Paddington’s Finest Hour. Michael Bond
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Mr Brown. “It’s the main reason why I came out in the first place.”
“In that case, why bring all the rest of us with you?” said Mrs Brown. “As things have turned out it would have been far better watching the rain through our living room windows instead of sitting in your car getting all steamed up.”
“Our car,” said Mr Brown. “And it seemed like a good idea at the time. The sun was shining and it felt like a typical Saturday afternoon with everybody at a loose end, so I thought we could combine things and kill two birds with one stone.
“I reckoned without the English summer weather.”
Reaching into an inside pocket of his jacket, he produced an envelope and held it up for all to see. Clearly it was important, for the address was printed in black.
“It’s my Income Tax Demand Note,” he explained gloomily. “It’s a last reminder that payment is due no later than Monday. I’m already in the Revenue’s bad books for being late with the money last year. Two years running and they’ll be putting a tag on me and we shall all suffer.”
“It would have been a help if we’d ended up somewhere within walking distance of a pillar box,” said Mrs Brown.
Mr Brown heaved a sigh. “On a day like today you might just as well say it would have been a help if the ‘powers that be’ had erected one right where we are, Mary, but they didn’t.
“It’s sheer lack of foresight. Remind me to write a letter of complaint when we get back home pointing out the error of their ways. They could put one every ten yards or so while they are at it.”
“Sarcasm won’t get you off the hook, Henry,” said Mrs Brown. “If your letter is so important you had better put a brave face on things and make a run for it.”
“And get my new jacket sopping wet,” said Mr Brown. “I should cocoa!”
From his position in the back of the car Paddington caught the word ‘cocoa’ and pricked up his ears.
“I didn’t know we were having a picnic, Mr Brown,” he called excitedly. “I’ve never had a picnic in a car before. It’s a good job I put a fresh marmalade sandwich under my hat before we came out.”
“Shh!” hissed Judy. “We’re not having a picnic now. You heard what Dad said. We’re marooned and it’s all a fault of the weather. Nobody is to blame.
“We are victims of circumstances,” she continued dramatically. “The sun was shining when we left home, so we’ve all come out without our waterproofs. If it doesn’t ease off we could be sitting here for the rest of the afternoon.”
“All except Paddington,” broke in Jonathan.
“What do you mean?” said Judy. “All except Paddington?”
“Well,” said Jonathan. “At least he’s wearing his duffle coat, and Mrs Bird was saying only the other day it was in need of a clean. If Paddington goes out in this downpour to post the letter it will amount to him killing two birds with one stone – Mrs Bird and Dad will both be happy.”
He lowered his voice. “And I daresay Paddington himself will be rewarded.”
“Undoubtedly!” came a voice from the front of the car. “Good deeds should never go unrewarded. And when it’s raining as hard as it is at the moment it deserves twice as much. What a splendid idea.”
“It sounds very good value, Mr Brown,” said Paddington. “But I’m a bit worried about my whiskers. When it rains very hard the water runs down to the ends and it’s got nowhere else to go.”
“Don’t let that worry you, Paddington,” called Mr Brown. “We can’t allow that to happen. The boot of the car is unlocked. If it’s of any help whisker-wise you can take one of the umbrellas.”
Without further ado he handed the all-important letter over his shoulder.
“Whatever else you do, promise faithfully to guard it with your life.”
“Thank you very much, Mr Brown,” said Paddington gratefully. “I will.” And having made up his mind at long last, he followed Mrs Brown’s example and rubbed a hole in the nearest steamed-up window with the back of the paw to see if the weather was as bad at his end of the car as it was at the front.
As he pressed his nose against the glass he nearly jumped out of his skin with alarm when he found himself face to face with a man wearing a helmet.
He was only inches away from the glass but there was no mistaking a figure of the law.
He must have been trying to see inside Mr Brown’s car, and he clearly felt unhappy at being caught out, so Paddington felt obliged to raise his hat in order to make him feel better. He received a salute in return.
Unaware of what was going on, Mr Brown called out another warning. “Whatever you do, Paddington, don’t get my letter mixed up with your marmalade sandwich. That’s something else the Inland Revenue won’t take kindly to – a sticky cheque. And I know who would get the blame.”
“If I were you, Paddington,” said Jonathan, as the policeman backed further away, “I’d use the door on the other side of the car otherwise he’ll keep you talking and you’ll never get going. Besides, if Dad’s letter gets sopping wet bang goes your reward for doing a good deed.”
Paddington needed no second bidding. One way and another, he was only too pleased to make good his escape, and having put Mr Brown’s letter under his hat for safekeeping he was out of the car like a streak of lightning.
Jonathan and Judy heard the sound of rummaging going on behind them, followed by a clunk as the door to the boot slammed shut. Moments later what looked for all the world like a large, brightly coloured tent went past the window.
“Oh, dear,” said Judy, “Dad won’t be too pleased. That’s his best golfing umbrella.”
“At least with all those red, white and blue stripes we shan’t lose sight of him,” said Jonathan.
“Perhaps it’s just as well,” said Judy. “With it only half open he looks like an upside-down Knickerbocker Glory. Let’s hope he doesn’t open it fully. In this weather he’s just as likely to get blown off his feet and end up like Mary Poppins.”
The words were hardly out of her mouth when they heard a loud knocking on the driver’s side at the front of the car.
“That’s torn it,” said Jonathan. “It’s the copper who was lurking round the back. The one Paddington just raised his hat to. Dad’s really not going to like it.”
They both fell silent as their father wound his window down in response to the latest arrival.
“Are you aware, sir,” said the man, “you have a bear in the back of your car?”
“A bear?” repeated Mr Brown, playing for time. He looked over his shoulder. “What makes you think that? I can’t see one.”
“I know what I saw,” said the policeman stubbornly. “Wearing a red hat, it was. Made a gesture towards me, he did. Like he was trying to raise it. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind getting out of your car for a moment, sir …”
“Yes, I would mind,” said Mr Brown. “Apart from the fact that it’s patently obvious there isn’t a bear in the back of the car, even if there were it isn’t a crime.”
The policeman looked pained. “I had your best interests at heart,” he said. “It could have escaped from the zoo for all you know.”
“Careful,