“That wiped the grin off, didn’t it, laddie,” said Mrs. Bird, chivvying him out of the room. “School ahoy, chop, chop!”
She handed Henry his briefcase.
“May the sea be calm,” she said.
“I’m not going by sea, Mrs. Bird,” said Mr. Brown tartly. “I’ll be catching the tube to the office at 8:25, just as I do every weekday.”
“Boring,” said Jonathan. “Can Paddington come to school with me?”
Judy threw her hands in the air.
“Do not tell your friends we’ve got a bear! They already think we’re weird.”
Jonathan forced her to smell his P.E. bag.
“Stop it and no,” said Henry. “Your mother’s taking Paddington to the, er . . . special place we discussed. You do know where you going, don’t you, Mary?”
“I do, yes,” she said, shutting the door behind them.
As Paddington stepped out into the street with the rest of the family, Mr. Curry was leaning out of his window with nail scissors, pretending to trim his chives.
“Heck of racket coming from your way last night, Brown,” he said.
Henry gritted his teeth.
“Hello, Mr. Curry. Sorry if we disturbed you.”
Mr. Curry glared at the bear on the pavement and pointed his scissors at him. “Don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”
“This is Paddington,” said Mrs. Brown.
Paddington raised his hat.
“Good morning!”
“He’s a bear,” added Jonathan.
“I can see that,” sneered Mr. Curry. “You must be a long way from home, Bear.”
“Darkest Peru,” said Paddington.
Mr. Curry looked as if he had a nasty smell under his nose.
“Don’t worry, he’s not stopping,” said Mr. Brown.
“Good. I don’t want to be kept up by any of your loud jungle music,” said Mr. Curry, slamming his window shut.
“Take no notice, Paddington,” said Mrs. Brown. “His bark’s worse than his bite.”
“He bites?”
Paddington made a note to keep well out of Mr. Curry’s way.
As the Browns arrived at Westbourne Oak Underground Station, a terrier on a lead got a strong whiff of Bear and started yapping.
“Watch out, Paddington,” said Henry. “There are thieves and murderers on every platform. Follow us and do exactly as you’re told.”
“Righto, Mr. Brown,” said Paddington, anxious to keep out of trouble after last night’s waterworks. He watched as the Browns fed their tickets into a slot in the barrier. However, being on the short side, he didn’t see them take it out again from the slot on top. He posted his own ticket and was about to walk through when the gates clapped shut and sent him flying backward. A stern-looking ticket inspector opened the barrier and handed him back his ticket.
“Thank you, Officer,” said Paddington.
He was so busy raising his hat that by the time he reached the barrier, it had snapped shut again, trapping him by his nose.
“Erb . . . ? Excuse be, Obbicer?” he called.
It wasn’t until the Browns reached the bottom of the escalator that they realized he was missing.
“Where’s Paddington?” groaned Henry.
“He can’t have gone far,” said Mrs. Brown.
“Shame,” muttered Judy.
As the family spread out to look for him, Paddington hovered at the top of the escalator. He was about to step on when he read the sign: Dogs must be carried.
Anxious not to break the rules, he crawled back under the ticket barrier to the station entrance and returned moments later with the yappy dog in his arms. Happy that he’d obeyed the instructions to the letter, he rode down the escalator just as Mr. Brown was coming up to find him. Henry saw the top of his hat over the handrail and called out.
“Paddington! Over here!”
“Coming, Mr. Brown!” said Paddington. He began running up the down escalator and crashed into a businessman who was coming the other way. The dog flew out of his arms, and Paddington rolled to the bottom of the escalator. He looked up to find Henry standing over him, holding the dog.
“You should keep that bear on a lead!” said the owner angrily, taking his dog back.
“He’s not my bear,” insisted Henry.
“I’m my own bear,” said Paddington.
Henry handed Mary a laminated sheet. “I’ve printed you off directions to the authorities,” he said.
“Thank you, Henry,” replied Mary. “I know exactly where I’m going. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it Paddington? Let’s walk, shall we?”
