Paddington 2 Read online

  Contents

  Prologue

  At Home with the Browns

  Paddington’s Morning Routine

  A Surprise Find at Mr. Gruber’s Shop

  Paddington and the Close Shave

  All the Fun of the Fair

  Paddington Cleans Up

  Stop, Thief!

  Paddington and the Long Arm of the Law

  The Hunt Is On

  It All Comes Out in the Wash

  Madame Kozlova Tells Her Story

  Aunt Lucy’s Recipe Saves the Day

  Read All About It!

  Marmalade Is Served

  Phoenix Buchanan Acts the Innocent

  The Browns Have a Master Plan

  Breaking and Entering, but Mainly Breaking

  Paddington and the Great Escape

  Paddington on the Run

  Paddington Is on the Right Track

  A Sinking Feeling

  Paddington and the Big Surprise

  Epilogue

  Photo Insert

  Back Ads

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  PROLOGUE

  A long time ago and a long way away in the Amazon jungle, two elderly bears were sitting on a rope bridge enjoying their tea. They were looking out over the spectacular valley beneath them, where the fast-flowing Amazon River had burst its banks. Water cascaded from all sides, filling the land with roaring floodwaters that rushed toward a magnificent waterfall.

  “Our last rainy season,” said Pastuzo with a sigh. He took a sip of his tea as he gazed at the landscape.

  Lucy nodded and handed her husband a marmalade sandwich. “Just think, Pastuzo. This time next month, we’ll be in London!”

  “Where the rivers run with marmalade and the streets are paved with bread,” he replied.

  Lucy shot him a quizzical look. “Did you read that book about London?” she asked.

  Pastuzo shrugged. “I skimmed it,” he said carelessly.

  Lucy shook her head. “Oh, Pastuzo!” she scolded him gently.

  “Well, reading makes me sleepy,” Pastuzo replied awkwardly. “But any city that comes up with this”—he held up the remains of his marmalade sandwich—“is all right with me.”

  Lucy opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. She gasped and pointed at something she had spotted in the river below. “Oh look, Pastuzo!”

  Pastuzo grabbed a pair of binoculars from beside him and peered through them. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “It’s a . . . it’s a cub!” he said.

  Sure enough, far below the rope bridge there was a tiny baby bear struggling to stay afloat in the rushing river. He was clinging desperately to a bit of driftwood. And the river was pulling him closer and closer to some rocks . . .

  Pastuzo lowered his binoculars. He turned to speak to his wife only to see she had left her place on the bridge and was already climbing down a trailing vine toward the waters beneath!

  “Lucy!” Pastuzo shouted.

  “Lower me down,” said Lucy firmly.

  Pastuzo could see there was no point in arguing with her. “All right. But be careful!” he cried.

  His heart in his mouth, he untied the vine and began lowering Lucy toward the torrent that raged below. The cub was struggling harder than ever to stay on the branch, but he lost his grip and slipped into the water. Lucy was still a few yards above him as the little cub managed to reach out and grasp the branch again.

  “Lower, Pastuzo! Lower!” Lucy called up to her brother.

  The cub raised his eyes to see Lucy coming toward him on the vine, reaching out her paw to him. He stretched out to take hold of her, but slipped and sank beneath the water.

  Lucy grabbed the little cub as he surfaced and swiftly pulled him from the swirling waters. But above her Pastuzo lost his balance on the bridge. His hat flew off as he toppled . . . He closed his eyes and flailed around with his paws, grabbing on to the bridge and catching hold of it just in time to stop himself from falling.

  He opened one eye, hardly daring to look at the scene unfolding below. To his huge relief he saw Lucy still clinging on to the vine. She had his hat, and something else too.

  “Lucy? Lucy!” Pastuzo cried.

  Lucy smiled up at him. “I’m afraid we’re not going to London after all,” she said.

  Pastuzo frowned. “Why not?”

  Lucy looked down at the soaking wet little bundle in her arms. Her eyes filled with love as she took in the tiny face of the bear cub, partly covered by Pastuzo’s hat. “We’ve got a cub to raise,” she said.

  Pastuzo peered at the little bear. “What’s he like?”

