Paddington 2: The Story of the Movie: Movie tie-in

Paddington 2: The Story of the Movie: Movie tie-in Anna Wilson Paddington returns for another fun-filled instalment of marmalade and mishaps in a star-studded new movie!Join the irresistible Brown family and their adopted bear, plus a whole new cast of heroes and villains. Bigger and better than ever, the story of the new Paddington movie is both hilarious and heart-warming. Guaranteed to capture the hearts of fans, old and new! First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2017 HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) Written by Anna Wilson Based on the Paddington novels written and created by Michael Bond PADDINGTON™ and PADDINGTON BEAR™ © Paddington and Company Limited/STUDIOCANAL S.A.S. 2017 Paddington Bear™, Paddington™ and PB™ are trademarks of Paddington and Company Limited Licensed on behalf of Studiocanal S.A.S. by Copyrights Group Anna Wilson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008254469 Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN: 9780008254476 Version: 2017-10-11 Cover (#u98f19104-b7cb-515d-b4ee-394e8d027185) Title Page (#uc1311dce-0c38-5b40-a2d6-6c352cfa1e0f) Copyright (#u933c1391-0b03-53b2-b995-0ce7c63e6d9b) Prologue (#u20ffbd76-c216-5e85-acd8-95912e139cfd) Chapter One: At Home with the Browns (#ud961514d-3a46-5f42-a435-1e151e719fb3) Chapter Two: Paddington’s Morning Routine (#ua84955dd-9dfd-5857-8aca-f49aa02a3e48) Chapter Three: A Surprise Find at Mr Gruber’s Shop (#u748a323a-d2a8-591e-9637-d320fc828c31) Chapter Four: Paddington and the Close Shave (#ue78eb96a-13a1-5f7f-9f5a-f60a1db47b9e) Chapter Five: All the Fun of the Fair (#u1aca5e15-2ef7-5485-b347-695fd86dae17) Chapter Six: Paddington Cleans Up (#u723b955b-2f6b-5e04-b676-bf80840e0e24) Chapter Seven: “Stop, thief!” (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight: Paddington and the Long Arm of the Law (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine: The Hunt is On (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten: It All Comes Out in the Wash (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven: Madame Kozlova Tells Her Story (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve: Aunt Lucy’s Recipe Saves the Day (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen: Read All About It! (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen: Marmalade is Served (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen: Phoenix Buchanan Acts the Innocent (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen: The Browns Have a Master Plan (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen: Breaking and Entering, but Mainly Breaking (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen: Paddington and the Great Escape (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nineteen: Paddington on the Run (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty: Paddington is on the Right Track (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-one: A Sinking Feeling (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-two: Paddington and the Big Surprise (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) (#ulink_3e420c6a-0d41-5717-ac7a-0c7c7ce4b3e1) A LONG TIME ago and a long way away in the Amazon jungle, two elderly bears were sitting on a rope bridge enjoying their tea. They were looking out over the spectacular valley beneath them where the fast-flowing Amazon River had burst its banks. Water cascaded from all sides, filling the land with roaring flood waters that rushed towards a magnificent waterfall. “Our last rainy season,” said Pastuzo with a sigh. He took a sip of his tea as he gazed at the landscape. Lucy nodded and handed her husband a marmalade sandwich. “Just think, Pastuzo. This time next month, we’ll be in London!” “Where the rivers run with marmalade and the streets are paved with bread,” he replied. Lucy shot him a quizzical look. “Did you read that book about London?” she asked. Pastuzo shrugged. “I skimmed it,” he said carelessly. Lucy shook her head. “Oh, Pastuzo!” she scolded him gently. “Well, reading makes me sleepy,” Pastuzo replied awkwardly. “But any city that comes up with this –” he lifted the remains of his marmalade sandwich – “is all right with me.” Lucy opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. She gasped and pointed at something she had spotted in the river below. “Oh, look, Pastuzo!” Pastuzo grabbed a pair of binoculars from beside him and peered through them. