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Paddington obeyed like a shot, but he gave the attendant some very queer looks while she arranged some cushions for his seat in the front row. All the same, he was pleased to see she had given him the one nearest the stage. He’d already sent a postcard to his Aunt Lucy with a carefully drawn copy of a plan of the theatre, which he’d found in one of Mr Gruber’s books, and a small cross in one corner marked ‘MY SEET’.
The theatre was quite full and Paddington waved to the people down below. Much to Mrs Brown’s embarrassment, several of them pointed and waved back.
“I do wish he wouldn’t be quite so friendly,” she whispered to Mr Brown.
“Wouldn’t you like to take off your duffel coat now?” asked Mr Brown. “It’ll be cold when you go out again.”
Paddington climbed up and stood on his chair. “I think perhaps I will,” he said. “It’s getting warm.”
Judy started to help him off with it. “Mind my marmalade sandwich!” cried Paddington, as she placed it on the ledge in front of him. But it was too late. He looked round guiltily.
“Crikey!” said Jonathan. “It’s fallen on someone’s head!” He looked over the edge of the box. “It’s that man with the bald head. He looks jolly cross.”
“Oh, Paddington!” Mrs Brown looked despairingly at him. “Do you have to bring marmalade sandwiches to the theatre?”
“It’s all right,” said Paddington, cheerfully. “I’ve some more in the other pocket if anyone wants one. They’re a bit squashed, I’m afraid, because I sat on them in the car.”
“There seems to be some sort of a row going on down below,” said Mr Brown, craning his head to look over the edge. “Some chap just waved his fist at me. And what’s all this about marmalade sandwiches?” Mr Brown was a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.
“Nothing, dear,” said Mrs Brown, hastily. She decided to let the matter drop. It was much easier in the long run.
In any case, Paddington was having a great struggle with himself over some opera glasses. He had just seen a little box in front of him marked OPERA GLASSES. TWENTY PENCE. Eventually, after a great deal of thought, he unlocked his suitcase and from a secret compartment withdrew twenty pence.
“I don’t think much of these,” he said, a moment later, looking through them at the audience. “Everyone looks smaller.”
“You’ve got them the wrong way round, silly,” said Jonathan.
“Well, I still don’t think much of them,” said Paddington, turning them round. “I wouldn’t have bought them if I’d known. Still,” he added, after a moment’s thought, “they might come in useful next time.”
Just as he began to speak the overture came to an end and the curtain rose. The scene was the living-room of a large house, and Sir Sealy Bloom, in the part of the village squire, was pacing up and down. There was a round of applause from the audience.
“You don’t take them home,” whispered Judy. “You have to put them back when you leave.”
“WHAT!” cried Paddington, in a loud voice. Several calls of ‘hush’ came from the darkened theatre as Sir Sealy Bloom paused and looked pointedly in the direction of the Browns’ box. “Do you mean to say…” words failed Paddington for the moment. “Twenty pence!” he said bitterly. “That’s two buns’ worth.” He turned his gaze on Sir Sealy Bloom.
Sir Sealy Bloom looked rather irritable. He didn’t like first nights, and this one in particular had started badly. He had a nasty feeling about it. He much preferred playing the hero, where he had the sympathy of the audience, and in this play he was the villain. Being the first night of the play, he wasn’t at all sure of some of his lines. To make matters worse, he had arrived at the theatre only to discover that the prompt boy was missing and there was no one else to take his place. Then there was the disturbance in the stalls just before the curtain went up. Something to do with a marmalade sandwich, so the stage manager had said. Of course, that was all nonsense, but still, it was very disturbing. And then there was this noisy crowd in the box. He sighed to himself. It was obviously going to be one of those nights.
But if Sir Sealy Bloom’s heart was not in the play, Paddington’s certainly was. He soon forgot about his wasted twenty pence and devoted all his attention to the plot. He decided quite early on that he didn’t like Sir Sealy Bloom and he stared at him hard through his opera glasses. He followed his every move and when, at the end of the first act, Sir Sealy, in the part of the hard-hearted father, turned his daughter out into the world without a penny, Paddington stood up on his chair and waved his programme indignantly at the stage.