  “Rather small . . . ,” said Lucy. The cub sneezed, and the hat fell over his face. “And rather sneezy!” said Lucy with a laugh.

  She lifted the hat to see that the cub had found one of Pastuzo’s emergency marmalade sandwiches and was tucking in with relish.

  “He likes his marmalade,” said Lucy.

  “That’s a good sign,” said Pastuzo, smiling.

  “Oh yes, Pastuzo,” said Lucy. “If we look after this bear, I have a feeling he’ll go far.”

  Some bear years later . . .

  CHAPTER 1

  At Home with the Browns

  Paddington was sitting in his attic room in 32 Windsor Gardens, where he lived with the Brown family, thinking about his old life back in Darkest Peru. He looked out over the city of London—he really did have the most spectacular view from his window.

  “How you would love this place, Aunt Lucy,” Paddington said aloud. “I do wish you could leave the Home for Retired Bears and visit me here.” He knew this was not possible, though. He sighed. “I’ll just have to write to you and tell you all my news instead,” he said.

  And with that, Paddington grabbed some paper and a pen and began a letter to his aunt.

  Dear Aunt Lucy,

  I am settling in nicely with the Browns, although I still miss you dreadfully. Mrs. Bird’s marmalade is excellent, but it will never be quite the same as yours.

  It has been a very busy summer. Mrs. Brown has been swimming in the Serpentine lake in Hyde Park. She is training to swim all the way to France. Personally, I don’t see the point, as there is a perfectly adequate ferry service, but she insists that is not the same. She’s just finished illustrating an adventure story, so maybe that has inspired her.

  Judy was going to start a newspaper with her boyfriend, Tony, this summer, but he “dumped” her, apparently—although she says she “dumped” him. She spends a lot of time crying and at one point she said she was going to become a nun! Thankfully she seems to have changed her mind about that and she is going to start the newspaper on her own.

  Jonathan is joining Judy at big school this autumn. He has spent the summer building an amazing model railway, but no one is allowed to talk about it as it’s “not cool.” He says that if anyone asks, he is now called “J-Dog,” likes “kung fu and aliens” and is “definitely not into steam trains.” I have decided to stop asking him anything for now, in case I get it wrong.

  Mr. Brown has been very busy too. There have been big changes at the insurance company where he works. Mr. Brown was very much hoping to get a promotion to become the head of Risk Analysis but a much younger man called Steve Visby got it instead. Ever since, Mr. Brown’s behavior has also been quite strange. He now blends his food, paints his hair a funny color, and wears Lycra clothing to go to an exercise class called Chakrabatics. He says it is “all a question of opening your mind and your legs will follow,” although his legs looked a bit reluctant to follow him anywhere after the things he had asked them to do.

  In spite of all these peculiar goings-on, London really is everything you hoped for and more, Aunt Lucy. Everyone is
so kind to me—I have made a lot of very good friends here in Windsor Gardens. I only wish I could introduce you to them all.

  I hope that you are well and enjoying life in the Home for Retired Bears. I must sign off now, as I’m on a Very Important Mission. I am afraid it is Top Secret, so I can’t tell you about it—yet!

  Lots of love,

  Padingtun

  CHAPTER 2

  Paddington’s Morning Routine

  Everything Paddington had told his Aunt Lucy was true: he was very much at home now at 32 Windsor Gardens. The Browns were a lovely family, and their house was wonderfully warm and welcoming. Paddington especially loved his bedroom in the attic. He enjoyed nothing more than to sit and look out of the little round window across the city he had grown to love.

  “Ah, London!” he sighed, gazing out one morning in early autumn. “Another lovely day ahead,” he said as he hopped down from the window and took himself to the bathroom to get ready.

  He brushed his teeth and gargled with mouthwash, as he did every morning. He smiled to himself as he remembered the first time he had been let loose in the Browns’ bathroom. On that occasion, he had swallowed a whole bottle of mouthwash and had managed to flood the bathroom too! He wasn’t going to make those sorts of mistakes again. Oh, no. He knew how to behave these days, he thought, picking up Mrs. Bird’s DustBuster and cleaning his armpits.

