Chapter 8

8 The Fattening Room 'You need to help me unlock the cages,' Fienne said. 'Will you accept this mission, Skipper?' I stood tall and puffed out my chest feathers. I realised I could help. I'd seen the keys to the birdcages near the cookbooks. 'I think I know where the keys are.' Fienne grabbed me. 'Where?' I looked around the room at the terrified pigeons. 'I will rescue you, Pigeon's Promise,' I called up to the crowd of imprisoned birds. 'But I need to help my friend first.'

I turned back to Fienne. 'If you help me save Dave, I'll get you the keys.' Fienne nodded. 'Let's go.' Swan listened out for Reginald Grimster, who was now in the garden, talking to someone again on his phone. She waved her wing, giving us the signal to leave. Me and Fienne swooped down the stairs, straight to the fattening room. 'So you're back?' Dave said, smirking as he spotted me. 'Dave, this is important,' I said. 'You are in serious danger. Reginald Grimster plans to turn you into pigeon nuggets, and he's going to eat you!' 'WHAT?!' 'It's true, Dave. You have to believe me.'

'Why would a Human want to eat a pigeon?' asked Dave, raising his eyes to the ceiling. 'This is the most catbrained thing you've ever said.' 'I found a room full of trapped pigeons!' I shrieked, shaking my disbelieving friend by the shoulders. 'Where's this room? Where are all these pigeons?' Dave scoffed. 'Show me proof.' Fienne stepped out from behind me. Who is that?' Dave said, shielding as much birdseed from Fienne as he could. 'He's Fienne,' I said.

'I don't care how he is,' Dave said. 'Who is he?' 'Fienne,' I cried. 'He's Fienne!' 'Yes. But who is he?' 'For Pigeon's sake,' Fienne interrupted. 'My name is Fienne. It's spelled F-I-E-N- N-E.' 'Ah,' Dave said. 'Why didn't you just say that?' 'None of that matters,' I cried, flapping my wings in Dave's face. 'You need to listen to him.' What Skipper said was correct,' said Fienne. 'Reginald Grimster is evil.' 'Don't be ridiculous,' Dave said. 'Just now he came through and complimented me on my plump bottom.'

'I found a chicken nugget recipe,' I hissed, waving the paper at Dave. 'Thank Pigeon,' Dave said, laughing. 'It's a chicken nugget recipe, Skipper. Not pigeon nugget. You can't make chicken nuggets from a pigeon.' 'He can!' 'Chicken nuggets have to be made from chickens. Not pigeons.' Dave shook his head. 'Otherwise they don't have that succulent chickeny flavour.' 'But didn't you say in the last book that pigeons taste like chicken?' 'Did I?' 'You did.' Dave stopped. His eyes widened. 'There's only one thing we can do then.'

'Exactly,' I screeched. 'We need to get out of here-' 'And find a bookshop, get the book, come straight back here before we miss the late- afternoon feeding, and then read exactly what I said about pigeons tasting like chicken.' 'Dave! We don't have time for that.' 'How sure was I about us tasting like chicken?' he said, the feathers above his eyes furrowing. 'Very sure.' Dave looked from me to Fienne and back to me again. The deep grey of his face started to pale.