Paddington Novels 1-3

beach was crowded and he had to walk quite a long way before he found a deserted spot. First of all he dug a big moat in a circle, leavinghimself a drawbridge so that he could fetch and carry the sand for the castle itself. Then he set to work carrying bucketloads of sand to build the walls of the castle.

    He was an industrious bear and even though it was hard work and his legs and paws soon got tired, he persevered until he had a huge pile of sand in the middle of his circle. Then he set to work with his spade, smoothing out the walls and making the battlements. They were very good battlements, with holes for windows and slots for the archers to fire through.
    When he had finished he stuck his spade in one of the corner towers, placed his hat on top of that, and then lay down inside next to his marmalade jar and closed his eyes. He felt tired, but very pleased with himself. With the gentle roar of the sea in his ears he soon went fast asleep.
    “We’ve been all along the beach,” said Jonathan. “And we can’t see him anywhere.”
    “He didn’t even have his life-belt with him,” said Mrs Brown anxiously. “Nothing. Just a bucket andspade.” The Browns were gathered in a worried group round the man from the lifesaving hut.
    “He’s been gone several hours,” said Mr Brown. “And the tide’s been in over two!”
    The man looked serious. “And you say he can’t swim?” he asked.
    “He doesn’t even like having a bath much,” said Judy. “So I’m sure he can’t swim.”
    “Here’s his photograph,” said Mrs Bird. “He only had it taken this morning.” She handed the man Paddington’s picture and then dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I know something’s happened to him. He wouldn’t have missed tea unless something was wrong.”
    The man looked at the picture. “We could send out a description,” he said, dubiously. “But it’s a job to see what he looks like by that. It’s all hat and dark glasses.”
    “Can’t you launch a lifeboat?” asked Jonathan, hopefully.
    “We could,” said the man. “If we knew where to look. But he might be anywhere.”
    “Oh, dear,” Mrs Brown reached for herhandkerchief as well. “I can’t bear to think about it.”
    “Something will turn up,” said Mrs Bird, comfortingly.”He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”
    “Well,” said the man, holding up a dripping straw hat. “You’d better have this, and in the meantime… we’ll see what we can do.”
    “There, there, Mary!” Mr Brown held his wife’s arm. “Perhaps he just left it on the beach or something. It may have got picked up by the tide.” He bent down to pick up the rest of Paddington’s belongings. They seemed very small and lonely, lying there on their own.
    “It’s Paddington’s hat all right,” said Judy, examining it. “Look – it’s got his mark inside!” She turned the hat inside out and showed them the outline of a paw mark in black ink and the words MY HAT – PADINGTUN .
    “I vote we all separate,” said Jonathan, “and comb the beach. We’ll stand more chance that way.”
    Mr Brown looked dubious. “It’s getting dark,” he said.
    Mrs Bird put down the travelling rug and folded her arms. “Well, I’m not going back until he’s found,” she said. “I couldn’t go back to that empty house – not without Paddington.”
    “No one’s thinking of going back without him, Mrs Bird,” said Mr Brown. He looked helplessly out to sea. “It’s just…”
    “P’raps he didn’t get swep’ out to sea,” said the lifesaving man, helpfully. “P’raps he’s just gone on the pier or something. There seems to be a big crowd heading that way. Must be something interesting going on.” He called out to a man who was just passing. “What’s going on at the pier, chum?”
    Without stopping, the man looked back over his shoulder and shouted, “Chap just crossed the Atlantic all by ’isself on a raft. ’Undreds of days without food or water so they say!” He hurried on.
    The lifesaving man looked disappointed. “Another of these publicity stunts,” he said. “We get ’em every year.”
    Mr Brown looked thoughtful. “I wonder,” he said, looking in the direction of the pier.
    “It would be just like him,” said Mrs Bird. “It’s the sort of thing that would happen to Paddington.”
    “It’s got to be!” cried Jonathan. “It’s just got to be!”
    They all looked at each other and then, picking up their belongings, joined