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Mrs Brown sighed. “It’s a good job Christmas only comes once a year,” she said as she helped Mrs Bird with the potatoes.
“It isn’t over yet,” warned Mrs Bird.
Fortunately, Mr Gruber arrived at that moment and some measure of order was established before they all sat down to dinner.
Paddington’s eyes glistened as he surveyed the table. He didn’t agree with Mr Brown when he said it all looked too good to eat. All the same, even Paddington got noticeably slower towards the end when Mrs Bird brought in the Christmas pudding.
“Well,” said Mr Gruber, a few minutes later, as he sat back and surveyed his empty plate, “I must say that’s the best Christmas dinner I’ve had for many a day. Thank you very much indeed!”
“Hear! Hear!” agreed Mr Brown. “What do you say, Paddington?”
“It was very nice,” said Paddington, licking some cream from his whiskers. “Except I had a bone in my Christmas pudding.”
“You what?” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “Don’t be silly – there are no bones in Christmas pudding.”
“I had one,” said Paddington, firmly. “It was all hard – and it stuck in my throat.”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “The five pence! I always put a piece of silver in the Christmas pudding.”
“What!” said Paddington, nearly falling off his chair. “A five pence? I’ve never heard of a five pence pudding before.”
“Quick,” shouted Mr Brown, rising to the emergency. “Turn him upside down.”
Before Paddington could reply, he found himself hanging head downwards while Mr Brown and Mr Gruber took it in turns to shake him. The rest of the family stood round watching the floor.
“It’s no good,” said Mr Brown, after a while. “It must have gone too far.” He helped Mr Gruber lift Paddington into an armchair, where he lay gasping for breath.
“I’ve got a magnet upstairs,” said Jonathan. “We could try lowering it down his throat on a piece of string.”
“I don’t think so, dear,” said Mrs Brown, in a worried tone of voice. “He might swallow that and then we should be even worse off.” She bent over the chair. “How do you feel, Paddington?”
“Sick,” said Paddington, in an aggrieved tone of voice.
“Of course you do, dear,” said Mrs Brown. “It’s only to be expected. There’s only one thing to do – we shall have to send for the doctor.”
“Thank goodness I scrubbed it first,” said Mrs Bird. “It might have been covered with germs.”
“But I didn’t swallow it,” gasped Paddington. “I only nearly did. Then I put it on the side of my plate. I didn’t know it was five pence because it was all covered with Christmas pudding.”
Paddington felt very fed up. He’d just eaten one of the best dinners he could ever remember and now he’d been turned upside down and shaken without even being given time to explain.
Everyone exchanged glances and then crept quietly away, leaving Paddington to recover by himself. There didn’t seem to be much they could say.
But after the dinner things had been cleared away, and by the time Mrs Bird had made some strong coffee, Paddington was almost himself again. He was sitting up in the chair helping himself to some dates when they trooped back into the room. It took a lot to make Paddington ill for very long.
When they had finished their coffee, and were sitting round the blazing fire feeling warm and comfortable, Mr Brown rubbed his hands. “Now, Paddington,” he said, “it’s not only Christmas, it’s your birthday as well. What would you like to do?”
A mysterious expression came over Paddington’s face. “If you all go in the other room,” he announced, “I’ve a special surprise for you.”
“Oh dear, must we, Paddington?” said Mrs Brown. “There isn’t a fire.”
“I shan’t be long,” said Paddington, firmly. “But it’s a special surprise and it has to be prepared.” He held the door open and the Browns, Mrs Bird, and Mr Gruber filed obediently into the other room.
“Now close your eyes,” said Paddington, when they were all settled, “and I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
Mrs Brown shivered. “I hope you won’t be too long,” she called. But the only reply was the sound of the door clicking shut.
They waited for several minutes without speaking, and then Mr Gruber cleared his throat. “Do you think young Mr Brown’s forgotten about us?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Mrs Brown. “But I’m not waiting much longer.”
“Henry!” she exclaimed, as she opened her eyes.
“Have you gone to sleep?”
“Er, wassat?” snorted Mr Brown. He had eaten such a large dinner he was finding it difficult to keep awake. “What’s happening? Have I missed anything?”
“Nothing’s happening,” said Mrs Brown. “Henry, you’d better go and see what Paddington’s up to.”
