Paddington Takes the Test. Michael Bond

just that they all look the same without my opera glasses.”

      “Er, quite!” The examiner gave a high-pitched laugh as he tried to humour his superior by joining in the spirit of things. “Perhaps,” he said, “before we actually set out we could have a few questions on the Highway Code. Especially,” he added meaningly, “as you say you’ve made such a study of it. What, for instance, do we look out for when we’re driving at this time of the year?”

      Paddington put on his thoughtful expression. “Strawberries?” he suggested, licking his lips.

      “Strawberries?” repeated the examiner. “What do you mean — strawberries?”

      “We often stop for strawberries at this time of the year,” said Paddington firmly. “Mrs Bird makes some special cream to go with them.”

      “I would hardly call strawberries a hazard,” said the examiner petulantly.

      “They are if you eat them going along,” said Paddington firmly. “It’s a job to know what to do with the stalks — especially if the ashtray’s full.”

      “Good point,” said the man in the back approvingly. “I must remember that one. So ought you,” he added pointedly, addressing Paddington’s companion.

      The examiner took a deep breath. “I was thinking,” he said slowly and carefully, “of sudden showers. If the weather has been dry for any length of time a sudden shower can make the road surface very slippery.”

      Removing a sheet of paper covered with drawings from his clipboard, he decided to have another try. “If you were going along the highway,” he said, pointing to one of the drawings, “and you saw this sign, what would it mean?”

      Paddington peered at the drawing. “It looks like someone trying to open an umbrella,” he replied.

      The examiner drew in his breath sharply. “That sign,” he said, “happens to mean there are roadworks ahead.”

      “Perhaps they’re expecting one of your showers?” suggested Paddington helpfully. He gave the man another stare. For an examiner he didn’t seem to know very much.

      The man returned his gaze as if in a dream. In fact, if looks could have killed, the expression on his face suggested that Paddington’s name would have been added to the list of road casualties with very little bother indeed. However, once again he was saved by an impatient movement from the back of the car.

      “Perhaps we should move off now?” said a voice. “We seem to be getting nowhere very fast.”

      “Very good.” Taking a firm grip of himself, the examiner settled back in his seat. “Go straight up this road about two hundred metres,” he commanded, “then when you see a sign marked BEAR LEFT …”

      “A bear’s been left?” Paddington suddenly sat bolt upright. He wasn’t at all sure what was going on and he’d been trying to decide whether to obey his next set of instructions or wait for Mr Brown to arrive back. The latest piece of information caused him to make up his mind very quickly indeed.

      “I’m afraid I shall have to stand up to drive,” he announced, as he clambered to his feet. “I can’t see out properly if I’m sitting down, but I’ll get there as quickly as I can.”

      “Now, look here,” cried the examiner, a note of panic in his voice. “I didn’t mean there was a real bear lying in the road. I only meant you’re supposed to…” He broke off and stared at Paddington with disbelieving eyes. “What are you doing now?” he gasped, as Paddington bent down and disappeared beneath the dashboard.

      “I’m putting the car into gear,” gasped Paddington, as he took hold of the lever firmly with both paws. “I’m afraid it’s a bit difficult with paws.”

      “But you can’t change gear with your head under the dashboard,” shrieked the examiner. “No one does that.”

      “Bears do,” said Paddington firmly. And he gave the lever another hard tug just to show what he meant.

      “Don’t do it!” shouted the examiner. “Don’t do it!”

      “Let the clutch out!” came a voice from the back seat. “Let the clutch out!”

      But if either of the men expected their cries to have any effect they were doomed to disappointment. Once Paddington got an idea firmly fixed in his mind it was very difficult to get him to change course, let alone gear, and apart from hurriedly opening the car door to let out the clutch he concentrated all his energies on the task in hand.

      In the past he had often watched Mr Brown change gear. It was something Mr Brown prided himself on being able to do very smoothly indeed, so that really it was quite hard to know when it had actually taken place. But if Paddington hoped to emulate his example he failed miserably. As he gave the lever one final, desperate shove there was a loud grinding noise followed almost immediately by an enormous jerk as the car leaped into the air like a frustrated stallion. The force of the movement caused Paddington to fall over on his back and, in his excitement, he grabbed hold of the nearest thing to hand.

      “Look out!” shrieked the examiner.

      But he was too late. As Paddington tightened his grip on the accelerator pedal the car shot forward with a roar like an express train. For a second or two it seemed to hover in midair, and then, with a crash which made the silence that followed all the more ominous, it came to a halt again.

      Paddington clambered unsteadily to his feet and peered out through the windscreen. “Oh dear,” he said, gazing round at the others. “I think we’ve hit a car in front.”

      The examiner closed his eyes. His lips were moving as if he was offering up a silent prayer.

      “No,” he said, slowly and distinctly. “You haven’t got it quite right. We haven’t hit anything, you have. And it isn’t just a car, it’s …”

      The examiner broke off and gazed up at the driving mirror in mute despair as his eyes caught the reflection of those belonging to his superior in the back seat.

      “It happens to be mine,” said a grim voice from behind.

      Paddington sank back into his seat as the full horror of the situation came home to him.

      “Oh dear, Mr Bogey,” he said unhappily. “I do hope that doesn’t mean you’ve failed your test!”

      As with Mr Brown’s encounter with the Police, Paddington’s disaster at the Test Centre was a topic of conversation in the Brown household for many days afterwards. Opinions as to the possible outcome were sharply divided. There were those who thought he would be bound to hear something more, and others who thought the whole thing was so complicated nothing would be done about it, but none of them quite foresaw what would happen.

      One evening, just as they were sitting down to their evening meal, there was an unexpected ring at the front-door bell. Mrs Bird hurried off to answer it, and when she returned she was accompanied, to everyone’s surprise, by Paddington’s examiner.

      “Please don’t get up,” he exclaimed, as Paddington jumped to his feet in alarm and hurried round to the far side of the table for safety.

      He removed a large brown envelope from his briefcase and placed it on the table in front of Paddington’s plate. “I … er … I happened to be passing so I thought I would drop this in for young Mr Brown.”

      “Oh dear,” said Mrs Brown nervously. “It looks very official. I do hope it isn’t bad news.”

      The man permitted himself a smile. “Nothing like that,” he