Читать книгу Paddington Complete Novels - Michael Bond - Страница 12

THE BROWNS WERE all very excited. Mr Brown had been given tickets for a box at the theatre. It was the first night of a brand new play, and the leading part was being played by the world famous actor, Sir Sealy Bloom. Even Paddington became infected with the excitement. He made several journeys to his friend, Mr Gruber, to have the theatre explained to him. Mr Gruber thought he was very lucky to be going to the first night of a new play. “All sorts of famous people will be there,” he said. “I don’t suppose many bears have that sort of opportunity once in a lifetime.”

Mr Gruber lent Paddington several second-hand books about the theatre. He was rather a slow reader but there were lots of pictures and, in one of them, a big cut-out model of a stage which sprang up every time he opened the pages. Paddington decided that when he grew up he wanted to be an actor. He took to standing on his dressing-table and striking poses in the mirror just as he had seen them in the books.

Mrs Brown had her own thoughts on the subject. “I do hope it’s a nice play,” she said to Mrs Bird. “You know what Paddington’s like… he does take these things so seriously.”

“Oh, well,” said Mrs Bird. “I shall sit at home and listen to the wireless in peace and quiet. But it’ll be an experience for him and he does like experiences so. Besides, he’s been very good lately.”

“I know,” said Mrs Brown. “That’s what worries me!”

As it turned out, the play itself was the least of Mrs Brown’s worries. Paddington was unusually silent all the way to the theatre. It was the first time he had been out after dark and the very first time he had seen the lights of London. Mr Brown pointed out all the famous landmarks as they drove past in the car, and it was a gay party of Browns that eventually trooped into the theatre.

Paddington was pleased to find it all exactly as Mr Gruber had described it to him, even down to the commissionaire who opened the door for them and saluted as they entered the foyer.

Paddington returned the salute with a wave of his paw and then sniffed. Everything was painted red and gold and the theatre had a nice, warm, friendly sort of smell. There was a slight upset at the cloakroom when he found he had to pay in order to leave his duffel coat and suitcase. The woman behind the counter turned quite nasty when Paddington asked for his things back.

She was still talking about it in a loud voice as the attendant led them along a passage towards their seats. At the entrance to the box the attendant paused.

“Programme, sir?” she said to Paddington.

“Yes, please,” said Paddington, taking five. “Thank you very much.”

“And would you like coffee in the interval, sir?” she asked.

Paddington’s eyes glistened. “Oh, yes, please,” he said, imagining it was a kind thought on the part of the theatre. He tried to push his way past, but the attendant barred the way.

“That’ll be seven pounds fifty pence,” she said. “One pound each for the programmes and fifty pence each for the coffee.”

Paddington looked as if he could hardly believe his ears. “Seven pounds and fifty pence?” he repeated. “Seven pounds fifty?”

“That’s all right, Paddington,” said Mr Brown, anxious to avoid another fuss. “It’s my treat. You go in and sit down.”

Paddington obeyed like a shot, but he gave the attendant some very queer looks while she arranged some cushions for his seat in the front row. All the same, he was pleased to see she had given him the one nearest the stage. He’d already sent a postcard to his Aunt Lucy with a carefully drawn copy of a plan of the theatre, which he’d found in one of Mr Gruber’s books, and a small cross in one corner marked ‘MY SEET’.

The theatre was quite full and Paddington waved to the people down below. Much to Mrs Brown’s embarrassment, several of them pointed and waved back.

“I do wish he wouldn’t be quite so friendly,” she whispered to Mr Brown.

“Wouldn’t you like to take off your duffel coat now?” asked Mr Brown. “It’ll be cold when you go out again.”

Paddington climbed up and stood on his chair. “I think perhaps I will,” he said. “It’s getting warm.”

Judy started to help him off with it. “Mind my marmalade sandwich!” cried Paddington, as she placed it on the ledge in front of him. But it was too late. He looked round guiltily.

