Paddington Complete Novels. Michael BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
after the marrow adventure the weather changed. It began to get colder. The leaves fell from the trees and it became dark very early in the evenings. Jonathan and Judy went back to school and Paddington was left on his own for much of the day.
But one morning, towards the end of October, a letter arrived with his name on the envelope. It was marked ‘Urgent’ and ‘Strictly Personal’ and it was in Jonathan’s writing. Paddington didn’t get many letters, only an occasional picture postcard from his Aunt Lucy in Peru, so it was all the more exciting.
In some ways it was a rather mysterious letter and Paddington couldn’t make head or tail of it. In it Jonathan asked him to collect all the dry leaves he could find and sweep them into a pile ready for when he came home in a few days’ time. Paddington puzzled about it for a long time, and in the end he decided to consult his friend Mr Gruber on the subject. Mr Gruber knew about most things, and even if he couldn’t tell the answer to a question right away, he had a huge library of books in his antique shop and knew just where to look. He and Paddington often had a long chat about things in general over their morning cocoa, and Mr Gruber liked nothing better than to help Paddington with his problems.
“A problem shared is a problem halved, Mr Brown,” he was fond of saying. “And I must say, that since you came to live in the district I’ve never been short of things to look up.”
As soon as he had finished his breakfast, Paddington put on his scarf and duffle coat, collected the morning shopping list from Mrs Bird, and set off with his basket on wheels towards the shops in the Portobello Road.
Paddington enjoyed shopping. He was a popular bear with the street traders in the market, even though he usually struck a hard bargain. He always compared the prices on the various stalls very carefully before actually buying anything. Mrs Bird said he made the housekeeping money go twice as far as anyone else.
It was even colder outside than Paddington had expected, and when he stopped to look in a newsagent’s on the way, his breath made the bottom of the window quite cloudy. Paddington was a polite bear, and when he saw the shopkeeper glaring at him through the door he carefully rubbed the steamy part with his paw in case anyone else wanted to look in. As he did so he suddenly noticed that the inside of the window had changed since he’d last passed that way.
Before, it had been full of chocolate and sweets. Now they were all gone and in their place was a very ragged-looking dummy sitting on top of a pile of logs. It held a notice in its hand which said:
REMEMBER, REMEMBER,
THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER,
GUNPOWDER, TREASON, AND PLOT.
And underneath that was an even larger notice saying:
GET YOUR FIREWORKS HERE!
Paddington studied it all carefully for a few moments and then hurried on to Mr Gruber’s, pausing only to pick up his morning supply of buns at the bakery, where he had a standing order.
Now that the cold weather had set in, Mr Gruber no longer sat on the pavement in front of his shop in the morning. Instead, he had arranged a sofa by the stove in the back of the shop. It was a cosy corner, surrounded by books, but Paddington didn’t like it quite so much as being outside. For one thing, the sofa was an old one and some of the horsehairs poked through, but he quickly forgot about this as he handed Mr Gruber his share of buns and began telling him of the morning’s happenings.
“Gunpowder, treason and plot?” said Mr Gruber, as he handed Paddington a large mug of steaming cocoa. “Why, that’s to do with Guy Fawkes’ Day.”
He smiled apologetically and rubbed the steam from his glasses when he saw that Paddington still looked puzzled.
“I always forget, Mr Brown,” he said, “that you come from Darkest Peru. I don’t suppose you know about Guy Fawkes.”
Paddington wiped the cocoa from his whiskers with the back of his paw in case it left a stain and shook his head.
“Well,” continued Mr Gruber. “I expect you’ve seen fireworks before. I seem to remember when I was in South America many years ago they always had them on fête days.”
Paddington nodded. Now that Mr Gruber mentioned it, he did remember his Aunt Lucy taking him to a firework display. Although he’d only been very small at the time he had enjoyed it very much.
“We only have fireworks once a year here,” said Mr Gruber. “On November the Fifth.” And then he went on to tell Paddington all about the plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament many years ago, and how its discovery at the last moment had been celebrated ever since by the burning of bonfires and letting off of fireworks.
Mr Gruber was very good at explaining things and Paddington thanked him when he had finished.
Mr Gruber sighed and a far-away look came into his eyes. “It’s a long time since I had any fireworks of my own, Mr Brown,” he said. “A very long time indeed.”
“Well, Mr Gruber,” said Paddington, importantly. “I think we’re going to have a display. You must come to ours.”
Mr Gruber looked so pleased at being invited that Paddington hurried off at once to finish his shopping. He was anxious to get back to the newsagent’s quickly so that he could investigate the fireworks properly.
When he entered the shop the man looked at him doubtfully over the top of the counter. “Fireworks?” he said. “I’m not sure that I’m supposed to serve young bears with fireworks.”
Paddington gave him a hard stare. “In Darkest Peru,” he said, remembering all that Mr Gruber had told him, “we had fireworks every fête day.”
“I dare say,” said the man. “But this isn’t Darkest Peru – nor nothing like it. What do you want – bangers or the other sort?”
“I think I’d like to try some you can hold in the paw for a start,” said Paddington.
The man hesitated. “All right,” he said. “I’ll let you have a packet of best sparklers. But if you singe your whiskers don’t come running to me grumbling and wanting your money back.”
Paddington promised he would be very careful and was soon hurrying back up the road towards the Browns’ house. As he rounded the last corner he bumped into a small boy wheeling a pram.
The boy held out a cap containing several coppers and touched his hat respectfully. “Penny for the guy, sir.”
“Thank you very much,” said Paddington, taking a penny out of the cap. “It’s very kind of you.”
“Oi!” said the boy as Paddington turned to go. “Oi! You’re supposed to give me a penny – not take one yourself.”
Paddington stared at him. “Give you a penny?” he said, hardly able to believe his ears. “What for?”
“For the guy, of course,” said the boy. “That’s what I said – a penny for the guy!” He pointed to the pram and Paddington noticed for the first time that there was a figure inside it. It was dressed in an old suit and wearing a mask. It looked just like the one he’d seen in the shop window earlier that morning.
Paddington was so surprised that he had undone his suitcase and placed a penny in the boy’s hat before he really knew what he was doing.
“If you don’t like giving a penny for the guy,” said the small boy as he turned to go, “why don’t you get one of your own? All you need is an old suit and a bit of straw.”
Paddington was very thoughtful as he made his way home. He even almost forgot to ask for a second helping at lunch.
“I do hope he hasn’t hit on another of his ideas,” said Mrs Brown, as Paddington asked