“Bye, Paddington,” said Jonathan. “I hope the authorities don’t do bears and you come home.”
“Don’t worry,” said Paddington cheerfully. “Mrs. Brown has a plan.”
Paddington hadn’t known what to expect of an antiques shop, but he wasn’t disappointed. The window was full of fascinating objects, from stuffed crocodiles to clothes mangles. Mary pushed the door open.
“Hello, Mr. Gruber. Here we are!”
A twinkly-eyed old man looked up from the dusty book he was consulting and greeted them with open arms.
“Mrs. Brown! And you must be the young gentleman whose hat sounds so fascinating. Come in. You’re just in time for elevenses.”
A clock struck and to Paddington’s surprise, a hatch opened in its side and a model steam train emerged with a loud whistle. As it did a circuit round the shop, Mr. Gruber patted his horsehair sofa and invited them to sit down. The engine came to a halt beside them, and Mr. Gruber reached over and turned a tap on its tank, filling three cups with steaming cocoa.
“Every morning this train arrives at eleven,” he said, “bringing salvation, just like the one I took many years ago . . .”
He opened the goods van, took out three sticky buns, and handed them round. Paddington put a whole one in his mouth.
“Good for you, Mr. Brown,” chuckled the old man. “As I was saying, there was once much trouble in my country of Hungary, so my parents sent me by train all the way across Europe when I was not much older than you are now.”
“Was it hard to find a home?” asked Paddington.
Mr. Gruber pressed his fingers together.
“My great aunt took me in. But I soon learned a home is more than the roof over your head. My body traveled fast, but my heart? She took longer to arrive.”
The bell over the shop door tinkled. A man in a suit entered and, deliberately bumping into a man in a turban who was examining a Victorian bedpan, pickpocketed his wallet. Nobody saw anything.
“May I take a look at your hat, Mr. Brown?” said Mr. Gruber.
“My hat? Oh yes. Thank you,” said Paddington.
Mr. Gruber turned it over in his hands and a sandwich fell out.
“The lining is a most unusual color,” he murmured. “Hard to say how much is original and how much is marmalade.”
“My uncle always kept a sandwich in his hat for emergencies,” explained Paddington.
“You are pulling my legs off! How splendid,” chortled Mr. Gruber, holding his magnifying glass over the hat. “Ooh, I detect the faintest trace of the maker’s mark.”
The man in the turban left, not realizing he was missing his wallet. The man in the suit noticed Paddington looking at him, and assumed the little bear had seen everything. Losing his nerve, the thief dropped the wallet and made a brisk exit. Paddington leaped off the sofa.
“Oh. Where are you going?” asked Mary.
“Gentleman dropped his wallet!” called Paddington, sprinting after the thief.
Convinced that he’d been caught in the act, the pickpocket ran round the corner, dodging pedestrians in the busy marketplace.
“Excuse me, sir . . .” called Paddington breathlessly. “Just trying to return your lost property!”
Up ahead, a little boy standing with his mum dropped his skateboard. It rolled into Paddington’s path and, before he knew it, Paddington had accidentally
stood on it and shot straight into a stall of novelty costumes. He sailed out the other side wearing a police helmet and blowing a whistle. The thief jumped into his car and screeched off.
A double decker bus pulled up alongside Paddington. He reached for the pole on the hop-on platform to follow the car, but missed and instead grabbed the handle of a retractable lead which just happened to belong to the same dog he’d taken down the escalator.
“Not you again!” yelled the owner. “What do you think you’re playing at?”
He started attacking Paddington with an umbrella. “Leave my dog alone!”
Trying to avoid the blows, Paddington grabbed hold of the umbrella. Just then, the bus went over a speed bump and the lead suddenly shot out. With Paddington clinging to its end for dear life, it dragged the little bear past a parked police car like a water skier. Seeing his blue helmet, the officers in the car mistook him for one of their own and went into action.
“Tango Charlie. Officer in distress. Requesting assistance. Go! Go! Go!”
