Paddington Complete Novels. Michael Bond
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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.”
Paddington considered the matter for a moment. He didn’t like the look of the man very much, but he had been saving hard for several weeks and now had just over three pounds. It would be nice to have a picture of himself.
“Won’t take a minute, sir,” said the man, disappearing behind a black cloth at the back of the camera. “Just watch the birdie.”
Paddington looked around. There was no bird in sight as far as he could see. He went round behind the man and tapped him. The photographer, who appeared to be looking for something, jumped and then emerged from under his cloth. “How do you expect me to take your picture if you don’t stand in front?” he asked in an aggrieved voice. “Now I’ve wasted a plate, and” – he looked shiftily at Paddington – “that will cost you one pound!”
Paddington gave him a hard stare. “You said there was a bird,” he said. “And there wasn’t.”
“I expect it flew away when it saw your face,” said the man nastily. “Now where’s my pound?”
Paddington looked at him even harder for a moment. “Perhaps the bird took it when it flew away,” he said.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” cried another photographer, who had been watching the proceedings with interest. “Fancy you being taken in by a bear, Charlie! Serves you right for trying to take photographs without a licence. Now be off with you before I call a policeman.”
He watched while the other man gathered up his belongings and slouched off in the direction of the pier, then he turned to Paddington. “These people are a nuisance,” he said. “Taking away the living from honest folk. You did quite right not to pay him any money. And if you’ll allow me, I’d like to take a nice picture of you myself, as a reward!”
The Brown family exchanged glances. “I don’t know,” said Mrs Brown. “Paddington always seems to fall on his feet.”
“That’s because he’s a bear,” said Mrs Bird darkly. “Bears always fall on their feet.” She led the way on to the beach and carefully laid out a travelling rug on the sand behind a breakwater. “This will be as good a spot as any,” she said. “Then we shall all know where to come back to, and no one will get lost.”
“The tide’s out,” said Mr Brown. “So it will be nice and safe for bathing.” He turned to Paddington. “Are you going in, Paddington?” he asked.
Paddington looked at the sea. “I might go for a paddle,” he said.
“Well, hurry up,” called Judy. “And bring your bucket and spade, then we can practise making sand-castles.”
“Gosh!” Jonathan pointed to a notice pinned on the wall behind them. “Look… there’s a sand-castle competition. Whizzo! First prize ten pounds for the biggest sand-castle!”
“Suppose we all join in and make one,” said Judy. “I bet the three of us together could make the biggest one you’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to,” said Mrs Brown, reading the notice. “It says here everyone has to make their own.”
Judy looked disappointed. “Well, I shall have a go, anyway. Come on, you two, let’s have a bathe first, then we can start digging after lunch.” She raced down the sand closely followed by Jonathan and Paddington. At least, Jonathan followed but Paddington only got a few yards before his life-belt slipped down and he went headlong in the sand.
“Paddington, do give me your suitcase,” called Mrs Brown. “You can’t take it in the sea with you. It’ll get wet and be ruined.”
Looking rather crestfallen, Paddington handed his things to Mrs Brown for safekeeping and then ran down the beach after the others. Judy and Jonathan were already a long way out when he got there, so he contented himself with sitting on the water’s edge for a while, letting the waves swirl around him as they came in. It was a nice feeling, a bit cold at first, but he soon got warm. He decided the seaside was a nice place to be. He paddled out to where the water was deeper and then lay back in his rubber tyre, letting the waves carry him gently back to the shore.
“Ten pounds! Supposing… supposing he won ten whole pounds!” He closed his eyes. In his mind he had a picture of a beautiful castle made of sand, like the one he’d once seen in a picture-book, with battlements and towers and a moat. It was getting bigger and bigger and everyone else on the beach had stopped to gather round and cheer. Several people said they had never seen such a big sand-castle, and… he woke with a start as he felt someone splashing water on him.
“Come on, Paddington,” said Judy. “Lying there in the sun fast asleep. It’s time for lunch, and we’ve got lots of work to do afterwards.” Paddington felt disappointed. It had been a nice sand-castle in his dream. He was sure it would have won first prize. He rubbed his eyes and followed Judy and Jonathan up the beach to where Mrs Bird had laid out the sandwiches – ham, egg, and cheese for everyone else, and special marmalade ones for Paddington – with ice-cream and fruit salad to follow.
“I vote,” said Mr Brown, who had in mind an after-lunch nap for himself, “that after we’ve eaten you all go off in different directions and make your own sand-castles. Then we’ll have our own private competition as well as the official one. I’ll give a pound to the one with the biggest castle.”
All three thought this was a good idea. “But don’t go too far away,” called Mrs Brown, as Jonathan, Judy and Paddington set off. “Remember the tide’s coming in!” Her advice fell on deaf ears; they