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “It’s a … it’s a cub!” he said. Sure enough, far below the rope bridge there was a tiny baby bear struggling to stay afloat in the fast-flowing river. He was clinging desperately to a bit of driftwood. And the river was pulling him closer and closer to some rocks … Pastuzo lowered his binoculars. He turned to speak to his wife only to see she had left her place on the bridge and was already climbing down a trailing vine towards the waters beneath! “Lucy!” Pastuzo shouted. “Lower me down,” said Lucy firmly. Pastuzo could see there was no point in arguing with her. “All right. But be careful!” he cried. His heart in his mouth, he untied the vine and began lowering Lucy towards the torrent that raged below. The cub was struggling harder than ever to stay on the branch, but he lost his grip and slipped into the water. Lucy was still a few metres above him as the little cub managed to reach out and grasp the branch again. “Lower, Pastuzo! Lower!” Lucy called up to her husband. The cub raised his eyes to see Lucy coming towards him on the vine, reaching out her paw to him. He stretched to take hold of her, but slipped and sank beneath the water. Lucy grabbed the little cub as he surfaced and swiftly pulled him from the swirling waters. But above her Pastuzo lost his balance on the bridge. His hat flew off as he toppled … He closed his eyes and flailed around with his paws, grabbing on to the bridge and catching hold of it just in time to stop himself from falling. He opened one eye, hardly daring to look at the scene unfolding below. To his huge relief he saw Lucy still clinging on to the vine. She had his hat, and something else too. “Lucy? Lucy!” Pastuzo cried. Lucy smiled up at him. “I’m afraid we’re not going to London after all,” she said. Pastuzo frowned. “Why not?” Lucy looked down at the soaking-wet little bundle in her arms. Her eyes filled with love as she took in the tiny face of the bear cub, partly covered by Pastuzo’s hat. “We’ve got a cub to raise,” she said. Pastuzo peered at the little bear. “What’s he like?” “Rather small …” said Lucy. The cub sneezed, and the hat fell over his face. “And rather sneezy!” said Lucy with a laugh. She lifted the hat to see that the cub had found one of Pastuzo’s emergency marmalade sandwiches and was tucking in with relish. “He likes his marmalade,” said Lucy. “That’s a good sign,” said Pastuzo, smiling. “Oh yes, Pastuzo,” said Lucy. “If we look after this bear, I have a feeling he’ll go far.” (#ulink_801f0673-9c80-5fc7-a7ed-364a49641401) Some bear years later … PADDINGTON WAS SITTING in his attic room in number 32 Windsor Gardens where he lived with the Brown family, thinking about his old life back in Darkest Peru. He looked out over the city of London – he really did have the most spectacular view from his window. “How you would love this place, Aunt Lucy,” Paddington said aloud. “I do wish you could leave the Home for Retired Bears and visit me here.” He knew this was not possible, though. He sighed. “I’ll just have to write to you and tell you all my news instead,” he said. And with that, Paddington grabbed some paper and a pen and began a letter to his aunt. Dear Aunt Lucy, I am settling in nicely with the Browns, although I still miss you dreadfully. Mrs Bird’s marmalade is excellent, but it will never be quite the same as yours. It has been a very busy summer. Mrs Brown has been swimming in the Serpentine lake in Hyde Park. She is training to swim all the way to France. Personally, I don’t see the point, as there is a perfectly adequate ferry service, but she insists that is not the same. She’s just finished illustrating an adventure story so maybe that has inspired her. Judy was going to start a newspaper with her boyfriend Tony this summer, but he “dumped” her, apparently – although she says she “dumped” him. She spends a lot of time crying and at one point she said she was going to become a nun! Thankfully she seems to have changed her mind about that and she is going to start the newspaper on her own. Jonathan is joining Judy at big school this autumn. He has spent the summer building an amazing model railway, but no one is allowed to talk about it as it’s “not cool”. He says that if anyone asks, he is now called “J-Dog”, likes “kung fu and aliens” and is “definitely not into steam trains”. I have decided to stop asking him anything for now, in case I get it wrong. Mr Brown has been very busy too. There have been big changes at the insurance company where he works. Mr Brown was very much hoping to get a promotion to become the Head of Risk Analysis, but a