Paddington Novels 1-3

because he couldn’t even explain to himselfquite what had gone wrong.
    It was some while later, when he was sitting on the upturned bucket thinking about things, that the idea of doing the wallpapering came to him. Paddington had a hopeful nature and he believed in looking on the bright side. If he did the wallpapering really well, the others might not even notice the mess he’d made.
    Paddington was fairly confident about the wallpapering. Unknown to Mr Brown, he had often watched him in the past through a crack in the door, and it looked quite simple. All you had to do was to brush some sticky stuff on the back of the paper and then put it on the wall. The high parts weren’t too difficult, even for a bear, because you could fold the paper in two and put a broom in the middle where the fold was. Then you simply pushed the broom up and down the wall in case there were any nasty wrinkles.
    Paddington felt much more cheerful now he’d thought of the wallpapering. He found some paste already mixed in another bucket, which he put on top of the trestle while he unrolled the paper. It was a little difficult at first because every time he tried to unroll the paper he had to crawl along the trestlepushing it with his paws and the other end rolled up again and followed behind him. But eventually he managed to get one piece completely covered in paste.
    He climbed down off the trestle, carefully avoiding the worst of the whitewash, which by now was beginning to dry in large lumps, and lifted the sheet of wallpaper on to a broom. It was a long sheet of paper, much longer than it had seemed when he was putting the paste on, and somehow or other, as Paddington waved the broom about over his head, it began to wrap itself around him.

    After a struggle he managed to push his way out and headed in the general direction of a piece of wall. He stood back and surveyed the result. The paper was torn in several places,and there seemed to be a lot of paste on the outside, but Paddington felt quite pleased with himself. He decided to try another piece, then another, running backwards and forwards between the trestle and the walls as fast as his legs could carry him, in an effort to get it all finished before the Browns returned.
    Some of the pieces didn’t quite join, others overlapped, and on most of them were some very odd-looking patches of paste and whitewash. None of the pieces were as straight as he would have liked, but when he put his head on one side and squinted, Paddington felt the overall effect was quite nice, and he felt very pleased with himself.
    It was as he was taking a final look round the room at his handiwork that he noticed something very strange. There was a window, and there was also a fireplace. But there was no longer any sign of a door. Paddington stopped squinting and his eyes grew rounder and rounder. He distinctly remembered there had been a door because he had come through it. He blinked at all four walls. It was difficult to see properly because the paint on the window-glass had started to dry and there was hardly any light coming through – but there most definitely wasn’t a door!
    “I can’t understand it,” said Mr Brown as he entered the dining-room. “I’ve looked everywhere and there’s no sign of Paddington. I told you I should have stayed at home with him.”
    Mrs Brown looked worried. “Oh dear, I hope nothing’s happened to him. It’s so unlike him to go out without leaving a note.”
    “He’s not in his room,” said Judy.
    “Mr Gruber hasn’t seen him either,” added Jonathan. “I’ve just been down to the market and he says he hasn’t seen him since they had cocoa together this morning.”
    “Have you seen Paddington anywhere?” asked Mrs Brown as Mrs Bird entered, carrying a tray of supper things.
    “I don’t know about Paddington,” said Mrs Bird. “I’ve been having enough trouble over the water pipes without missing bears. I think they’ve got an air lock or something. They’ve been banging away ever since we came in.”
    Mr Brown listened for a moment. “It does sound like water pipes,” he said. “And yet… it isn’t regular enough, somehow.” He went outside into the hall. “It’s a sort of thumping noise…”
    “Crikey!” shouted Jonathan. “Listen… it’ssomeone sending an S.O.S.”
    Everyone exchanged glances and then, in one voice, cried: “Paddington!”
    “Mercy me,” said Mrs Bird as they burst through the papered-up door.