Читать книгу Paddington Takes the Air - Michael Bond - Страница 5

PADDINGTON STARED AT Mrs Brown as if he could hardly believe his ears. “You’ve dropped my tooth down the waste disposal!” he exclaimed. “I shan’t even be able to put it under my pillow now!”

Mrs Brown peered helplessly into the gaping hole at the bottom of her kitchen sink. “I’m awfully sorry, dear,” she replied. “It must have been in the leavings when I cleared up after breakfast. I think you’ll have to leave a note explaining what happened.”

It was a tradition in the Browns’ household that anyone who lost a tooth and left it under their pillow that night would find it replaced by fifty pence the next morning, and Paddington looked most upset at being deprived of this experience.

“Perhaps we could try looking under the cover outside,” suggested Judy hopefully. “It might still be in the drain.”

“I shouldn’t think so,” said Jonathan. “Those waste disposals are jolly good. They grind up anything. It even managed that everlasting toffee Paddington gave me yesterday.

“It was a super one,” he added hastily, as he caught Paddington’s eye. “I wish I could make one half as nice. It was a bit big, though. I couldn’t quite finish it.”

“Well,” said Mr Brown, returning to the vexed question of Paddington’s tooth, “at least it didn’t jam the machine. We’ve only had it a fortnight.”

But if Mr Brown was trying to strike a cheerful note, he failed miserably, for Paddington gave him a very hard stare indeed.

“I’ve had my tooth ever since I was born,” he said. “And it was my best one. I don’t know what Aunt Lucy’s going to say when I write and tell her.”

And with that parting shot, he hurried out of the kitchen and disappeared upstairs in the direction of his room leaving behind a very unhappy group of Browns indeed.

“I don’t see how anyone can have a best tooth,” said Mr Brown, as he made ready to leave for the office.

“Well,” said Mrs Bird, their housekeeper, “best or not, I must say I don’t blame that bear. I don’t think I’d be too happy at the thought of one of my teeth going down a waste disposal – even if it was an accident.”

“It would have to be Paddington’s,” said Judy. “You know how he hates losing anything. Especially when it’s something he’s cleaned twice a day.”

“We shall never hear the last of it,” agreed Mrs Brown. She looked round the kitchen at the remains of the breakfast things. “I do hate Mondays. I don’t know why, but there always seems to be more dried egg on the plates than any other day.”

The others fell silent. It was one of those mornings at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens. Things had started badly when Paddington announced that he’d found a bone in his boiled egg, but remembering a similar occurrence some years before with a Christmas pudding, the Browns had pooh-poohed the idea at first and it wasn’t until a little later on, when he’d gone upstairs to do his Monday morning accounts that the trouble had really begun.

A sudden cry of alarm had brought the rest of the family racing to the scene only to find Paddington on his bed with a pencil stuck between a large gap where one of his back teeth should have been.

Immediately the whole house had been in an uproar. The bed was stripped, carpets were turned back, the vacuum cleaner emptied, pockets turned out; Paddington even tried standing on his head in case he’d swallowed the lost half by mistake, but all to no avail… it was nowhere to be seen.

It wasn’t until Mrs Bird remembered the episode with the boiled egg that they suddenly put two and two together and went scurrying back downstairs again as fast as their legs would carry them.

But they were too late. Before they were halfway down, they heard a loud grinding noise coming from the kitchen and they arrived there just in time to see Mrs Brown switch the machine off.

The waste disposal was still a new toy in the household. Everything from used matchsticks to old bones was fed into its ever-open mouth, but never in her wildest moments would Mrs Brown have dreamed of disposing of one of Paddington’s teeth and she was as upset as anyone when she realised what had happened.

“I can’t see them taking him on the National Health,” she said. “Perhaps he’d better go to the vet.”

“Certainly not,” said Mrs Bird decidedly. “He’ll have to go as a private patient. I’ll ring Mr Leach straight away.”

Although the Browns’ housekeeper kept a firm hand on Paddington’s ‘goings-on’, she was always quick to come to his aid in time of trouble and she bustled out of the room in a very determined manner.

All the same, the others awaited her return with some anxiety, for although Mr Leach had looked after the family’s teeth for more years than they cared to remember, he’d never actually been asked to deal with one of Paddington’s before. They weren’t at all sure how he would view the matter and their spirits rose when Mrs Bird reappeared wearing her coat and hat.

