Pigeon problems 1/5

A short stocky man with a worried expression on his face, sat at his office desk in Lower Dene. Up until a month ago he would have told anyone who asked him, that he was running a successful carting business, relying on carrier pigeons previously delivered to his customers to bring him their orders quickly.

Recently though things had started to go wrong. His pigeons were returning home quite safely, but without bringing him any orders. There didn’t seem to be any point in customers releasing pigeons without a request for the goods he supplied, so something very peculiar must be happening. The trouble was he had no idea what it could be.

Sir George heaved a sigh and tried to think of some way he could try and find out. Oh well, two heads were always better then one, so he got up from his chair and looked out into the courtyard where the pigeon loft had been built. He opened the window and leaned out to call for Phil who looked after his flock of birds, but it didn’t surprise him too much when there was no reply. Presumably Phil had finished his normal days work with the pigeons and had gone along the road to his new cottage to do some work in his garden.

George went down stairs and walked to Phil’s cottage. He could see no sign of him in the front garden, but that was no surprise either. He leaned on the front gate and admired the building for a moment, before going in to find his pigeon keeper.

Phil had been the foreman at the Lurbridge timber yard for most of his working life and the squire had sold him the materials for his new cottage at cost price when he retired. George had been only too pleased to help carry the lumber across the river and then deliver it to this site in one of his companies’ carts. Phil and some of his work mates had built the pretty cottage where he now lived.

It was a rather unusual design and George quite often stopped to admire it whenever he passed by. The building was made completely from wood as one would expect from someone who had worked in a timber yard, but the most unusual feature was that it stood about six feet above the ground on substantial stilts driven into the soil. A wide verandah ran all the way round, with a set of steps which ran up from the front path to the level of the front door. The cottage eaves came right over the verandah and formed a roof that covered the walkway, while a railing ran round the edge to stop people from falling off. As Phil often said, it also gave people somewhere where they could lean on their elbows and admire the view.

The space under the building was used to put spare timber, pigeon feed and any other things that didn’t need to be stored out of the cold weather in wintertime. Phil had often explained that it was better than an ordinary basement, because he hadn’t had to dig a big hole for it, nor did water leak in when it rained.

George opened the gate and went round to the back garden, where at last he found Phil digging the ground over to make all ready for the flower garden he’d always wanted.

Phil stopped work and invited George into the kitchen for a mug of tea. They discussed George’s problem over their drinks, but neither of them could come up with an answer.

“Look,” said Phil at last, “there’s a basket of pigeons going out tomorrow, why don’t you take them yourself and have a word with the customer at the same time.”

“I certainly can’t think of anything else to do,” replied George, “at least I can find out if the goods we do deliver are alright.”