A Bear Called Paddington. Michael Bond
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“I emigrated, you know.” A sad expression came into its eyes. “I used to live with my Aunt Lucy in Peru, but she had to go into a home for retired bears.”
“You don’t mean to say you’ve come all the way from South America by yourself?” exclaimed Mrs Brown.
The bear nodded. “Aunt Lucy always said she wanted me to emigrate when I was old enough. That’s why she taught me to speak English.”
“But whatever did you do for food?” asked Mr Brown. “You must be starving.”
Bending down, the bear unlocked the suitcase with a small key, which it also had round its neck, and brought out an almost empty glass jar. “I ate marmalade,” he said, rather proudly. “Bears like marmalade. And I lived in a lifeboat.”
“But what are you going to do now?” said Mr Brown. “You can’t just sit on Paddington station waiting for something to happen.”
“Oh, I shall be all right… I expect.” The bear bent down to do up its case again. As he did so Mrs Brown caught a glimpse of the writing on the label. It said, simply, PLEASE LOOK AFTER THIS BEAR. THANK YOU.
She turned appealingly to her husband. “Oh, Henry, what shall we do? We can’t just leave him here. There’s no knowing what might happen to him. London’s such a big place when you’ve nowhere to go. Can’t he come and stay with us for a few days?”
Mr Brown hesitated. “But Mary, dear, we can’t take him… not just like that. After all…”
“After all, what?” Mrs Brown’s voice had a firm note to it. She looked down at the bear. “He is rather sweet. And he’d be such company for Jonathan and Judy. Even if it’s only for a little while. They’d never forgive us if they knew you’d left him here.”
“It all seems highly irregular,” said Mr Brown, doubtfully. “I’m sure there’s a law about it.” He bent down. “Would you like to come and stay with us?” he asked. “That is,” he added, hastily, not wishing to offend the bear, “if you’ve nothing else planned.”
The bear jumped and his hat nearly fell off with excitement. “Oooh, yes, please. I should like that very much. I’ve nowhere to go and everyone seems in such a hurry.”
“Well, that’s settled then,” said Mrs Brown, before her husband could change his mind. “And you can have marmalade for breakfast every morning, and –” she tried hard to think of something else that bears might like.
“Every morning?” The bear looked as if it could hardly believe its ears. “I only had it on special occasions at home. Marmalade’s very expensive in Darkest Peru.”
“Then you shall have it every morning starting tomorrow,” continued Mrs Brown. “And honey on Sunday.”
A worried expression came over the bear’s face. “Will it cost very much?” he asked. “You see, I haven’t very much money.”
“Of course not. We wouldn’t dream of charging you anything. We shall expect you to be one of the family, shan’t we, Henry?” Mrs Brown looked at her husband for support.
“Of course,” said Mr Brown. “By the way,” he added, “if you are coming home with us you’d better know our names. This is Mrs Brown and I’m Mr Brown.”
The bear raised its hat politely – twice.“ I haven’t really got a name,” he said. “Only a Peruvian one which no one can understand.”
“Then we’d better give you an English one,” said Mrs Brown. “It’ll make things much easier.” She looked round the station for inspiration. “It ought to be something special,” she said thoughtfully. As she spoke an engine standing in one of the platforms gave a loud wail and a train began to move. “I know what!” she exclaimed. “We found you on Paddington station so we’ll call you Paddington!”
“Paddington!” The bear repeated it several times to make sure. “It seems a very long name.”
“Quite distinguished,” said Mr Brown. “Yes, I like Paddington as a name. Paddington it shall be.”
Mrs Brown stood up. “Good. Now, Paddington, I have to meet our little daughter, Judy, off the train. She’s coming home from school. I’m sure you must be thirsty after your long journey, so you go along to the buffet with Mr Brown and he’ll buy you a nice cup of tea.”
Paddington licked his lips. “I’m very thirsty,” he said. “Sea water makes you thirsty.” He picked up his suitcase, pulled his hat down firmly over his head, and waved a paw politely in the direction of the buffet. “After you, Mr Brown.”
“Er… thank you, Paddington,” said Mr Brown.
“Now, Henry, look after him,” Mrs Brown called after them. “And for goodness’ sake, when you get a moment, take that label off his neck. It makes him look like a parcel. I’m sure he’ll get put in a luggage van or something if a porter sees him.”
The buffet was crowded when they entered but Mr Brown managed to find a table for two in a corner. By standing on a chair Paddington could just rest his paws comfortably on the glass top. He looked around with interest while Mr Brown went to fetch the tea. The sight of everyone eating reminded him of how hungry he felt. There was a half-eaten bun on the table but just as he reached out his paw a waitress came up and swept it into a pan.
“You don’t want that, dearie,” she said, giving him a friendly pat. “You don’t know where it’s been.”
Paddington felt so empty he didn’t really mind where it had been but he was much too polite to say anything.
“Well, Paddington,” said Mr Brown, as he placed two steaming cups of tea on the table and a plate piled high with cakes. “How’s that to be going on with?”
Paddington’s eyes glistened. “It’s very nice, thank you,” he exclaimed, eyeing the tea doubtfully. “But it’s rather hard drinking out of a cup. I usually get my head stuck, or else my hat falls in and makes it taste nasty.”
Mr Brown hesitated. “Then you’d better give your hat to me. I’ll pour the tea into a saucer for you. It’s not really done in the best circles, but I’m sure no one will mind just this once.”
Paddington removed his hat and laid it carefully on the table while Mr Brown poured out the tea. He looked hungrily at the cakes, in particular at a large cream-and-jam one which Mr Brown placed on a plate in front of him.
“There you are, Paddington,” he said. “I’m sorry they haven’t any marmalade ones, but they were the best I could get.”
“I’m glad I emigrated,” said Paddington, as he reached out a paw and pulled the plate nearer. “Do you think anyone would mind if I stood on the table to eat?”
Before Mr Brown could answer he had climbed up and placed his right paw firmly on the bun. It was a very large bun, the biggest and stickiest Mr Brown had been able to find, and in a matter of moments most of the inside found its way on to Paddington’s whiskers. People started to nudge each other and began staring in their direction. Mr Brown wished he had chosen a plain, ordinary bun, but he wasn’t very experienced in the ways of bears. He stirred his tea and looked out of the window, pretending he had tea with a bear on Paddington station every day of his life.
“Henry!” The sound of his wife’s voice brought him back to earth with a start. “Henry, whatever are you doing to that poor bear? Look at him! He’s covered all over with cream and jam.”
Mr Brown jumped up in confusion. “He seemed rather hungry,” he answered, lamely.
Mrs Brown turned to her daughter. “This is what happens when I leave your father alone for five minutes.”