Paddington Complete Novels. Michael Bond

      “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