much younger man called Steve Visby got it instead. Ever since, Mr Brown’s behaviour has also been quite strange. He now blends his food, paints his hair a funny colour and wears Lycra clothing to go to an exercise class called Chakrabatics. He says it is “all a question of opening your mind and your legs will follow”, although his legs looked a bit reluctant to follow him anywhere after the things he had asked them to do. In spite of all these peculiar goings-on, London really is everything you hoped for and more, Aunt Lucy. Everyone is so kind to me – I have made a lot of very good friends here in Windsor Gardens. I only wish I could introduce you to them all. I hope that you are well and enjoying life in the Home for Retired Bears. I must sign off now as I’m on a Very Important Mission. I am afraid it is Top Secret so I can’t tell you about it – yet! Lots of love, Padingtun (#ulink_38e87e3a-069a-5561-90c4-8c69330f869b) EVERYTHING PADDINGTON HAD told his Aunt Lucy was true: he was very much at home now at number 32 Windsor Gardens. The Browns were a lovely family, and their house was wonderfully warm and welcoming. Paddington especially loved his bedroom in the attic. He enjoyed nothing more than to sit and look out of the little round window across the city he had grown to love. “Ah, London!” he sighed, gazing out one morning in early autumn. “Another lovely day ahead,” he said, as he hopped down from the window and took himself to the bathroom to get ready. He brushed his teeth and gargled with mouthwash, as he did every morning. He smiled to himself as he remembered the first time he had been let loose in the Browns’ bathroom. On that occasion, he had swallowed a whole bottle of mouthwash and had managed to flood the bathroom too! He wasn’t going to make those sorts of mistakes again. Oh no. He knew how to behave these days, he thought, picking up Mrs Bird’s Dustbuster and cleaning his armpits. His morning routine completed, Paddington ran out to the landing and leaped on to the banister. He slid all the way down to the ground floor where a delicious breakfast of freshly made marmalade sandwiches was waiting for him. “Thank you, Mrs Bird!” he cried, raising his hat. “You certainly know how to make a breakfast fit for a bear.” “You’re welcome, dearie,” said Mrs Bird, beaming. She brushed at some crumbs on her apron and watched fondly as Paddington tucked in with gusto. Judy and Jonathan, the Browns’ children, came in and sat with Paddington. They were dressed ready for the first day of a new school year. Judy looked excited and happy for the first time in a long while. “Guess what, Paddington?” she said. “The steam fair’s coming to town! I’m going to go along tonight and write about it for my newspaper.” “Who’s going to want to read about that?” Jonathan muttered. Judy curled her lip at her brother. “Everyone!” she said. “They travel the world in an old steam train. I thought you’d love it,” she added. “I do, but don’t tell anyone, OK? Not cool,” said Jonathan. Judy opened her mouth to comment but her mother came into the room just in time to prevent a row. “Why don’t we all go?” asked Mrs Brown cheerily. “Good idea,” said Mr Brown, coming in behind his wife and grabbing a piece of toast. Mrs Brown smiled lovingly at her husband. “Your father’s a dab hand at the coconut shy,” she said to her children. “‘Bull’s-eye Brown’ they used to call him.” Judy rolled her eyes. “Ooh, not any more,” said Henry, shaking his head. “Coconuts are a young man’s game.” He mimed throwing a ball and immediately winced as he felt a twinge in his shoulder. Paddington was watching him with interest. “Well, I think you’re in great shape for a man your age, Mr Brown,” he said. “Thank you, Paddington,” said Mr Brown with feeling. Then he did a double-take. “Hang on,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “How old do you think I am?” Paddington wasn’t sure about being put on the spot like this. Bears were not very good at guessing people’s ages. “Oh … about eighty?” “Eighty?” Mr Brown spluttered. “At least!” said Paddington with growing confidence. He pushed back his chair and made to leave the table, putting a marmalade sandwich under his hat for emergencies. Mrs Bird turned round from the stove. “Just a minute, wee bear. I thought I told you to clean behind your ears?” she asked, pretending to be stern. Paddington frowned. “But I did, Mrs Bird. I—” Mrs Bird leaned over and reached behind Paddington’s right ear. “I don’t know …” she said. “I think you missed a bit. What’s that I can see?” And she pulled