Paddington Complete Novels. Michael Bond
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“I should think you did,” said Mrs Brown as she followed him into the room. “I’ve never heard so much banging and crashing.”
Mrs Brown looked suspiciously round the room but everything appeared to be in its place so she turned her attention back to Paddington who was now sitting up in bed with a very odd expression on his face.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked anxiously, as she placed the tray in front of him. For one nasty moment Mrs Brown thought she saw a trickle of red running down Paddington’s left ear, but before she could look into the matter he had pulled his old hat even further down over his head. All the same she didn’t like the look of it at all, and she hesitated at the door in case something was wrong.
Paddington, in his turn, rather wished Mrs Brown would hurry up and go. In his haste to clear up the mess he had forgotten to put the stopper back on the bottle of ink and the top of his head was beginning to feel quite soggy.
Mrs Brown sighed as she closed the door. She knew from past experience that it was hopeless trying to get an explanation out of Paddington when he was in one of his difficult moods.
“If you ask me,” said Mrs Bird, when Mrs Brown joined her in the kitchen and told her all about Paddington’s strange behaviour, “that young bear isn’t the only one in this house who’s acting in a funny manner. It’s all to do with you know what!”
With that Mrs Brown had to agree. Things had been very much upside down in the Brown household ever since the previous evening.
It had all started when Mr Brown arrived home carrying a large pile of maps and brightly coloured pamphlets and announced that he was taking them to France for their summer holiday.
In a matter of moments the normal peace and quiet of number thirty-two Windsor Gardens had disappeared completely, never to return.
The holiday had been the one topic of conversation from dinner time until last thing at night. Old beach balls and bathing-costumes had been searched for in disused cupboards, plans had been discussed, and Mrs Bird had already begun washing and ironing a small mountain of clothes ready for the big day.
Paddington in particular had been most excited at the news. Since he had been a member of the Brown family they had taken him on a number of day trips which he had enjoyed no end, but he had never before been away for a real holiday and he was looking forward to it. To add to his excitement Mr Brown, in a generous moment, had put him in charge of all the maps and a thing called an itinerary.
At first Paddington hadn’t been at all sure about being in charge of anything which sounded so important as an itinerary, but after Judy had explained to him that it was simply a list of all the places they would visit and the things they would do he had quickly changed his mind. Paddington was keen on lists and a ‘doings list’ sounded most interesting.
“Mind you,” said Mrs Bird darkly, as she discussed the matter with Mrs Brown over the washing-up, “if that young bear’s going to be in charge of the maps we shall need all of a fortnight. It’s asking for trouble. There’s no knowing where we might end up.”
Mrs Brown sighed again. “Oh, well,” she said, turning her attention to other things, “at least it keeps him happy. You know how keen he is on writing things.”
“H’mm!” said Mrs Bird. “It’ll be all over the sheets if I know anything. Itineraries indeed!”
She snorted and cast a dark glance up at the ceiling in the direction of Paddington’s room on the second floor.
Mrs Bird knew from past experience and much washing of sheets that ink and Paddington were two things best kept apart. But as it happened for once she needn’t have worried for Paddington had just that moment stopped writing. In fact he was sitting up in bed carefully studying a large sheet of drawing-paper which he held in his paws.
At the top of the paper in big, red capital letters was the heading:
EYETINNERY BY PADINGTUN
followed by his special paw mark to show that it was genuine.
Paddington wasn’t quite sure about the spelling of itinerary, but though he had looked through all the ‘E’s in Mr Brown’s dictionary the night before he hadn’t been able to find it anywhere. On the whole, Paddington wasn’t surprised. He didn’t think much of dictionaries and he often found that when he wanted to look up a particularly difficult word it was nowhere to be found.
The first item on the list was:
7 oh clock – Large Breckfast
and then came
8 oh clock – Leave Home (32 Windsor Gardens)
9 oh clock – Snak
11 oh clock – Elevenses
Paddington read through the list several more times and then, after adding the words 12 oh clock – arrive at Airplane – Lunch, he folded the paper and packed it away in the secret compartment of his suitcase. Planning a holiday – especially a holiday abroad – was much more complicated than he had imagined, and he decided the only thing to do was to consult his friend Mr Gruber on the subject.
A few minutes later, after a quick wash, he hurried downstairs, collected the shopping list from Mrs Bird and his basket on wheels, and disappeared out of the house with a purposeful gleam in his eyes.
Pausing only to call in at the baker’s, where he had a standing order for freshly baked buns, Paddington soon rounded the corner into the Portobello Road and made his way in the direction of Mr Gruber’s shop with its familiar windows bursting at the seams with antiques of every shape and size.
Mr Gruber shared Paddington’s liking for cocoa and buns, and they often had long chats together over their elevenses. He had travelled a great deal in his younger days and Paddington felt sure he would know all there was to know about holidays abroad.
Mr Gruber was as excited as Paddington when he heard the news and he quickly led the way to the horsehair sofa at the back of the shop which he reserved for all their important discussions.
“What a nice surprise, Mr Brown,” he said, as he busied himself at the stove with a saucepan of milk. “I don’t suppose there are many bears able to take their holidays abroad, so you must make the most of it. If there’s anything I can do to help, you must let me know.”
Mr Gruber listened carefully to all Paddington’s explanations while he made the cocoa and his face took on a serious expression.
“I must say being in charge of an itinerary sounds a heavy responsibility for a young bear’s shoulders, Mr Brown,” he exclaimed as he handed Paddington a steaming mug of cocoa in exchange for a bun. “I shall have to see what I can do.”
And without further ado he got down on his hands and knees and began sorting through a pile of old books in a box behind the sofa.
“Everyone seems to be taking their holidays abroad at the moment, Mr Brown,” he said, as he began handing some of the books up to Paddington. “I’ve had rather a run on books about France, but I hope you’ll find these useful.”
Paddington’s eyes got larger and larger as the pile by his side got higher, and he nearly fell off his seat with surprise when Mr Gruber suddenly stood up holding an old black beret in his hands.
“It’s rather large,” said Mr Gruber apologetically, as he held it up to the light, “and there seem to be one or two moth holes. But it’s a real French one and you’re very welcome to use it.”
“Thank you very much, Mr Gruber,” said Paddington gratefully. “I expect the moth holes will do for my ears. Bears’ ears don’t fold very easily.”
“Well, I hope you find everything useful,” said Mr Gruber, looking very pleased at the expression on Paddington’s face. “You’ll need a lot