Paddington Novels 1-3. Michael Bond

“Lots. Things are always happening to me. I’m that sort of bear.”

      When they came out of the buffet Mr Brown had already found a taxi and he waved them across. The driver looked hard at Paddington and then at the inside of his nice, clean taxi.

      “Bears is extra,” he said gruffly. “Sticky bears is twice as much again.”

      “He can’t help being sticky, driver,” said Mr Brown. “He’s just had a nasty accident.”

      The driver hesitated. “All right, ’op in. But mind none of it comes off on me interior. I only cleaned it out this morning.”

      The Browns trooped obediently into the back of the taxi. Mr and Mrs Brown and Judy sat in the back, while Paddington stood on a tip-up seat behind the driver so that he could see out of the window.

      The sun was shining as they drove out of the station and after the gloom and the noise everything seemed bright and cheerful. They swept past a group of people at a bus stop and Paddington waved. Several people stared and one man raised his hat in return. It was all very friendly. After weeks of sitting alone in a lifeboat there was so much to see. There were people and cars and big, red buses everywhere – it wasn’t a bit like Darkest Peru.

      Paddington kept one eye out of the window in case he missed anything. With his other eye he carefully examined Mr and Mrs Brown and Judy. Mr Brown was fat and jolly, with a big moustache and glasses, while Mrs Brown, who was also rather plump, looked like a larger edition of Judy. Paddington had just decided he was going to like staying with the Browns when the glass window behind the driver shot back and a gruff voice said, “Where did you say you wanted to go?”

      Mr Brown leaned forward. “Number thirty-two, Windsor Gardens.”

      The driver cupped his ear with one hand. “Can’t ’ear you,” he shouted.

      Paddington tapped him on the shoulder. “Number thirty-two, Windsor Gardens,” he repeated.

      The taxi driver jumped at the sound of Paddington’s voice and narrowly missed hitting a bus. He looked down at his shoulder and glared. “Cream!” he said, bitterly. “All over me new coat!”

      Judy giggled and Mr and Mrs Brown exchanged glances. Mr Brown peered at the meter. He half expected to see a sign go up saying they had to pay another fifty pence.

      “I beg your pardon,” said Paddington. He bent forward and tried to rub the stain off with his other paw. Several bun crumbs and a smear of jam added themselves mysteriously to the taxi driver’s coat. The driver gave Paddington a long, hard look.

      Paddington raised his hat and the driver slammed the window shut again.

      “Oh dear,” said Mrs Brown. “We really shall have to give him a bath as soon as we get indoors. It’s getting everywhere.”

      Paddington looked thoughtful. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like baths; he really didn’t mind being covered with jam and cream. It seemed a pity to wash it all off quite so soon. But before he had time to consider the matter the taxi stopped and the Browns began to climb out. Paddington picked up his suitcase and followed Judy up a flight of white steps to a big green door.

      “Now you’re going to meet Mrs Bird,” said Judy. “She looks after us. She’s a bit fierce sometimes and she grumbles a lot but she doesn’t really mean it. I’m sure you’ll like her.”

      Paddington felt his knees begin to tremble. He looked round for Mr and Mrs Brown, but they appeared to be having some sort of argument with the taxi driver. Behind the door he could hear footsteps approaching.

      “I’m sure I shall like her, if you say so,” he said, catching sight of his reflection on the brightly polished letterbox. “But will she like me?”

      PADDINGTON WASN’T QUITE sure what to expect when Mrs Bird opened the door. He was pleasantly surprised when they were greeted by a stout, motherly lady with grey hair and a kindly twinkle in her eyes. When she saw Judy she raised her hands above her head. “Goodness gracious, you’ve arrived already,” she said, in horror. “And me hardly finished the washing up. I suppose you’ll be wanting tea?”

      “Hallo, Mrs Bird,” said Judy. “It’s nice to see you again. How’s the rheumatism?”

      “Worse than it’s ever been,” began Mrs Bird – then she stopped speaking and stared at Paddington. “Whatever have you got there?” she asked. “What is it?”

      “It’s not a what,” said Judy. “It’s a bear. His name’s Paddington.”

      Paddington raised his hat.

      “A bear,” said Mrs Bird, doubtfully. “Well, he has good manners, I’ll say that for him.”

      “He’s going to stay with us,” announced Judy. “He’s emigrated from South America and he’s all alone with nowhere to go.”

      “Going to stay with us?” Mrs Bird raised her arms again. “How long for?”

      Judy looked round mysteriously before replying. “I don’t know,” she said. “It depends on things.”

      “Mercy me,” exclaimed Mrs Bird. “I wish you’d told me. I haven’t put clean sheets in the spare room or anything.” She looked down at Paddington. “Though judging by the state he’s in perhaps that’s as well.”

      “It’s all right, Mrs Bird,” said Paddington. “I think I’m going to have a bath. I had an accident with a bun.”

      “Oh!” Mrs Bird held the door open. “Oh, well in that case you’d best come on in. Only mind the carpet. It’s just been done.”

      Judy took hold of Paddington’s paw and squeezed.”She doesn’t mind really,” she whispered. “I think she rather likes you.”

      Paddington watched the retreating figure of Mrs Bird. “She seems a bit fierce,” he said.

      Mrs Bird turned. “What was that you said?”

      Paddington jumped. “I… I…” he began.

      “Where was it you said you’d come from? Peru?”

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

      “Humph!” Mrs Bird looked thoughtful for a moment. “Then I expect you like marmalade. I’d better get some more from the grocer.”

      “There you are! What did I tell you?” cried Judy, as the door shut behind Mrs Bird. “She does like you.”

      “Fancy her knowing I like marmalade,” said Paddington.

      “Mrs Bird knows everything about everything,” said Judy. “Now, you’d better come upstairs with me and I’ll show you your room. It used to be mine when I was small and it has lots of pictures of bears round the wall so I expect you’ll feel at home.” She led the way up a long flight of stairs, chattering all the time. Paddington followed closely behind, keeping carefully to the side so that he didn’t have to tread on the carpet.

      “That’s the bathroom,” said Judy. “And that’s my room. And that’s Jonathan’s – he’s my brother, and you’ll meet him soon. And that’s Mummy and Daddy’s.” She opened a door. “And this is going to be yours!”

      Paddington nearly fell over with surprise when he followed her into the room. He’d never seen such a big one. There was a large bed with white sheets against one wall and several big boxes, one with a mirror on it. Judy pulled open a drawer in one of the boxes. “This is called a chest of drawers,” she said. “You’ll