back, revealing a shiny fifty-pence piece. Paddington’s eyes widened. “My goodness me. I wonder how that got in there?” Mrs Bird handed him the coin. “Best keep it somewhere safe, dearie,” she said with a smile. “I will,” said Paddington, slipping it into his duffle-coat pocket. “Have a good day, everyone! I must dash as I am on a Very Important Mission today.” As the family waved him off, Mr Brown could still be heard muttering, “Eighty … I ask you!” Paddington’s mornings had developed a nice rhythm. He knew everyone in the neighbourhood these days, and could almost set his watch by who he would see on his way to Mr Gruber’s antique shop. He stood on the corner of the road, looking out for Mademoiselle Dupont who always cycled by at eight-thirty sharp. Seeing her coming, Paddington called out, “Bonjour, mademoiselle!” “Bonjour, Paddington!” said the glamorous lady. She slowed down just enough for him to be able to jump on to the back of her bike, as he did every morning. As they sped along, Paddington kept an eye out for Dr Jafri. The doctor was an absent-minded man who left his house at the same time every day – and always forgot his keys. Luckily for him, Paddington was always there to remind him. Today was no different from any other day. Dr Jafri was walking out of his front door as Paddington passed by. The door was just about to close on the doctor, locking him out, when Paddington called, “Your keys, Dr Jafri!” “Keys?” The doctor frowned and patted his pockets, then realised he’d done it again. “Keys!” he shouted, turning back to catch his door just before it slammed shut. “What would I do without you, Paddington?” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re welcome!” said Paddington, raising his hat as he and Mademoiselle Dupont went on their way. Next he spotted the Peters sisters – two bubbly Jamaican women who watered their orange plants every morning without fail. And there they were, watering and pruning and sniffing tentatively at the ripening fruit. “Good morning, Miss Peters! Miss Peters!” Paddington cried. One Miss Peters picked an orange and threw it at Paddington. “Ripe yet?” she asked. Paddington gave the fruit an appreciative sniff. “Not yet – Tuesday,” he said, bowling the orange back. The sisters thanked him and waved him on his way. It was here that Paddington always said goodbye to Mademoiselle Dupont, because their routes diverged. She went on to Knightsbridge whereas Paddington was heading to Mr Gruber’s shop on the Portobello Road. “Thank you, mademoiselle!” he said, raising his hat as he jumped from the back of her bike. “You’re welcome, monsieur,” she said. “Au revoir!” Paddington walked past the Colonel who was on his way back from the newspaper kiosk where he went every day to buy his morning paper. Paddington, ever cheery, shouted, “Glorious day, Colonel!” The Colonel was a gloomy, dishevelled man with a large moustache. He rarely had much to say for himself and today was no different. “Glorious?” he repeated. “Is it, Bear? How absolutely thrilling.” Paddington raised his hat and walked on to the kiosk himself to pick up a copy of the Daily News. He greeted the owner. “Hello, Miss Kitts! Such a lovely day. Do you have any plans?” Before Miss Kitts could reply a colourful parrot stuck its head out from behind her shoulder and squawked. “Looking for love! Looking for love!” “Oi, Feathers! You cheeky bird!” Miss Kitts laughed and flapped one hand at the noisy bird. “He’s a nightmare, that parrot. Ignore him!” she said to Paddington. “Here you are, love,” she added, handing Paddington his paper. “What about you – got any plans?” “I have, as it happens,” said Paddington. “I am on a Very Important Mission.” “Sounds exciting!” said Miss Kitts. Just then, Paddington’s friend, Fred Barnes the binman, pulled up in his bin lorry. “What’s that about a mission?” he asked. “I am on one. And it involves Mr Gruber,” Paddington said cryptically. “Intriguing!” said Fred. “Why don’t you hop into the lorry? I’ll give you a lift. I need to practise all the shortcuts for my test.” “What test?” Paddington asked. “I’m going to be a London cabbie! Here …” Fred passed Paddington an A to Z map of London. “You can test me on the Knowledge while I drive.” (#ulink_de97d8c2-7678-5af4-a90b-2979d5e9a4ab) PADDINGTON THANKED FRED as he hopped down from the bin lorry. He had arrived at Mr Gruber’s antique shop just in time for elevenses, which was the best time of day to visit. “Ah, Mr Brown, come in!” said Mr Gruber, looking up as Paddington walked through the door. “You’ll join me for a cup of