Christmas at Snowflake Lodge

3. Second Thoughts-2

Kirsten was waiting outside the Coco Lounge, her bag held protectively across her chest, a worried look on her face as her eyes darted around, perhaps expecting someone to jump out and scream ‘Boo!’ at any given moment. Jessica gave her a reassuring wave as she came around the corner, then waved Kirsten back as her government trainee started forward to meet her in the middle of the street.

‘Good morning, Miss Lemond,’ Kirsten said, making Jessica inwardly groan.

‘Hi, Kirsten. You could have gone in and got a table, you know.’

Kirsten looked distraught. ‘I’m sorry, I thought, just, well, you might have wanted to go somewhere else, or perhaps—’

‘No, no, I asked to meet you here because we always meet here on a Wednesday.’

‘I do apologise—’

‘It’s okay. Come on, let’s get inside before we freeze to death.’

‘Do you think I’m appropriately dressed for today’s lesson?’ Kirsten asked, tugging at the jacket she wore, the jacket that she had worn every single time Jessica had seen her since she had agreed to a government subsidized program to take on a trainee.

‘I think you’ll do just fine. It’s only theory again today, I’m afraid.’

They went inside. During the day, the Coco Lounge was a shadow of its thumping evening self. Much preferable in many ways, its quaint Mexican-styled décor could be seen without a throng of drinking people in the way, and the tables were clean and neatly arranged. They took the same table they always did, in the window with a view of the high street outside.

Jessica ordered a latte as she always did, while Kirsten pored over the menu like she always did, before going for an iced lemon tea, as she always did. Then, as she always did, she offered to pay, and Jessica had to remind her—as she always did—that she claimed it on government program expenses, and that Kirsten was welcome to order something more expensive, or even a chocolate brownie, if she wanted, which she never did.

Sometimes, having a trainee was almost as exhausting as living with Doreen.

‘Today we’ll be going over the various ways to unblock an old toilet system built before the nineteen-thirties,’ Jessica said, leaning forward. Kirsten, whom Jessica was certain was more deserving of a vocation in the library or perhaps underground filing system world, peered over the top of her glasses at the file in Jessica’s hands. The secrets of the world it was not, but Kirsten looked as though an Egyptian tomb was about to be opened for the first time.

‘When you work unusual hours like we do, you get a lot of calls from museums and other historical public buildings who don’t want to disrupt the flow of customers. While there are all sorts of government regulations regarding plumbing, many of these places have cut corners or simply not bothered to upgrade their systems. And when a blockage happens … chaos reigns. And that’s where we come in.’

‘Right.’ Kirsten was nodding her head as though listening to a Bond villain explain a master plan. Jessica wondered just how much of her grandfather’s genes she’d taken on when she found herself playing up to Kirsten’s adulation a little.

‘This,’ she said, pulling something out of her bag and holding it up, ‘is a u-bend.’

She waited for Kirsten to say, ‘The Holy Grail,’ but unfortunately her plumbing fantasy wasn’t translating. As a waiter brought their drinks and gave Jessica a funny look, Kirsten just nodded again, and said, ‘I see.’

Not for the first time—more like the hundredth—Jessica was tempted to ask whether Kirsten really wanted to be a plumber. In truth, she had herself fallen into the profession, and her particular take on it, more or less by chance, while sitting in a café browsing through a local college pamphlet one day, while at the adjacent table a pair of well-to-do old ladies were complaining that they could never find someone to come out when their busy schedules required it.

‘Just out of interest,’ she found herself saying as she sipped the froth off the top of her latte, ‘when was it you realised that you wanted a career in the water pipe maintenance field?’

For the first time Kirsten’s face lit up beyond pure concentration. ‘When I read your article in Tradesman,’ she said. ‘And the pictures of you … you looked so … cool.’

Jessica suppressed a grimace. The photography team had done a number on her, performing a glamorous shoot which had little connection to the nuts and bolts of the article. Doreen had laughed about it for days, but one of the reasons Jessica had taken on a trainee was because she had begun receiving dozens of daily calls from older single men with piping issues. After one frightful occasion when she had turned up to find her client still in a dressing gown, she had decided she needed some cavalry. Kirsten, with her bookish look and seeming obliviousness to even the most blatant innuendo, had been a perfect solution.

‘I have a few questions,’ Kirsten said.

‘Sure.’

‘Firstly, would it be a good idea to go for my NVQ in plastering now, or do you think it’s better to hire outside help when renovation work is required in order to build up a network of contacts while also helping the wider tradesman community?’

With Kirsten having read the lengthy handwritten question off a sheet of paper without any kind of tonal stress, Jessica was left momentarily speechless.

‘Um, well, I think you should do what you think is best,’ she said at last.

‘Right.’ Kirsten scribbled down a note. ‘And another question: do you think that in situations of dry wall degradation—’

Jessica held up a hand. ‘Let’s get going,’ she said, downing the rest of her latte, pausing briefly to make sure she didn’t choke, and then quickly standing up. ‘We should get to our first appointment.’

‘Can I continue to ask questions in the van?’

‘Sure,’ Jessica said, hoping the traffic wouldn’t hold them up too long.