“Crikey!” said Jonathan. “It’s fallen on someone’s head!” He looked over the edge of the box. “It’s that man with the bald head. He looks jolly cross.”

“Oh, Paddington!” Mrs Brown looked despairingly at him. “Do you have to bring marmalade sandwiches to the theatre?”

“It’s all right,” said Paddington, cheerfully. “I’ve some more in the other pocket if anyone wants one. They’re a bit squashed, I’m afraid, because I sat on them in the car.”

“There seems to be some sort of a row going on down below,” said Mr Brown, craning his head to look over the edge. “Some chap just waved his fist at me. And what’s all this about marmalade sandwiches?” Mr Brown was a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.

“Nothing, dear,” said Mrs Brown, hastily. She decided to let the matter drop. It was much easier in the long run.

In any case, Paddington was having a great struggle with himself over some opera glasses. He had just seen a little box in front of him marked OPERA GLASSES. TWENTY PENCE. Eventually, after a great deal of thought, he unlocked his suitcase and from a secret compartment withdrew twenty pence.

“I don’t think much of these,” he said, a moment later, looking through them at the audience. “Everyone looks smaller.”

“You’ve got them the wrong way round, silly,” said Jonathan.

“Well, I still don’t think much of them,” said Paddington, turning them round. “I wouldn’t have bought them if I’d known. Still,” he added, after a moment’s thought, “they might come in useful next time.”

Just as he began to speak the overture came to an end and the curtain rose. The scene was the living-room of a large house, and Sir Sealy Bloom, in the part of the village squire, was pacing up and down. There was a round of applause from the audience.

“You don’t take them home,” whispered Judy. “You have to put them back when you leave.”

“WHAT!” cried Paddington, in a loud voice. Several calls of ‘hush’ came from the darkened theatre as Sir Sealy Bloom paused and looked pointedly in the direction of the Browns’ box. “Do you mean to say…” words failed Paddington for the moment. “Twenty pence!” he said bitterly. “That’s two buns’ worth.” He turned his gaze on Sir Sealy Bloom.

Sir Sealy Bloom looked rather irritable. He didn’t like first nights, and this one in particular had started badly. He had a nasty feeling about it. He much preferred playing the hero, where he had the sympathy of the audience, and in this play he was the villain. Being the first night of the play, he wasn’t at all sure of some of his lines. To make matters worse, he had arrived at the theatre only to discover that the prompt boy was missing and there was no one else to take his place. Then there was the disturbance in the stalls just before the curtain went up. Something to do with a marmalade sandwich, so the stage manager had said. Of course, that was all nonsense, but still, it was very disturbing. And then there was this noisy crowd in the box. He sighed to himself. It was obviously going to be one of those nights.

But if Sir Sealy Bloom’s heart was not in the play, Paddington’s certainly was. He soon forgot about his wasted twenty pence and devoted all his attention to the plot. He decided quite early on that he didn’t like Sir Sealy Bloom and he stared at him hard through his opera glasses. He followed his every move and when, at the end of the first act, Sir Sealy, in the part of the hard-hearted father, turned his daughter out into the world without a penny, Paddington stood up on his chair and waved his programme indignantly at the stage.

Paddington was a surprising bear in many ways and he had a strong sense of right and wrong. As the curtain came down he placed his opera glasses firmly on the ledge and climbed off his seat.

“Are you enjoying it, Paddington?” asked Mr Brown.

“It’s very interesting,” said Paddington. He had a determined note to his voice and Mrs Brown looked at him sharply. She was beginning to recognise that tone and it worried her.

“Where are you going, dear?” she asked, as he made for the door of the box.

“Oh, just for a walk,” said Paddington, vaguely.

“Well, don’t be too long,” she called, as the door closed behind him. “You don’t want to miss any of the second act.”

“Oh, don’t fuss, Mary,” said Mr Brown. “I expect he just wants to stretch his legs or something. He’s probably gone out to the cloakroom.”

