Paddington Goes To Town. Michael Bond

new Mrs Price began to look slightly better pleased.”Well, I don’t know really…” she simpered, patting her hair.

      “It’s a bit irregular,” whispered the fireman in Paddington’s ear, “and we don’t normally do it for people outside the service, but we’ve a big recruiting drive on at the moment and it’ll be good publicity. Besides, it’ll help calm things down a bit.”

      “Thank you very much,” said Paddington gratefully. “I shall ask for you if ever I have a real fire.”

      “It’ll make a lovely photograph,” said Harold persuasively, taking Deirdre’s hand and leading her across the room. “And it’ll be something to show the girls back in the shop.”

      “If the ring won’t come off, perhaps I could come on the honeymoon with you, Mrs Price,” said Paddington hopefully. “I’ve never been on one of those before.”

      Deirdre’s back stiffened as she bent down to sign the register.

      “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” said the fireman hastily, as he removed the ring at long last and handed it to Mr Price for safe keeping.

      “Tell you what, though,” he added, seeing a look of disappointment cross Paddington’s face. “As you can’t go on the honeymoon perhaps we’ll give you a lift to the wedding breakfast on our way back to the station instead.

      “After all,” he continued, looking meaningly at Mrs Price, “if this young bear hadn’t had the good sense to call us when he did he might still be wearing the ring and then where would you be?”

      And to that remark not even Deirdre could find an answer.

      “Gosh!” said Jonathan, as the Browns made their way back up the aisle. “Fancy riding on the back of a fire engine!”

      “I don’t suppose there are many bears who can say they’ve done that,” agreed Judy.

      Paddington nodded. A lot of things seemed about to happen all at once, and he wasn’t quite sure which he was looking forward to most. Apart from the promised ride he’d never heard of anyone having their breakfast in the afternoon before, let alone a wedding one, but it sounded a very good way of rounding things off.

      “If you and Mrs Price ever want to get married again,” he announced, as Harold led Deirdre out of the church and paused for the photographers beneath an archway of raised fire axes, “I’ll do some more ’ushing for you if you like.”

      Deirdre shuddered. “Never again,” she said, taking a firm grip on Harold’s arm. “Once is quite enough.”

      Mr Price nodded his agreement. “It’s as I said in the beginning,” he remarked, from beneath a shower of confetti, “young Mr Brown has a habit of bringing people closer together in the end, and this time it’s for good!”

       Chapter Two PADDINGTON HITS OUT

      “I KNOW IT’S none of my business,” said Mrs Bird, pausing for a moment as she cleared the breakfast table, “but do you think Mr Curry’s suddenly come into some money?” She nodded towards the next-door garden. “He’s out there practising with his golf clubs again this morning. That’s the third time this week.”

      “I must say it’s very strange,” agreed Mrs Brown, as the clear sound of a ball being hit by a club greeted her housekeeper’s remarks. “He seemed to be turning his lawn into a putting green yesterday and he’s got some plus-fours hanging on the line.”

      Paddington, who until that moment had been busily engaged in finishing up the last of the toast and marmalade before Mrs Bird removed it from the table, suddenly gave vent to a loud choking noise. “Mr Curry’s plus-fours are hanging on the line!” he exclaimed when he had recovered himself.

      He peered through the window with interest, but Mr Curry’s clothes line seemed very little different from any other day of the week. In fact, apart from a tea towel and jerseys the only unusual item was a pair of very odd-looking trousers which hung limp and bedraggled in the still morning air.

      “Those are plus-fours,” explained Mrs Brown. “They’re special trousers people used to wear when they played golf. You don’t often see them nowadays.”

      Mrs Brown looked just as puzzled as her housekeeper as she considered Mr Curry’s strange behaviour. Apart from having a reputation for meanness, the Browns’ neighbour was also noted for his bad temper and unsportsmanlike attitude generally. The idea of his taking up any sort of game was hard to picture and when it was an expensive one like golf then it became doubly so.

      “That reminds me,” she continued, turning away from the window. “Henry asked me to get his golfing things out for him. There’s an ‘open day’ at the golf club on Saturday and he wants to go. They’re expecting quite a crowd. Arnold Parker’s putting in a special appearance and he’s judging one or two competitions. I don’t know whether Henry’s going in for any of them but apparently there are some quite big prizes. There’s a special one for the person whose ball travels the farthest and…”

      “Hmm,” said Mrs Bird as Mrs Brown’s voice trailed away. “There’s no need to say any more. That’s one mystery solved!”

      Although she wasn’t in the habit of interesting herself in other people’s affairs Mrs Bird liked to get to the bottom of things. “Trust Mr Curry to be around when there’s a chance of getting something for nothing,” she snorted as she disappeared towards the kitchen with her tray.

      As Mrs Brown picked up the remains of the crockery and followed her housekeeper out of the room Paddington climbed up on to his chair and looked hopefully out of the window. But Mr Curry was nowhere in sight and even the sound of shots being practised seemed to have died away, so he climbed back down again and a few minutes later hurried out into the garden in order to investigate the matter more closely.

      In the past he’d several times come across Mr Brown’s golf clubs in the cupboard under the stairs, but he’d never watched the game being played before and the possibility of seeing Mr Curry practising on his lawn and being able to take a closer look at his plus-fours into the bargain seemed an opportunity too good to be missed.

      Crouching down to the ground behind Mr Brown’s shed he put his eye to a special knothole in the fence which usually gave a very good view of the next-door garden, but to his surprise there was nothing to be seen but a wall of blackness.

      Looking most disappointed Paddington picked up one of Mr Brown’s old bean sticks and poked it hopefully through the hole in an attempt to unblock it. As he did so a loud cry of pain suddenly rang out and he nearly fell over backwards with surprise as the familiar figure of the Browns’ neighbour suddenly rose into view on the other side of the fence.

      “Bear!” roared Mr Curry as he danced up and down clutching his right eye. “Did you do that on purpose, bear?”

      Hastily letting go of the stick, Paddington jumped back in alarm. “Oh, no, Mr Curry,” he exclaimed. “I was only trying to unblock the hole. If I’d known you were there I’d have done it much more gently. I mean…”

      “What’s that?” bellowed Mr Curry. “What did you say?”

      Paddington gave up trying to explain what he meant as the face on the other side of the fence turned a deep purple.

      “I wanted to see your sum trousers, Mr Curry,” he said unhappily.

      “My what trousers?” repeated Mr Curry.

      “Your sum trousers, Mr Curry,”