Paddington at Work

Pinching himself several times in order to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, Paddington looked wildly about the ship for somewhere to hide and then, hastily scooping the remains of the marmalade back into the jar with one paw, he replaced the lid on his tin of Osbornes with the other and disappeared through a nearby door as fast as his legs would carry him.

A few seconds later he emerged on the other side of the ship, took one last look along the deck in case he was still being pursued, and then paused before yet another door which had a red cross over the top and the words SHIP’S DOCTOR written in large red letters on the panelling.

Paddington was a brave bear at heart and when something out of the ordinary happened he was usually only too ready to investigate the matter on his own account, but the events of the past few minutes had been altogether too impossible to explain for his liking and he was anxious to seek a second opinion on the matter.

The Ship’s Doctor looked most surprised when the door opened and Paddington entered his cabin. “Have you got an appointment, bear?” he asked briskly.

Paddington placed his belongings on the floor and put a paw to his lips as he bent down to lock the door. Because of his fur it was a bit difficult for him to actually look as white as a sheet, but there was something about the end of his nose and the way he stood that caused the Doctor to jump up from his seat in alarm.

“Good gracious!” he exclaimed.”What on earth is the matter?”

Paddington crossed the cabin towards the Doctor and collapsed into a chair in front of the desk. “I don’t think it’s anything on earth,” he replied ominously, casting an anxious glance over his shoulder.

The Doctor sat down again and eyed Paddington nervously. “I must say,” he began, in an attempt at jollity, “you look rather as if you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“I have,” said Paddington, feeling a bit better now that he’d reached the safety of the well-lit cabin. “Five of them!”

“Five?” echoed the Doctor. “Dear me. I think perhaps you’d better tell me all about it.”

“Well,” began Paddington, taking a deep breath. “It happened soon after I was chased by an Osborne.”

“Soon after you were chased by a what?” exclaimed the Doctor.

“An Osborne biscuit,” repeated Paddington patiently.

The Doctor gave a nervous, rather high-pitched laugh. “You’re sure it wasn’t a Bath Oliver or a Garibaldi?” he asked.

Paddington gave him a hard stare. “It was an Osborne,” he said firmly as he held up his tin. “It says so on the label. My Aunt Lucy gave them to me. It fell out of the tin and then it chased me all the way down the Portobello Road.”

The Doctor looked at Paddington and then at the cabin door, almost as if he were measuring the distance. Although they’d passed quite close to each other several times on the voyage, it was the first time they’d actually spoken, and there was something about Paddington’s unwinking stare which was beginning to make him feel rather uneasy. “You were followed all down the Portobello Road by an Osborne biscuit?” he repeated casually.

“That’s right,” said Paddington, pleased that he’d got his point over at last. “It was only a small one to start with, but it got bigger and bigger. Then I couldn’t move my paws.”

“Couldn’t move paws,” repeated the Doctor, busily writing it all down.

“They felt as if they had lead weights on them,” continued Paddington.

“Lead… weights…” echoed the doctor, still writing. “Good. I’ll see what a little embrocation will do.”

“Oh, that’s all right, thank you very much,” said Paddington cheerfully. “They’re better now. It was only because I’d stepped in my marmalade by mistake. I got one of my paws stuck in the jar.”

The Ship’s Doctor removed his glasses, blew on them, and then stared first at Paddington’s outstretched paw and then at his highly polished floor where several marmalade chunks lay where they had fallen during Paddington’s hasty entrance.

“Did anything else happen after that?” he asked distastefully.

Paddington nodded. “I saw all the Browns!” he announced impressively.

“Browns?” repeated the Doctor, not quite sure if he’d heard aright. “No greens or blues?”

Paddington gave the Doctor another even harder stare. “Browns,” he repeated firmly. “There were four of them. And Mrs Bird.”

“Mrs Bird!” exclaimed the Doctor. “You’re sure it wasn’t a seagull? It may have stayed on board after we stopped at the last port. They often do.”

“A seagull!” exclaimed Paddington hotly. “It was Mrs Bird. From number thirty-two Windsor Gardens. I was sitting on the deck…”

“Ah!” The Doctor’s face cleared as if by magic. “You’ve been sitting on the deck, have you?

“Yes,” said Paddington. “I was having a bit of a nap after dinner. And then I had a dream – only it wasn’t one really.”

“All day?” asked the Doctor. “In the sun?”

“Well, I did have a bit of a sunbathe this morning after I’d been to the baker’s,” admitted Paddington. “And then another one this afternoon.”

“You’ve been suffering from hallucinations, bear,” said the Doctor briskly, looking quite pleased that he’d solved the problem at last. “I’ve met this sort of thing before. Too much sun and people begin to imagine all sorts of things. Though I must say I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone who thought they were being chased by an Osborne biscuit.”

He opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a bottle. “Sleep, that’s what you need, bear – plenty of sleep. I’ll give you some tablets to help you along.”

Paddington’s face had been growing longer and longer during the Doctor’s recital and at the mention of the word ‘sleep’ it reached its longest ever. He’d had quite enough sleep for one day even if some of the dreams had been hallucinations.

“But I did see the Browns,” he complained, looking most upset. “And it wasn’t a dream because I pinched myself. And they couldn’t have been there because they’re in London. So they must have been ghosts.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the Doctor briskly. “There’s no such thing as…” His voice broke off and a strange expression suddenly came over his face as he stared at something beyond Paddington’s right shoulder.

He gave a gulp, rubbed his glasses again, and then gripped the edge of the table. “Er… how many ghosts did you think you saw?”

“Five,” replied Paddington, running through his list.

As Paddington mentioned each name in turn the Doctor’s face seemed to go an even paler shade of white until by the time he reached Mrs 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.