Читать книгу Paddington Complete Novels - Michael Bond - Страница 25

Paddington found that Christmas took a long time to come. Each morning when he hurried downstairs he crossed the date off the calendar, but the more days he crossed off the farther away it seemed.

However, there was plenty to occupy his mind. For one thing, the postman started arriving later and later in the morning, and when he did finally reach the Browns’ house there were so many letters to deliver he had a job to push them all through the letterbox. Often there were mysterious-looking parcels as well, which Mrs Bird promptly hid before Paddington had time to squeeze them.

A surprising number of the envelopes were addressed to Paddington himself, and he carefully made a list of all those who had sent him Christmas cards so that he could be sure of thanking them.

“You may be only a small bear,” said Mrs Bird, as she helped him arrange the cards on the mantelpiece, “but you certainly leave your mark.”

Paddington wasn’t sure how to take this, especially as Mrs Bird had just polished the hall floor, but when he examined his paws they were quite clean.

Paddington had made his own Christmas cards. Some he had drawn himself, decorating the edges with holly and mistletoe; others had been made out of pictures cut from Mrs Brown’s magazines. But each one had the words A MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR printed on the front, and they were signed PADINGTUN BROWN on the inside – together with his special paw mark to show that they were genuine.

Paddington wasn’t sure about the spelling of A MERRY CHRISTMAS. It didn’t look at all right. But Mrs Bird checked all the words in a dictionary for him to make certain.

“I don’t suppose many people get Christmas cards from a bear,” she explained. “They’ll probably want to keep them, so you ought to make sure they are right.”

One evening Mr Brown arrived home with a huge Christmas tree tied to the roof of his car. It was placed in a position of honour by the dining-room window and both Paddington and Mr Brown spent a long time decorating it with coloured electric lights and silver tinsel.

Apart from the Christmas tree, there were paper chains and holly to be put up, and large coloured bells made of crinkly paper. Paddington enjoyed doing the paper chains. He managed to persuade Mr Brown that bears were very good at putting up decorations and together they did most of the house, with Paddington standing on Mr Brown’s shoulders while Mr Brown handed up the drawing pins. It came to an unhappy end one evening when Paddington accidentally put his paw on a drawing pin which he’d left on top of Mr Brown’s head. When Mrs Bird rushed into the dining-room to see what all the fuss was about, and to inquire why all the lights had suddenly gone out, she found Paddington hanging by his paws from the chandelier and Mr Brown dancing around the room rubbing his head.

But by then the decorations were almost finished and the house had taken on quite a festive air. The sideboard was groaning under the weight of nuts and oranges, dates and figs, none of which Paddington was allowed to touch, and Mr Brown had stopped smoking his pipe and was filling the air instead with the smell of cigars.

The excitement in the Browns’ house mounted, until it reached fever pitch a few days before Christmas, when Jonathan and Judy arrived home for the holidays.

But if the days leading up to Christmas were busy and exciting, they were nothing compared with Christmas Day itself.

The Browns were up early on Christmas morning – much earlier than they had intended. It all started when Paddington woke to find a large pillow-case at the bottom of his bed. His eyes nearly popped out with astonishment when he switched his torch on, for it was bulging with parcels, and it certainly hadn’t been there when he’d gone to bed on Christmas Eve.

Paddington’s eyes grew larger and larger as he unwrapped the brightly coloured paper round each present. A few days before, on Mrs Bird’s instructions, he had made a list of all the things he hoped to have given him and had hidden it up one of the chimneys. It was a strange thing, but everything on that list seemed to be in the pillow-case.

There was a large chemistry outfit from Mr Brown, full of jars and bottles and test tubes, which looked very interesting. And there was a miniature xylophone from Mrs Brown, which pleased him no end. Paddington was fond of music – especially the loud sort, which was good for conducting – and he had always wanted something he could actually play.

Mrs Bird’s parcel was even more exciting, for it contained a checked cap which he’d specially asked for and had underlined on his list. Paddington stood on the end of his bed, admiring the effect in the mirror for quite a while.

Jonathan and Judy had each given him a travel book. Paddington was very interested in geography, being a much-travelled bear, and he was pleased to see there were plenty of maps and coloured pictures inside.

The noise from Paddington’s room was soon sufficient to wake both Jonathan and Judy, and in no time at all the whole house was in an uproar, with wrapping paper and bits of string everywhere.

“I’m as patriotic as the next man,” grumbled Mr Brown. “But I draw the line when bears start playing the National Anthem at six o’clock in the morning – especially on a xylophone.”