  His morning routine completed, Paddington ran out to the landing and leaped onto the banister. He slid all the way down to the ground floor, where a delicious breakfast of freshly made marmalade sandwiches was waiting for him.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bird!” he cried, raising his hat. “You certainly know how to make a breakfast fit for a bear.”

  “You’re welcome, dearie,” said Mrs. Bird, beaming.

  She brushed at some crumbs on her apron and watched fondly as Paddington tucked in with gusto.

  Judy and Jonathan, the Browns’ children, came in and sat with Paddington. They were dressed ready for the first day of a new school year. Judy looked excited and happy for the first time in a long while.

  “Guess what, Paddington?” she said. “The steam fair’s coming to town! I’m going to go along tonight and write about it for my newspaper.”

  “Who’s going to want to read about that?” Jonathan muttered.

  Judy curled her lip at her brother. “Everyone!” she said. “They travel the world in an old steam train. I thought you’d love it,” she added.

  “I do, but don’t tell anyone, okay? Not cool,” said Jonathan.

  Judy opened her mouth to comment but her mother came into the room just in time to prevent a row.

  “Why don’t we all go?” asked Mrs. Brown cheerily.

  “Good idea,” said Mr. Brown, coming in behind his wife and grabbing a piece of toast.

  Mrs. Brown smiled lovingly at her husband. “Your father’s a dab hand at the coconut shy,” she said to her children. “‘Bull’s-eye Brown’ they used to call him.”

  Judy rolled her eyes.

  “Ooh, not anymore,” said Henry, shaking his head. “Coconuts are a young man’s game.” He mimed throwing a ball and immediately winced as he felt a twinge in his shoulder.

  Paddington was watching him with interest. “Well, I think you’re in great shape for a man your age, Mr. Brown,” he said.

  “Thank you, Paddington,” said Mr. Brown with feeling. Then he did a double take. “Hang on,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “How old do you think I am?”

  Paddington wasn’t sure about being put on the spot like this. Bears were not very good at guessing people’s ages. “Oh . . . about eighty?”

  “Eighty?” Mr. Brown spluttered.

  “At least!” said Paddington with growing confidence. He pushed back his chair and made to leave the table, putting a marmalade sandwich under his hat for emergencies.

  Mrs. Bird turned round from the stove. “Just a minute, wee bear. I thought I told you to clean behind your ears?” she asked, pretending to be stern.

  Paddington frowned. “But I did, Mrs. Bird. I—”

  Mrs. Bird leaned over and reached behind Paddington’s right ear. “I don’t know . . . ,” she said. “I think you missed a bit. What’s that I can see?” And she pulled back, revealing a shiny fifty-pence piece.

  Paddington’s eyes widened. “My goodness me. I wonder how that got in there?”

  Mrs. Bird handed him the coin. “Best keep it somewhere safe, dearie,” she said with a smile.

  “I will,” said Paddington, slipping it into his duffle-coat pocket. “Have a good day, everyone! I must dash, as I am on a Very Important Mission today.”

  As the family waved him off, Mr. Brown could still be heard muttering, “Eighty . . . I ask you!”

  Paddington’s mornings had developed a nice rhythm. He knew everyone in the neighborhood these days, and could almost set his watch by who he would see on his way to Mr. Gruber’s antique shop.

  He stood on the corner of the road, looking out for Mademoiselle Dupont, who always cycled by at eight-thirty sharp. Seeing her coming, Paddington called out, “Bonjour, mademoiselle!”

  “Bonjour, Paddington!” said the glamorous lady. She slowed down just enough for him to be able to jump onto the back of her bike, as he did every morning.

  As they sped along, Paddington kept an eye out for Dr. Jafri. The doctor was an absentminded man who left his house at the same time every day—and always forgot his keys. Luckily for him, Paddington was always there to remind him.

  Today was no different from any other day. Dr. Jafri was walking out of his front door as Paddington passed by. The door was just about to close on the doctor, locking him out, when Paddington called, “Your keys, Dr. Jafri!”

  “Keys?” The doctor frowned and patted his pockets, then realized he’d done it again. “Keys!” he shouted, turning back to catch his door just before it slammed shut. “What would I do without you, Paddington?” he said with a shake of his head.

