by Alan Field
“An illusion, dear young lady,” he was saying. “There is no bear at all. See for yourself.”
Géraldine went on arguing and then I heard the voices of officials saying soothing things like ‘perhaps the young lady was mistaken’ and eventually it all went quiet. Everybody left and the lights were switched out.
Some little mice came out to play and I went all sad inside.
Chapter 9: Bear For Sale
The morning couldn’t find its way to where I was lying but I knew it had come because I heard the clanking of dust-pans and swish of brooms on the stage. The traffic began grumbling again in the distance. All of a sudden a snake thing with a flattened head appeared and hissed at me. It made a lunge, and then retreated; and then another lunge. This time it grabbed me by the foot and before I could think of what Amanda did about snake bites in the Brownies I was hauled off, with my head bumping up and down.
When the thing had dragged me into the gangway, I could see it was really only a vacuum cleaner.
“Ah!” said the lady with the flowered apron, looking at me as though I were a fish she had caught. “Someone’s little toy - but he’s very dusty.”
She vacuumed me all over and it was very tickly. I wanted to explain who I was and demand to see the British Ambassador like they do in books, but she stuffed me into a shopping bag - head first next to a long loaf of bread. Napoleon said - according to Toots - that an army marched on its stomach, but I seemed to spend most of my time marching on my head.
Off I went again, jogging up and down in the bag, with lots of stops on the way while the lady talked to friends. I was pulled out occasionally and waved about and then put back again.
Eventually we went through a door that said ‘Ting’ and I guessed it was a shop.
“Look what I found this morning in the theatre. It was under the stairs by the orchestra pit. What do you think it is?”
A man with a papery face and tired eyes looked at me.
“It’s not a giraffe,” he said, and then went into a fit of wheezing and giggling.
The lady gave him a stony look so he stopped and put me on a pair of scales. “Just 900 grammes,” he said. “Now, how much would you like?”
“Be serious, Henri,” said the lady. “How can we sell him if we don’t know what he is?”
The man scratched his nose and said, “Well, I suppose he must be a sort of bear - a sloth bear, I’d say.”
“Very well then, sloth bear,” said the lady. “Make out a ticket and say ten francs.”
The man took a piece of white cardboard and wrote:
SLOTH BEAR 10 francs
“Put ‘cheap’,” said the lady.
He wrote:
CHEAP SLOTH BEAR 10 francs
and hung the ticket around my neck with string and put me in the window of his shop.
Well, I could see what sort of place it was. There were old prams, gramophones, faded paintings of cows dabbling their hooves in rivers, and a stuffed head. It had a morose expression and judging by the dust on its nose had been there for a very long time. A kind of buffalo I suppose it was. It was no good trying to talk to it. You had to be born stuffed, and not have stuffing put into you later on. It wasn’t the same thing at all.
Outside it had started to rain, and the drops were chasing one another down the window. It was like being on the stage in a way - except there was no audience. Nobody looked my way. They were too busy hurrying along.
All the days seemed the same sitting in the window. A spider made a web between my paws and came to live in my left ear. It reminded me of the Sleeping Beauty, except she had Prince Charming to look forward to. Hardly anyone came into the shop, and the lady went off every morning to clean at the theatre. Once I thought I saw Géraldine’s grandfather shuffling down the street, but he never turned and looked in my direction.
Never give up hope, Diddy used to say when he hadn’t been for a ride in Amanda’s bicycle basket for some days. I was almost beginning to think I had no hope to give up when one afternoon I found a little girl dancing up and down in front of me. She was shouting up at her Daddy and pointing at me. The shop door dinged and they came in.
“I must have him, Daddy. I must,” she was saying. “I’ve never seen such a marvellous bear.”
Well, it did me good to hear that after so long. Her Daddy was giving me the sort of look reserved for unwanted presents, but he took out his wallet and paid over the ten francs.
“Mind your coat, dear,” he said, “he’s so dusty.”
“Oh, I don’t care, Daddy, he’s beautiful.”
She hugged me till I squeaked.
We caught a taxi and swept off to the Champs Elysées and stopped at a very posh hotel all in marble with men in bow ties standing about.
“I’m Annette,” she said, as we swished up in the lift. “And you’re S-e-b-a-s-t-i-a-n. What a lovely name!”
I had quite recovered my self-respect after she had brushed my hair, cleaned out the cobwebs, and straightened my jersey. She insisted we all went down to dinner together, and I sat opposite her on a striped velvet chair.
The waiter seemed very amused to see a bear come to dinner and asked Annette politely: “What will the young gentleman have, Mademoiselle?”
