wilfred caught it against a fold.
They looked at Arthur’s hand.
“Make it smaller,” Wilfred said.
Arthur tried to close his fingers.
The same important announcement remained pending.
“Oh,” said Wilfred.
Which Part?
Arthur rested his forearm on the table. Beside it, the egg lay quite still.
“It certainly stays together.”
Wilfred nodded. His eyes moved towards the tube.
“Perhaps a little more at the—”
He stopped.
Arthur looked at the tube too.
For a while they listened to the drip behind the shelves.
“Before it came off,” Wilfred asked, “could you pick that up?”
“Yes.”
“And bend these?”
“Yes.”
Wilfred pulled his stool closer. This time, he watched while Arthur tried to move each finger, instead of pressing the pieces to see whether they stayed put.
“We’ll have to look at it again,” he said.
Arthur slid the egg cup across with his other hand. Wilfred put the egg inside it.
“Could you give me a hand?” Arthur asked.
Wilfred reached for the glue, then noticed Arthur’s expression.
He put the tube down.
“Which part?”
Arthur pointed at the egg cup.
“Just move that somewhere else first.”
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