Paddington was a surprising bear in many ways and he had a strong sense of right and wrong. As the curtain came down he placed his opera glasses firmly on the ledge and climbed off his seat.
“Are you enjoying it, Paddington?” asked Mr Brown.
“It’s very interesting,” said Paddington. He had a determined note to his voice and Mrs Brown looked at him sharply. She was beginning to recognise that tone and it worried her.
“Where are you going, dear?” she asked, as he made for the door of the box.
“Oh, just for a walk,” said Paddington, vaguely.
“Well, don’t be too long,” she called, as the door closed behind him. “You don’t want to miss any of the second act.”
“Oh, don’t fuss, Mary,” said Mr Brown. “I expect he just wants to stretch his legs or something. He’s probably gone out to the cloakroom.”
But at that moment Paddington was going, not in the direction of the cloakroom, but towards a door leading to the back of the theatre. It was marked PRIVATE. ARTISTS ONLY. As he pushed the door open and passed through, he immediately found himself in an entirely different world. There were no red plush seats; everything was very bare. Lots of ropes hung down from the roof, pieces of scenery were stacked against the walls, and everyone seemed in a great hurry. Normally Paddington would have been most interested in everything, but now he had a purposeful look on his face.
Seeing a man bending over some scenery, he walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said. “Can you tell me where the man is?”
The scene hand went on working. “Man?” he said. “What man?”
“The man,” said Paddington, patiently.”The nasty man.”
“Oh, you mean Sir Sealy.” The scene hand pointed towards a long corridor. “He’s in his dressing-room. You’d better not go disturbing him ’cause he’s not in a very good mood.” He looked up. “Hey!” he cried. “You’re not supposed to be in here. Who let you in?”
Paddington was too far away to answer even if he had heard. He was already half-way up the corridor, looking closely at all the doors. Eventually he came to one with a large star on it and the words SIR SEALY BLOOM in big gold letters. Paddington drew a deep breath and then knocked loudly. There was no reply, so he knocked again. Still there was no reply, and so, very cautiously, he pushed open the door with his paw.
“Go away!” said a booming voice. “I don’t want to see anyone.”
Paddington peered round the door. Sir Sealy Bloom was lying stretched out on a long couch. He looked tired and cross. He opened one eye and gazed at Paddington.
“I’m not signing any autographs,” he growled.
“I don’t want your autograph,” said Paddington, fixing him with a hard stare. “I wouldn’t want your autograph if I had my autograph book, and I haven’t got my autograph book so there!”
Sir Sealy sat up. “You don’t want my autograph?” he said, in a surprised voice. “But everyone always wants my autograph!”
“Well, I don’t,” said Paddington. “I’ve come to tell you to take your daughter back!” He gulped the last few words. The great man seemed to have grown to about twice the size he had been on the stage, and he looked as if he was going to explode at any minute.
Sir Sealy clutched his forehead. “You want me to take my daughter back?” he said at last.
“That’s right,” said Paddington, firmly. “And if you don’t, I expect she can come and stay with Mr and Mrs Brown.”
Sir Sealy Bloom ran his hand distractedly through his hair and then pinched himself. “Mr and Mrs Brown,” he repeated in a dazed voice. He looked wildly round the room and then dashed to the door. “Sarah!” he called, in a loud voice. “Sarah, come in here at once!” He backed round the room until he had placed the couch between himself and Paddington. “Keep away, bear!” he said, dramatically, and then peered at Paddington, for he was rather short-sighted. “You are a bear, aren’t you?” he added.
“That’s right,” said Paddington. “From Darkest Peru!”
Sir Sealy looked at his woollen hat. “Well then,” he said crossly, playing for time, “you ought to know better than to wear a green hat in my dressing-room. Don’t you know green is a very unlucky colour in the theatre? Take it off at once.”
“It’s not my fault,” said Paddington. “I wanted to wear my proper hat.” He had just started to explain all about his hat when the door burst open and the lady called Sarah entered. Paddington immediately recognised her as Sir Sealy’s daughter in the play.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve come to rescue you.”