Skiing alongside the bus, Paddington saw a truck hurtling toward him on the other side of the road. Acting fast, he pressed the umbrella button. It whooshed open and he was lifted high into the air. The thief, driving below, caught sight of him in his rearview mirror and his jaw dropped. He was so busy watching Paddington and not the road, he drove straight into a lamppost.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got your wallet, sir!” Paddington called to the dazed crook as he wafted past.
At that very moment, Judy was gazing out of her classroom window during a boring English lesson.
“In A Winter’s Tale, who can complete Shakespeare’s most famous stage direction?” asked the teacher. “Exit pursued by a . . . ?”
“Bear!” yelled Judy seeing a furry figure sailing past with an umbrella.
“Very good, Judy. . . . Sit down, class nine!” called the teacher, as the rest of the class got out of their seats to watch the spectacle. The bus screeched to a halt to avoid the crashed car, and the thief came to his senses again, jumped out the car, and began to run. Just then, Paddington’s umbrella turned inside out and, as the pickpocket ran past the school gates, Paddington crash-landed on top of him, sending him sprawling across the pavement.
“You dropped your wallet,” puffed Paddington, looking sideways at all the other wallets that had fallen out of the thief’s jacket. “Oh! You’ve got quite a few.”
“He certainly has,” said a burly police officer, arriving at the scene.
A loud cheer erupted from Judy’s classmates. Even she couldn’t help joining in, and as the thief was driven away, Paddington looked up and saw her.
“Hello, Judy!” He waved.
She shrank back from the window. She was never going to live this down.
“Judy Brown, is that your bear?” said one of the girls. “You’re so lucky. My mum won’t even let me have a hamster.”
“He’s awesome,” said Tony.
Suddenly, Judy saw Paddington in a whole new light.
“Yep,” she said proudly. “That’s my bear.”
Paddington made his way back through the market, where the stall holders gave him a standing ovation, patting him on the back as he passed.
“There he is, bear of the moment! Well done, mate!”
When he arrived at the antique shop, Mr. Gruber couldn’t thank him enough.
“Mr. Brown, I owe you many buns!” he said. “That scoundrel has been pock-picketing people round here for many weeks.”
“Well done, Paddington,” said Mary. “And there’s more good news.”
“Indeed,” said Mr. Gruber. “Yours isn’t any old hat, Mr. Brown. It was made for a member of a famous old explorer’s society known as the Geographers’ Guild. Go there tomorrow. I bet you my dollar bottom they will tell you who it belonged to.”
Paddington couldn’t believe his luck.
But little did he know that, just at that moment, his good fortune was in peril. While Mr. Gruber gave him a guided tour of the shop and showed him his collection of priceless Roman marmalade jars, Millicent was up to no good.
She had tracked down the cab driver who had given Paddington and the Browns a lift from the station the night before. Right now, he was hanging upside down by his ankles in a hunter’s trap under Charing Cross Bridge.
“I’ll ask you one last time,” said Millicent, threatening him with a pair of tweezers. “Where did you take that bear?”
“Can’t tell you, love,” said the man. “It’s against the Cabbie’s Code.”
Millicent yanked out one of his long black nasal hairs.
“32 Windsor Gardens!” he squealed, clutching his nose.
She cut the rope.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s time I paid Ursus Marmalada Junior a little visit.”
“I’d avoid the fly-over, love,” called the cabbie as he fell into the Thames. “It’s murder during rush hour.”
CHAPTER SIX
All Records Destroyed
When Mr. Brown came home from work, he wasn’t best pleased to find that a certain bear was still in his house. He brought it up with Mrs. Brown while they were washing up after dinner, little realizing that Paddington was sitting on the stairs listening with Jonathan.
“One night, you said, Mary. You promised to take him to the authorities.”
“I never promised!”
“Well, you very heavily implied that you would.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. But the point is, he was telling the truth. There really is an explorer.”
Henry threw his tea towel down and gazed up at the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” said Mary.
“I’m doing my looking-away face,” he said.
