Читать книгу Paddington 2: The Story of the Movie: Movie tie-in - Anna Wilson - Страница 9

PADDINGTON LOST NO time in looking for employment. He went into the first place that he saw on leaving Mr Gruber’s – Giuseppe’s barber’s shop.

“You are-a in-a luck!” cried the flamboyant Italian, as Paddington set out his request. “I am in-a need of an assistant. I have-a much to do this afternoon. Please start by sweeping up-a. I shall be back in-a few-a minutes. Ciao, ciao!” And with that he threw Paddington a broom and left.

“Ciao, ciao, Giuseppe!” Paddington called after him.

He was about to set to and sweep up all the hair clippings when he spotted a white barber’s coat hanging on the back of a door.

“It can’t hurt to try it on,” he said to himself. “After all, I may as well look the part.”

Slipping out of his own coat, he took the barber’s from the peg and put it on. Then he stood back and admired his new look in the mirror. Taking a comb, he parted his fur into a neat side parting.

“Ah, sir. Good afternoon,” he said to his reflection, pretending to be a real barber. “Now what can I do for you today?”

“Just a quick trim, please,” said a voice.

Paddington whirled round in surprise to see that a customer had walked in and was already installing himself in one of the barber’s chairs. He was a large pompous-looking man with a magnificent mane of grey hair.

“Come along, man, I haven’t got all day,” said the customer sharply.

“Oh, I-I’m not the barber,” said Paddington. “I just tidy up.”

“That’s all I want,” said the man, flicking his hand impatiently around his hair. “Tidy up at the back and sides and nothing off the top.”

“Yes but—” Paddington began.

“No buts!” cried the man. “Come on, man. Chop, chop!” He settled back into the chair and immediately went to sleep, snoring softly.

“Chop, chop?” Paddington repeated. “If you say so, sir.”

He fetched a cape and draped it over the sleeping man, then went to pick up some scissors. Unfortunately, bears are not very good at holding scissors. Paddington found that out straight away – his paws fumbled, the scissors slipped from his grasp and off they flew, out of his reach. They flew through the air like a dart and got stuck in one of the ceiling tiles.

Never one to give up, Paddington looked around for a different implement.

“I’ll try the clippers instead,” he said to himself.

The clippers were electric and had a long cable attached to them. Paddington went to a socket on the wall to plug them in, then he pressed the button on the clippers. To his horror, they were on such a high setting that the vibrations made him jump and judder around the room! He tried to make his way over to give the customer a trim, but began spinning in circles instead.

The cable on the clippers got caught in his legs. It began to wind itself tightly round him! Paddington was completely tangled up now. He was spinning round and round, totally out of control.

Just as things couldn’t possibly get any worse, the phone rang. Paddington hopped over to answer it and knocked into a potted plant. It landed on his head. Anyone walking past would have seen a bear wearing a spiky green wig!

At last Paddington managed to reach the phone. He flipped it up with his mouth. The cable was still tight round his legs, and the juddering from the clippers made his voice rather shaky.

“G-g-g-good aft-t-t-ternoon. A c-c-cut and bl-bl-blow-dry, you s-s-s-ay? I’ll have to ch-ch-ch-check the diary, b-b-but—” He stopped abruptly as he saw the electric cable had caught on the customer’s seat. The man lurched sharply backwards, still deeply asleep. At the same time Paddington was pulled paws-first straight towards the sleeping customer – and the clippers were aiming right at the back of the man’s head!

“I sh-shall have to c-c-call you back,” Paddington said in a panic. “I think I m-m-may be about to sh-sh-shave a c-c-customer …”

Just as he said this, the clippers connected with the man’s hair and mowed a neat stripe right down the middle of his head.

“Oh!” cried Paddington.

He didn’t have time to think, however, as the plug from the clippers had shot out of the wall socket and up into the air. Now it was caught in the ceiling fan! As the fan started whirring, faster and faster, Paddington struggled harder than ever to free himself. But he was tangled too tightly. Before he knew it, Paddington was pulled right up to the ceiling, spinning round at an alarmingly high speed.

Outside the shop, a mother and her little boy were having an argument.

“I don’t want to!” the boy was shouting. “You can’t make me!”

“Now you stop making a fuss, Nelson,” the mother said sternly. “It’s only a haircut. Nothing at all to be afraid of.”

At that exact moment, Paddington was hurled against the window by the fan. He landed with a loud SPLAT against the glass, his eyes wide, his mouth open in panic. The plug was pulled from the socket by the force of the collision, and Paddington slid to the floor in a heap.

“I’ve changed my mind,” said the woman, quickly turning her son to face the other way. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

Paddington picked himself up and went back to the customer. He gasped when he saw the strip shaved into the back of the man’s head. It looked like a reverse Mohican!

What shall I do? Paddington wondered. He glanced at the pile of hair on the floor by the man’s chair and had an idea. I’ll stick it back on, he thought, bending down and scooping up the clippings. He patted them into place, but the shaved hair just fell to the floor again.

Paddington removed his hat to scratch his head while he thought what to do next. In so doing, he spotted the marmalade sandwich that he had placed there earlier. As he stared at it, another idea formed in his mind.

He scooped some marmalade out of the sandwich and spread it on to the man’s head and then picked up the hair clippings and stuck them on top. It was working rather well.

Paddington had stepped back to admire his handiwork when the customer stirred in his sleep.

“What are you doing?” the man mumbled.

“I thought you’d like some hair product, sir,” said Paddington, thinking on his paws.

“Jolly good. Carry on,” said the man, going back to sleep.

Paddington did as he was told.

At last, when he thought he could do no more for the customer, he shook him gently awake. “All done,” he said. “Is sir happy with the trim?”

The man surveyed his reflection critically. “I suppose so,” he said. “But what about the back?”

Paddington grabbed a hand mirror and fleetingly showed the customer the back of his head. The man frowned. He reached up and patted the marmalade-glued patch of hair.

“What’s this?” he asked, puzzled.

“Marmalade, sir,” said Paddington in a matter-of-fact tone. “Hairy marmalade,” he added, thinking this sounded more the sort of product a barber might use.

“Hairy marmalade?” exclaimed the man. “Well, get it off!”

“Certainly, sir. Waste not, want not,” said Paddington. He stretched up on the tips of his paws and leaned over to lick the marmalade off.

“WHAT-A ARE YOU DOING-A?” shouted a voice from the shop door.

“Ah, there you are, Mr Giuseppe,” said Paddington, glancing up. “This is not at all as bad as it looks,” he added hastily when he took in the look of fury on the barber’s face.

Giuseppe opened his mouth to reply that it was possibly a lot worse, but his words were drowned out by the deafening blare of the fire alarm.

Paddington looked up to see that sparks were flying out of the ceiling fan and smoke was filling the room! He looked around wildly for a way to stop the fire.

He need not have worried, for almost immediately some sprinklers came on, putting out the fire.

Unfortunately, they also drenched everyone and Paddington decided that, under the circumstances, the best course of action was to beat a hasty retreat.

“I’m sorry, but I think perhaps working in a barber’s shop is not my strongest suit,” he cried on his way out. “Ciao, ciao, Giuseppe!”