“Mr Leach will see him as soon as we can get there,” she announced. “He keeps a free period for emergencies.”

Mrs Brown heaved a sigh of relief. “How nice,” she said. “It’s not as if we’ve ever registered Paddington with him.”

“Who said anything about Paddington?” replied Mrs Bird innocently. “I simply said we have an emergency in the house.” She glanced up at the ceiling as a loud groan came from somewhere overhead. “And if you ask me, there’s no one who’ll deny the truth of that! I’d better order a taxi.”

While Mrs Bird got busy on the phone again, the others hurried upstairs to see how Paddington was getting on. They found him sitting on the side of his bed wearing a very woebegone expression on his face indeed. Or rather, the little of his face that could be seen, for most of it was concealed behind a large bath towel. Every so often a low groan issued from somewhere deep inside the folds, and if the news of his forthcoming visit to the dentist did little to raise his spirits, they received a further setback a few minutes later when he was ushered into the back of a waiting taxi.

“’Aving trouble with yer choppers, mate?” asked the driver, catching sight of the towel.

“My choppers?” exclaimed Paddington.

“I only ’ope he’s not a strong union man,” continued the driver as they moved away. “One out – the lot out!”

Mrs Brown hastily closed the window between the two compartments. “Don’t take any notice, dear,” she said. “I’m sure you’re doing the right thing. Mr Leach is very good. He’s been practising for years.”

“Mr Leach has been practising?” repeated Paddington with growing alarm. “I think I’d sooner pay extra and have someone who knows what he’s doing.”

The Browns exchanged glances. It was sometimes very difficult explaining things to Paddington – especially when he had his mind firmly fixed on something else – and they completed the rest of the journey in silence.

However, if Paddington himself was beginning to have mixed feelings on the subject of his tooth, Mr Leach had no such problems when they reached the surgery a short while later.

“I’m afraid I shall have to charge extra,” he said, as the situation was explained to him. “Bears have forty-two teeth.”

“I’ve only got forty-one,” said Paddington. “One of mine’s been disposed of.”

“That’s still nine more than I normally deal with,” said Mr Leach firmly, ushering Paddington into his surgery. “None of my charts cover it for a start. I shall have to get my nurse to draw up a completely new one.”

“I do hope we are doing the right thing,” said Mrs Brown anxiously, as the door closed behind them. “I feel it’s all my fault.”

Mrs Bird gave a snort. “More likely that bear’s everlasting toffees,” she said grimly. “They’re well named. It’s almost impossible to get rid of them. It’s no wonder he’s lost a tooth. He was testing them all day yesterday. I had to throw the saucepan away and there were toffees all over the kitchen floor. I nearly ricked my ankle twice.”

Paddington’s home-made toffees were a sore subject in the Brown household. It wasn’t so much that they had set hard. In fact, had they done so there might have been fewer complaints, but they’d ended up as a pile of large glutinous balls which stuck to everything they came in contact with, and Mrs Bird spent the next few minutes holding forth on what she would like to do with them.

However, it was noticeable that all the while she was talking, the Browns’ housekeeper kept her gaze firmly fixed on the door leading to the surgery, rather as if she wished she had X-ray eyes.

But as it happened, for once Mrs Bird’s worst fears weren’t being realised, for Paddington was beginning to have second thoughts about dentists.

Looking around Mr Leach’s surgery, he decided it was all very much nicer than he’d expected. Everything was gleaming white and spotlessly clean, with not a marmalade stain to be seen anywhere. And although it wasn’t what Mrs Bird would have called ‘over-furnished’, the one chair Mr Leach did possess more than made up for the fact.

Paddington had never come across anything quite like it before. It was like a long couch which rose into the air and took on all kinds of shapes simply at the press of a button. It seemed very good value indeed and Paddington was most impressed.

Above his head there was a nice warm lamp and just beside his left paw there was a glass of pinkish liquid and a basin, while on the other side, next to Mr Leach, there was a table fixed to an arm on which a number of instruments were laid.

Paddington hastily averted his gaze from these as he settled back in his chair, but he liked anything new, and despite his aching tooth, he dutifully opened his mouth and eyed Mr Leach with interest as the latter picked up a small rod-like object and what looked like a mirror on the end of a stick.

Mr Leach gave several grunts of approval as he peered into Paddington’s mouth, tapping the teeth one by one with the end of the rod, and several times he broke into song as he delved deeper and deeper.