But at that moment Paddington was going, not in the direction of the cloakroom, but towards a door leading to the back of the theatre. It was marked PRIVATE. ARTISTS ONLY. As he pushed the door open and passed through, he immediately found himself in an entirely different world. There were no red plush seats; everything was very bare. Lots of ropes hung down from the roof, pieces of scenery were stacked against the walls, and everyone seemed in a great hurry. Normally Paddington would have been most interested in everything, but now he had a purposeful look on his face.

Seeing a man bending over some scenery, he walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said. “Can you tell me where the man is?”

The scene hand went on working. “Man?” he said. “What man?”

“The man,” said Paddington, patiently.”The nasty man.”

“Oh, you mean Sir Sealy.” The scene hand pointed towards a long corridor. “He’s in his dressing-room. You’d better not go disturbing him ’cause he’s not in a very good mood.” He looked up. “Hey!” he cried. “You’re not supposed to be in here. Who let you in?”

Paddington was too far away to answer even if he had heard. He was already half-way up the corridor, looking closely at all the doors. Eventually he came to one with a large star on it and the words SIR SEALY BLOOM in big gold letters. Paddington drew a deep breath and then knocked loudly. There was no reply, so he knocked again. Still there was no reply, and so, very cautiously, he pushed open the door with his paw.

“Go away!” said a booming voice. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

Paddington peered round the door. Sir Sealy Bloom was lying stretched out on a long couch. He looked tired and cross. He opened one eye and gazed at Paddington.

“I’m not signing any autographs,” he growled.

“I don’t want your autograph,” said Paddington, fixing him with a hard stare. “I wouldn’t want your autograph if I had my autograph book, and I haven’t got my autograph book so there!”

Sir Sealy sat up. “You don’t want my autograph?” he said, in a surprised voice. “But everyone always wants my autograph!”

“Well, I don’t,” said Paddington. “I’ve come to tell you to take your daughter back!” He gulped the last few words. The great man seemed to have grown to about twice the size he had been on the stage, and he looked as if he was going to explode at any minute.

Sir Sealy clutched his forehead. “You want me to take my daughter back?” he said at last.

“That’s right,” said Paddington, firmly. “And if you don’t, I expect she can come and stay with Mr and Mrs Brown.”

Sir Sealy Bloom ran his hand distractedly through his hair and then pinched himself. “Mr and Mrs Brown,” he repeated in a dazed voice. He looked wildly round the room and then dashed to the door. “Sarah!” he called, in a loud voice. “Sarah, come in here at once!” He backed round the room until he had placed the couch between himself and Paddington. “Keep away, bear!” he said, dramatically, and then peered at Paddington, for he was rather short-sighted. “You are a bear, aren’t you?” he added.

“That’s right,” said Paddington. “From Darkest Peru!”

Sir Sealy looked at his woollen hat. “Well then,” he said crossly, playing for time, “you ought to know better than to wear a green hat in my dressing-room. Don’t you know green is a very unlucky colour in the theatre? Take it off at once.”

“It’s not my fault,” said Paddington. “I wanted to wear my proper hat.” He had just started to explain all about his hat when the door burst open and the lady called Sarah entered. Paddington immediately recognised her as Sir Sealy’s daughter in the play.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

“You’ve what?” The lady seemed most surprised.

“Sarah,” Sir Sealy Bloom came out from behind the couch. “Sarah, protect me from this… this mad bear!”

“I’m not mad,” said Paddington, indignantly.

“Then kindly explain what you are doing in my dressing-room,” boomed the great actor.

Paddington sighed. Sometimes people were very slow to understand things. Patiently he explained it all to them. When he had finished, the lady called Sarah threw back her head and laughed.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” said Sir Sealy.

“But darling, don’t you see?” she said. “It’s a great compliment. Paddington really believes you were throwing me out into the world without a penny. It shows what a great actor you are!”

Sir Sealy thought for a moment. “Humph!” he said, gruffly. “Quite an understandable mistake, I suppose. He looks a remarkably intelligent bear, come to think of it.”

