Paddington at Work. Michael BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
Bird’s name all the colour had drained away.
“You did lock the door when you came in, didn’t you?” he asked casually.
“I think so,” said Paddington, beginning to look worried himself at the expression on the Doctor’s face. “It’s a bit difficult with paws, but…”
Paddington looked round and as he did so he nearly fell backwards out of his chair with surprise. For there, before his very eyes, neatly framed in a large porthole next to the door, were five very familiar faces. Not just Mr Brown, whose face, pressed hard against the glass, had taken on an unusually flat and puddingy appearance, but Mrs Brown, Jonathan, Judy and Mrs Bird as well.
Reaching across the table the Doctor picked up a telephone. “Get me the Master at Arms at once, please,” he barked. “And tell him to hurry. There’s something nasty going on outside my porthole.
“It’s all right, bear,” he continued. “There’s no need to be alarmed.” Slamming the telephone receiver back on to its cradle the Ship’s Doctor turned back to Paddington and then broke off in mid-speech.
He had been about to explain that help was on the way, but from the glazed expression on Paddington’s face as he lay back in the chair with his paws in the air it looked very much as if one occupant of the cabin at least was beyond caring.
Mrs Brown dabbed at Paddington’s forehead with some eau-de-Cologne as he sat up in his bunk and stared round the cabin.
“Thank goodness,” she exclaimed. “We thought you were never coming round.”
“Every time you caught sight of us you fell over again,” said Judy. “We were getting jolly worried.”
Paddington rubbed his eyes as if he could still hardly believe them. “I thought you were a halluci-something,” he explained.
Mrs Brown turned to her husband. “It’s all your fault, Henry,” she said. “If we’d gone to the Purser’s office in the first place as I suggested all this would never have happened.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” complained Mr Brown. “How was I to know Paddington would think we were all ghosts?”
Mr Brown was looking a trifle fed up. It had been his idea that the Brown family should combine their summer holiday with a trip home on Paddington’s liner, meeting it at a point when it was still two days away from England.
At the time it had seemed a very good idea and when they’d boarded the liner late that afternoon at its last port of call they had all been looking forward not only to the experience but also to seeing the look on Paddington’s face when they confronted him. They hadn’t bargained on his reacting in quite the way he had and Mr Brown was tending to get most of the blame.
“Well,” said Mrs Bird, “I must say that if I thought someone was hundreds of miles away and then I suddenly met them face to face in the middle of an ocean I’d be upset.”
“And at night,” said Judy. “I bet it was jolly frightening.”
“Besides, I don’t think Paddington was the only one to be taken in,” added Jonathan. “I don’t think the Ship’s Doctor was too keen on us either.”
“I’ve always heard sailors are supposed to be superstitious,” said Mrs Brown, surveying her husband as he helped himself to a sandwich from a pile next to Paddington’s bunk, “but you don’t look much like a ghost to me, Henry.”
“I don’t think the Doctor thought so when he got over the first shock,” said Judy. “He looked jolly cross.”
The Browns’ laughter was suddenly broken into by a tap on the cabin door.
“I expect that’s my cocoa,” said Paddington importantly. “The steward always brings me some before I go to bed.”
The others exchanged glances as the door opened and a man in a white coat entered carrying a tray laden with a large jug of steaming hot liquid.
“This is the life,” exclaimed Mr Brown. “I must say I’m looking forward to the rest of the voyage. Sunshine and deck games all day. Bear’s cocoa last thing at night to round things off. Even a ghost couldn’t ask for more!”
Paddington nodded happily as the steward sorted out some extra mugs and began to pour. He was keen on cocoa at the best of times, especially ship’s cocoa, which somehow always had a taste of its own, and now that the problem of the ghosts had been solved he was looking forward to his nightcap, particularly as it also celebrated the unexpected early meeting with the Brown family.
He eyed the jug from behind a cloud of rich, brown steam. “There’s only one thing nicer, Mr Brown,” he announced amid general agreement. “And that’s two cups!”
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