  “You’re welcome!” said Paddington, raising his hat as he and Mademoiselle Dupont went on their way.

  Next he spotted the Peters sisters—two bubbly Jamaican women who watered their orange plants every morning without fail. And there they were, watering and pruning and sniffing tentatively at the ripening fruit.

  “Good morning, Miss Peters! Miss Peters!” Paddington cried.

  One Miss Peters picked an orange and threw it at Paddington. “Ripe yet?” she asked.

  Paddington gave the fruit an appreciative sniff. “Not yet—Tuesday,” he said, bowling the orange back.

  The sisters thanked him and waved him on his way.

  It was here that Paddington always said goodbye to Mademoiselle Dupont, because their routes diverged. She went on to Knightsbridge whereas Paddington was heading to Mr. Gruber’s shop on the Portobello Road.

  “Thank you, mademoiselle!” he said, raising his hat as he jumped from the back of her bike.

  “You’re welcome, monsieur,” she said. “Au revoir!”

  Paddington walked past the Colonel, who was on his way back from the newspaper kiosk where he went every day to buy his morning paper. Paddington, ever cheery, shouted, “Glorious day, Colonel!”

  The Colonel was a gloomy disheveled man with a large mustache. He rarely had much to say for himself and today was no different. “Glorious?” he repeated. “Is it, Bear? How absolutely thrilling.”

  Paddington raised his hat and walked on to the kiosk himself to pick up a copy of the Daily News.

  He greeted the owner. “Hello, Miss Kitts! Such a lovely day. Do you have any plans?”

  Before Miss Kitts could reply a colorful parrot stuck its head out from behind her shoulder and squawked. “Looking for love! Looking for love!”

  “Oi, Feathers! You cheeky bird!” Miss Kitts laughed and flapped one hand at the noisy bird. “He’s a nightmare, that parrot. Ignore him!” she said to Paddington. “Here you are, love,” she added, handing Paddington his paper. “What about you—got any plan
s?”

  “I have, as it happens,” said Paddington. “I am on a Very Important Mission.”

  “Sounds exciting!” said Miss Kitts.

  Just then, Paddington’s friend, Fred Barnes the garbage collector, pulled up in his garbage truck.

  “What’s that about a mission?” he asked.

  “I am on one. And it involves Mr. Gruber,” Paddington said cryptically.

  “Intriguing!” said Fred. “Why don’t you hop into the lorry? I’ll give you a lift. I need to practice all the shortcuts for my test.”

  “What test?” Paddington asked.

  “I’m going to be a London cabbie! Here—” Fred passed Paddington an A–Z map of London. “You can test me on the knowledge while I drive.”

  CHAPTER 3

  A Surprise Find at Mr. Gruber’s Shop

  Paddington thanked Fred as he hopped down from the garbage truck. He had arrived at Mr. Gruber’s antique shop just in time for elevenses, which was the best time of day to visit.

  “Ah, Mr. Brown, come in!” said Mr. Gruber, looking up as Paddington walked through the door. “You’ll join me for a cup of cocoa and an iced bun?”

  “Yes, please, Mr. Gruber,” said Paddington.

  “So, what can I do for you today?” the shopkeeper asked. He poured steaming cocoa into two mugs and handed Paddington a plate of buns.

  “I am on a Very Important Mission,” Paddington said. He took a bun and bit into it. “It is my Aunt Lucy’s one hundredth birthday soon and I want to find her the perfect present,” he explained, his voice muffled with crumbs. “I thought you would be the person to ask for some help.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” said Mr. Gruber, beaming. He took a sip of his drink. “See all these boxes?” He gestured to the pile of crates and packages on the floor. “They belong to Madame Kozlova. She runs the fair that has just come to town—have you seen it?”

  “Not yet, Mr. Gruber,” said Paddington, wiping his whiskers. “Mr. Brown did mention something about it, now I come to think of it. Perhaps we’ll be going soon.”

  “You should. It’s magnificent,” said the old shopkeeper. “Anyway, come and look at this.” He beckoned Paddington over to the boxes. “Madame was having a clear-out and she found these old crates of memory-bilia. There might be something in here that would be just right for Aunt Lucy’s special birthday.”