“We’ve got a good one there, bear,” he said, standing up at last. “I’m glad you came along.”

Paddington sat up looking most relieved. “Thank you very much, Mr Leach,” he exclaimed. “That didn’t hurt a bit.”

Mr Leach looked slightly taken aback. “I haven’t done anything yet,” he said. “That was only an inspection – just to see what’s what. We’ve a long way to go yet. I’m afraid you have a fractured cusp.”

“What!” exclaimed Paddington hotly. “My cusp’s fractured!” He peered at the rod in Mr Leach’s hand. “It was all right when I came in,” he added meaningly. “I think it must have happened when you tapped it.”

“A fractured cusp,” said Mr Leach stiffly, as he busied himself with a tray of instruments, “merely means you have a broken tooth.” He wagged his finger roguishly. “I have a feeling we’ve been eating something we shouldn’t.”

Paddington sank back in his chair and looked at the dentist with renewed interest. “Have you been making toffee too, Mr Leach?” he exclaimed.

Mr Leach gave Paddington a strange look. “You have quite a large piece of double tooth missing,” he said, slowly and carefully, “and I shall have to make you a new top to replace it.”

Looking most upset at this latest piece of news, Paddington reached out a paw for the nearby glass of pink liquid. “I think I’ll have my orangeade now, Mr Leach, if you don’t mind,” he exclaimed.

“That,” said Mr Leach sternly, “is not orangeade. It’s not even for drinking. It’s put there so that you can swill your mouth out and get rid of the bits and pieces after I’ve finished drilling. If I kept every young bear who came in here supplied with free drinks I’d soon be out of business.”

He looked distastefully at Paddington’s front where the fur had already become rather soggy from the drips and then signalled his nurse to tie a plastic bib round Paddington’s neck. “Would we like an injection?” he asked. “It may hurt otherwise.”

“Yes, please,” said Paddington promptly. “I’ll have two if you like.”

“I think one will be sufficient,” replied Mr Leach, holding a syringe up to the light. “Now, open your mouth wide, please,” he continued. “And don’t forget, this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.”

Paddington dutifully obeyed Mr Leach’s instructions and, in fact, apart from a slight prick, it was much less painful than he had expected.

“Shall I do yours now, Mr Leach?” he asked.

Mr Leach gave him a strange look. “Mine?” he repeated. “I don’t have one.”

Paddington gave Mr Leach an equally strange look in return. “You said we were going to have one,” he persisted. “And you said yours would hurt more than mine.”

Mr Leach stared at Paddington for a moment as if he could hardly believe his ears and then turned to his nurse. “I think,” he said, breathing heavily, “we’ll try putting a wedge in his mouth. It may make things easier.

“Now,” he continued, turning to Paddington as the nurse handed him a piece of plastic-looking material. “I want you to open your mouth again, say ‘ah’, and when I’ve put this in, take a good, hard bite.”

Paddington opened his mouth and let out a loud “aaaah”.

“Good,” said Mr Leach approvingly, as he reached into the opening. “Now, one more ‘aah’ like that and then a good hard bite. And whatever happens from now on – don’t let go.”

“Aaaaah,” said Paddington.

Mr Leach’s face seemed to change colour suddenly. “Ooooooooh,” he cried.

“Oooooooooooh,” repeated Paddington, biting harder than ever.

“Owwwwwwwwwwwwwww,” shouted Mr Leach, as he began dancing up and down.

“Owwwwwwww,” called Paddington, nearly falling out of the chair in his excitement. “Owwwwwwwwwww!”

“Ouch!” shrieked Mr Leach. “Owwwwwwwwwww! Oooooooooooooo! Aaaaaaaaaaa!”

Outside in the waiting-room, the Browns looked anxiously at one another. “Poor old Paddington,” said Jonathan. “It sounds as if he’s going through it.”

“I do hope it doesn’t take much longer,” said Mrs Brown. “I don’t know about Paddington, but I’m not sure if I can stand a lot more.”

As it happened, Mrs Brown’s prayers were answered almost before the words were out of her mouth, for at that moment, the surgery door burst open and a white-faced nurse appeared in the opening.

“Can you come quickly?” she cried.

Mrs Brown clutched at her throat. “Paddington!” she cried. “He’s not…”

“No,” said the nurse, “he’s not! We haven’t even started on him yet. It’s Mr Leach we’re having trouble with.”

