Paddington Goes To Town. Michael Bond

Brown looked up at the ceiling as the sound of running water came from somewhere overhead. “Whatever we say it had better not be ‘no’,” he replied. “Not at this stage. We shall never hear the last of it if Paddington’s had a bath for nothing. Especially one he’s volunteered for.

      “All the same,” he continued, giving his suit a passing flick with the clothes-brush, “I can’t help feeling it isn’t the best of ways to start married life. I don’t think I should have been very keen on having a bear as an usher at my wedding – even if I had been let down.”

      Mr Brown wasn’t over enthusiastic about weddings at the best of times, and the thought of attending one at which Paddington was lending a paw filled him with foreboding.

      Nevertheless, even Mr Brown’s fears were gradually set at rest as the day wore on, for Paddington’s behaviour seemed beyond reproach.

      When they arrived at the church he was busily engaged with a long and important-looking list of names which enabled him to check the invitations and sort out the friends of the bride from those of the groom, and as he led them down the aisle towards their allotted places they couldn’t help noticing how spick and span he looked. His fur had a newly brushed, glistening appearance, and his whiskers were so shiny they made the large white carnation which he wore tied round his neck look almost dowdy by comparison.

      If the Browns had any criticism at all it was that he was taking his job a little too seriously. Jonathan’s earlier theory proved all too correct and as soon as anyone so much as parted their lips he hurried up to them with his paw raised and gave them a hard stare. Some of his stares, which had been handed down to him by his Aunt Lucy in Peru, were very powerful indeed and in no time at all it would have been possible to have heard the proverbial pin drop.

      Even the vicar looked most impressed when he came into the church and saw the attentive state of his congregation.

      “I don’t see how we can explain now,” hissed Mr Brown. “It’s a bit difficult when you’re not allowed to say anything.”

      The others contented themselves with a nod of agreement, for at that moment Paddington, having carefully checked the list of guests for the last time to make certain everyone was present, settled himself down in a nearby pew in order to consult his programme and enjoy the forthcoming ceremony in comfort.

      In any case, they soon had other matters to occupy their minds, for a moment or so later Mr Price and his best man arrived and took up their places near the front.

      They both looked unusually agitated, even for such a nerve-racking occasion as a wedding, and Mr Price in particular kept jumping up and down like a jack-in-the-box. He seemed to want to speak to Paddington, but each time he turned round and opened his mouth Paddington put a paw firmly to his lips.

      “I don’t remember Harold having that nervous twitch before,” whispered Mrs Brown, uneasily.

      “I think it’s got something to do with the ring,” whispered Judy, passing on what little bit of information she’d been able to glean from those in front. “They’re having to make do with a brass one off Mr Price’s bedroom curtains. Apparently the real one’s disappeared.”

      “Disappeared!” echoed Mrs Brown. For a moment she quite forgot Paddington’s presence in the nearby pew, but as it happened she needn’t have worried, for Paddington seemed even more affected than anyone by this latest piece of news. His whiskers sagged, his face took on a sudden woebegone expression, and even the carnation round his neck seemed to wilt in sympathy.

      “Deirdre’s not going to be very pleased when she hears,” murmured Mr Brown. “I shouldn’t like to be the person who’s got it!”

      “Ssh!” hissed Mrs Brown. “Here she comes!”

      The Browns fell silent as there was a rustle of silk behind them and Deirdre, resplendent in a snow-white wedding gown, sailed past on the arm of Mr Flint.

      Only Paddington failed to join in the general gasps of admiration which greeted her entrance. For some reason best known to himself he appeared to be engaged in a kind of life and death struggle on the floor of the church. Several times he was lost to view completely and each time he rose again he was breathing more and more heavily and his expression looked, if possible, unhappier than before.

      However, unhappy though it was, it seemed almost joyful by comparison with the grim one which came over Miss Flint’s face a moment or so later when she took in the whispered aside from her husband-to-be.

      For one brief moment indeed, it looked as if for two pins Miss Flint would have called the whole thing off, and when it came to the time for her to say “I do”, there was quite a nasty pause before she managed to get the words out.

      When the ceremony finally came to an end both she and Harold hurried towards the vestry in order to sign the register rather as if they had a bus to catch, and not a bit like two people who had just agreed to spend the rest of their lives together.

      “I’m glad I’m not in Harold’s shoes,” said Mr Brown, as the door closed behind them. “Deirdre looked as black as thunder.”

      “Ssh!” began Mrs Brown.”We don’t want Pad…”

      She was about to say that one upset was enough and they didn’t want to add to the confusion by having Paddington take up his ’ushing duties again, but as she looked round the church it was only to discover that Paddington was nowhere in sight.

      “There he is!” cried Judy suddenly, as she looked back over her shoulder.

      Turning round to follow her gaze the rest of the Browns were just in time to catch a glimpse of a familiar figure hurrying up the aisle in the direction of the entrance doors.

      “Perhaps he wants to be in the front of the photograph,” said Mrs Brown hopefully, as Paddington, after casting an anxious glance over his shoulder, picked up his suitcase and hat from behind a nearby pillar and disappeared from view. “He’s always very keen on anything like that for his scrapbook, and he looks as if he’s got something on his mind.”

      “Hmm,” said Mrs Bird. “That’s as may be. But if you ask me that young bear’s mind is not the only thing he’s got something on.”

      Mrs Bird’s sharp eyes had noticed a momentary gleam from one of Paddington’s paws as he’d gone out into the sunshine. It was the second time within the space of a few minutes she’d spotted the strange phenomenon. The first occasion had been during the service itself, when the vicar had asked the assembly if anyone present knew of any good reason why Deirdre and Harold shouldn’t get married. Paddington had half raised his paw and then, much to her relief, he’d changed his mind at the last moment.

      Mrs Bird was good at adding two and two together as far as Paddington was concerned, but wisely she kept the result of her calculations to herself for the time being.

      In any case, before the others had time to question her on the subject a rather worried-looking churchwarden hurried up the aisle and stopped at their pew in order to whisper something in Mr Brown’s ear.

      Mr Brown rose to his feet. “I think we’re wanted in the vestry,” he announced ominously. “It sounds rather urgent.”

      Mr Brown was tempted to add that the churchwarden had also asked if Paddington could accompany them, but in the event he decided not to add to their worries.

      All the same, as he led the way into the vestry he began to look more and more worried, and if he’d been able to see through the stone walls into the churchyard outside, the chances are that he would have felt even more so.

      For Paddington was in trouble. Quite serious trouble. One way and another he was used to life having its ups and downs, but as he held his paw up to the light in order to examine it more closely even he had to admit he couldn’t remember a