cocoa and an iced bun?” “Yes, please, Mr Gruber,” said Paddington. “So, what can I do for you today?” the shopkeeper asked. He poured steaming cocoa into two mugs and handed Paddington a plate of buns. “I am on a Very Important Mission,” Paddington said. He took a bun and bit into it. “It is my Aunt Lucy’s one hundredth birthday soon and I want to find her the perfect present,” he explained, his voice muffled with crumbs. “I thought you would be the person to ask for some help.” “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” said Mr Gruber, beaming. He took a sip of his drink. “See all these boxes?” He gestured to the pile of crates and packages on the floor. “They belong to Madame Kozlova. She runs the fair that has just come to town – have you seen it?” “Not yet, Mr Gruber,” said Paddington, wiping his whiskers. “Mr Brown did mention something about it, now I come to think of it. Perhaps we’ll be going soon.” “You should. It’s magnificent,” said the old shopkeeper. “Anyway, come and look at this.” He beckoned Paddington over to the boxes. “Madame was having a clear-out and she found these old crates of memory-bilia. There might be something in here that would be just right for Aunt Lucy’s special birthday.” Paddington growled in interest. “What a lovely idea!” he said. He took off his hat and put it on the table. He had spotted an old Van de Graaff generator that rather took his fancy, but when he went to touch it it made his fur stand on end. He quickly withdrew his paw. “Oh, look at this!” Mr Gruber was holding up a mechanical monkey on a trapeze. Paddington put his head on one side. “It’s very nice, but …” Mr Gruber replaced the monkey and smiled. “I know, it has to be perfect.” Paddington nodded. “Since Uncle Pastuzo died I’m the only relative Aunt Lucy’s got left. And it’s not every day a bear turns a hundred.” “Quite so,” Mr Gruber agreed. Paddington rummaged in another trunk and found a wig and some glasses. He took off his hat and put them on, modelling them for his friend. Mr Gruber laughed. “And how about some rolling shoes to go with the outfit?” He handed Paddington some roller-skates. Paddington peered over the top of the glasses and said, “Please, Mr Gruber. Be serious.” Mr Gruber bit his cheeks and forced himself to stop grinning at his funny friend. “Yes, perhaps her rolling days are behind her,” he said with a nod. Paddington carried on sifting through the contents of one of the packing cases. “Oh, what’s this?” he asked, fishing out an old book. “It’s beautiful! Look at the picture on the cover. It’s a book about London – oh!” he cried again, as he opened the pages and the pictures jumped out at him. Mr Gruber laughed. “It’s a popping book, Mr Brown,” he said. “It certainly is,” said Paddington. He opened and closed the book, marvelling at the way the pictures popped up into intricate three-dimensional scenes. Mr Gruber came and stood over his shoulder. “That must be the special popping book Madame Kozlova has told me about. Her great-grandmother was an artist, you see. Every time she visited a city she made a popping book. This must be the one she made of London.” Paddington’s eyes lit up as he opened page after page, all of them popping up to reveal different famous London landmarks. “There’s Tower Bridge … and St Paul’s Cathedral … and Buckingham Palace … This is wonderful, Mr Gruber! Aunt Lucy always wanted to visit London but she never had the chance. If she had this book, it would be as though she was really there.” Paddington peered closely at the detail in the pop-ups. He imagined himself shrinking to the size of one of the tiny people in the illustrations. Then he pictured himself with Aunt Lucy. He would take her on the underground and to Piccadilly Circus and the Houses of Parliament. She would clap her paws together in delight and cry, “Oh, it’s just as I always dreamed! Thank you, dear nephew.” Mr Gruber cleared his throat, bringing Paddington back to reality with a jolt. Paddington’s eyes were glistening with emotion. He pointed to a line on the book jacket that read, “Where All Your Dreams Come True”. “This is the perfect present, Mr Gruber. Aunt Lucy’s going to love it,” he said. “Ah,” said Mr Gruber, consulting the price list. His face fell. “Ah. This is the only one of its kind. I’m sorry to say they want rather a lot of money for it.” Paddington fished out the coin Mrs Bird had found that morning. “Would this be enough? Mrs Bird pulled it from my ear. Perhaps there’s more where it came from?” He rummaged enthusiastically in his ear to check, but had no