are you getting on with wrapping Mr Curry’s present?” she called.
“I haven’t even started on that, Mrs Bird,” said Paddington.
Opening the door as little as possible, he peered through the gap.
“Do you have to do it in your bedroom?” asked Mrs Bird.
“I do now,” said Paddington sadly.
“Well, let me know if you need a hand with the knots,” said Mrs Bird. “I shan’t be long. I’ve run out of candles for Mr Curry’s cake, and I don’t doubt he’ll be counting them. I’d better make sure I use enough or that’ll be wrong. On the other hand, I don’t want to use too many and risk him catching the house on fire.
“I haven’t even started on the lettering yet. If anyone phones, tell them I shall be back in a quarter of an hour or so.”
Mrs Bird sounded flustered, as well she might with all that was going on, but after a short pause, Paddington heard the sound of the front door closing and as it did, so it triggered off another of his ideas.
Hurrying downstairs, he made his way to the kitchen and there, sure enough, lay the answer to his problem. Mr Curry’s freshly-iced cake was sitting in the middle of the table, and alongside it was exactly what he needed: a canvas bag on the end of which there was a tiny metal funnel. It must have been meant.
“I think,” said Mr Brown, over tea in the garden the following week, “my handiwork with the fence must have paid off. I haven’t seen old Curry looking over it for ages.”
“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that, Henry,” replied Mrs Brown. “It’s all to do with his birthday.”
“If I hadn’t been in such a rush the morning after Paddington planted his seeds, I wouldn’t have stopped him in the middle of what Mr Curry said was a list of the presents he wanted,” agreed Mrs Bird.
“When I had the chance to take a proper look it had things on it like a tin of peas…”
“And half a cabbage!” added Paddington indignantly. “It was his shopping list, and we bought him a present too!”
“Hold on a minute,” said Mr Brown. “What has all that got to do with the garden fence?”
“He dropped the list over our side of the fence…” explained Mrs Brown.
“Accidentally on purpose,” broke in Mrs Bird. “It happened to land at Paddington’s feet and Mr Curry said it was his birthday list.”
“In that case he deserves all he got!” said Mr Brown, rising to Paddington’s defence. “Er… what did we give him in the end?”
“A tube marked ‘shaving cream’, which was full of icing sugar,” said Mrs Bird, “and a cake with his name written across the top in shaving cream. I can’t think that either of them went down very well, but it serves him right for playing such a mean trick.”
“I had an accident with the tube,” explained Paddington, “so I borrowed Mrs Bird’s cake-making outfit to get the shaving cream back inside it. Only the bag still had some icing sugar inside it so I put that into the tube by mistake.”
“And when I came to use it,” said Mrs Bird, “I didn’t realise Paddington had filled it with shaving cream. I couldn’t think why it wouldn’t set.”
“Which, as things turned out,” said Mrs Brown, “meant that for once Mr Curry couldn’t have his cake and eat it too. Perhaps it’s taught him a lesson. We haven’t had sight nor sound of him since. Let’s hope it lasts.”
“Pigs might fly,” snorted Mrs Bird.
“So that’s how I came to have traces of shaving cream over my bathroom mirror,” said Mr Brown. “I thought something must have been going on…
“Hold on a moment,” he continued, as light suddenly dawned. “Did you say all this happened last Wednesday?”
“I did,” said Mrs Brown. “Why do you ask, Henry?”
“Because,” said Mr Brown, “last Wednesday was April the first. You can play any tricks you like before midday. If you ask me, not only was Mr Curry playing an April fool trick, but whoever sold Paddington the shaving cream was probably doing much the same thing.”
“They didn’t bargain on the fact that there are some bears who happen to have been born under a lucky star,” said Mrs Brown. “Now we are enjoying some peace and quiet for a change, so all’s well that ends well.”
And that was something no one could argue with, especially when they saw that seemingly almost overnight Paddington’s seeds had begun to sprout. It was nice having things to look forward to.
PADDINGTON’S BEST FRIEND, Mr Gruber, was most sympathetic when he heard about the goings on at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens.
“It’s no wonder I didn’t see as much of you as usual last week, Mr Brown,” he said. “I must say my elevenses didn’t feel the same without our having cocoa and buns together.
“Playing a simple jape on someone because it’s April Fools’ Day is one thing, but trying to get something for nothing is another matter entirely.
“That Mr Curry deserves all he gets,” he added, echoing Mrs Bird’s words.
“As for the man who sold you the shaving cream, words fail me.”
“He wasn’t there this morning,” said Paddington. “I was hoping I might get Mrs Bird’s money back for her.”
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” said Mr Gruber, busying himself at the stove in the back of his shop. “That kind of person gives the market a bad name. The only good thing is they never stay in one place for very long. It’s like I always say, ‘here today and gone tomorrow’.”
He handed Paddington a steaming mug of cocoa.
“You must have been quite worn out by it all, Mr Brown. I dare say you didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“I was still awake at nine o’clock,” said Paddington.
“Well, there you are,” said Mr Gruber. He settled himself down alongside his friend on the old horsehair sofa at the back of the shop. “That kind of thing isn’t good for a young bear.”
Paddington sipped his cocoa thoughtfully. There was something very comforting about Mr Gruber’s antique shop. Although it was full of old things, there was always something new to look at. In fact, it was an ever changing scene. As fast as one item disappeared, something
