For three weeks, she ignored it. Then the kitchen sink started bubbling back coffee grounds. The final straw was when her daughter’s rubber duck floated up through the basement floor drain.
“Classic Abingdon,” Pete said, showing Clara the monitor. “Those old Victorian oaks are beautiful until they try to drink your plumbing.” drain services abingdon
“Rubber duck?” Shiv asked, holding up the now-clean toy. For three weeks, she ignored it
“That’s it,” Clara muttered, grabbing her phone. She typed four words into the search bar: drain services abingdon . “Classic Abingdon,” Pete said, showing Clara the monitor
He arrived in a van that smelled of coffee and honest work. His partner, a quiet woman named Shiv, uncoiled a camera snake like she was handling a prized fishing rod. Within ten minutes, they’d found the culprit: a collapsed clay pipe from 1962, slowly choked by tree roots and decades of congealed cooking fat.
Pete tucked the duck onto his dashboard next to a bobblehead. As they pulled away, Clara waved from the porch. The house felt lighter. The secret was gone.
The first result was a family-run company called Thamesway Drains. Their tagline read: We’ve seen worse. Probably this morning. She called at 7:15 AM. A man named Pete answered on the second ring, sounding like he’d already been up for two hours.