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“All the same” – he climbed on to the dressing-table and looked at himself in the mirror – “it’s a very important name. And I don’t expect there are many bears in the world called Paddington!”
If he’d only known, Judy was saying exactly the same thing to Mr Brown at that very moment. The Browns were holding a council of war in the dining-room, and Mr Brown was fighting a losing battle. It had been Judy’s idea in the first place to keep Paddington. In this she not only had Jonathan on her side but also her mother. Jonathan had yet to meet Paddington but the idea of having a bear in the family appealed to him. It sounded very important.
“After all, Henry,” argued Mrs Brown, “you can’t turn him out now. It wouldn’t be right.”
Mr Brown sighed. He knew when he was beaten. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of keeping Paddington. Secretly he was just as keen as anyone. But as head of the Brown household he felt he ought to consider the matter from every angle.
“I’m sure we ought to report the matter to someone first,” he said.
“I don’t see why, Dad,” cried Jonathan. “Besides, he might get arrested for being a stowaway if we do that.”
Mrs Brown put down her knitting. “Jonathan’s right, Henry. We can’t let that happen. It’s not as if he’s done anything wrong. I’m sure he didn’t harm anyone travelling in a lifeboat like that.”
“Then there’s the question of pocket money,” said Mr Brown, weakening. “I’m not sure how much pocket money to give a bear.”
“He can have a pound a week, the same as the other children,” replied Mrs Brown.
Mr Brown lit his pipe carefully before replying.
“Well,” he said, “we’ll have to see what Mrs Bird has to say about it first, of course.”
There was a triumphant chorus from the rest of the family.
“You’d better ask her then,” said Mrs Brown, when the noise had died down. “It was your idea.”
Mr Brown coughed. He was a little bit afraid of Mrs Bird and he wasn’t at all sure how she would take it. He was about to suggest they left it for a little while when the door opened and Mrs Bird herself came in with the tea things. She paused for a moment and looked round at the sea of expectant faces.
“I suppose,” she said, “you want to tell me you’ve decided to keep that young Paddington.”
“May we, Mrs Bird?” pleaded Judy. “Please! I’m sure he’ll be very good.”
“Humph!” Mrs Bird put the tray down on the table. “That remains to be seen. Different people have different ideas about being good. All the same,” she hesitated at the door, “he looks the sort of bear that means well.”
“Then you don’t mind, Mrs Bird?” Mr Brown asked her.
Mrs Bird thought for a moment. “No. No, I don’t mind at all. I’ve always had a soft spot for bears myself. It’ll be nice to have one about the house.”
“Well,” gasped Mrs Brown, as the door closed. “Whoever would have thought it!”
“I expect it was because he raised his hat,” said Judy. “It made a good impression. Mrs Bird likes polite people.”
Mrs Brown picked up her knitting again. “I suppose someone ought to write and tell his Aunt Lucy. I’m sure she’d like to know he’s safe.” She turned to Judy. “Perhaps it would be a nice thought if you and Jonathan wrote.”
“By the way,” said Mr Brown, “come to think of it, where is Paddington? He’s not still up in his room, is he?”
Judy looked up from the writing-desk, where she was searching for some notepaper. “Oh, he’s all right. He’s just having a bath.”
“A bath!” Mrs Brown’s face took on a worried expression. “He’s rather small to be having a bath all by himself.”
“Don’t fuss so, Mary,” grumbled Mr Brown, settling himself down in the armchair with a newspaper. “He’s probably having the time of his life.”
Mr Brown was fairly near the truth when he said Paddington was probably having the time of his life. Unfortunately it wasn’t in quite the way he meant it. Blissfully unaware that his fate was being decided, Paddington was sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor drawing a map of South America with a tube of Mr Brown’s shaving cream.
Paddington liked geography. At least, he liked his sort of geography, which meant seeing strange places and new people. Before he left South America on his long journey to England, his Aunt Lucy, who was a very wise old bear, had done her best to teach him all she knew. She had told him all about the places he would see on the way and she had spent many long hours reading to him about the people he would meet.
