used by some of the crowned ’eads of Europe in the old days,” called the stall keeper, rubbing his hands in anticipation of a sale as he saw Paddington eyeing his display. “It wasn’t my fault it fell off the back of a lorry a couple of days ago just as I ’appened to be setting up me barrow. I ran after it, but it was gone before I could say ’alf a mo.”
He took a closer look at Paddington. “If you don’t mind my saying so,” he said. “You look as though you could do with a good shave…
“I’m not asking two nicker. I’m not even asking three. Seeing as you’re the first customer of the day, you can ’ave one of them giant tubes for four pounds…”
Paddington gave the man a hard stare. “Aren’t you going the wrong way?” he said, raising his hat politely.
The stall keeper paused and his eyes narrowed. “I can see there are no flies on you, mate,” he said. “If you don’t fancy ’aving a good shave, how about a new titfer tat?” He reached out for a pile of hats. “Yours looks as if it’s seen better days.”
“It belonged to my uncle in Darkest Peru,” said Paddington. “It was handed down. The shaving cream is a birthday present for our next door neighbour.”
Wilting under Paddington’s gaze, the man hastily changed his tune. “Nothing like starting the day with a bit of friendly banter,” he said. “You can ’ave it for two pounds and seeing it’s a birthday present I’ll throw in some wrapping paper for luck.”
“Thank you very much,” said Paddington. “I might come here to do some shopping again tomorrow.”
“I might not be ’ere tomorrow,” said the man with feeling. “Especially if I get too many customers like you,” he added under his breath.
But Paddington was already on his way.
Even if the wrapping paper did look as though it had seen better days, he still thought it was the best morning’s shopping he had done for a long while, and he hurried back to number thirty-two Windsor Gardens as fast as his legs would carry him in order to break the news to Mrs Bird and give her the change from her five pound note.
The Browns’ housekeeper could hardly believe her eyes when she saw what Paddington had bought. “I’ve never seen such a big tube,” she said. “I do hope you haven’t been taken for a ride. Even bears don’t get something for nothing these days.”
“The man said it was the same as some of the crowned heads of Europe used in the old days,” said Paddington.
“That’s as may be,” said Mrs Bird. “But as I recall, most of them had beards, so there can’t have been much demand for it.”
“Perhaps that’s why they had a lot left over,” said Paddington.
“Perhaps,” said Mrs Bird. It sounded like typical salesman’s patter to her, but she didn’t want to be a wet blanket.
However, her words weighed heavily on Paddington’s mind as he made his way upstairs to his bedroom.
Removing the tube from its box, he examined it carefully. There was no sign of a dent, but if it really had fallen off the back of a lorry it might well have become bent.
To make doubly sure all was well, he fetched Mr Brown’s special shaving mirror on a stand from the bathroom. Although one side of the glass was just like an ordinary mirror – the other side made things seem much larger than they really were and that was the one he wanted.
Placing the stand carefully in the centre of his bedside table, he laid his old leather suitcase flat on the floor in front of it and picked up Mr Curry’s present.
Having climbed on top of the case, he carefully unscrewed the cap on the end of the tube and held the nozzle up to the mirror before giving the tube itself a gentle squeeze.
A tiny white blob the size of a small pea appeared momentarily, then went back inside again.
Paddington stared at the nozzle. Disappearing shaving cream wouldn’t be a good start to anyone’s day if they were in a hurry. In his mind’s eye he could already hear cries of, “Bear! Where are you, bear?” issuing from Mr Curry’s bathroom window.
Knowing the Browns’ neighbour of old, he would be demanding his money back even though he hadn’t paid for it.
Bracing himself, Paddington gritted his teeth and had another go. This time he used both paws and gave the tube a much harder squeeze.
For a moment or two nothing happened and he was about to give up when he felt a minor explosion in his paw and a stream of white foamy liquid shot everywhere. It left Mr Brown’s mirror looking as though it had been buried by a major blizzard at the North Pole.
Paddington was so taken by surprise he let go of the tube like a hot cake and hovered to and fro on top of his suitcase before finally losing his balance.
Stepping backwards into space, it could only have been a split second or so before he landed on the floor, but the tube had beaten him to it.
As he lay where he had fallen, his legs and arms waving helplessly in the air, he was aware of a further eruption, and through half-closed eyes he saw what remained of the tube’s contents flying in all directions.
The largest lump of all hit the ceiling right above his head, and as it slowly detached itself, Paddington jumped to his feet.
He gazed mournfully round the room. It was a long time since he had seen it in quite such a mess, and it had all come about in the twinkling of an eye; so fast, in fact, there was nothing he could possibly have done to stop it.
Hastily returning Mr Brown’s mirror to the bathroom before anything else untoward happened, Paddington held it under the tap for a while before returning it to its rightful place.
It took rather longer than he had bargained for, because the hot water made the cream turn into foam and he was soon enveloped in bubbles. That was another thing about messes; they tended to spread, and the more you tried to put things right the worse they became.
It was while he was drying everything as best he could with the towels that his gaze alighted on a wall cabinet above the basin. He knew from past explorations that it was full of interesting things in bottles and packets, but apart from a small spoon and some nail files, he couldn’t remember there being any other likely tools. All the same, he took them back to his bedroom, just in case.
Once there, he consulted the instructions on the side of the tube. There was a great deal on the subject of what a wonderful shaving experience lay in wait for the user, but there was nothing at all about how to get the cream back into the tube if too much had come out.
Removing as much as he could from the walls and the furniture before getting down to work, Paddington soon discovered it wasn’t as easy as he had expected.
Holding the tube with one paw and applying shaving cream to the nozzle with the spoon, he couldn’t help but grip the tube so tightly to stop it bending that in the end most of the cream landed on the floor.
His friend, Mr Gruber, often said that what comes out doesn’t necessarily