“You’ve what?” The lady seemed most surprised.
“Sarah,” Sir Sealy Bloom came out from behind the couch. “Sarah, protect me from this… this mad bear!”
“I’m not mad,” said Paddington, indignantly.
“Then kindly explain what you are doing in my dressing-room,” boomed the great actor.
Paddington sighed. Sometimes people were very slow to understand things. Patiently he explained it all to them. When he had finished, the lady called Sarah threw back her head and laughed.
“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” said Sir Sealy.
“But darling, don’t you see?” she said. “It’s a great compliment. Paddington really believes you were throwing me out into the world without a penny. It shows what a great actor you are!”
Sir Sealy thought for a moment. “Humph!” he said, gruffly. “Quite an understandable mistake, I suppose. He looks a remarkably intelligent bear, come to think of it.”
Paddington looked from one to the other. “Then you were only acting all the time,” he faltered.
The lady bent down and took his paw. “Of course, darling. But it was very kind of you to come to my rescue. I shall always remember it.”
“Well, I would have rescued you if you’d wanted it,” said Paddington.
Sir Sealy coughed. “Are you interested in the theatre, bear?” he boomed.
“Oh, yes,” said Paddington. “Very much. Except I don’t like having to pay so much for everything. I want to be an actor when I grow up.”
The lady called Sarah jumped up. “Why, Sealy darling,” she said, looking at Paddington. “I’ve an idea!” She whispered in Sir Sealy’s ear and then Sir Sealy looked at Paddington. “It’s a bit unusual,” he said, thoughtfully. “But it’s worth a try. Yes, it’s certainly worth a try!”
In the theatre itself the interval was almost at an end and the Browns were getting restless.
“Oh, dear,” said Mrs Brown. “I wonder where he’s got to?”
“If he doesn’t hurry up,” said Mr Brown, “he’s going to miss the start of the second act.”
Just then there was a knock at the door and an attendant handed him a note. “A young bear gentleman asked me to give you this,” he announced. “He said it was very urgent.”
“Er… thank you,” said Mr Brown, taking the note and opening it.
“What does it say?” asked Mrs Brown, anxiously. “Is he all right?”
Mr Brown handed her the note to read. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said.
Mrs Brown looked at it. It was hastily written in pencil and it said: I HAVE BEEN GIVEN A VERRY IMPORTANT JOB. PADINGTUN. P.S. I WILL TEL YOU ABOUT IT LAYTER.
“Now what on earth can that mean?” she said. “Trust something unusual to happen to Paddington.”
“I don’t know,” said Mr Brown, settling back in his chair as the lights went down. “But I’m not going to let it spoil the play.”
“I hope the second half is better than the first,” said Jonathan. “I thought the first half was rotten. That man kept on forgetting his lines.”
The second half was much better than the first. From the moment Sir Sealy strode on to the stage the theatre was electrified. A great change had come over him. He no longer fumbled over his lines, and people who had coughed all through the first half now sat up in their seats and hung on his every word.
When the curtain finally came down on the end of the play, with Sir Sealy’s daughter returning to his arms, there was a great burst of applause. The curtain rose again and the whole company bowed to the audience. Then it rose while Sir Sealy and Sarah bowed, but still the cheering went on. Finally Sir Sealy stepped forward and raised his hand for quiet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Thank you for your kind applause. We are indeed most grateful. But before you leave I would like to introduce the youngest and most important member of our company. A young… er, bear, who came to our rescue…” The rest of Sir Sealy’s speech was drowned in a buzz of excitement as he stepped forward to the very front of the stage, where a small screen hid a hole in the boards which was the prompt box.
He took hold of one of Paddington’s paws and pulled. Paddington’s head appeared through the hole. In his other paw he was grasping a copy of the script.
“Come along, Paddington,” said Sir Sealy. “Come and take your bow.”
“I can’t,” gasped Paddington. “I think I’m stuck!”
And stuck he was. It took several stagehands, the fireman, and a lot of butter to remove him after the audience had gone. But he was far enough out to twist round and raise his hat to the cheering crowd before the curtain came down for the last time.