She took him by the shoulders.
“Look at me, Henry. All we have to do is take him to the Geographers’ Guild.”
He put his hand up.
“Oh. The hand’s gone up,” said Mrs. Brown.
“Stop!” he said. “We’ve done quite enough for that bear.”
“And the voice,” she said.
Paddington looked at Jonathan sadly.
“I’d better go, hadn’t I? Mr. Brown doesn’t want me here.”
He got up to leave. Jonathan sat him back down.
“Wait—he’ll come round. He’s just being Dad.”
But Mr. Brown wasn’t about to change his mind.
“That bear is a danger to the family, Mary,” he said. “Jonathan’s irresponsible enough without any encouragement.”
Jonathan was about to protest when Judy came through the front door, waving the local paper.
“Seen this?” she said, squeezing next to Paddington. There was a photo of him on the front page sitting on the thief. Jonathan read the headline.
“Paw and Order . . . wow, you’ve only been in London one day and you’re already famous!”
Judy gave Paddington a squeeze.
“Sorry if I was horrid before. It’s just . . . it’s a new school and I didn’t want everyone to think I was weird.”
“That’s OK,” said Paddington. “I don’t want everyone to think I am either.”
She pressed her ear to the banisters.
“What’s dad ranting on about now?” she said as Henry’s agitated voice drifted up from the kitchen.
“Mary, that bear put earwax on my toothbrush!”
Realizing his mistake, Paddington raised his eyebrows as Jonathan and Judy collapsed in a fit of giggles.
“I’m afraid Mr. Brown doesn’t find me very amusing,” he sighed.
“That’s because he’s boring,” said Jonathan. “He always has been.”
Mrs. Bird was putting the washing away on the landing and overheard.
“Och!” she said. “He was a very different man when I first knew him.”
Judy looked up.
“Did he have a personality transplant, Mrs. Bird?”
“No, a motorbike,” she said. “1000cc. He was a daredevil back in the day.�
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“What changed?” asked Jonathan.
Mrs. Bird folded Henry’s sensible beige trousers and put them on the shelf.
“He became a father,” she said. “If he plays things a little safe, it’s only because he loves you. He’s just put his daring self on hold like most dads. He exchanged the bike for a beige Volvo to take you home from the hospital when you were born, Judy. Safety first.”
“So it’s all our fault?” said Judy.
Mrs. Bird semaphored with a pair of red socks.
“Just give him a chance to show his true colors.”
The children sat in silence, stunned by her revelation. Then Judy spoke.
“If anyone could turn Dad round, I bet you could, Paddington.”
Paddington wasn’t so sure.
“Well, I did try to make a good impression. I always raise my hat.”
“At which point, you are technically naked,” she said.
He put his hat back on hastily. “Am I? What should I do?”
Judy and Jonathan took a paw each and led him off to the bathroom.
“Don’t worry, Paddington. We’ll show you the ropes.”
“There are ropes?” he said.
He was wary of the facilities after last night’s episode, but he needn’t have worried. Being scrubbed from head to toe with bubble bath was a lot more fun than he imagined, especially when he shook himself and soaked them both.
Hearing the children shriek, Henry stopped in midargument.
“They’re screaming, Mary!” He panicked, racing upstairs.
“No, darling. That’s the sound of laughter,” she said.
Henry stopped in his tracks; Paddington was in Judy’s room with Mrs. Bird’s pink rollers in his wet fur and being blow-dried by Judy.
“Mind you don’t singe his fur,” fussed Jonathan.
Henry’s face melted into a smile. He watched as Paddington sat in a chair reading a magazine while the children buffed his claws.
“See?” said Mary. “Just playing together. They haven’t done that for ages.”
Jonathan led Paddington over to the mirror. He looked at his reflection and gasped. His fur was gleaming gold and perfectly bouffant.
“Ah, here it is!” said Mrs. Bird, pulling a little coat with a hood out of an old trunk. She bustled into Judy’s room and gave it to Paddington.
Paddington: The Junior Novel Page 4