It had been a long journey, half-way round the world, and so Paddington’s map occupied most of the bathroom floor and also used up most of Mr Brown’s shaving cream. With the little that was left he tried writing his new name again. He had several attempts and finally decided on PADINGTUN. It looked most important.
It wasn’t until a trickle of warm water landed on his nose that he realised the bath was full and was beginning to run over the side. With a sigh he climbed up on to the side of the bath, closed his eyes, held his nose with one paw, and jumped. The water was hot and soapy and much deeper than he had expected. In fact, he had to stand on tiptoe even to keep his nose above the surface.
It was then that he had a nasty shock. It’s one thing getting into a bath. It’s quite another getting out, especially when the water comes up to your nose and the sides are slippery and your eyes are full of soap. He couldn’t even see to turn the taps off.
He tried calling out “Help”, first in quite a quiet voice, then very loudly: “HELP! HELP!”
He waited for a few moments but no one came. Suddenly he had an idea. What a good thing he was still wearing his hat! He took it off and began baling out the water.
There were several holes in the hat because it was a very old one that had once belonged to his uncle, but if the water didn’t get much less, at least it didn’t get any more.
“That’s funny,” said Mr Brown, jumping up from his armchair and rubbing his forehead. “I could have sworn I felt a spot of water!”
“Don’t be silly, dear. How could you?” Mrs Brown, busy with her knitting, didn’t even bother to look up.
Mr Brown grunted and returned to his newspaper. He knew he had felt something, but there was no point in arguing. He looked suspiciously at the children, but both Judy and Jonathan were busy writing their letter.
“How much does it cost to send a letter to Lima?” asked Jonathan.
Judy was about to reply when another drop of water fell down from the ceiling, this time right on to the table.
“Oh, gosh!” She jumped to her feet, pulling Jonathan after her. There was an ominous wet patch right over their heads and right underneath the bathroom!
“Where are you going now, dear?” asked Mrs Brown.
“Oh, just upstairs to see how Paddington’s getting on.” Judy pushed Jonathan through the door and shut it quickly behind them.
“Crikey,” said Jonathan. “What’s up?”
“It’s Paddington,” cried Judy over her shoulder as she rushed up the stairs. “I think he’s in trouble!”
She ran along the landing and banged loudly on the bathroom door. “Are you all right, Paddington?” she shouted. “May we come in?”
“HELP! HELP!” shouted Paddington.”Please come in. I think I’m going to drown!”
“Oh, Paddington.” Judy leant over the side of the bath and helped Jonathan lift a dripping and very frightened Paddington on to the floor. “Oh, Paddington! Thank goodness you’re all right!”
Paddington lay on his back in a pool of water. “What a good job I had my hat,” he panted. “Aunt Lucy told me never to be without it.”
“But why on earth didn’t you pull the plug out, you silly?” said Judy.
“Oh!” Paddington looked crestfallen. “I… I never thought of that.”
Jonathan looked admiringly at Paddington. “Crikey,” he said. “Fancy you making all this mess. Even I’ve never made as much mess as this!”
Paddington sat up and looked around. The whole of the bathroom floor was covered in a sort of white foam where the hot water had landed on his map of South America. “It is a bit untidy,” he admitted. “I don’t really know how it got like that.”
“Untidy!” Judy lifted him to his feet and wrapped a towel around him. “Paddington, we’ve all got a lot of work to do before we go downstairs again. If Mrs Bird sees this I don’t know what she’ll say.”
“I do,” exclaimed Jonathan. “She says it to me sometimes.”
Judy began wiping the floor with a cloth. “Now just you dry yourself quickly in case you catch cold.”
Paddington began rubbing himself meekly with the towel. “I must say,” he remarked, looking at himself in the mirror. “I am a lot cleaner than I was. It doesn’t look like me at all!”
Paddington did look much cleaner than when he had first arrived at the Browns. His fur, which was really quite light in colour and not dark brown as it had been, was standing out like a new brush, except that it was soft and silky. His nose gleamed and his ears had lost all traces of the jam and cream. He was so much cleaner that when he arrived downstairs and entered the dining-room some time later, everyone pretended not to recognise him.
