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“Most sensible,” said Mrs Bird approvingly. “Mentioning no names – it’s about time some people in this house had a place for their newspapers. Now perhaps they won’t keep losing them.”
“But you’ve made two,” said Judy. “Whose is the other one?”
A guilty expression came over Paddington’s face. “It’s really for Mr Curry,” he said. “But I thought perhaps I’d better leave it on his doorstep after dark – just in case.”
Mrs Bird looked at Paddington suspiciously. Her ears had caught the sound of violent banging coming from the house next door and she had a nasty feeling in the back of her mind that it had something to do with Paddington.
“Just in case?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
But before Paddington had time to explain exactly what he did mean, Mrs Brown pointed to the window in astonishment.
“Good gracious,” she cried. “There is Mr Curry. Whatever’s the matter with him? He’s running around the garden waving a kitchen table in the air.” She peered through the glass. “And it doesn’t seem to have any legs, either. How very odd!”
“Gosh!” cried Jonathan excitedly. “Now it’s broken in two!”
The Browns stared through the window at the strange sight of Mr Curry dancing round his pond waving the two halves of a table. “Bear!” he shouted. “Where are you, bear?”
“Oh dear,” said Paddington, as everyone turned away from the window and looked at him accusingly. “I’m in trouble again.”
“Well, if you ask me,” said Mrs Bird, after he had explained everything to them, “the best thing you can do is offer Mr Curry your carpentry set as a present. Then, perhaps, he’ll forget all about his kitchen table. And if he doesn’t, just you tell him to come and see me.
Mrs Bird held very strong views about people who tried to take advantage of others and she usually took Paddington’s side in anything to do with Mr Curry.
“Anyway,” she concluded, in a voice which left no room for argument, “I’m certainly not having the lunch spoiled by Mr Curry or anyone else, so just you all sit down while I fetch it.”
With that argument the Browns had to agree and they meekly arranged themselves round the table.
Paddington in particular thought it was a very good idea. He was a bit fed up with carpentry. Sawing was hard work – especially for a small bear – and even more so when it was sawing through a kitchen table. Besides, he was hungry after his morning’s work and he didn’t want to offend Mrs Bird by not eating her lunch down to the very last mouthful.
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“I’m afraid,” said the lady in the cash desk at the Podium Super Cinema, “you can’t come in. It’s an ‘A’ film.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Paddington, looking puzzled.
“‘A’,” said the lady.
“Eh?” repeated Paddington, looking even more puzzled. “But that’s what I said.”
“Not ‘eh’,” said the lady impatiently. “‘A’. That means bears under sixteen aren’t allowed in unaccompanied.”
“Sixteen!” exclaimed Paddington, hardly able to believe his ears. “Sixteen! But I’m only two. That’s another fourteen years. I might not even want to come then.”
“Well, that’s the law,” said the lady sternly. She looked down with some distaste at the top of Paddington’s hat. It still had one or two pieces of river weed sticking to it and the warmth of the cinema was bringing out the smell. “Now, come along, please,” she said hastily. “You’re holding up the queue.
“And no coming back later on wearing long trousers,” she called as Paddington turned to go. “I know all the tricks.”
Paddington felt most disappointed as he made his way slowly across the foyer. There was a nice warm feeling about the cinema and he particularly liked the way his feet sank into the thick pile of the carpet. After staring hungrily at the sweet counter for a few moments he made his way towards the entrance, giving the attendant a hard stare as the man held the door open for him.
Paddington had never been to the pictures before. In fact he wasn’t at all sure what they were. But he enjoyed anything new and for some weeks he had been saving hard out of the one pound a week bun money Mr Brown gave him, in case an interesting programme came along.
Paddington was a bear who liked getting his money’s worth and he’d carefully studied the advertisements outside the Podium until this week, when there was a ‘Super Double Feature’ programme showing—with two long films, a cartoon and a newsreel. Not only that, but a notice outside said there was a special added attraction that evening when Reginald Clove would be playing the theatre organ during the intervals.
Paddington hung about outside the cinema for several minutes breathing heavily on the glass until he caught sight of a policeman watching him suspiciously and then he hurried home. It was all most disappointing and his carefully saved coins were burning a hole in his duffle coat pocket.
“Do you mean to say you’ve never been to the pictures, Paddington?” said Mr Brown over tea that afternoon.
“Never,” said Paddington firmly, as he helped himself to a crumpet. “And now I can’t go for another fourteen years unless I’m accompanied.”
