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Paddington Here and Now
Michael Bond
Paddington – the beloved, classic bear from Darkest Peru – is back in this fantastically funny, long-awaited, brand new illustrated novel from master storyteller Michael Bond!'I'm not a foreigner,' exclaimed Paddington hotly. 'I'm from Darkest Peru.'Paddington Bear always manages to find himself in tricky situations, sometimes extraordinary situations. Like the time he had a difficult encounter with a policeman or when he found himself in deep water with a newspaper reporter. But since arriving from his native Peru after an earthquake Paddington has always felt at home with the Brown family who found him on Paddington station. Then one day, a surprise visitor arrives at thirty-two Windsor Gardens. Is it time for Paddington to decide where 'home' really is?In 2008 Michael Bond's first novel featuring the adventures of Paddington Bear will celebrate its fiftieth anniversary. Paddington's amazing ability to get into and out of trouble is at the heart of the countless stories that have been loved the world over ever since. However, it is many years since a new novel has been published, and in celebration of this landmark, Michael Bond has written the funniest and the most moving Paddington novel ever.
Copyright (#ulink_f8cbb2c5-4e05-54f2-957d-fe31202f3524)
First published in hardback in Great Britain by
HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2008
This edition published in 2018
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF.
www.harpercollinschildrensbooks.co.uk
Text copyright © Michael Bond 2008
Illustrations copyright © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2008
Cover illustration copyright © Peggy Fortnum and HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2008
The author asserts the moral right to be identified
as the author of the work.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins eBooks.
Conditions of Sale
This book is sold subject to the condition
that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise,
be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the publisher’s prior consent in any
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it is published and without a similar condition
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the subsequent purchaser.
Source ISBN: 9780007269419
eBook Edition June 2008 ISBN: 9780007281916
Version: 2018-05-23
Contents
Cover (#u64d76d43-4360-5af4-b995-f5bc103a43fa)
Title Page (#u395ba1ee-207b-5397-949c-64b73cf0c517)
Copyright (#u8d1103ef-ad3f-593d-817d-b164c0b1fd8b)
1. Parking Problems (#u935e2177-e351-418d-a17c-13eb6e6243f6)
2. Paddington’s Good Turn (#u0dc4a4c9-3b63-4dbb-b562-a3462dba2c26)
3. Paddington Strikes a Chord (#litres_trial_promo)
4. Paddington Takes the Biscuit (#litres_trial_promo)
5. Paddington Spills the Beans (#litres_trial_promo)
6. Paddington Aims High (#litres_trial_promo)
7. Paddington’s Christmas Surprise (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
By the Same Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_84606b47-2b2e-5bf6-93bf-0fef0e9ab02d)
PARKING PROBLEMS
“MY SHOPPING BASKET on wheels has been towed away!” exclaimed Paddington hotly.
He gazed at the spot where he had left it before going into the cut-price grocers in the Portobello Market. In all the years he had lived in London such a thing had never happened to him before and he could hardly believe his eyes. But if he thought staring at the empty space was going to make it reappear he was doomed to disappointment.
“It’s coming to something if a young bear gent can’t leave ’is shopping basket unattended for five minutes while ’e’s going about ’is business,” said one of the stallholders, who normally supplied Paddington with vegetables when he was out shopping for the Brown family. “I don’t know what the world’s coming to.”
“There’s no give and take any more,” agreed a man at the next stall. “It’s all take and no give. They’ll be towing us away next, you mark my words.”
“You should have left a note on it saying ‘Back in five minutes’,” said a third one.
“Fat lot of good that would have done,” said another. “They don’t give you five seconds these days, let alone five minutes.”
Paddington was a popular figure in the market and by now a small crowd of sympathisers had begun to gather. Although he was known to drive a hard bargain, he was much respected by the traders. Receiving his custom was regarded by many as being something of an honour: on a par with having a sign saying they were by appointment to a member of the Royal Family.
“The foreman of the truck said it was in the way of his vehicle,” said a lady who had witnessed the event. “They were trying to get behind a car they wanted to tow away.”
“But my buns were in it,” said Paddington.
“Were, is probably the right word,” replied the lady. “I dare say even now they’re parked in some side street or other wolfing them down. Driving those great big tow-away trucks of theirs must give them an appetite.”
“I don’t know what Mr Gruber is going to say when he hears,” said Paddington. “They were meant for our elevenses.”
“Look on the bright side,” said another lady. “At least you’ve still got your suitcase with you. The basket could have been clamped. That would have cost you £80 to get it undone.”
“And you would have to hang about half the day before they got around to doing it,” agreed another.
Paddington’s face grew longer and longer as he listened to all the words of wisdom. “Eighty pounds!” he exclaimed. “But I only went in for Mrs Bird’s bottled water!”
“You can buy a new basket on wheels in the market for £10,” chimed in another stallholder.
“I dare say if you haggle a bit you could get one for a lot less,” said another.
“But I’ve only got ten pence,” said Paddington sadly. “Besides, I wouldn’t want a new one. Mr Brown gave mine to me soon after I arrived. I’ve had it ever since.”
“Quite right!” agreed an onlooker. “You stick to your guns. They don’t come like that these days. Them new ones is all plastic. Don’t last five minutes.”