As always, it was left to Mrs Bird to restore order. “No more presents until after lunch,” she said firmly. She had just tripped over Paddington on the upstairs landing, where he was investigating his new chemical outfit, and something nasty had gone in one of her slippers.

“It’s all right, Mrs Bird,” said Paddington, consulting his instruction book, “it’s only some iron filings. I don’t think they’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous or not,” said Mrs Bird, “I’ve a big dinner to cook – not to mention your birthday cake to finish decorating.”

Being a bear, Paddington had two birthdays each year – one in the summer and one at Christmas – and the Browns were holding a party in his honour to which Mr Gruber had been invited.

After they’d had breakfast and been to church, the morning passed quickly and Paddington spent most of his time trying to decide what to do next. With so many things from which to choose it was most difficult. He read some chapters from his books and made several interesting smells and a small explosion with his chemical outfit.

Mr Brown was already in trouble for having given it to him, especially when Paddington found a chapter in the instruction book headed ‘Indoor Fireworks’. He made himself a ‘never ending’ snake which wouldn’t stop growing and frightened Mrs Bird to death when she met it coming down the stairs.

“If we don’t watch out,” she confided to Mrs Brown, “we shan’t last over Christmas. We shall either be blown to smithereens or poisoned. He was testing my gravy with some litmus paper just now.”

Mrs Brown sighed. “It’s a good job Christmas only comes once a year,” she said as she helped Mrs Bird with the potatoes.

“It isn’t over yet,” warned Mrs Bird.

Fortunately, Mr Gruber arrived at that moment and some measure of order was established before they all sat down to dinner.

Paddington’s eyes glistened as he surveyed the table. He didn’t agree with Mr Brown when he said it all looked too good to eat. All the same, even Paddington got noticeably slower towards the end when Mrs Bird brought in the Christmas pudding.

“Well,” said Mr Gruber, a few minutes later, as he sat back and surveyed his empty plate, “I must say that’s the best Christmas dinner I’ve had for many a day. Thank you very much indeed!”

“Hear! Hear!” agreed Mr Brown. “What do you say, Paddington?”

“It was very nice,” said Paddington, licking some cream from his whiskers. “Except I had a bone in my Christmas pudding.”

“You what?” exclaimed Mrs Brown. “Don’t be silly – there are no bones in Christmas pudding.”

“I had one,” said Paddington, firmly. “It was all hard – and it stuck in my throat.”

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “The five pence! I always put a piece of silver in the Christmas pudding.”

“What!” said Paddington, nearly falling off his chair. “A five pence? I’ve never heard of a five pence pudding before.”

“Quick,” shouted Mr Brown, rising to the emergency. “Turn him upside down.”

Before Paddington could reply, he found himself hanging head downwards while Mr Brown and Mr Gruber took it in turns to shake him. The rest of the family stood round watching the floor.

“It’s no good,” said Mr Brown, after a while. “It must have gone too far.” He helped Mr Gruber lift Paddington into an armchair, where he lay gasping for breath.

“I’ve got a magnet upstairs,” said Jonathan. “We could try lowering it down his throat on a piece of string.”

“I don’t think so, dear,” said Mrs Brown, in a worried tone of voice. “He might swallow that and then we should be even worse off.” She bent over the chair. “How do you feel, Paddington?”

“Sick,” said Paddington, in an aggrieved tone of voice.

“Of course you do, dear,” said Mrs Brown. “It’s only to be expected. There’s only one thing to do – we shall have to send for the doctor.”

“Thank goodness I scrubbed it first,” said Mrs Bird. “It might have been covered with germs.”

“But I didn’t swallow it,” gasped Paddington. “I only nearly did. Then I put it on the side of my plate. I didn’t know it was five pence because it was all covered with Christmas pudding.”

Paddington felt very fed up. He’d just eaten one of the best dinners he could ever remember and now he’d been turned upside down and shaken without even being given time to explain.

Everyone exchanged glances and then crept quietly away, leaving Paddington to recover by himself. There didn’t seem to be much they could say.

But after the dinner things had been cleared away, and by the time Mrs Bird had made some strong coffee, Paddington was almost himself again. He was sitting up in the chair helping himself to some dates when they trooped back into the room. It took a lot to make Paddington ill for very long.

When they had finished their coffee, and were sitting round the blazing fire feeling warm and comfortable, Mr Brown rubbed his hands. “Now, Paddington,” he said, “it’s not only Christmas, it’s your birthday as well. What would you like to do?”

