raft. ’Undreds of days without food or water so they say!” He hurried on.
The lifesaving man looked disappointed. “Another of these publicity stunts,” he said. “We get ’em every year.”
Mr Brown looked thoughtful. “I wonder,” he said, looking in the direction of the pier.
“It would be just like him,” said Mrs Bird. “It’s the sort of thing that would happen to Paddington.”
“It’s got to be!” cried Jonathan. “It’s just got to be!”
They all looked at each other and then, picking up their belongings, joined the crowd hurrying in the direction of the pier. It took them a long time to force their way through the turnstile, for the news that ‘something was happening on the pier’ had spread and there was a great throng at the entrance. But eventually, after Mr Brown had spoken to a policeman, a way was made for them and they were escorted to the very end, where the paddle-steamers normally tied up.
A strange sight met their eyes. Paddington, who had just been pulled out of the water by a fisherman, was sitting on his upturned bucket talking to some reporters. Several of them were taking photographs while the rest fired questions at him.
“Have you come all the way from America?” asked one reporter.
The Browns, hardly knowing whether to laugh or cry, waited eagerly for Paddington’s reply.
“Well, no,” said Paddington, truthfully, after a moment’s pause. “Not America. But I’ve come a long way.” He waved a paw vaguely in the direction of the sea. “I got caught by the tide, you know.”
“And you sat in that bucket all the time?” asked another man, taking a picture.
“That’s right,” replied Paddington. “And I used my spade as a paddle. It was lucky I had it with me.”
“Did you live on plankton?” queried another voice.
Paddington looked puzzled. “No,” he said. “Marmalade.”
Mr Brown pushed his way through the crowd. Paddington jumped up and looked rather guilty.
“Now then,” said Mr Brown, taking his paw. “That’s enough questions for today. This bear’s been at sea for a long time and he’s tired. In fact,” he looked meaningfully at Paddington, “he’s been at sea all the afternoon!”
“Is it still only Tuesday?” asked Paddington, innocently. “I thought it was much later than that!”
“Tuesday,” said Mr Brown firmly. “And we’ve been worried to death over you!”
Paddington picked up his bucket and spade and jar of marmalade. “Well,” he said. “I bet not many bears have gone to sea in a bucket, all the same.”
It was dark when they drove along Brightsea front on their way home. The promenade was festooned with coloured lights and even the fountains in the gardens kept changing colour. It all looked very pretty. But Paddington, who was lying in the back of the car wrapped in a blanket, was thinking of his sand-castle.
“I bet mine was bigger than anyone else’s,” he said, sleepily.
“Bet you mine was the biggest,” said Jonathan.
“I think,” said Mr Brown, hastily, “you’d all better have a pound just to make sure.”
“Perhaps we can come again another day,” said Mrs Brown. “Then we can have another competition. How about that, Paddington?”
There was no reply from the back of the car. Sand-castles, paddling his bucket all across the harbour, and the sea air had proved too much for Paddington. He was fast asleep.
“OOOH,” SAID PADDINGTON, “is it really for me?” He stared hungrily at the cake. It really was a wonderful cake. One of Mrs Bird’s best. It was covered with sugar icing and it had a cream and marmalade filling. On the top there was one candle and the words: TO PADDINGTON. WITH BEST WISHES FOR A HAPPY BIRTHDAY – FROM EVERYONE.
It had been Mrs Bird’s idea to have a birthday party. Paddington had been with them for two months. No one, not even Paddington, knew quite how old he was, so they decided to start again and call him one. Paddington thought this was a good idea, especially when he was told that bears had two birthdays every year – one in the summer and one in the winter.
“Just like the Queen,” said Mrs Bird. “So you ought to consider yourself very important.”
Paddington did. In fact, he went round to Mr Gruber straight away and told him the good news. Mr Gruber looked impressed and was pleased when Paddington invited him to the party.
“It’s not often anyone invites me out, Mr Brown,” he said. “I don’t know when I went out last and I shall look forward to it very much indeed.”
He didn’t say any more at the time, but the next morning a van drew up outside the Browns’ house and delivered a mysterious-looking parcel from all the shopkeepers in the Portobello Market.
“Aren’t you a lucky bear,” exclaimed Mrs Brown, when they opened the parcel and saw what was inside. It was a nice new shopping basket on wheels, with a bell on the side that Paddington could ring to let people know he was coming.
Paddington scratched his head. “It’s a job to know what to do first,” he said, as he carefully placed the basket with the other presents. “I shall have a lot of ‘thank you’ letters to write.”
“Perhaps you’d better leave them until tomorrow,” said Mrs Brown hastily. Whenever Paddington wrote any letters he generally managed to get more ink on himself than on the paper, and he was looking so unusually smart, having had a bath the night before, that it seemed a pity to spoil it.
Paddington looked disappointed. He liked writing letters. “Perhaps I can help Mrs Bird in the kitchen,” he said hopefully.
“I’m glad to say,” said Mrs Bird, as she emerged from the kitchen, “that I’ve just finished. But you can lick the spoon if you like.” She had bitter memories of other occasions when Paddington had ‘helped’ in the kitchen. “But not too much,” she warned, “or you won’t have room for this.”
It was then that Paddington saw his cake for the first time. His eyes, usually large and round, became so much larger and rounder, that even Mrs Bird blushed with pride. “Special occasions demand special things,” she said, and hurried off in the direction of the dining-room.
Paddington spent the rest of the day being hurried from one part of the house to another as preparations were made for his party. Mrs Brown was busy tidying up. Mrs Bird was busy in the kitchen. Jonathan and Judy were busy with the decorations. Everyone had a job except Paddington.
“I thought it was supposed to be my birthday,” he grumbled, as he was sent packing into the drawing-room for the fifth time after upsetting a box of marbles over the kitchen floor.
“So
