Paddington Goes To Town. Michael Bond

of a liberal smear of marmalade from an emergency jar which he kept in his suitcase had been to no avail.

      As far as paws went, his own was looking unusually smart and well cared for. Apart from the remains of the marmalade it wouldn’t have disgraced an advertisement for fur coats in one of Mrs Brown’s glossy magazines. Even the pad had an unusual glow about it, not unlike that of a newly polished shoe.

      However, it wasn’t the pad or its surroundings which caused Paddington’s look of dismay, but the sight of a small gold wedding ring poking out from beneath his fur; and the longer he looked at it the more unhappy he became.

      He’d found the ring lying on the dressing table when he’d gone to Harold Price’s room in order to pick up the wedding list, and at the time it had gone on one of his claws easily enough. But now it was well and truly stuck, and nothing he could do would make it budge one way or the other.

      In the past he had always kept on very good terms with Mr Price. Even so, he couldn’t begin to imagine what his friend would have to say about the matter. Nor, when he considered it, could he picture Deirdre exactly laughing her head off when she heard the news that her wedding ring was stuck round a bend on a bear’s paw. From past experience he knew that Deirdre had a very sharp tongue indeed when even quite minor things went wrong with her bacon slicer, and he shuddered to think what she would have to say about the present situation.

      As if to prove how right he was, his thoughts were broken into at that very moment, as the sound of Deirdre’s voice raised in anger floated out through the open window above his head.

      By climbing on top of his suitcase and standing on tiptoe, Paddington was just able to see inside the vestry and when he did so he nearly fell over backwards again in alarm, for not only was Deirdre there, laying down the law to a most unhappy-looking Mr Price; but the best man, sundry relatives, the Browns and quite a number of other important-looking people were there as well.

      Indeed, so great was the crowd and so loud the argument, it gave the impression that more people were attending the signing of the register than had been present at the actual ceremony.

      Paddington was a hopeful bear at heart but the more he listened to Deirdre, the more his spirits dropped and the more he realised the only thing they had in common was a wish that he’d never been invited to the wedding in the first place, let alone act as an usher.

      After a moment or two he clambered back down again, took a deep breath, picked up his suitcase and headed towards a large red box just outside the churchyard.

      It wasn’t often that Paddington made a telephone call – for one thing he always found it a bit difficult with paws – but he did remember once reading a poster in a phone box about what to do in times of an emergency and how it was possible to obtain help without paying.

      It had seemed very good value at the time and as far as he could make out it would be difficult to think of a situation which was more of an emergency than his present one.

      His brief appearance at the window didn’t go entirely unnoticed, but fortunately the only person who saw him was Judy, and by the time she’d passed the message on to Jonathan he’d disappeared again.

      “Perhaps it was a mirage,” said Jonathan hopefully.

      “It wasn’t,” said Judy. “It was Paddington’s hat.”

      “Paddington!” echoed Deirdre, catching the end of Judy’s reply. “Don’t mention that name to me.”

      “Look!” she announced dramatically, holding up her wedding finger for what seemed to her audience like the hundredth time. “A curtain ring! A brass curtain ring!”

      “I thought it would be better than nothing,” said the best man, hastily cupping his hands under Deirdre’s in case the object of her wrath fell off. “I was hoping you might have big fingers.”

      Deirdre gave the best man a withering glare and then turned her attention back to the unfortunate Harold. “Don’t just stand there,” she exclaimed. “Do something!”

      “Look here,” broke in Mr Brown. “I still don’t see why you’re blaming Paddington.”

      “My room’s on the fifth floor,” said Mr Price, briefly. “And there are only two keys. Paddington had the other one.”

      “Fancy asking a bear to be an usher,” said Deirdre, scornfully. “You might have known something would happen. I shall never be able to show my face in the shop again. Practically all our best customers are here.”

      The new Mrs Price broke off as quite clearly above her words there came the sound of a siren, at first in the distance, and then gradually getting closer and closer.

      The vicar glanced nervously out of his vestry window. Quite a crowd seemed to have collected outside the church and even as he watched, a large, red fire engine, its siren sounding furiously, screamed to a halt and several men in blue uniform jumped off, their hatchets at the ready.

      “That’s all I need,” said Deirdre bitterly, as the vicar excused himself and hurried off to investigate the matter. “A fire! That’ll round off the day nicely!” The room fell silent as Mr Price’s bride, having exhausted the topic of the things she would like to do, embarked on a long list of the things she wasn’t going to do under any circumstances until she got her wedding ring back; including signing the register, having her photograph taken and going on her honeymoon.

      It was just as she reached the last item, and Mr Price’s face had fallen to its longest ever, that the door burst open and the vicar hurried back into the room closely followed by a man in a fireman’s uniform, and behind him, Paddington himself.

      “There you are, Paddington,” said Mrs Brown thankfully. “Where have you been?”

      “Having a bit of a sticky time of it, if you ask me, ma’am,” began the fireman, “what with one thing and another.”

      “My ring!” broke in Deirdre, catching sight of a shiny object in Paddington’s outstretched paw.

      “I’m afraid it got stuck round a bend, Mrs Price,” explained Paddington.

      “Stuck round a bend?” repeated Deirdre disbelievingly. “How on earth did that happen?”

      Paddington took hold of the ring in his other paw in order to demonstrate exactly what had gone wrong. “I’m not sure,” he admitted truthfully. “I just slipped it on for safety and when I tried to take it off again…”

      The fireman gave a groan. “Don’t say you’ve done it again!” he exclaimed. “I only just got it off.”

      “Bears!” groaned Deirdre. “I’m not meant to get married.”

      “What I can’t understand,” said Mr Price, “is why you put it on your paw in the first place, Mr Brown.”

      “You said you were going to give Mrs Brown a ring,” said Paddington unhappily. “I thought I’d save you the bother.”

      “I said I was going to give Mrs Brown a ring?” repeated Harold, hardly able to believe his ears.

      “I think you did,” said Mrs Brown. “Paddington probably didn’t realise you meant a ring on the telephone.”

      “Quite a natural mistake,” said Mrs Bird in the silence which followed. “Anyone might have made it in the circumstances.”

      “Never mind,” said the fireman. “What goes on must come off – especially the second time.

      “I tell you what,” he continued, sizing up the situation as he got to work on Paddington’s paw with a pair of pliers, “if the