A mysterious expression came over Paddington’s face. “If you all go in the other room,” he announced, “I’ve a special surprise for you.”

“Oh dear, must we, Paddington?” said Mrs Brown. “There isn’t a fire.”

“I shan’t be long,” said Paddington, firmly. “But it’s a special surprise and it has to be prepared.” He held the door open and the Browns, Mrs Bird, and Mr Gruber filed obediently into the other room.

“Now close your eyes,” said Paddington, when they were all settled, “and I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

Mrs Brown shivered. “I hope you won’t be too long,” she called. But the only reply was the sound of the door clicking shut.

They waited for several minutes without speaking, and then Mr Gruber cleared his throat. “Do you think young Mr Brown’s forgotten about us?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Mrs Brown. “But I’m not waiting much longer.”

“Henry!” she exclaimed, as she opened her eyes.

“Have you gone to sleep?”

“Er, wassat?” snorted Mr Brown. He had eaten such a large dinner he was finding it difficult to keep awake. “What’s happening? Have I missed anything?”

“Nothing’s happening,” said Mrs Brown. “Henry, you’d better go and see what Paddington’s up to.”

Several more minutes went by before Mr Brown returned to announce that he couldn’t find Paddington anywhere.

“Well, he must be somewhere.” said Mrs Brown. “Bears don’t disappear into thin air.”

“Crikey!” exclaimed Jonathan, as a thought suddenly struck him. “You don’t think he’s playing at Father Christmas, do you? He was asking all about it the other day when he put his list up the chimney. I bet that’s why he wanted us to come in here – because this chimney connects with the one upstairs – and there isn’t a fire.”

“Father Christmas?” said Mr Brown. “I’ll give him Father Christmas!” He stuck his head up the chimney and called Paddington’s name several times. “I can’t see anything,” he said, striking a match. As if in answer a large lump of soot descended and burst on top of his head.

“Now look what you’ve done, Henry,” said Mrs Brown. “Shouting so – you’ve disturbed the soot. All over your clean shirt!”

“If it is young Mr Brown, perhaps he’s stuck somewhere,” suggested Mr Gruber. “He did have rather a large dinner. I remember wondering at the time where he put it all.”

Mr Gruber’s suggestion had an immediate effect on the party and everyone began to look serious.

“Why, he might suffocate with the fumes,” exclaimed Mrs Bird, as she hurried out to the broom cupboard.

When she returned, armed with a mop, everyone took it in turns to poke it up the chimney but even though they strained their ears they couldn’t hear a sound.

It was while the excitement was at its height that Paddington came into the room. He looked most surprised when he saw Mr Brown with his head up the chimney.

“You can come into the dining-room now,” he announced, looking round the room. “I’ve finished wrapping my presents and they’re all on the Christmas tree.”

“You don’t mean to say,” spluttered Mr Brown, as he sat in the fireplace rubbing his face with a handkerchief, “you’ve been in the other room all the time?”

“Yes,” said Paddington, innocently, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

Mrs Brown looked at her husband. “I thought you said you’d looked everywhere,” she exclaimed.

“Well – we’d just come from the dining-room,” said Mr Brown, looking very sheepish. “I didn’t think he’d be there.”

“It only goes to show,” said Mrs Bird hastily, as she caught sight of the expression on Mr Brown’s face, “how easy it is to give a bear a bad name.”

Paddington looked most interested when they explained to him what all the fuss was about.

“I never thought of coming down the chimney,” he said, staring at the fireplace.

“Well, you’re not thinking about it now either,” replied Mr Brown sternly.

But even Mr Brown’s expression changed as he followed Paddington into the dining-room and saw the surprise that had been prepared for them.

In addition to the presents that had already been placed on the tree, there were now six newly wrapped ones tied to the lower branches. If the Browns recognised the wrapping paper they had used for Paddington’s presents earlier in the day, they were much too polite to say anything.

“I’m afraid I had to use old paper,” said Paddington apologetically, as he waved a paw at the tree. “I hadn’t any money left. That’s why you had to go in the other room while I wrapped them.”

“Really, Paddington,” said Mrs Brown. “I’m very cross with you – spending all your money on presents for us.”

“I’m afraid they’re rather ordinary,” said Paddington, as he settled back in a chair to watch the others. “But I hope you like them. They’re all labelled so that you know which is which.”

“Ordinary?” exclaimed Mr Brown as he opened his parcel. “I don’t call a pipe rack ordinary. And there’s an ounce of my favourite tobacco tied to the back as well!”

“Gosh! A new stamp album!” cried Jonathan. “Whizzo! And it’s got some stamps inside already.”

