Читать книгу Paddington Complete Novels - Michael Bond - Страница 19

The Browns’ house at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens was unusually quiet. It was a warm summer day and all the family with the exception of Paddington, who had mysteriously disappeared shortly after lunch, were sitting on the veranda enjoying the afternoon sun.

Apart from the faint rustle of paper as Mr Brown turned the pages of an enormous book and the click of Mrs Brown’s knitting needles, the only sound came from Mrs Bird, their housekeeper, as she prepared the tea things.

Jonathan and Judy were both much too busy piecing together a huge jigsaw puzzle to utter a word.

It was Mr Brown who first broke the silence. “You know,” he began, taking a long draw at his pipe, “it’s a funny thing, but I’ve been through this encyclopedia a dozen times and there’s no mention of a bear like Paddington.”

“Ah, and there won’t be,” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “Bears like Paddington are very rare. And a good thing too, if you ask me, or it would cost us a small fortune in marmalade.” Mrs Bird was always going on about Paddington’s fondness for marmalade, but it was noticeable she was never without a spare jar in the larder in case of emergency.

“Anyway, Henry,” said Mrs Brown, as she put down her knitting, “why do you want to look up Paddington?”

Mr Brown twirled his moustache thoughtfully. “Oh, no reason in particular,” he answered vaguely. “I was interested – that’s all.”

Having a bear in the family was a heavy responsibility – especially a bear like Paddington – and Mr Brown took the matter very seriously.

“The point is,” he said, snapping the book shut, “if he’s staying with us for good…”

“If?” There was a chorus of alarm from the rest of the family, not to mention Mrs Bird.

“What on earth do you mean, Henry?” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “If Paddington is staying with us for good. Of course he is.”

“As he’s staying with us,” said Mr Brown, hastily, “there are one or two things I have in mind. First of all I’ve been thinking of decorating the spare room for him.”

There was general agreement at this. Ever since he had first arrived on the scene, Paddington had occupied the guest-room. Being a polite bear he had never said anything, even when he’d been turned out to make room for visitors, but it had long been thought he should have a room of his own.

“The second thing,” continued Mr Brown, “is a photograph. I think it would be nice if we could have a family group taken.”

“A photograph?” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “What a funny thing you should say that.”

“Oh?” said Mr Brown. “Why’s that?”

Mrs Bird busied herself with the teapot. “You’ll see – all in good time,” she said. And try as they might that was all the others could get from her.

Fortunately, she was saved any further questions, for at that moment there came a loud banging noise from the direction of the dining-room and Paddington himself appeared at the French windows. He was struggling with a large cardboard box, across the top of which lay a mysterious-looking metal object with long spikes on one end.

But it wasn’t so much what he was carrying that caused a gasp of astonishment from the others. It was his general appearance.

His fur had an unusually soft, golden look about it, and his ears, or as much of them as they could see poking out from beneath the wide brim of his old hat, were as black and shiny as the tip of his nose. Even his paws and whiskers had to be seen to be believed.

Everyone sat up in amazement and Mrs Brown dropped several stitches.

“Good heavens!” spluttered Mr Brown, nearly spilling his tea over the encyclopedia. “What have you been doing to yourself?”

“I’ve been having a bath,” said Paddington, looking most offended.

“A bath?” repeated Judy, slowly. “Without being asked?”

“Crikey!” said Jonathan. “We’d better put the flags out.”

“You are all right?” asked Mr Brown. “I mean – you’re not feeling ill or anything?”

Paddington became even more injured at the excitement he had caused. It wasn’t as if he never had a wash. In fact he had one most mornings. It was simply that he had decided views on baths in particular. Having a bath meant getting his fur wet all over and it took a long time to dry. “I only wanted to look nice for the photograph,” he said firmly.

“The photograph?” everyone echoed. It was really uncanny the way Paddington knew about things.

“Yes,” said Paddington. An important expression came over his face as he bent down and started undoing the string round his cardboard box. “I’ve bought myself a camera.”

There was a moment’s silence while the Browns watched the back view of Paddington bending over the box.

“A camera,” said Mrs Brown at last. “But aren’t they very expensive?”

“This one wasn’t,” said Paddington, breathing hard. He stood up, clutching the biggest camera the Browns had ever seen. “I bought it at a sale in the market. It was only three pounds!”

“Three pounds!” exclaimed Mr Brown looking most impressed. He turned to the others. “I must say I’ve never known a bear with such an eye for a bargain as Paddington.”

“Gosh!” said Jonathan. “It’s got a hood to put over your head and everything.”

“What’s that long thing?” asked Judy.

“That’s a tripod,” explained Paddington proudly. He sat down on the floor and began unfolding the legs. “It’s to stand the camera on so that it doesn’t shake.”

Mr Brown picked up the camera and examined it. As he turned it over some rusty screws and several old nails fell out. “Isn’t it rather old?” he asked, without thinking. “It looks as if someone’s been using it as a work-box instead of a camera.”

Paddington lifted the brim of his hat and gave Mr Brown a hard stare. “It’s a very rare sort,” he replied. “The man in the bargain shop said so.”

