Paddington Takes the Air

It wasn’t until Mrs Bird remembered the episode with the boiled egg that they suddenly put two and two together and went scurrying back downstairs again as fast as their legs would carry them.

But they were too late. Before they were halfway down, they heard a loud grinding noise coming from the kitchen and they arrived there just in time to see Mrs Brown switch the machine off.

The waste disposal was still a new toy in the household. Everything from used matchsticks to old bones was fed into its ever-open mouth, but never in her wildest moments would Mrs Brown have dreamed of disposing of one of Paddington’s teeth and she was as upset as anyone when she realised what had happened.

“I can’t see them taking him on the National Health,” she said. “Perhaps he’d better go to the vet.”

“Certainly not,” said Mrs Bird decidedly. “He’ll have to go as a private patient. I’ll ring Mr Leach straight away.”

Although the Browns’ housekeeper kept a firm hand on Paddington’s ‘goings-on’, she was always quick to come to his aid in time of trouble and she bustled out of the room in a very determined manner.

All the same, the others awaited her return with some anxiety, for although Mr Leach had looked after the family’s teeth for more years than they cared to remember, he’d never actually been asked to deal with one of Paddington’s before. They weren’t at all sure how he would view the matter and their spirits rose when Mrs Bird reappeared wearing her coat and hat.

“Mr Leach will see him as soon as we can get there,” she announced. “He keeps a free period for emergencies.”

Mrs Brown heaved a sigh of relief. “How nice,” she said. “It’s not as if we’ve ever registered Paddington with him.”

“Who said anything about Paddington?” replied Mrs Bird innocently. “I simply said we have an emergency in the house.” She glanced up at the ceiling as a loud groan came from somewhere overhead. “And if you ask me, there’s no one who’ll deny the truth of that! I’d better order a taxi.”

While Mrs Bird got busy on the phone again, the others hurried upstairs to see how Paddington was getting on. They found him sitting on the side of his bed wearing a very woebegone expression on his face indeed. Or rather, the little of his face that could be seen, for most of it was concealed behind a large bath towel. Every so often a low groan issued from somewhere deep inside the folds, and if the news of his forthcoming visit to the dentist did little to raise his spirits, they received a further setback a few minutes later when he was ushered into the back of a waiting taxi.

“’Aving trouble with yer choppers, mate?” asked the driver, catching sight of the towel.

“My choppers?” exclaimed Paddington.

“I only ’ope he’s not a strong union man,” continued the driver as they moved away. “One out – the lot out!”

Mrs Brown hastily closed the window between the two compartments. “Don’t take any notice, dear,” she said. “I’m sure you’re doing the right thing. Mr Leach is very good. He’s been practising for years.”

“Mr Leach has been practising?” repeated Paddington with growing alarm. “I think I’d sooner pay extra and have someone who knows what he’s doing.”

The Browns exchanged glances. It was sometimes very difficult explaining things to Paddington – especially when he had his mind firmly fixed on something else – and they completed the rest of the journey in silence.

However, if Paddington himself was beginning to have mixed feelings on the subject of his tooth, Mr Leach had no such problems when they reached the surgery a short while later.

“I’m afraid I shall have to charge extra,” he said, as the situation was explained to him. “Bears have forty-two teeth.”

“I’ve only got forty-one,” said Paddington. “One of mine’s been disposed of.”

“That’s still nine more than I normally deal with,” said Mr Leach firmly, ushering Paddington into his surgery. “None of my charts cover it for a start. I shall have to get my nurse to draw up a completely new one.”

“I do hope we are doing the right thing,” said Mrs Brown anxiously, as the door closed behind them. “I feel it’s all my fault.”

Mrs Bird gave a snort. “More likely that bear’s everlasting toffees,” she said grimly. “They’re well named. It’s almost impossible to get rid of them. It’s no wonder he’s lost a tooth. He was testing them all day yesterday. I had to throw the saucepan away and there were toffees all over the kitchen floor. I nearly ricked my ankle twice.”

Paddington’s home-made toffees were a sore subject in the Brown household. It wasn’t so much that they had set hard. In fact, had they done so there might have been fewer complaints, but they’d ended up as a pile of large glutinous balls which stuck to everything they came in contact with, and Mrs Bird spent the next few minutes holding forth on what she would like to do with them.