Several more minutes went by before Mr Brown returned to announce that he couldn’t find Paddington anywhere.
“Well, he must be somewhere.” said Mrs Brown. “Bears don’t disappear into thin air.”
“Crikey!” exclaimed Jonathan, as a thought suddenly struck him. “You don’t think he’s playing at Father Christmas, do you? He was asking all about it the other day when he put his list up the chimney. I bet that’s why he wanted us to come in here – because this chimney connects with the one upstairs – and there isn’t a fire.”
“Father Christmas?” said Mr Brown. “I’ll give him Father Christmas!” He stuck his head up the chimney and called Paddington’s name several times. “I can’t see anything,” he said, striking a match. As if in answer a large lump of soot descended and burst on top of his head.
“Now look what you’ve done, Henry,” said Mrs Brown. “Shouting so – you’ve disturbed the soot. All over your clean shirt!”
“If it is young Mr Brown, perhaps he’s stuck somewhere,” suggested Mr Gruber. “He did have rather a large dinner. I remember wondering at the time where he put it all.”
Mr Gruber’s suggestion had an immediate effect on the party and everyone began to look serious.
“Why, he might suffocate with the fumes,” exclaimed Mrs Bird, as she hurried out to the broom cupboard.
When she returned, armed with a mop, everyone took it in turns to poke it up the chimney but even though they strained their ears they couldn’t hear a sound.
It was while the excitement was at its height that Paddington came into the room. He looked most surprised when he saw Mr Brown with his head up the chimney.
“You can come into the dining-room now,” he announced, looking round the room. “I’ve finished wrapping my presents and they’re all on the Christmas tree.”
“You don’t mean to say,” spluttered Mr Brown, as he sat in the fireplace rubbing his face with a handkerchief, “you’ve been in the other room all the time?”
“Yes,” said Paddington, innocently, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
Mrs Brown looked at her husband. “I thought you said you’d looked everywhere,” she exclaimed.
“Well – we’d just come from the dining-room,” said Mr Brown, looking very sheepish. “I didn’t think he’d be there.”
“It only goes to show,” said Mrs Bird hastily, as she caught sight of the expression on Mr Brown’s face, “how easy it is to give a bear a bad name.”
Paddington looked most interested when they explained to him what all the fuss was about.
“I never thought of coming down the chimney,” he said, staring at the fireplace.
“Well, you’re not thinking about it now either,” replied Mr Brown sternly.
But even Mr Brown’s expression changed as he followed Paddington into the dining-room and saw the surprise that had been prepared for them.
In addition to the presents that had already been placed on the tree, there were now six newly wrapped ones tied to the lower branches. If the Browns recognised the wrapping paper they had used for Paddington’s presents earlier in the day, they were much too polite to say anything.
“I’m afraid I had to use old paper,” said Paddington apologetically, as he waved a paw at the tree. “I hadn’t any money left. That’s why you had to go in the other room while I wrapped them.”
“Really, Paddington,” said Mrs Brown. “I’m very cross with you – spending all your money on presents for us.”
“I’m afraid they’re rather ordinary,” said Paddington, as he settled back in a chair to watch the others. “But I hope you like them. They’re all labelled so that you know which is which.”
“Ordinary?” exclaimed Mr Brown as he opened his parcel. “I don’t call a pipe rack ordinary. And there’s an ounce of my favourite tobacco tied to the back as well!”
“Gosh! A new stamp album!” cried Jonathan. “Whizzo! And it’s got some stamps inside already.”
“They’re Peruvian ones from Aunt Lucy’s postcards,” said Paddington. “I’ve been saving them for you.”
“And I’ve got a box of paints,” exclaimed Judy. “Thank you very much, Paddington. It’s just what I wanted.”
“We all seem to be lucky,” said Mrs Brown, as she unwrapped a parcel containing a bottle of her favourite lavender water. “How did you guess? I finished my last bottle only a week ago.”
“I’m sorry about your parcel, Mrs Bird,” said Paddington, looking across the room. “I had a bit of a job with the knots.”
“It must be something special,” said Mr Brown. “It seems all string and no parcel.”
“That’s because it’s really clothes-line,” explained Paddington, “not string. I rescued it when I got stuck in the revolving doors at Crumbold & Ferns.”