“The tradesmen’s entrance is at the side,” said Mr Brown, from behind the paper.
Mrs Brown put down her knitting and stared at him. “I think you must have come to the wrong house,” she said. “This is number thirty-two not thirty-four!”
Even Jonathan and Judy agreed there must be some mistake. Paddington began to get quite worried until they all burst out laughing and said how nice he looked now that he was brushed and combed and respectable.
They made room for him in a small armchair by the fire and Mrs Bird came in with another pot of tea and a plate of hot, buttered toast.
“Now, Paddington,” said Mr Brown, when they were all settled. “Suppose you tell us all about yourself and how you came to Britain.”
Paddington settled back in his armchair, wiped a smear of butter carefully from his whiskers, put his paws behind his head and stretched out his toes towards the fire. He liked an audience, especially when he was warm and the world seemed such a nice place.
“I was brought up in Darkest Peru,” he began. “By my Aunt Lucy. She’s the one that lives in a home for retired bears in Lima.” He closed his eyes thoughtfully.
A hush fell over the room and everyone waited expectantly. After a while, when nothing happened, they began to get restless. Mr Brown coughed loudly. “It doesn’t seem a very exciting story,” he said, impatiently.
He reached across and poked Paddington with his pipe. “Well I never,” he said. “I do believe he’s fallen asleep!”
PADDINGTON WAS VERY surprised when he woke up the next morning and found himself in bed. He decided it was a nice feeling as he stretched himself and pulled the sheets up round his head with a paw. He reached out with his feet and found a cool spot for his toes. One advantage of being a very small bear in a large bed was that there was so much room.
After a few minutes he poked his head out cautiously and sniffed. There was a lovely smell of something coming under the door. It seemed to be getting nearer and nearer. There were footsteps too, coming up the stairs. As they stopped by his door there was a knock and Mrs Bird’s voice called out, “Are you awake, young Paddington?”
“Only just,” called out Paddington, rubbing his eyes.
The door opened. “You’ve had a good sleep,” said Mrs Bird as she placed a tray on the bed and drew the curtains. “And you’re a very privileged person to have breakfast in bed on a weekday!”
Paddington eyed the tray hungrily. There was half a grapefruit in a bowl, a plate of bacon and eggs, some toast, and a whole pot of marmalade, not to mention a large cup of tea. “Is all that for me?” he exclaimed.
“If you don’t want it I can soon take it away again,” said Mrs Bird.
“Oh, I do,” said Paddington, hurriedly. “It’s just that I’ve never seen so much breakfast before.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up with it.” Mrs Bird turned in the doorway and looked back. “Because you’re going on a shopping expedition this morning with Mrs Brown and Judy. And all I can say is, thank goodness I’m not going too!” She closed the door.
“Now I wonder what she means by that?” said Paddington. But he didn’t worry about it for very long. There was far too much to do. It was the first time he had ever had breakfast in bed and he soon found it wasn’t quite so easy as it looked. First of all he had trouble with the grapefruit. Every time he pressed it with his spoon a long stream of juice shot up and hit him in the eye, which was very painful. And all the time he was worried because the bacon and eggs were getting cold. Then there was the question of the marmalade. He wanted to leave room for the marmalade.
In the end he decided it would be much nicer if he mixed everything up on the one plate and sat on the tray to eat it.
“Oh, Paddington,” said Judy when she entered the room a few minutes later and found him perched on the tray, “whatever are you doing now? Do hurry up. We’re waiting for you downstairs.”
Paddington looked up, an expression of bliss on his face; that part of his face which could be seen behind egg whiskers and toast crumbs. He tried to say something but all he could manage was a muffled grunting noise which sounded like IMJUSTCOMING all rolled into one.
“Really!” Judy took out her handkerchief and wiped his face. “You’re the stickiest bear imaginable. And if you don’t hurry up all the nice things will be gone. Mummy’s going to buy you a complete new outfit from Barkridges – I heard her say so. Now, comb your fur quickly and come on down.”
