Paddington Complete Novels. Michael Bond
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me.”
But Paddington was much too busy thinking about the snow to hear what they were saying. He was wondering if he could speed up the breakfast by having all his things on one plate. But just as he reached out for the bacon and eggs and the marmalade, he caught Mrs Bird’s eye and hurriedly pretended he was only conducting to the music on the wireless.
“If you do go out after breakfast, Paddington,” said Mrs Brown, “I think it would be nice if you could clear Mr Curry’s path for him before you do ours. We all know it wasn’t your fault about his suit last night, but it would show you mean well.”
“That’s a good idea,” exclaimed Jonathan. “We’ll give you a hand. Then we can use all the snow we get to build a snowman this afternoon. How about it, Paddington?”
Paddington looked rather doubtful. Whenever he tried to do anything for Mr Curry, something always seemed to go wrong.
“But no playing snowballs,” warned Mrs Bird. “Mr Curry always sleeps with his bedroom window open – even in the middle of winter. If you wake him he won’t like it at all.”
Paddington, Jonathan and Judy agreed to be as quiet as they could and as soon as breakfast was over they dressed in their warmest clothes and rushed outside to look at the snow.
Paddington was very impressed. It was much deeper than he had expected, but not at all as cold as he thought it would be, except when he stood for very long in the one place. Within a few minutes all three were busy with shovels and brooms clearing Mr Curry’s paths for him.
Jonathan and Judy started on the pavement outside the house. Paddington fetched his seaside bucket and spade and began work on Mr Curry’s back garden path, which was not quite so wide.
He filled his bucket with snow and then tipped it through a hole in the Browns’ fence near the place they intended building a snowman later in the day. It was hard work, for the snow was deep and came right up to the edge of his duffle coat, and as fast as he cleared a space, more snow came down, covering the part he’d just done.
After working for what seemed like hours, Paddington decided to have a rest. But no sooner had he settled himself on the bucket than something hit him on the back of the head, nearly knocking his hat off into the bargain.
“Caught you!” yelled Jonathan with delight. “Come on, Paddington – make yourself some snowballs – then we can have a fight.”
Paddington jumped up from his bucket and dodged round the side of Mr Curry’s shed. Then, after first making sure Mrs Bird was nowhere in sight, he gathered up some snow and rolled it into a hard ball. Holding it firmly in his right paw he closed his eyes and took careful aim.
“Yah!” shouted Jonathan, as Paddington opened his eyes. “Missed me by a mile. You’d better get some practice in!”
Paddington stood behind Mr Curry’s shed scratching his head and examining his paw. He knew the snowball must have gone somewhere but he hadn’t the least idea where. After thinking about it for some time he decided to have another go. If he crept very quietly round the side of the house he might even be able to catch Jonathan unawares and get his own back.
It was as he tip-toed past Mr Curry’s back door, clutching a snowball in his paw, that he noticed for the first time the door was open. The wind was blowing the snow through into the kitchen and there was already a small pile of it on the mat. Paddington hesitated for a moment and then pulled the door shut. There was a click as it closed, and he carefully tested it with his paw to make certain it was properly fastened. He was sure Mr Curry wouldn’t want snow all over his kitchen floor, and he felt very pleased at being able to do another good deed – apart from sweeping the path.
To Paddington’s surprise, when he peered round the corner at the front of the house Mr Curry was already there. He was wearing a dressing gown over his pyjamas and he looked cold and cross. He broke off his conversation with Jonathan and Judy and stared in Paddington’s direction.
“Ah, there you are, bear!” he exclaimed. “Have you been throwing snowballs?”
“Snowballs?” repeated Paddington, hurriedly putting his paw behind his back. “Did you say snowballs, Mr Curry?”
“Yes,” said Mr Curry. “Snowballs! A large one came through my bedroom window a moment ago and landed right in the middle of my bed. Now it’s all melted on my hot-water bottle! If I thought you had done it on purpose, bear…”
“Oh no, Mr Curry,” said Paddington, earnestly. “I wouldn’t do a thing like that on purpose. I don’t think I could. It’s difficult throwing snowballs by paw – especially big ones like that.”
“Like what?” asked Mr Curry, suspiciously.
“Like the one you said landed in your bed,” said Paddington sounding rather confused. He was beginning to wish Mr Curry would hurry up and go. The snowball was making his paw very cold.
“Mmm,” said Mr Curry. “Well, I’m not standing out here in the snow discussing bears’ pranks. I came downstairs intending to tell you off.” He looked round approvingly at the clean pavement. “But I must admit I’ve been pleasantly surprised. In fact,” he turned to go back indoors, “if you make as good a job of the rest I might even give you ten pence!
“Between you,” he added, in case they mistook his meaning.
“Ten pence!” exclaimed Jonathan disgustedly. “One measly ten-penny piece.”
“Oh well,” said Judy, “at least we’ve done our good deed for the day. It should last for a while – even with Mr Curry.”
Paddington looked doubtful. “I don’t think it’ll last very long,” he said, listening hard. “In fact, I think it’s nearly over.” Even as he spoke there came a roar of rage from Mr Curry followed by several loud bangs.
“Whatever’s up now?” exclaimed Judy. “That sounds like Mr Curry banging on his back door.”
“I thought I was doing him a good turn,” said Paddington, looking very worried, “so I shut it. I think he must be locked out.”
“Oh gosh, Paddington,” groaned Judy. “You are an unlucky bear today.”
“Who shut my door?” roared Mr Curry as he strode round to the front again. “Who locked me out of my house? Bear!” he barked. “Where are you, bear?”
Mr Curry glared down the road but there was not a soul in sight. If he had been a little less cross, he might have noticed three distinct sets of pawprints and footprints where Paddington, Jonathan, and Judy had beaten a hasty retreat.
After a distance the three tracks separated. Jonathan’s and Judy’s disappeared into the Browns’ house. Paddington’s went towards the market.
He had seen quite enough of Mr Curry for one day. Besides, it had gone half past ten and he had promised to meet Mr Gruber for morning cocoa at eleven.
*
“I really think Mr Curry has gone a bit funny in the head,” said Mrs Brown, later that day. “He was standing outside the house in his pyjamas and dressing gown this morning – in all that snow. Then he started running around in circles waving his fist.”
“Mmm,” replied Mrs Bird, “I saw Paddington playing snowballs in his back garden just before that happened.”
“Oh dear,” said Mrs Brown. She looked out of the window. The sky had cleared at last and the garden, with all the trees bowed down under the weight of snow, looked just like a Christmas card. “It seems very still,” she said. “Almost as if something