Mrs Bird hurried into the surgery clutching her umbrella. “Whatever’s going on?” she demanded.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaah,” replied Paddington.

“Ooooooooooh!” shrieked Mr Leach. “Ooooh! Ouch! Aaaaaaaah!”

“Crikey!” exclaimed Jonathan, as he and Judy dashed towards the chair where Paddington and Mr Leach appeared to be inextricably locked together.

“You grab Mr Leach,” cried Judy. “I’ll pull Paddington.”

A moment later Mr Leach staggered back across the room. “My thumb,” he said slowly and distinctly as he glared at the occupant of the chair, “my thumb – or what’s left of it – was caught under your wedge, bear!”

Paddington put on his injured expression. “You said bite hard and not let go whatever happened, Mr Leach,” he explained.

Mrs Brown gazed anxiously at the dentist as he stood in the middle of the surgery nursing his injury. “Would you like us to come back another day?” she asked doubtfully.

Mr Leach appeared for a moment to be undergoing some kind of deep internal struggle and then he took a grip of himself. “No,” he said at last. “No! When I became a dentist I knew there would be days when things wouldn’t always go right.” He looked at Paddington and then reached for his drill. “I’ve had twenty most enjoyable years. I suppose it had to come to an end some time and I’m certainly not letting a bear’s cusp get the better of me now!”

It was some time before Paddington emerged again from Mr Leach’s surgery, and although all had remained quiet, the Browns were relieved to see him looking none the worse for his experience. Instead, as he hurried into the waiting-room holding his mouth open for all to see, he looked positively excited.

“Mr Leach is going to give me a new gold tooth,” he announced importantly. “My cusp’s so large he doesn’t think an ordinary one would stand the strain.”

Mr Leach permitted himself a smile as he hovered in the doorway nursing a bandaged thumb. “I think we’re winning at long last,” he said. “I’d like to see young Mr Brown again next week for a final fitting.”

“Thank you very much, Mr Leach,” said Paddington gratefully. Bending down he undid his suitcase, withdrew a large paper bag and held it out. “Perhaps you’d like to try one of these?”

Mr Leach hesitated. “I… er… I don’t normally indulge,” he said, peering into the bag. “It doesn’t set a very good example. But I must say they look tempting. It’s very kind of you. I… er…”

As he placed one of Paddington’s everlasting toffees into his mouth, Mr Leach’s voice trailed away and for the second time that morning his face took on a glazed expression.

“Grrrrrr,” he gurgled, pointing to his mouth. “Glug!”

Paddington peered at him with interest. “I hope you haven’t fractured one of your cusps now, Mr Leach,” he said anxiously.

Mr Leach glared at him for a moment and then staggered back into his surgery, clutching his jaw. Far from being fractured, his cusps gave the impression they were cemented together for all time, and the look on his face as he slammed the door boded ill for the next patient on his list that morning.

Paddington looked most upset. “I only thought he would like one to be going on with,” he exclaimed.

“Going on with is right,” said Mrs Bird grimly, as a series of muffled exclamations reached their ears. “By the sound of things it’ll be going on until this time next week.”

She held out her hand. “I know something else that’s due to be disposed of just as soon as we get home. We’ve had quite enough bear’s everlasting toffee for one day.”

Judy squeezed Paddington’s paw as they climbed into a taxi to take them home. “Never mind,” she whispered. “There can’t be too many bears who are able to say they’re having a gold tooth made for them.”

“I’ll tell you something else,” said Mrs Brown. “It’ll make you even more valuable than you are at the moment. While you have a gold tooth in your head you’ll never be completely without – whatever happens.”

Paddington digested this latest piece of information for a moment or two as he settled back in his seat. So much had happened that morning he felt he’d have a job to remember it all let alone put it down on a postcard when he next wrote to his Aunt Lucy in Peru. But all in all he was beginning to feel rather pleased at the way things had turned out and he felt sure she would be equally delighted by the news.

Mrs Bird glanced across at him with the suspicion of a twinkle in her eye. “If this morning’s events are anything to go by,” she said, “it strikes me that a tooth in the sink is worth two under the pillow any day of the week.”

Paddington nodded his agreement. “I think,” he announced at last, amid sighs of relief, “I’ll always have my old teeth disposed of in future.”