“Well, I think it’s super,” exclaimed Jonathan, excitedly. “Bags you take my picture first, Paddington.”

“I’ve only got one plate,” said Paddington decidedly. “Extra ones cost a lot and I haven’t any pocket money left – so I’m afraid you’ll all have to be in a group.”

“It certainly looks most complicated, and rather large for a bear,” remarked Mrs Brown as Paddington screwed the camera on to the tripod and then adjusted the legs so that they were the right height. “Are you sure you’ll be able to work it?”

“I think so,” said Paddington. His voice became muffled as he disappeared underneath the black hood at the back. “Mr Gruber lent me a book all about photography and I’ve been practising under the bedclothes.”

Mr Gruber, who kept an antique shop in the Portobello market, was a close friend of Paddington and helped him with all his problems.

“Well, in that case” – Mr Brown took charge of the situation – “I suggest we all go on to the lawn and let Paddington take our picture while the sun’s shining.” And he led the way outside while Paddington bustled around erecting his camera and tripod.

In a few moments Paddington announced that everything was ready and he began arranging the group as he wanted them, running back to the camera every now and then to peer at them through the lens.

Because the camera was so near the ground he had to put Mr Brown crouching in a rather uncomfortable position behind Jonathan and Judy, with Mrs Brown and Mrs Bird sitting on either side.

Although he didn’t say anything, Paddington was a bit disappointed with the view through the camera. He could just recognise Mr Brown because of his moustache, but the others were much more difficult. Everyone seemed blurred, almost as if they were standing in a fog. It was strange, for when he took his head out of the cloth it was quite sunny outside.

The Browns waited patiently while Paddington sat on the grass and consulted his instruction book. Almost at once he discovered a very interesting chapter headed focus. It explained how, if you wanted nice clear pictures, it was important to make sure the camera was the right distance away, and properly adjusted. It even had a picture showing a man measuring the distance with a piece of string.

Several minutes went by, for Paddington was rather a slow reader, and there were a number of diagrams to examine.

“I hope he’s not too long,” said Mr Brown. “I think I’ve got cramp coming on.”

“He’ll be disappointed if you move,” said Mrs Brown. “He took such a lot of trouble arranging us all and it really looks very nice.”

“That’s all very well,” grumbled Mr Brown. “You’re sitting down.”

“Ssh!” replied Mrs Brown. “I think he’s almost ready now. He’s doing something with a piece of string.”

“What on earth is that for?” asked Mr Brown.

“It’s to measure you,” said Paddington, tying a loop in the end.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” protested Mr Brown, when he saw what Paddington was up to, “I’d much rather you tied the other end on to the camera instead of this end to my ear!” The rest of his sentence disappeared in a gurgle as Paddington pulled the string tight.

Paddington looked rather surprised and examined the knot round Mr Brown’s ear with interest. “I think I must have made a slip knot by mistake,” he announced eventually. Paddington wasn’t very good at knots – mainly because having paws made things difficult for him.

“Really, Henry,” said Mrs Brown. “Don’t make such a fuss. Anyone would think you’d been hurt.”

Mr Brown rubbed his ear, which had gone a funny mauve colour. “It’s my ear,” he said, “and it jolly well does hurt.”

“Now where’s he going?” exclaimed Mrs Bird, as Paddington hurried off towards the house.

“I expect he’s gone to measure the string,” said Jonathan.

“Huh!” said Mr Brown. “Well, I’m going to stand up.”

“Henry!” said Mrs Brown. “If you do I shall be very cross.”

“It’s too late anyway,” groaned Mr Brown. “My leg’s gone to sleep.”

Luckily for Mr Brown, Paddington arrived back at that moment. He stared hard at the sun and then at the waiting group. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come over here,” he said, after consulting his instruction book. “The sun’s moved.”

“I’m not surprised,” grumbled Mr Brown, as he sat on the lawn rubbing his leg. “At the rate we’re going it will have set before we’re finished.”

“I never realised having a picture taken could be so complicated,” said Mrs Bird.

“What I’m not sure about,” whispered Judy, “is why Paddington bothered having a bath if he’s taking the photograph.”

“That’s a point,” said Mr Brown. “How are you going to be in the picture, Paddington?”

Paddington gave Mr Brown a strange look. That was something he hadn’t thought of either, but he decided to meet that difficulty when it came. He had a lot of other important things to do first. “I’m going to press the shutter,” he said, after a moment’s thought, “and then run round the other side.”

“But even bears can’t run that fast,” persisted Mr Brown.

“I’m sure Paddington knows best, Henry,” whispered Mrs Brown. “And even if he doesn’t, for goodness’ sake don’t say anything. If he finds out he’s had a bath for nothing we shall never hear the last of it.”

“It seems a very long hood,” said Mrs Bird, looking towards the camera. “I can’t see Paddington at all.”

“That’s because he’s small,” explained Jonathan. “He’s had to lower the tripod.”

The Browns sat very still with a fixed smile on their faces as Paddington came out from beneath his hood. He made some complicated adjustments to the front of the camera and then, after announcing he was about to fit the photographic plate, disappeared again.

