Danny Dempsey and the Unlikely Alliance by Denis Byrne Page A

maintain a grave expression as the terrible goings on which had occurred were whispered in his ear.
    It was difficult not to laugh on hearing of how the Greystreaks had secreted a tiny, pre-recorded version of a professional pigeon-cooer beneath their fledgling’s tongue in an attempt to hoodwink the judges. Of course, Madam Noseybeak, herself being on the judging panel, immediately recognised the cooing as being that of one of the foremost Italian exponents of the art, resulting in the Greystreaks being exposed for the fraudsters they were. Madam Noseybeak imparted this information with an air of smug satisfaction, as though she’d single-handedly been responsible for uncovering the most heinous crime in the history of the world.
    And on and on she continued, informing him of how dowdy and obese Pauline Feathers had allowed herself to become after that philandering Plumpbreast Downy had dumped her. And as for him, that - that show-off! It would suit him better to pay more attention to his duties as lookout for birds and beasts of prey than strutting about the tree branches, continually combing his feathers!
    If he didn’t look to his laurels with more responsibility in the future, she’d have him demoted to grain-gathering instead. She’d already had a stern word with him on the matter. And just as Danny was of the opinion he’d heard the last of her twittering, having congratulated himself on keeping a straight face through it all, Madam Noseybeak launched into another supposedly disgraceful event she considered had contributed to causing shock and horror throughout the pigeon community as a whole. It concerned old Mr. Fantail, and was almost too sensitive to talk about. Nevertheless, Madam Noseybeak forced herself to, however much it pained her to do so.
    Mr. Fantail, who was ninety if he was a day, was rumoured to be socialising with cats. Cats !, Madam Noseybeak wailed, as though to emphasise the seriousness of the outrage, especially when she saw it didn’t appear to cause Danny to throw up his arms in dismay and roll around the grass in disbelief. He did, of course, purse his lips solemnly and give a little shake of his head, just for the look of things.
    He certainly didn’t want this influential lady to get the notion that he wasn’t taking what she considered a calamity of the greatest magnitude seriously. He could have mentioned that he thought it was a wonderful gesture on Mr. Fantail’s part, that it was a pity more pigeons didn’t follow his lead before they reached his age, but should Danny do so, Madam Noseybeak might get on her high horse altogether and deny him the assistance he required.
    â€˜He’s been seen four times already in the last couple of months down at the Tomcat’s Whiskers , standing on a barstool as brazen as you like, chatting away to his newfound friends as though it was the furthest thing from their minds to stalk members of his very own community whenever they get the chance! And drinking milk , if you don’t mind! Milk!’
    Danny would have liked to say that he thought that Mr. Fantail’s actions were highly commendable, that it was a pity more communities distrustful of each other didn’t get together and chat to one another on a more regular basis. That was the way to build bridges, restore trust, become familiar with each other’s cultures, even drink milk if that was what it took to find out how the other half enjoyed themselves. But he said none of those things. Now wasn’t the time to lecture someone whom he was about to seek the assistance of, and which he finally managed to do after Madam Noseybeak ran out of breath.
    â€˜Just you leave it to me, Danny,’ she replied importantly, ‘I’ll have found out everything there is to know about them in jig time.’
    And she did. She despatched flocks of pigeons to every expensive apartment block in the country, giving them their instructions before