Mr Brown looked at his wife. “It’s a long time since we all went to the pictures, Mary,” he said. “And it’s still quite early. Shall we go?”
“Gosh, Dad – let’s!” exclaimed Jonathan and Judy together.
“Do you think it’s a good programme, Paddington?” asked Mrs Brown.
“Very good, Mrs Brown,” said Paddington knowledgeably. “There’s a cowboy film and a cartoon and an ‘I beg your pardon film’ as well.”
“A what film?” exclaimed Mr Brown.
“An ‘I beg your pardon film’,” repeated Paddington. “That means bears under sixteen aren’t allowed in by themselves.”
“Oh, you mean an ‘A’ film,” said Jonathan.
“That’s right,” agreed Paddington. “That’s what I said.”
The Browns looked at one another. Sometimes it was a bit difficult explaining things to Paddington.
“And there’s a man playing the organ,” continued Paddington. “It’s a special attraction – so I think it’s a good bargain, Mr Brown.”
“That settles it,” said Mr Brown, looking at his watch. “It all sounds much too good to miss.”
Immediately the whole house was in an uproar. Paddington was sent upstairs by Mrs Bird to wash the crumpet stains off his whiskers while the rest of the family hurried off to their respective rooms to change.
Paddington felt very superior some half an hour later when they all trooped into the Podium Cinema. He raised his hat to the doorkeeper and then led Mr Brown in the direction of the cash desk.
“I’m accompanied now,” he called out to the lady in charge.
The lady stared at Mr Brown. “I beg your pardon?” she exclaimed. She sniffed and gave him a very strange look. It was most odd but she could distinctly smell fish again.
“What did you say?” she repeated.
“Nothing,” said Mr Brown hastily. “Er… I’d like three and three halves for the front row of the circle, please.”
“Hurry up, Dad,” called Jonathan. “I think the other programme’s nearly finished.”
Leaving the lady in the cash desk looking most upset, Mr Brown gathered up a long string of tickets and joined the rest of the family as they hurried up the stairs leading to the circle.
They went up and up and Paddington soon lost count of the number of steps. In fact there were so many he almost wished they had gone downstairs instead. Not only that, but as he followed the Browns through the entrance to the circle he discovered it was all dark inside.
“This way, please,” said the usherette, as she led the way down some stairs and shone her torch along a row of seats in the front row. “You’re lucky. There are just six left together.”
“Thank you very much,” said Mrs Brown, as she made her way along the row. “Excuse me, please. Excuse me. Thank you very much.”
She sat down and arranged herself comfortably as the others joined her.
“That’s a bit of luck,” whispered Mr Brown. “Finding six together.”
“Seven,” said Mrs Brown. “There’s still another one between us.”
“So there is!” whispered Mr Brown, groping in the dark. “That’s odd. The girl said there were only six.” He looked along the row. “Where’s Paddington?”
“Paddington?” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “Isn’t he with you, Henry?”
“No,” replied Mr Brown. “I thought you had him.”
“Oh, crumbs,” groaned Judy. “Trust Paddington to get lost.”
“Where on earth can he have got to?” grumbled Mr Brown as he struck a match and began looking under the seats.
“Here I am, Mr Brown,” called Paddington from the end of the row. “I went all the way along by mistake.”
“Sssh!” said a nasty-sounding voice from the row behind.
“It’s all dark and I can’t see,” exclaimed Paddington as he was passed back along the row.
“Are you all right now, dear?” whispered Mrs Brown, as Paddington sat down beside her.
“I think so,” said Paddington, peering at the screen.
“Oi!” said the nasty voice from behind again. “’Ow about taking yer titfer off?”
Paddington turned and stared in the direction of the speaker. “My titfer?” he exclaimed. “Take my titfer off?”
“That’s right,” said the voice. “Your tit for tat.”
“I think he means your hat, dear,” explained Mrs Brown. “It’s probably getting in the way of the screen.”
Paddington thought for a moment. He wasn’t at all keen on taking his hat off in case it got lost in the dark. “I’ll turn it round if you like,” he said generously. “Then you can look through one of the holes.”
Having solved the problem of the man behind, Paddington gave his attention to the screen. It was all very interesting, with people dashing about all over the place and with music that got louder and louder, but Paddington found it difficult to understand what it was all about. To his surprise, after only a few minutes the music suddenly ended and all the lights in the cinema came on.
“Well,” he exclaimed, looking most disappointed. “I didn’t think much of that!”
