Adam nodded. The corners of his mouth pulled down. “Well, that killed my mood.” His tone was subdued.
Paul had to agree. He felt the same way. “How about when I’m cleaned up, we go downstairs and put the TV on?” He’d only recently discovered Audio Description was available on their satellite channels, but as yet they hadn’t taken a look.
“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s choose a DVD, something we’re both familiar with, and watch that.” Adam gave a half smile. “Well, I’ll listen to it. I’m in the mood for something funny and light.”
Paul could do that. “And we can eat some of your birthday cake while we watch,” he suggested. He grinned. “I want the head.”
Adam gave a mock wince. “Just thinking about you slicing into that….” He chuckled. “Get cleaned up.” He exited the bathroom, leaving Paul to undress.
“Yes, sir,” Paul muttered under his breath, smiling.
“And how about a glass of wine to go with the cake?” Adam called out from his bedroom. “It’s still my birthday.”
“Sounds good,” Paul shouted back. He stared at his reflection and laughed. “Bloody hell, I’m a mess.” How the fuck did he get cake in his hair? He chuckled as he filled the basin with warm water.
Getting the cakeoutof his hair was going to be tricky. Paul glared at the shower. Fucking thing. It was only then that it struck him. The timing.
Did Dean have something to do with this?
“Thank you for coming out on a Sunday, Mr. Foster,” Paul said as he closed the front door.
The plumber chuckled. “It’s Jim, nipper. Mr. Foster sounds like you’re talkin’ to me dad. I don’t usually work Sundays but seeing as you’re a good friend of Taylor’s an’ you sounded like you ’ad a real problem ’ere, I thought I’d come take a look.” Jim was in his fifties, his hair grey, face lined and tanned, and judging from his voice, an Islander. He wore dark grey overalls and carried a blue plastic toolbox.
Paul smiled. “Taylor said you were the best.”
“Aww. That lad,” Jim said fondly. “I’ve known ’im since he were a nipper. Never thought he’d end up married to a bloke, though, and a Yank, too!” Another ribald chuckle. “So what seems to be the problem ’ere? Faulty shower, I think you said.”
“That’s right.” Paul led Jim up the stairs to the bathroom. Adam was in the office on his laptop, the door closed. As they went, Paul recounted the issues. “It started as a dripping shower head, not all the time, but every now and then it would let out a load of water. Last night it got more serious.” He related what had happened. “Do you need to turn the water off?”
“No, lad, I just need to find the isolation valves so I can switch off the water to the shower.”
Paul pointed to the tall cupboard next to the bathroom. “Are they in there?”
Jim opened the door and smiled. “That’s the ticket.” He reached toward the rear of the cupboard but pulled back. “’Ave you been in ’ere?” His smile vanished.
“Er, no. Although someone did come over yesterday morning to try and fix the drip. He might have turned the water off here, too.” Paul frowned. “What’s the problem?”
“This someone, is he a plumber?” When Paul shook his head, Jim scowled. “Bloody amateurs. He didn’t switch the cold-water feed back on. No wonder your friend couldn’t get the water to cool down. An’ that’s why the shower stopped. When he pushed it all the way over to cold, weren’t nothing in there so it shutitself off.” He stretched out his arm and slid a lever from horizontal to vertical. Jim hunkered down and peered at a dial. “Bloody ’ell. You like your showers warm, don’tcha?”
“What do you mean?” Paul knelt beside him to see where Jim was looking.
The plumber pointed to a dial with numbers over it. “This sets the maximum temperature for the hot water. It’s set at seventy degrees. Should be more like fifty, fifty-five, max.” He twisted the dial until it was at the correct setting. “Okay, the water’s off. Let’s take a look at that shower.”
Paul watched from the doorway as Jim dismantled the shower lever, unscrewing it and peering into it. He beamed. “’Ere’s your problem, nipper. You need a new cartridge.” He held up the small cylindrical blue and white plastic part. “See, bits o’ grit come in with the water supply an’ they chip the ceramic discs inside the valve.” He reassembled the shower. “Right. I’ll ’ave to order the part, an’ that might take a few days, but you can still use the shower, okay?”
“Thank you, that’s great.”
Jim smiled. “I’ll give you a call when it’s in, and then I’ll come back an’ install it.” He set down his toolbox and returned to the cylinder cupboard. “An’ now I’ll turn the water back on.” He grinned.
Paul chuckled. “Thank you. How much do we owe you?”
Jim closed the cylinder cupboard door. “Call it fifty quid. You don’t have to pay me now, you can do that when I’ve fitted the part, ’cause I’ll ’ave to add on the cost of that, plus the labour for fitting it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “An’ seein’ as I ’ave no idea ’ow much these go for, I can’t tell you ’ow much the total will be. I ’aven’t fitted one in a while.”
“That’s fine.” Paul would ensure there was enough cash in the house to cover any eventuality. He led the way down the staircase.
“Glad I could ’elp.” Jim gave him another warm smile. “Say hi to Taylor for me when you see ’im next. Tell ’im to make sure he’s behavin’ hisself.”
Paul laughed. “I will.” He showed Jim to the door and waved him off in his little van. He walked over to the office and pushed open the door. Adam was sitting in the big chair behind the desk, speaking into a microphone.