Everyone was very merry, including Annette’s Mummy and Daddy, and the waiter kept pouring out wine from a bottle he kept in some snow in a silver bucket by the table.
“Tomorrow we go back to England,” said Annette. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen England, Sebastian, but it’s nice really, even though they have schools and things. I’ve got a super swing in the garden - you’ll love it.”
She tucked me up at the bottom of her bed that night, and the next morning we caught the plane home. It was much more exciting than being in the parcel. Annette held me up to the window and I could see rolling white mountains stretching into the distance.
“They’re the clouds, Sebastian,” she said.
I looked carefully for the cloud giants Toots used to talk about that caused the thunder but there was no sign of them. A car was waiting for us at London Airport and it was not too long before we arrived at Annette’s home. I had to shake hands with her Grandma, and was introduced to Albert, the tabby cat who had a collar with a little bell on it.
“To stop him catching so many birds,” said Annette. “Come on, I’ll show you my room.”
It was an old house and had four flights of stairs. She had the very top room with a window seat and a sloping ceiling. There were pictures of television stars pinned up everywhere. I didn’t see any more bears sitting about and there only seemed to be dolls.
“Daddy always said bears were for boys and girls ought to have dolls,” Annette explained. “You can have my little desk to sit at - it’s too small for me now anyway and just right for you.”
It was a nice little desk, with a lift-up lid for putting things in.
“I suppose,” she said, “somebody did own you once? I mean, you didn’t spend all your life just sitting in that shop in Paris?” I would have liked to tell her the story of my travels, but ... “Still, you’re mine now and you’re my most favourite ever,” she said, giving me a kiss on the head.
We all sat down to tea together in the big kitchen and I had a red and white checked serviette tucked into my bow tie. Annette put me a pot of honey and a spoon. I was glad she didn’t help me to eat it though, because last time at home it all ran down my chin and I had to be cleaned with carpet shampoo.
The next day, Annette’s Daddy had to go to work. He went off in striped trousers, and a black coat and bowler hat.
“He’s a stockbroker,” said Annette. “He has to share out people’s money in the stock exchange. Sometimes they have crashes and over-takers. And they all have points and Daddy takes a special pink newspaper every day to see wh
o’s won. Sometimes he gets very cross. Like bingo really.”
Chapter 10: Lost and Found Bear
I forgot about being a travelling bear for a few days while Annette was looking after me, but one morning I woke up and remembered Toots and Diddy and Amanda and felt very sad. They would never see me again, I supposed. I was beginning to cry stuffed-bear tears when Annette came in sobbing and picked me up and hugged me.
“Mummy says you can’t come to school next week and I did want them all to see you. And I shan’t be coming home till Christmas. You’ll have to stay all on your own.” My nose was getting quite wet. “But never mind,” she said. “Grandma’s knitting you a new cardigan and you can sit on the window seat till I come back.” She dried her eyes and said, “I’d better wash your jersey and trousers and give you a good brushing before I go,” and went off with my special jersey that Auntie Vi had embroidered.
I was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious of my furless tummy when Annette came rushing in, all arms and legs, and skidded to a stop.
“Sebastian, you are lost bear after all.” She waved a piece of paper and I recognised my picture. “It was in your pocket,” she said.
Luigi must have put it there.
She ran off, all bright with excitement. I heard her Daddy grumbling and protesting, but at last he gave in and I heard him pick up the telephone and ask for the Paris police. Just like a film!
Annette came and fetched me down to listen.
“Plumstead here,” he said. “Can I speak to Sergeant Pigeau? It’s about - er - a bear. No, not a real bear, a teddy bear ... Edward ...Teddy ... yes ... no, not lost - found.”
He drummed his fingers on the table while clicking noises came out of the telephone.
“Ah, Sergeant Pigeau? Plumstead here, of Hampstead, England ... Hampstead, yes. No, Mr Plumstead of Hampstead. It’s about your bear, the one you lost. Pardon? No, in the paper. Yes. Yes, that’s right. Really?”
Annette and I were fizzing with excitement.
“Not far away at all, actually. I’ll write it down.” Annette passed him an old envelope and a pencil. “Twenty-seven, Church Lane. Yes, I’ve got that. Thank you, Sergeant and good-bye.”
He finished writing down my address and said: “Well, it seems that this bear belongs to a little girl called Amanda who lives in a village in Surrey. And Sergeant Pigeau’s daughter is staying there for a week’s holiday at the moment.”
“Couldn’t we take him back today, Daddy?” pleaded Annette.
“Well, actually I’m due at the Golf Club but I suppose - well - all right. Perhaps after lunch?”
So it was settled.