As she closed the door Paddington looked at the remains of his breakfast. Most of it was gone but there was a large piece of bacon left which it seemed a pity to waste. He decided to put it into his suitcase in case he got hungry later on.
He hurried into the bathroom and rubbed his face over with some warm water. Then he combed his whiskers carefully and a few moments later, not looking perhaps as clean as he had done the evening before, but quite smart, he arrived downstairs.
“I hope you’re not wearing that hat,” said Mrs Brown, as she looked down at him.
“Oh, do let him, Mummy,” cried Judy. “It’s so… so unusual.”
“It’s unusual all right,” said Mrs Brown. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything quite like it before. It’s such a funny shape. I don’t know what you’d call it.”
“It’s a bush hat,” said Paddington, proudly. “And it saved my life.”
“Saved your life?” repeated Mrs Brown. “Don’t be silly. How could a hat save your life?”
Paddington was about to tell her of his adventure in the bath the evening before when he received a nudge from Judy. She shook her head. “Er… it’s a long story,” he said, lamely.
“Then you’d better save it for another time,” said Mrs Brown. “Now come along, both of you.”
Paddington picked up his suitcase and followed Mrs Brown and Judy to the front door. By the door Mrs Brown paused and sniffed.
“That’s very strange,” she said. “There seems to be a smell of bacon everywhere this morning. Can you smell it, Paddington?”
Paddington started. He put the suitcase guiltily behind himself and sniffed. He had several expressions which he kept for emergencies. There was his thoughtful expression, when he stared into space and rested his chin on a paw. Then there was his innocent one which wasn’t really an expression at all. He decided to use this one.
“It’s very strong,” he said, truthfully, for he was a truthful bear. And then he added, perhaps not quite so truthfully, “I wonder where it’s coming from?”
“If I were you,” whispered Judy, as they walked along the road towards the tube station, “I should be more careful in future when you pack your suitcase!”
Paddington looked down. A large piece of bacon stuck out of the side of his case and was trailing on the pavement.
“Shoo!” cried Mrs Brown as a grubby-looking dog came bounding across the road. Paddington waved his suitcase. “Go away, dog,” he said sternly. The dog licked its lips and Paddington glanced anxiously over his shoulder as he hurried on, keeping close behind Mrs Brown and Judy.
“Oh dear,” said Mrs Brown. “I have a funny feeling about today. As if things are going to happen. Do you ever have that feeling, Paddington?”
Paddington considered for a moment. “Sometimes,” he said vaguely as they entered the station.
At first Paddington was a little bit disappointed in the Underground. He liked the noise and the bustle and the smell of warm air which greeted him as they went inside. But he didn’t think much of the ticket.
He examined carefully the piece of green cardboard which he held in his paw. “It doesn’t seem much to get for eighty pence,” he said. After all the lovely whirring and clanking noises the ticket machine had made it did seem disappointing. He’d expected much more for his money.
“But Paddington,” Mrs Brown sighed, “you only have a ticket so that you can ride on the train. They won’t let you on otherwise.” She looked and sounded rather flustered. Secretly she was beginning to wish they had waited until later in the day, when it wasn’t quite so crowded. There was also the peculiar business of the dogs. Not one, but six dogs of various shapes and sizes had followed them right inside. She had a funny feeling it had something to do with Paddington, but the only time she caught his eye it had such an innocent expression she felt quite upset with herself for having such thoughts.
“I suppose,” she said to Paddington, as they stepped on the escalator, “we ought really to carry you. It says you’re supposed to carry dogs but it doesn’t say anything about bears.”
Paddington didn’t answer. He was following behind in a dream. Being a very short bear he couldn’t easily see over the side, but when he did his eyes nearly popped out with excitement. There were people everywhere. He’d never seen so many. There were people rushing down one side and there were more people rushing up the other. Everyone seemed in a terrible hurry. As he stepped off the escalator he found himself carried away between a man with an umbrella and a lady with a large shopping bag. By the time he managed to push his way free both Mrs Brown and Judy had completely disappeared.