“It’s all right, Paddington,” explained Judy. “That’s what’s showing next week. That was only the trailer.”
But her words fell on empty ears for Paddington was staring at the screen again and licking his whiskers.
“Oh dear,” groaned Mr Brown, as he followed Paddington’s gaze. “They would have to advertise ice-cream. They must have known he was coming.” He felt in his pocket. “You’d better get six tubs, and some nougat or something for the big picture, Jonathan.”
“I think I’m going to enjoy myself,” announced Paddington a few minutes later as Mr Brown handed him the refreshments.
He dipped his spoon into the ice-cream tub and stared excitedly at the screen as the lights went down again to herald the start of the cowboy film.
Paddington enjoyed the cowboy film much more than the trailer, and he soon became quite lost in the story. He stood up on his seat with his paws on the balcony and his eyes glued to the screen. Every now and then he automatically dipped his spoon into the ice-cream tub and several times a lump fell off the spoon before it had even reached his mouth, which was most unusual.
It was all very complicated at first. Everyone seemed to be shooting at everyone else and Paddington got very worried in case there was no one left and they had to stop the film.
Each time the villain, who wore a black mask and a black hat, came on to the screen he booed, and when the hero appeared, riding a white horse, he cheered and waved his hat in the air until Mrs Brown became quite embarrassed. She wasn’t at all sorry when at long last the hero rode off into the setting sun and the film came to an end.
“Most enjoyable,” said Mrs Bird, rather surprisingly. The Browns had somehow never thought of Mrs Bird liking cowboy films. “Did you like it, Paddington?”
Paddington nodded his head vigorously. “I enjoyed it very much, thank you, Mrs Bird,” he said. “Except I can’t find my nougat anywhere.”
“Never mind, Paddington,” said Mr Brown, after they had all searched in vain for it. “I’ll buy you some more in a minute. After we’ve heard the organ.”
He sat back heavily in his seat and then turned to see Paddington. “If you watch,” he explained, “you’ll see it come up through the floor in a moment.”
“Come up through the floor, Mr Brown?” exclaimed Paddington. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an organ come up through the floor before.”
“Oh dear,” said Mrs Bird. “And it doesn’t look as if you’re going to now. Look!”
She pointed to the screen where an announcement had just been flashed on to say that Mr Reginald Clove was indisposed.
“What!” cried Paddington hotly as the words sank in. “Reginald Clove indisposed!”
“That means he’s ill, dear,” explained Mrs Brown. “So he won’t be playing after all.”
“How very disappointing,” said Mr Brown. “It’s a long time since I heard an organ. I was really looking forward to it.”
While the rest of the Browns watched the advertisements on the screen Paddington sank back into his seat and listened to Mr Brown explaining what the organ would have looked like had it come up through the floor. Mr Brown liked organs and he went on for a long time about it.
“Henry,” said Mrs Brown when he had finished. “Where’s Paddington?”
“Paddington?” exclaimed Mr Brown. “Don’t tell me he’s disappeared again. He was here a moment ago.”
“I do hope he isn’t long wherever he’s got to,” said Mrs Brown. “We shall never hear the last of it if he misses the start of the big picture.”
But Paddington was already almost out of sight. He was hurrying up the aisle and out through the door marked EXIT. There was a purposeful expression on his face, one which the Browns would have recognised at once had they been able to see him.
Paddington wasn’t the only one with a purposeful expression on his face at that moment. As he hurried down the stairs on one side of the cinema the manager of the Podium strode up the stairs leading to the projection box on the other.
There was something unusual going on in his theatre and he intended finding out what it was. He prided himself that the Podium was normally a very well run cinema but on this particular evening things had gone wrong from the beginning.
First of all the lady in the cash desk -usually a most reliable person – had complained of a fishy smell and mysterious voices saying they were accompanied coming from underneath her counter. Then Reginald Clove had caught his hand in a swing door and had announced the fact that he couldn’t play the organ. Something to do with his not being able to work the stops and turn the music with only one hand.
As if that wasn’t enough there had come news of ‘goings on’ in the circle. It was most unusual to have ‘goings on’ in the circle. Occasionally he had a spot of bother in the cheaper seats downstairs – but never in the circle.
There had been complaints of bear’s boos coming from the front row during the cowboy film, and as he’d passed through the stalls he’d also noticed several people immediately underneath the balcony with ice-cream stains on their hats. It was all very disturbing and he wasn’t in the best of moods as he burst into the projection room waving a piece of paper.