Several nights later, anyone going into Paddington’s room would have found him sitting up in bed with his scrapbook, a pair of scissors, and a pot of paste. He was busy pasting in a picture of Sir Sealy Bloom, which the great man had signed: ‘To Paddington, with grateful thanks.’ There was also a signed picture from the lady called Sarah, and one of his proudest possessions – a newspaper cutting about the play headed PADDINGTON SAVES THE DAY!
Mr Gruber had told him that the photographs were probably worth a bit of money, but after much thought he had decided not to part with them. In any case, Sir Sealy Bloom had given him his twenty pence back and a pair of opera glasses.
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ONE MORNING MR Brown tapped the barometer in the hall. “It looks as if it’s going to be a nice day,” he said. “How about a trip to the sea?”
His remark was greeted with enthusiasm by the rest of the family, and in no time at all the house was in an uproar.
Mrs Bird started to cut a huge pile of sandwiches while Mr Brown got the car ready. Jonathan and Judy searched for their bathing suits and Paddington went up to his room to pack. An outing which involved Paddington was always rather a business, as he insisted on taking all his things with him. As time went by he had acquired lots of things. As well as his suitcase, he now had a smart weekend grip with the initials P.B. inscribed on the side and a paper carrier-bag for the odds and ends.
For the summer months Mrs Brown had bought him a sun hat. It was made of straw and very floppy. Paddington liked it, for by turning the brim up or down, he could make it different shapes, and it was really like having several hats in one.
“When we get to Brightsea,” said Mrs Brown, “we’ll buy you a bucket and spade. Then you can make a sand-castle.”
“And you can go to the pier,” said Jonathan, eagerly. “They’ve some super machines on the pier. You’d better bring plenty of coins.”
“And we can go swimming,” added Judy. “You can swim, can’t you?”
“Not very well, I’m afraid,” replied Paddington. “You see, I’ve never been to the seaside before!”
“Never been to the seaside!” Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at Paddington.
“Never,” said Paddington.
They all agreed that it must be nice to be going to the seaside for the first time in one’s life; even Mrs Bird began talking about the time she first went to Brightsea, many years before. Paddington became very excited as they told him all about the wonderful things he was going to see.
The car was crowded when they started off. Mrs Bird, Judy, and Jonathan sat in the back. Mr Brown drove and Mrs Brown and Paddington sat beside him. Paddington liked sitting in the front, especially when the window was open, so that he could poke his head out in the cool breeze. After a minor delay when Paddington’s hat blew off on the outskirts of London, they were soon on the open road.
“Can you smell the sea yet, Paddington?” asked Mrs Brown after a while.
Paddington poked his head out and sniffed. “I can smell something,” he said.
“Well,” said Mr Brown. “Keep on sniffing, because we’re almost there.” And sure enough, as they reached the top of a hill and rounded a corner to go down the other side, there it was in the distance, glistening in the morning sun.
Paddington’s eyes opened wide. “Look at all the boats on the dirt!” he cried, pointing in the direction of the beach with his paw.
Everyone laughed. “That’s not dirt,” said Judy. “That’s sand.” By the time they had explained all about sand to Paddington they were in Brightsea itself, and driving along the front. Paddington looked at the sea rather doubtfully. The waves were much bigger than he had imagined. Not so big as the ones he’d seen on his journey to England, but quite large enough for a small bear.
Mr Brown stopped the car by a shop on the esplanade and took out some money. “I’d like to fit this bear out for a day at the seaside,” he said to the lady behind the counter. “Let’s see now, we shall need a bucket and spade, a pair of sunglasses, one of those rubber tyres…” As he reeled off the list, the lady handed the articles to Paddington, who began to wish he had more than two paws. He had a rubber tyre round his middle which kept slipping down around his knees, a pair of sunglasses perched precariously on his nose, his straw hat, a bucket and spade in one hand, and his suitcase in the other.
“Photograph, sir?” Paddington turned to see an untidy man with a camera looking at him. “Only one pound, sir. Results guaranteed. Money back if you’re not satisfied.”
