Pigeon problems 2/5

The next day George checked that there were no more parcels to be delivered to the customer who needed the pigeons, so he set off early in the morning riding his personal charger.

“Time you had a bit of exercise!”

The horse didn’t say anything, he just grunted. To be honest George was quite right, nowadays he wasn’t getting nearly enough exercise and he was beginning to get fat. Still, he was quite happy to trot along the forest paths and it wasn’t too long before he began feeling better.

George just felt pleased to be able to get out of the office for a while and they soon started singing songs together as they rode along. Of course the horse wasn’t really singing, but at least he neighed in time to the music, while his rider sang the words he could remember and la la’d the rest.

They arrived at the village at lunchtime, so George rode straight along to his customer’s shop and telling the horse that he’d be as quick as he could, went inside. He didn’t get the sort of greeting he was expecting at all.

“I’m surprised you’ve got the cheek to turn up here,” said the owner. The rubbish you sent me in the last load is still outside at the back. I hope you’ve brought a cart with you so’s you can take it all back again.”

George looked puzzled. “We haven’t sent you anything for weeks,” he said, “none of our pigeons have come back with any orders from you.”

The shopkeeper just beckoned and led the way out through the shop into the back yard. A small stack of very poor quality timber and some cloth with mildew on it was lying under a lean-to shelter.

“There you are and absolute rubbish it is too. Not only that, but your prices have gone through the roof as well. Every one else in the village is getting the same poor quality goods from your lot and you needn’t expect any more orders from here in the future.”

George tried to explain. “We can’t have sent you any of this rubbish, our quality is the best that’s available and as I said earlier, you haven’t even sent us an order for weeks.”

The shopkeeper wasn’t listening. “Now look here mate, I particularly remember giving your driver the money. The stuff looked all right when it was on the cart, but the best planks and bales of cloth were on top of the load with this rubbish hidden underneath. It’s the oldest trick in the book and I’ve always thought better of you!”

“Can you describe the driver?” asked George.

“Yes, tall thin young bloke with a wispy beard, not too polite about it either, refused to come inside for a drink. Knowing what I know now I don’t blame him, I’d have skinned the young devil if I’d seen what he was delivering at the time!”

“Well it certainly wasn’t one of our drivers,” said George, “we’re all rather more elderly. Most of our chaps used to be knights, none of them is very tall and there isn’t a wisp of a beard between the lot of us.”

“Well the stuff came after we’d sent off one of your pigeons, so it must have come from you.”

The shopkeeper wasn’t looking quite so sure of himself any more, but he was still annoyed that he’d wasted his money.

“I’m going to have to look into this very carefully,” said George, “I’ve brought your next basket of pigeons. If you don’t mind we’ll send off an order right this minute for something simple, let’s say a copper kettle. I’ll pay for it now so that you won’t be out of pocket if anything goes wrong and I’ll follow the order through at our end to make sure everything is working as it should.”

George wrote out the order himself, then reached into the pigeon basket, took out a pigeon and fixed the message carefully to its leg. Followed by his customer he took it outside and released it.

They both watched as the bird circled the village a few times as it rose up in the air, before setting off in the opposite direction to Lower Dene. The two men looked at each other.

“He’s going the wrong way,” they both said at the same time.

George thought for a moment. “If you wouldn’t mind helping out here,” he said, “would you write out orders for single copper kettles every two hours and send them off. Apologise on one of the messages; say something about how customers keep coming in to order more. I’ll give you the money now for half a dozen, just in case you can’t sell them on.”

“And no doubt the trusty steed will gallop after the pigeons to see where they’re going, eventually finding the wicked supplier and collapsing with his last gasp,” said the horse, in the most sarcastic tone he could manage.

George laughed at the horse’s long speech and rode off in the direction the pigeon had taken.

“Don’t see what there is to laugh at,” grumbled the shopkeeper, “still at least it’s not costing me money now whatever he does.”