won’t be troubled again, and if by any chance you are, the perpetrator will be so covered in black paint, he won’t get very far before we pick him up.
“Not only that,” he said, addressing Mr Brown before driving off in his squad car, “you may find you get a reduction on your insurance policy.”
“It sounds as though he’s got shares in the company,” said Mr Brown sceptically, as he followed his wife back indoors. “Either that or he has a spare-time job as one of their salesmen.”
“Henry!” exclaimed Mrs Brown.
In truth, the next day was a Friday, and after a busy week at the office Mr Brown had been looking forward to a quiet weekend. The thought of spending it up a ladder painting drainpipes was not high on his list of priorities.
In normal circumstances he might not have taken up Paddington’s offer to help quite so readily.
“Are you sure it’s wise?” asked Mrs Brown, when he told her. “It’s all very well Paddington saying bears are good at painting, but he says that about a lot of things. Remember what happened when he decorated the spare room.”
“That was years ago,” said Mr Brown. “Anyway, the fact that he ended up wallpapering over the door and couldn’t find his way out again had nothing to do with the actual painting. Besides, it’s not as if it’s something we shall be looking at all the time. Even Paddington can’t do much harm painting a drainpipe.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” warned Mrs Bird. “Besides, it isn’t just one drainpipe. There are at least half a dozen dotted round the house. And don’t forget, it’s non-dry paint. If that bear makes any mistakes, the marks will be there for ever more.”
“There must come a time when it dries off,” said Mr Brown optimistically.
“We could get Mr Briggs in,” suggested Mrs Brown, mentioning their local decorator. “He’s always ready to oblige.”
But Mr Brown’s mind was made up, and when he arrived back from his office that evening he brought with him a large can of paint and an assortment of brushes.
Paddington was very excited when he saw them, and he couldn’t wait to get started.
That night, he took the can of paint up to bed and read the small print on the side with the aid of a torch and the magnifying glass from his detective outfit.
According to the instructions, a lot of burglars climbed drainpipes in order to break into people’s homes. In fact, the more he read, the more Paddington began to wonder why he had never seen one before; it sounded as though the streets must be full of them. There was even a picture of one on the back of the tin. He looked very pleased with himself as he slid down a pipe, a sack over his shoulder bulging with things he had taken. There was even a ‘thinks balloon’ attached to his head saying: ‘Don’t you wish you had done something about your pipes?’
Paddington opened his bedroom window and peered outside, but luckily there were no drainpipes anywhere near it, otherwise he might have tested the paint there and then, just to be on the safe side.
Before going to sleep he made out a list of all the other requirements ready for the morning. Something with which to open the tin; a wire brush for cleaning the pipes before starting work; a pair of folding steps – the instructions suggested it was only necessary to paint the bottom half of the pipe, there was no need to go all the way up to the top; and some white spirit to clean the brushes afterwards.
The following morning, as soon as breakfast was over, he waylaid Mrs Bird in the kitchen and persuaded her to let him have some plastic gloves and an old apron.
Knowing who would be landed with the task of getting any paint stains off his duffle coat if things went wrong, the Brown’s housekeeper was only too willing to oblige.
“Mind you don’t get any of that stuff on your whiskers,” she warned, as he disappeared out of the back door armed with his list. “You don’t want to spoil your elevenses.”
Paddington’s suggestion that it might be a good idea to have them before he started work fell on deaf ears, so he set to work gathering the things he needed from the garage. While he was there he came across a special face mask to keep out paint fumes.
Clearly, it wasn’t meant for bears, because although it covered the end of his nose, it was nowhere near his eyes. All the same, having slipped the elastic bands over his ears to hold it in place, he spent some time looking at his reflection in the wing mirror of Mr Brown’s car and as far as he could make out all his whiskers were safely tucked away inside it.
Once in the garden he set to work with a wire brush on a rainwater pipe at the rear of the house.
“I must say he looks like some creature from outer space,” said Mrs Bird, gazing out of the kitchen window.
“At least it keeps him occupied,” said Mrs Brown. “I can’t help being uneasy whenever he’s at a loose end.”
“The devil finds work for idle paws,” agreed Mrs Bird; almost immediately wishing she hadn’t said it in case she was tempting fate.
But much to everyone’s surprise Paddington made such a good job of the first pipes,
even Mrs Bird’s eagle eyes couldn’t find anything amiss when she inspected them. There wasn’t a single spot of paint to be seen anywhere on the surrounding brickwork.
And even if it meant she would never be able to use her plastic gloves or her apron again, she didn’t have the heart to complain. It was a small price to pay for having number thirty-two Windsor Gardens made secure, and keeping Paddington occupied into the bargain.
“What did I tell you, Mary?” said Mr Brown, looking up from his morning paper when she passed on the news.
“I only hope he doesn’t try shinning up the pipes to see if it works,” said Mrs Brown. “You know how keen he is on testing things.”
“It’s a bit like giving someone a hot plate and telling them not to touch it,” agreed Mrs Bird.
As it happened, similar thoughts had been going through Paddington’s mind most of the morning. At one point when he stopped for a rest he even toyed with the idea of hiding round a corner in the hope that Gentleman Dan might turn up, but with only one more drainpipe to go he decided he’d better finish off the work as quickly as possible.
It was the one just outside the landing window at the side of the house, which had been the cause of all the trouble in the first place, and he had left it until last because he wanted to make an especially good job of it for Mrs Bird’s sake.
Having scrubbed the bottom section of the pipe clean with the wire brush, he mounted the steps and began work on the actual painting.
He hadn’t been doing it for very long before he heard a familiar voice.
“What are you doing, bear?” barked Mr Curry.
Paddington