“I don’t really want to lose you,” said Annette as her Daddy was driving us along, “but I expect Amanda is missing you terribly.” She straightened my jersey and adjusted my tie but I could see she was feeling sad now that I was going away.
We turned into Church Lane and I could recognise the houses with their different coloured front doors and painted stonework.
Mr Plumstead knocked loudly and I heard Amanda’s Mummy calling “It’s the insurance man, dear. Will you let him in?”
Amanda came to the door and Mr Plumstead, who seemed to be enjoying himself, said, “Are you the young lady that lost a bear? Well, how would he do?” And held me up.
Amanda’s expression was more surprised than any of the Great Zingo’s models. “Mummy, Mummy, quickly!” she shouted. “It’s Sebastian, he’s come home.”
Everyone came running. First Géraldine who burst into tears as soon as she saw me, then Amanda’s Mummy, and Auntie Vi and Uncle Alec and finally Grandpa. Mr Plumstead explained what had happened and introduced Annette.
“How kind and thoughtful,” said Amanda’s Mummy, “bringing him back after you’d bought him. He really belongs to you now.”
“Oh, no,” said Annette bravely. “I want him to come back to his real home.”
Amanda hugged Annette and me together. “I know,” she said. “Let’s say Sebastian comes to stay with you for his holidays every year.”
Annette clapped her hands and said what a lovely idea, and Amanda’s Mummy invited her to stay for tea.
They had hot scones, toasted tea cakes, blackcurrant jam, and jelly and trifle. I began to wish stuffed bears did eat after all. I had the place of honour, of course, at the head of the table and Mr Plumstead sat at the other end.
“What has Sebastian been up to all this time?” asked Amanda. “I put a lamp in the window every night like they did in the story about the lost sailor, but it didn’t do any good.”
“Papa and I toured all the streets in the squad car after Sebastian had been stolen,” said Géraldine, “but we never saw him. And then about fifteen days later,” she said, turning to Annette, “I was with Maman at the theatre and there was Sebastian on the stage with a conjurer. But somehow he magicked him away and that was the last I saw of him.”
“We found him in this awful shop,” said Annette, “looking very sad with cobwebs round him. He must have been there for years.”
“Well, about a month really,” said Amanda. “What was he doing though before he went to the theatre? And who sewed those funny gilt buttons on his jersey?”
They went on chattering till it was dark and Mr Plumstead said they would have to go. Annette hugged me again and waved goodbye and Mr Plumstead asked them all to tea the next weekend.
Amanda had to go to bed early because her Mummy said she had had an exciting day.
“Don’t ever be a travelling bear again,” she said, tapping me on the nose. “Now I expect you’ve all got lots to talk about.” And she took me upstairs.
Diddy and Toots were waiting for me, sitting on top of the cupboard, with a poster pinned to the wall.
WELCOME HOME SEBASTIAN
And there was my portrait, all in beautiful splodgy colours, in a white frame, and signed by Gaston Delaunay.
“Three cheers for Sebastian,” said Toots. All the animals cheered, including a stuffed parrot I’d never seen before.
“A present from Auntie May,” said Diddy. “Well, we’re all ready for you to tell us your tale.”
“Yes,” said Toots, looking all comfortable on a blue cushion. “Did you go to the North Pole? Or meet any dragons?”
“Well, I was fed to a computer,” I said, “then frozen nearly to death, then cooked like a pudding, then turned into a dreaded Yeti, then taken to Russia, then brought back again, then sawn in half...”
Diddy’s eyes were getting bigger and bigger. I went on telling the story till it chimed midnight.
“You ought to put it all in a Book,” said Toots.
“I tried to write a book once,” said Diddy, “but I just didn’t know where to begin.”
“Then you would be called Sebastian the Great, or something, and Go Down in History,” said Toots.
What an idea, a bear writing a book! Well, plenty of people had written books about bears, so why not a book by a bear, about a bear, for bears? They were always having stories read to them at bedtime. And I hadn’t really much to do now that I was a sitting bear again instead of a travelling one.
I was nodding off, feeling all contented to be back in Amanda’s room, when I noticed a new travel poster she had pinned up.
COME TO SUNNY SAN SEBASTIAN
it said. Fancy that! Naming a place after me.
SEE THE DAZZLING SPECTACLE OF THE BULLFIGHT. LISTEN TO THE ENCHANTING MUSIC OF THE GUITAR.
BREATHE THE FRAGRANCE OF ROMANTIC SPAIN
Very interesting. What an address that would be!
Sebastian Bear
San Sebastian
Spain
I might even learn to sing to a small guitar ... like the owl and the pussy cat. If Amanda put me on the bus at the post office tomorrow, and I got a retu
rn ticket, I might even back in time for tea.
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