Paddington looked from one to the other. “Then you were only acting all the time,” he faltered.

The lady bent down and took his paw. “Of course, darling. But it was very kind of you to come to my rescue. I shall always remember it.”

“Well, I would have rescued you if you’d wanted it,” said Paddington.

Sir Sealy coughed. “Are you interested in the theatre, bear?” he boomed.

“Oh, yes,” said Paddington. “Very much. Except I don’t like having to pay so much for everything. I want to be an actor when I grow up.”

The lady called Sarah jumped up. “Why, Sealy darling,” she said, looking at Paddington. “I’ve an idea!” She whispered in Sir Sealy’s ear and then Sir Sealy looked at Paddington. “It’s a bit unusual,” he said, thoughtfully. “But it’s worth a try. Yes, it’s certainly worth a try!”

In the theatre itself the interval was almost at an end and the Browns were getting restless.

“Oh, dear,” said Mrs Brown. “I wonder where he’s got to?”

“If he doesn’t hurry up,” said Mr Brown, “he’s going to miss the start of the second act.”

Just then there was a knock at the door and an attendant handed him a note. “A young bear gentleman asked me to give you this,” he announced. “He said it was very urgent.”

“Er… thank you,” said Mr Brown, taking the note and opening it.

“What does it say?” asked Mrs Brown, anxiously. “Is he all right?”

Mr Brown handed her the note to read. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said.

Mrs Brown looked at it. It was hastily written in pencil and it said: I HAVE BEEN GIVEN A VERRY IMPORTANT JOB. PADINGTUN. P.S. I WILL TEL YOU ABOUT IT LAYTER.

“Now what on earth can that mean?” she said. “Trust something unusual to happen to Paddington.”

“I don’t know,” said Mr Brown, settling back in his chair as the lights went down. “But I’m not going to let it spoil the play.”

“I hope the second half is better than the first,” said Jonathan. “I thought the first half was rotten. That man kept on forgetting his lines.”

The second half was much better than the first. From the moment Sir Sealy strode on to the stage the theatre was electrified. A great change had come over him. He no longer fumbled over his lines, and people who had coughed all through the first half now sat up in their seats and hung on his every word.

When the curtain finally came down on the end of the play, with Sir Sealy’s daughter returning to his arms, there was a great burst of applause. The curtain rose again and the whole company bowed to the audience. Then it rose while Sir Sealy and Sarah bowed, but still the cheering went on. Finally Sir Sealy stepped forward and raised his hand for quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Thank you for your kind applause. We are indeed most grateful. But before you leave I would like to introduce the youngest and most important member of our company. A young… er, bear, who came to our rescue…” The rest of Sir Sealy’s speech was drowned in a buzz of excitement as he stepped forward to the very front of the stage, where a small screen hid a hole in the boards which was the prompt box.

He took hold of one of Paddington’s paws and pulled. Paddington’s head appeared through the hole. In his other paw he was grasping a copy of the script.

“Come along, Paddington,” said Sir Sealy. “Come and take your bow.”

“I can’t,” gasped Paddington. “I think I’m stuck!”

And stuck he was. It took several stagehands, the fireman, and a lot of butter to remove him after the audience had gone. But he was far enough out to twist round and raise his hat to the cheering crowd before the curtain came down for the last time.

Several nights later, anyone going into Paddington’s room would have found him sitting up in bed with his scrapbook, a pair of scissors, and a pot of paste. He was busy pasting in a picture of Sir Sealy Bloom, which the great man had signed: ‘To Paddington, with grateful thanks.’ There was also a signed picture from the lady called Sarah, and one of his proudest possessions – a newspaper cutting about the play headed PADDINGTON SAVES THE DAY!

Mr Gruber had told him that the photographs were probably worth a bit of money, but after much thought he had decided not to part with them. In any case, Sir Sealy Bloom had given him his twenty pence back and a pair of opera glasses.