Suddenly, to everybody’s surprise, the camera and tripod began to rock backwards and forwards in a most dangerous manner.

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “Whatever’s happening now?”

“Look out!” shouted Mr Brown. “It’s coming towards us.”

They all stood up and moved away, staring with wide-open eyes at the camera as it followed them. But when it got to within several feet it suddenly stopped, then turned left and headed towards a rose bush.

“I do hope he’s all right,” said Mrs Brown anxiously.

“I wonder if we ought to do anything,” said Mrs Bird, as there was a muffled cry from Paddington.

But before anyone could reply, the camera rebounded from the rose bush and shot back across the lawn. It went twice round the pond in the middle and then jumped up in the air several times before toppling over, to land with a dull thud in the middle of Mr Brown’s best flower bed.

“Good heavens!” shouted Mr Brown, as he rushed forward. “My petunias!”

“Never mind your petunias, Henry,” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “What about Paddington?”

“Well, no wonder,” said Mr Brown as he bent down and lifted the hood. “He’s got his head stuck inside the camera!”

“I should be careful, Dad,” said Jonathan as Mr Brown began pulling at Paddington’s legs. “His whiskers might be caught in the shutter.”

Mr Brown stopped pulling and crawled round to peer through the lens. “I can’t see anything,” he said after a moment’s pause. “It’s all dark inside.” He tapped the case and there came another faint cry from within.

“Butter!” said Mrs Bird, hurrying towards the kitchen. “There’s nothing like butter when anyone’s stuck.” Mrs Bird was a great believer in butter. She had used it several times in the past when Paddington had got himself stuck.

All the same, even with Jonathan holding one end and Mr Brown pulling on the other, it was some while before Paddington’s head finally came away from the camera. He sat on the grass rubbing his ears and looking very crestfallen. Things hadn’t gone at all according to plan.

“I vote,” said Mr Brown, when order had finally been restored, “that we set everything up exactly as it was before and tie a string to the shutter. Then Paddington can sit in the group with us and work it from a distance. It’ll be much safer that way.”

Everyone agreed that this was a good idea, and while Mr Brown arranged the group once again, Paddington busied himself setting up his camera and fitting the photographic plate inside it – making sure to stand well back this time. There was a slight setback when he pulled the string too hard and the tripod fell over, but finally the big moment arrived. There was a click from the camera and everyone relaxed.

The man in the photographic shop looked most surprised when Mrs Bird, all the Browns, and Paddington trooped in through the door a little later.

“It’s certainly a very rare sort,” he said, examining Paddington’s camera with interest. “Very rare. I’ve read about them of course – but I’ve never actually seen one before. It… it must have been kept in a pantry or something. It seems to have a lot of butter inside it.”

“I had a bit of an accident when I tried to put the plate in,” said Paddington.

“We’re all very anxious to see the result of the photograph,” added Mr Brown hastily. “We were wondering if you could do it for us while we wait?”

The man said he would be only too pleased to oblige. From all he had seen and heard he was quite eager to see the picture, and he hurried off to his dark-room leaving the Browns alone in the shop. He couldn’t remember ever having a young bear photographer in the shop before.

When he returned there was a puzzled expression on his face. “You did say you took this picture today?” he asked, looking through the window at the bright sunshine.

“That’s right,” said Paddington, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Well, sir –” the man held the plate up to the light for Paddington to see, “it’s nice and sharp – and I can certainly see you all – but it looks as if it was foggy at the time. And these patches of light – like moonbeams – they’re very odd!”

Paddington took the plate from the man and examined it carefully. “I expect that’s where I had my torch on under the bedclothes,” he said at last.

“Well, I think it’s a very nice picture for a first attempt,” said Mrs Bird. “And I’d like six postcard prints, please. I’m sure Paddington’s Aunt Lucy in Peru would love one. She lives in the home for retired bears in Lima,” she added, for the benefit of the shopkeeper.

“Does she?” said the man, looking most impressed. “Well, it’s the first time I’ve ever had any pictures sent overseas – especially to a home for retired bears in Peru.”

He thought for a moment. “I tell you what,” he said, “if I could borrow this camera for a week to put in my shop window, I’ll not only do all the prints you want but I’ll take a photograph of each of you into the bargain. How’s that?”

“I might have known,” said Mr Brown, as they were walking home, “that if Paddington took our photographs something odd would happen. Fancy getting all these pictures for nothing!”

“Bears always fall on their feet,” said Mrs Bird, looking at Paddington.

But Paddington wasn’t listening. He was still thinking about his camera.

Early next morning he hurried down to the shop and was pleased to see it already occupied a position of honour in the middle of the window.

Underneath it was a notice which said: A VERY RARE TYPE OF EARLY CAMERA – NOW OWNED BY MR PADDINGTON BROWN – A YOUNG LOCAL BEAR GENTLEMAN.

But Paddington was even more pleased by another notice next to it which said: AN EXAMPLE OF HIS WORK – and underneath that was his picture.

It was a little blurred and there were several paw marks near the edge, but one or two people in the neighbourhood came up and congratulated him and several of them said they could quite clearly recognise everyone in it. All in all Paddington thought it had been a very good three pounds’ worth.