“If you ask me,” said a lady who ran a knickknacks stall, “it’s a pity it didn’t get clamped. My Sid would have lent you his hacksaw like a shot. He doesn’t hold with that kind of thing.”
“Pity you weren’t here in person when they did it,” said another stallholder. “You would have been able to lie down in the road in front of their truck as a protest. Then we could have phoned the local press to send over one of their photographers and it would have been in all the papers.”
“That would have stopped the lorry in its tracks,” agreed someone else from the back of the crowd.
Paddington eyed the man doubtfully. “Supposing it didn’t?” he said.
“In that case you would have been on the evening news,” said the man. “Television would have had a field day interviewing all the witnesses.”
“You’d have become what they call a martyr,” agreed the first man. “I dare say in years to come they would have erected a statue in your honour. Then nobody would have been able to park.”
“What you need,” said the fruit and vegetable man, summing up the whole situation, “is a good lawyer. Someone like Sir Bernard Crumble. He lives just up the road. This kind of thing is just up his street. He’s a great one for sticking up for the underdog…” he broke off as he caught Paddington’s eye. “Well, I dare say he does underbears as well. He’d have their guts for garters. Never been known to lose a case yet.”
“Which street does he live in?” asked Paddington hopefully.
“I shouldn’t get ideas above your station,” warned another trader. “If you’ll pardon the pun. They do say ’e charges an arm and a leg just to open ’is front door to the postman.”
“If I were you,” said a passer-by, “before you do anything else, I suggest you go along to the police station and report the matter to them. I dare say they’ll be able to arrange counselling for you.”
“Whatever you do,” advised one of the stallholders, “don’t tell them you’ve been towed away. Be what they call non committal. Just say your vehicle has gone missing.”
He gazed at the large pack of bottled water Paddington had bought in the grocers. “You can leave those with me. I’ll make sure they don’t come to any harm.”
Paddington thanked the man for his kind offer and after waving goodbye to the crowd he set off at a brisk pace towards the nearest police station.
But as he turned a corner and a familiar blue lamp came into view, he began to slow down. Over the years he had met a number of policemen and he had always found them only too ready to help in times of trouble. There was the occasion when he’d mistaken a television repairman for a burglar, and another time when he had bought some oil shares from a man in the market and they had turned out to be dud.
But he had never actually gone into a police station all by himself before, and not knowing what to expect he began to wish he had consulted his friend, Mr Gruber, before taking the plunge. Mr Gruber was always ready to help, and he most certainly would have done so had he heard their buns were missing. He might even have closed his shop for the morning.
And if he couldn’t do that for any reason, there was always Mrs Bird. Mrs Bird looked after the Browns, and she didn’t stand for any nonsense, especially if she thought Paddington was being hard done by.
However, as things turned out, he was pleasantly surprised when he mounted the steps and pushed the door slightly ajar. Apart from a man in uniform behind a counter, the room was completely empty.
The man was much younger than he had expected. In fact, he didn’t seem much older than Mr and Mrs Brown’s son, Jonathan, who was still at school. He looked slightly apprehensive when he caught sight of Paddington, rather as though he didn’t know quite what to make of him.
“Er… Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” he ventured nervously.
“Bless you,” said Paddington, politely raising his hat. “You can borrow my handkerchief if you like.”
The policeman gave him a funny look before trying again.
“Parlez-vous français?”
“Not today, thank you,” said Paddington.
“Pardon me for asking,” said the officer. “But it’s ‘Be Polite to Foreigners Week’. Strictly unofficial, of course. It’s the Sergeant’s idea because we get a lot of overseas visitors at this time of the year, especially round the Portobello Road area, and I thought perhaps…”
“I’m not a foreigner,” exclaimed Paddington hotly. “I’m from Darkest Peru.”
The policeman looked put out. “Well, if that doesn’t make you a foreigner, I don’t know what does,” he said. “Mind you, it takes all sorts. I must say you speak very good English, wherever you’re from.”
“My Aunt Lucy taught me before she went into the Home for Retired Bears in Lima,” said Paddington.
“Well, she did a good job, I’ll say that for her,” said the policeman. “What can we do for you?”
“I’ve come to see you about my vehicle,” said Paddington, choosing his words with care. “It isn’t where I left it.”
“And where was that?” asked the policeman.
“Outside the cut-price grocers in the market,” said Paddington. “I always leave it there when I’m out shopping.”
“Oh, dear,” said the officer. “Not another one gone missing. There’s a lot of it about at the moment, especially round these parts…” He reached for a computer keyboard. “I’d better take down some details.”
“It had my buns in it,” said Paddington.
“That’s not a lot to go on,” said the policeman. “I was wondering what make it is?”
“It’s not really a make,” said Paddington vaguely. “Mr Brown built it for me when I first went to stay with them.”
“Home-made,” said the officer, typing in the words. “Ahhhhh! Colour?”
“I think it’s called wickerwork,” said Paddington.
“I’ll put down yellow for the time being,” said the man. “Did you leave the handbrake on? That always slows them down a bit when they want to make a quick getaway.”
“It doesn’t have a handbrake,” said Paddington. “It doesn’t even have a paw brake. If I need to stop on a hill I usually put some stones under the wheels. Especially if I’ve been to get the potatoes.”
