The other side of the door, Xavier was also listening intently. He had overheard Kim and Joe's conversation in the hall and, realising his communication signal was audible to others, wondered what the impact of that might be. He had also heard the catch in Joe's breathing as he ascended the stairs and took this to indicate there was pain involved in the action. He was computing whether this was likely to mean a change of heart on the replacement knees situation. Processing the two models of probability on an underpowered system was proving to be a challenge. The sharp knock on the door caught him by surprise and he jerked backwards, knocking over a decorative bottle lamp on a side table as he did so.
‘Are you alright in there?’ said Joe with some concern, hearing the crash.
‘Yes, thank you. I am having a small problem with some sand.’
Joe’s brows came together in a mystified frown. “Sand, you say? Would you like some help?”
‘Yes please.’
Joe walked into the guest bedroom, his feet crunching on what was undeniably sand. What the heck?
‘The cork came out when I bumped into it,’ said Xavier, trying vainly to scoop handfuls off the stuff back into the bottle. ‘I’m afraid it has become rather mixed up but I will endeavour to separate it and restore it to its previous state.’
Joe couldn’t begin to imagine how he would do that. They’d bought the glass lamp base on holiday in the Isle of Wight, intrigued by the landscape made of layers of different coloured sand. For a moment he was tempted to encourage the man, for the fun of watching him try, but then his basic humanity won out and he said ‘Not to worry, we can always get another one, we’ll just vacuum it up. I’ll go and get the hoover.’
‘Hoover? Vacuum?’ Xavier was puzzled.
‘Wait here a moment and I’ll show you.’
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