“That makes two presents in one,” said Mrs Bird, as she freed the last of the knots and began unwinding yards and yards of paper. “How exciting. I can’t think what it can be.
“Why,” she exclaimed. “I do believe it’s a brooch! And it’s shaped like a bear – how lovely!” Mrs Bird looked most touched as she handed the present round for everyone to see. “I shall keep it in a safe place,” she added, “and only wear it on special occasions – when I want to impress people.”
“I don’t know what mine is,” said Mr Gruber, as they all turned to him. He squeezed the parcel. “It’s such a funny shape.
“It’s a drinking mug!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up with pleasure. “And it even has my name painted on the side!”
“It’s for your elevenses, Mr Gruber,” said Paddington. “I noticed your old one was getting rather chipped.”
“I’m sure it will make my cocoa taste better than it ever has before,” said Mr Gruber.
He stood up and cleared his throat. “I think I would like to offer a vote of thanks to young Mr Brown,” he said, “for all his nice presents. I’m sure he must have given them a great deal of thought.”
“Hear! Hear!” echoed Mr Brown, as he filled his pipe.
Mr Gruber felt under his chair. “And while I think of it, Mr Brown, I have a small present for you.”
Everyone stood round and watched while Paddington struggled with his parcel, eager to see what Mr Gruber had bought him. A gasp of surprise went up as he tore the paper to one side, for it was a beautifully bound leather scrapbook, with ‘Paddington Brown’ printed in gold leaf on the cover.
Paddington didn’t know what to say, but Mr Gruber waved his thanks to one side. “I know how you enjoy writing about your adventures, Mr Brown,” he said. “And you have so many I’m sure your present scrapbook must be almost full.”
“It is,” said Paddington, earnestly. “And I’m sure I shall have lots more. Things happen to me, you know. But I shall only put my best ones in here!”
When he made his way up to bed later that evening, his mind was in such a whirl, and he was so full of good things, he could hardly climb the stairs – let alone think about anything. He wasn’t quite sure which he had enjoyed most. The presents, the Christmas dinner, the games, or the tea – with the special marmalade-layer birthday cake Mrs Bird had made in his honour. Pausing on the corner half way up, he decided he had enjoyed giving his own presents best of all.
“Paddington! Whatever have you got there?” He jumped and hastily hid his paw behind his back as he heard Mrs Bird calling from the bottom of the stairs.
“It’s only some five pence pudding, Mrs Bird,” he called, looking over the banisters guiltily. “I thought I might get hungry during the night and I didn’t want to take any chances.”
“Honestly!” Mrs Bird exclaimed, as she was joined by the others. “What does that bear look like? A paper hat about ten sizes too big on his head – Mr Gruber’s scrapbook in one paw – and a plate of Christmas pudding in the other!”
“I don’t care what he looks like,” said Mrs Brown, “so long as he stays that way. The place wouldn’t be the same without him.”
But Paddington was too far away to hear what was being said. He was already sitting up in bed, busily writing in his scrapbook.
First of all, there was a very important notice to go on the front page. It said:
PADINGTUN BROWN,
32 WINDSOR GARDENS,
LUNDUN,
ENGLAND,
YUROPE,
THE WORLD.
Then, on the next page he added, in large capital letters: MY ADDVENTURES. CHAPTER WUN.
Paddington sucked his pen thoughtfully for a moment and then carefully replaced the top on the bottle of ink before it had a chance to fall over on the sheets. He felt much too sleepy to write any more. But he didn’t really mind. Tomorrow was another day – and he felt quite sure he would have some more adventures – even if he didn’t know what they were going to be as yet.
Paddington lay back and pulled the blankets up round his whiskers. It was warm and comfortable and he sighed contentedly as he closed his eyes. It was nice being a bear. Especially a bear called Paddington.
(#ulink_7b8a3e53-ca2d-5291-9f9a-d3c07823b3bf) See A Bear Called Paddington
Contents
Title Page (#u3c79ce60-825c-5ab0-91f7-8a55e7a06692)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_ce1cd99c-215f-5b1a-99b8-f455c33cbe37)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_1d3beed0-e404-5f08-af2e-a2aaad94cbec)