It was then that he saw a most surprising notice. He blinked at it several times to make sure but each time he opened his eyes it said the same thing: FOLLOW THE AMBER LIGHT TO PADDINGTON.
Paddington decided the Underground was quite the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him. He turned and trotted down the corridor, following the amber lights, until he met another crowd of people who were queuing for the ‘up’ escalator.
“’Ere,” said the man at the top, as he examined Paddington’s ticket. “What’s all this? You haven’t been anywhere yet.”
“I know,” said Paddington, unhappily. “I think I must have made a mistake at the bottom.”
The man sniffed suspiciously and called across to an inspector. “There’s a young bear ’ere, smelling of bacon. Says he made a mistake at the bottom.”
The inspector put his thumbs under his waistcoat. “Escalators is for the benefit and convenience of passengers,” he said sternly. “Not for the likes of young bears to play on. Especially in the rush hour.”
“Yes, sir,” said Paddington, raising his hat. “But we don’t have esca… esca…”
“… lators,” said the inspector, helpfully.
“… lators,” said Paddington, “in Darkest Peru. I’ve never been on one before, so it’s rather difficult.”
“Darkest Peru?” said the inspector, looking most impressed. “Oh, well in that case” – he lifted up the chain which divided the ‘up’ and ‘down’ escalators – “you’d better get back down. But don’t let me catch you up to any tricks again.”
“Thank you very much,” said Paddington gratefully, as he ducked under the chain. “It’s very kind of you, I’m sure.” He turned to wave goodbye, but before he could raise his hat he found himself being whisked into the depths of the Underground again.
Half-way down he was gazing with interest at the brightly coloured posters on the wall when the man standing behind poked him with his umbrella. “There’s someone calling you,” he said.
Paddington looked round and was just in time to see Mrs Brown and Judy pass by on their way up. They waved frantically at him and Mrs Brown called out “Stop!” several times.
Paddington turned and tried to run up the escalator, but it was going very fast, and with his short legs it was as much as he could do even to stand still. He had his head down and he didn’t notice a fat man with a briefcase who was running in the opposite direction until it was too late.
There was a roar of rage from the fat man and he toppled over and grabbed at several other people. Then Paddington felt himself falling. He went bump, bump, bump all the way down before he shot off the end and finally skidded to a stop by the wall.
When he looked round everything seemed very confused. A number of people were gathered round the fat man, who was sitting on the floor rubbing his head. Away in the distance he could see Mrs Brown and Judy trying to push their way down the ‘up’ escalator. It was while he was watching their efforts that he saw another notice. It was in a brass case at the bottom of the escalator and it said, in big red letters: TO STOP THE ESCALATOR IN CASES OF EMERGENCY PUSH THE BUTTON.
It also said in much smaller letters, ‘Penalty for Improper Use – £50’. But in his hurry Paddington did not notice this. In any case it seemed to him very much of an emergency. He swung his suitcase through the air and hit the button as hard as he could.
If there had been confusion while the escalator was moving, there was even more when it stopped. Paddington watched with surprise as everyone started running about in different directions shouting at each other. One man even began calling out “Fire!” and somewhere in the distance a bell began to ring.
He was just thinking what a lot of excitement pressing one small button could cause when a heavy hand descended on his shoulder.
“That’s him!” someone shouted, pointing an accusing finger. “Saw him do it with me own eyes. As large as life!”
“Hit it with his suitcase,” shouted another voice. “Ought not to be allowed!” While from the back of the crowd someone else suggested sending for the police.
Paddington began to feel frightened. He turned and looked up at the owner of the hand.
“Oh,” said a stern voice. “It’s you again. I might have known.” The inspector took out a notebook. “Name, please.”
“Er… Paddington,” said Paddington.
“I said what’s your name, not where do you want to go,” repeated the inspector.
“That’s right,” said Paddington. “That is my name.”
“Paddington!” said the inspector, unbelievingly. “It can’t be. That’s the name of a station. I’ve never heard of a bear called Paddington before.”
“It’s very unusual,” said Paddington. “But it’s Paddington Brown, and I live at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens. And I’ve lost Mrs Brown and Judy.”