“They’re Peruvian ones from Aunt Lucy’s postcards,” said Paddington. “I’ve been saving them for you.”

“And I’ve got a box of paints,” exclaimed Judy. “Thank you very much, Paddington. It’s just what I wanted.”

“We all seem to be lucky,” said Mrs Brown, as she unwrapped a parcel containing a bottle of her favourite lavender water. “How did you guess? I finished my last bottle only a week ago.”

“I’m sorry about your parcel, Mrs Bird,” said Paddington, looking across the room. “I had a bit of a job with the knots.”

“It must be something special,” said Mr Brown. “It seems all string and no parcel.”

“That’s because it’s really clothes-line,” explained Paddington, “not string. I rescued it when I got stuck in the revolving doors at Crumbold & Ferns.”

“That makes two presents in one,” said Mrs Bird, as she freed the last of the knots and began unwinding yards and yards of paper. “How exciting. I can’t think what it can be.

“Why,” she exclaimed. “I do believe it’s a brooch! And it’s shaped like a bear – how lovely!” Mrs Bird looked most touched as she handed the present round for everyone to see. “I shall keep it in a safe place,” she added, “and only wear it on special occasions – when I want to impress people.”

“I don’t know what mine is,” said Mr Gruber, as they all turned to him. He squeezed the parcel. “It’s such a funny shape.

“It’s a drinking mug!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up with pleasure. “And it even has my name painted on the side!”

“It’s for your elevenses, Mr Gruber,” said Paddington. “I noticed your old one was getting rather chipped.”

“I’m sure it will make my cocoa taste better than it ever has before,” said Mr Gruber.

He stood up and cleared his throat. “I think I would like to offer a vote of thanks to young Mr Brown,” he said, “for all his nice presents. I’m sure he must have given them a great deal of thought.”

“Hear! Hear!” echoed Mr Brown, as he filled his pipe.

Mr Gruber felt under his chair. “And while I think of it, Mr Brown, I have a small present for you.”

Everyone stood round and watched while Paddington struggled with his parcel, eager to see what Mr Gruber had bought him. A gasp of surprise went up as he tore the paper to one side, for it was a beautifully bound leather scrapbook, with ‘Paddington Brown’ printed in gold leaf on the cover.

Paddington didn’t know what to say, but Mr Gruber waved his thanks to one side. “I know how you enjoy writing about your adventures, Mr Brown,” he said. “And you have so many I’m sure your present scrapbook must be almost full.”

“It is,” said Paddington, earnestly. “And I’m sure I shall have lots more. Things happen to me, you know. But I shall only put my best ones in here!”

When he made his way up to bed later that evening, his mind was in such a whirl, and he was so full of good things, he could hardly climb the stairs – let alone think about anything. He wasn’t quite sure which he had enjoyed most. The presents, the Christmas dinner, the games, or the tea – with the special marmalade-layer birthday cake Mrs Bird had made in his honour. Pausing on the corner half way up, he decided he had enjoyed giving his own presents best of all.

“Paddington! Whatever have you got there?” He jumped and hastily hid his paw behind his back as he heard Mrs Bird calling from the bottom of the stairs.

“It’s only some five pence pudding, Mrs Bird,” he called, looking over the banisters guiltily. “I thought I might get hungry during the night and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Honestly!” Mrs Bird exclaimed, as she was joined by the others. “What does that bear look like? A paper hat about ten sizes too big on his head – Mr Gruber’s scrapbook in one paw – and a plate of Christmas pudding in the other!”

“I don’t care what he looks like,” said Mrs Brown, “so long as he stays that way. The place wouldn’t be the same without him.”

But Paddington was too far away to hear what was being said. He was already sitting up in bed, busily writing in his scrapbook.

First of all, there was a very important notice to go on the front page. It said:

PADINGTUN BROWN,

32 WINDSOR GARDENS,

LUNDUN,

ENGLAND,

YUROPE,

THE WORLD.

Then, on the next page he added, in large capital letters: MY ADDVENTURES. CHAPTER WUN.

Paddington sucked his pen thoughtfully for a moment and then carefully replaced the top on the bottle of ink before it had a chance to fall over on the sheets. He felt much too sleepy to write any more. But he didn’t really mind. Tomorrow was another day – and he felt quite sure he would have some more adventures – even if he didn’t know what they were going to be as yet.

Paddington lay back and pulled the blankets up round his whiskers. It was warm and comfortable and he sighed contentedly as he closed his eyes. It was nice being a bear. Especially a bear called Paddington.