He repeated this three times until the water in the inspection chamber stayed clear. Tom waited an hour. The water level dropped by half. Then two hours—empty.

But the soakaway itself was still full. The water level didn’t drop. “Most soakaways have a second access,” Mabel said, pointing to a faint square outline in the lawn.

Water blasted into the pipe, then backed up. He let it fill, then released the cone. Whoosh. The surge pushed loose silt deeper into the soakaway, where it would settle at the bottom (not block the top).

Tom sighed. He called a drainage company. They quoted £800. Tom choked on his tea.

He cheered. Mabel clapped from the fence.

He replaced the concrete lid, buried the inspection cover, and reattached the downpipe grate. That night, rain hammered down. Tom watched from the window. The puddle didn’t form. The water vanished into the earth.