However, it was noticeable that all the while she was talking, the Browns’ housekeeper kept her gaze firmly fixed on the door leading to the surgery, rather as if she wished she had X-ray eyes.

But as it happened, for once Mrs Bird’s worst fears weren’t being realised, for Paddington was beginning to have second thoughts about dentists.

Looking around Mr Leach’s surgery, he decided it was all very much nicer than he’d expected. Everything was gleaming white and spotlessly clean, with not a marmalade stain to be seen anywhere. And although it wasn’t what Mrs Bird would have called ‘over-furnished’, the one chair Mr Leach did possess more than made up for the fact.

Paddington had never come across anything quite like it before. It was like a long couch which rose into the air and took on all kinds of shapes simply at the press of a button. It seemed very good value indeed and Paddington was most impressed.

Above his head there was a nice warm lamp and just beside his left paw there was a glass of pinkish liquid and a basin, while on the other side, next to Mr Leach, there was a table fixed to an arm on which a number of instruments were laid.

Paddington hastily averted his gaze from these as he settled back in his chair, but he liked anything new, and despite his aching tooth, he dutifully opened his mouth and eyed Mr Leach with interest as the latter picked up a small rod-like object and what looked like a mirror on the end of a stick.

Mr Leach gave several grunts of approval as he peered into Paddington’s mouth, tapping the teeth one by one with the end of the rod, and several times he broke into song as he delved deeper and deeper.

“We’ve got a good one there, bear,” he said, standing up at last. “I’m glad you came along.”

Paddington sat up looking most relieved. “Thank you very much, Mr Leach,” he exclaimed. “That didn’t hurt a bit.”

Mr Leach looked slightly taken aback. “I haven’t done anything yet,” he said. “That was only an inspection – just to see what’s what. We’ve a long way to go yet. I’m afraid you have a fractured cusp.”

“What!” exclaimed Paddington hotly. “My cusp’s fractured!” He peered at the rod in Mr Leach’s hand. “It was all right when I came in,” he added meaningly. “I think it must have happened when you tapped it.”

“A fractured cusp,” said Mr Leach stiffly, as he busied himself with a tray of instruments, “merely means you have a broken tooth.” He wagged his finger roguishly. “I have a feeling we’ve been eating something we shouldn’t.”

Paddington sank back in his chair and looked at the dentist with renewed interest. “Have you been making toffee too, Mr Leach?” he exclaimed.

Mr Leach gave Paddington a strange look. “You have quite a large piece of double tooth missing,” he said, slowly and carefully, “and I shall have to make you a new top to replace it.”

Looking most upset at this latest piece of news, Paddington reached out a paw for the nearby glass of pink liquid. “I think I’ll have my orangeade now, Mr Leach, if you don’t mind,” he exclaimed.

“That,” said Mr Leach sternly, “is not orangeade. It’s not even for drinking. It’s put there so that you can swill your mouth out and get rid of the bits and pieces after I’ve finished drilling. If I kept every young bear who came in here supplied with free drinks I’d soon be out of business.”

He looked distastefully at Paddington’s front where the fur had already become rather soggy from the drips and then signalled his nurse to tie a plastic bib round Paddington’s neck. “Would we like an injection?” he asked. “It may hurt otherwise.”

“Yes, please,” said Paddington promptly. “I’ll have two if you like.”

“I think one will be sufficient,” replied Mr Leach, holding a syringe up to the light. “Now, open your mouth wide, please,” he continued. “And don’t forget, this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.”

Paddington dutifully obeyed Mr Leach’s instructions and, in fact, apart from a slight prick, it was much less painful than he had expected.

“Shall I do yours now, Mr Leach?” he asked.

Mr Leach gave him a strange look. “Mine?” he repeated. “I don’t have one.”

Paddington gave Mr Leach an equally strange look in return. “You said we were going to have one,” he persisted. “And you said yours would hurt more than mine.”

Mr Leach stared at Paddington for a moment as if he could hardly believe his ears and then turned to his nurse. “I think,” he said, breathing heavily, “we’ll try putting a wedge in his mouth. It may make things easier.

“Now,” he continued, turning to Paddington as the nurse handed him a piece of plastic-looking material. “I want you to open your mouth again, say ‘ah’, and when I’ve put this in, take a good, hard bite.”

Paddington opened his mouth and let out a loud “aaaah”.