luck. Mr Gruber sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re going to need rather more than one earful – a thousand earfuls would be nearer the mark.” “But that’s two thousand iced buns!” exclaimed Paddington. “Let’s take another look at the monkey,” said Mr Gruber kindly. “I think he’s super-duper.” He turned the handle and it came off in his hand. “I can fix that,” he said hastily. Paddington smiled sadly. “That’s very kind of you, Mr Gruber, but Aunt Lucy did a lot for me when I was younger. I want her to know I have made a special effort for her hundredth birthday.” He put his hat back on and made for the door. Then, turning back to his friend, he said, “I’ve decided what I need to do. I’m going to get a job and buy Aunt Lucy that book.” “Very good, Mr Brown,” said Mr Gruber. “Very good indeed.” (#ulink_3e197a4f-ee0d-5738-bb15-b6af9d8ac0aa) PADDINGTON LOST NO time in looking for employment. He went into the first place that he saw on leaving Mr Gruber’s – Giuseppe’s barber’s shop. “You are-a in-a luck!” cried the flamboyant Italian, as Paddington set out his request. “I am in-a need of an assistant. I have-a much to do this afternoon. Please start by sweeping up-a. I shall be back in-a few-a minutes. Ciao, ciao!” And with that he threw Paddington a broom and left. “Ciao, ciao, Giuseppe!” Paddington called after him. He was about to set to and sweep up all the hair clippings when he spotted a white barber’s coat hanging on the back of a door. “It can’t hurt to try it on,” he said to himself. “After all, I may as well look the part.” Slipping out of his own coat, he took the barber’s from the peg and put it on. Then he stood back and admired his new look in the mirror. Taking a comb, he parted his fur into a neat side parting. “Ah, sir. Good afternoon,” he said to his reflection, pretending to be a real barber. “Now what can I do for you today?” “Just a quick trim, please,” said a voice. Paddington whirled round in surprise to see that a customer had walked in and was already installing himself in one of the barber’s chairs. He was a large pompous-looking man with a magnificent mane of grey hair. “Come along, man, I haven’t got all day,” said the customer sharply. “Oh, I-I’m not the barber,” said Paddington. “I just tidy up.” “That’s all I want,” said the man, flicking his hand impatiently around his hair. “Tidy up at the back and sides and nothing off the top.” “Yes but—” Paddington began. “No buts!” cried the man. “Come on, man. Chop, chop!” He settled back into the chair and immediately went to sleep, snoring softly. “Chop, chop?” Paddington repeated. “If you say so, sir.” He fetched a cape and draped it over the sleeping man, then went to pick up some scissors. Unfortunately, bears are not very good at holding scissors. Paddington found that out straight away – his paws fumbled, the scissors slipped from his grasp and off they flew, out of his reach. They flew through the air like a dart and got stuck in one of the ceiling tiles. Never one to give up, Paddington looked around for a different implement. “I’ll try the clippers instead,” he said to himself. The clippers were electric and had a long cable attached to them. Paddington went to a socket on the wall to plug them in, then he pressed the button on the clippers. To his horror, they were on such a high setting that the vibrations made him jump and judder around the room! He tried to make his way over to give the customer a trim, but began spinning in circles instead. The cable on the clippers got caught in his legs. It began to wind itself tightly round him! Paddington was completely tangled up now. He was spinning round and round, totally out of control. Just as things couldn’t possibly get any worse, the phone rang. Paddington hopped over to answer it and knocked into a potted plant. It landed on his head. Anyone walking past would have seen a bear wearing a spiky green wig! At last Paddington managed to reach the phone. He flipped it up with his mouth. The cable was still tight round his legs, and the juddering from the clippers made his voice rather shaky. “G-g-g-good aft-t-t-ternoon. A c-c-cut and bl-bl-blow-dry, you s-s-s-ay? I’ll have to ch-ch-ch-check the diary, b-b-but—” He stopped abruptly as he saw the electric cable had caught on the customer’s seat. The man lurched sharply backwards, still deeply asleep. At the same time Paddington was pulled paws-first straight towards the sleeping customer – and the clippers were aiming right at the back of the man’s head! “I sh-shall have to c-c-call you back,” Paddington said in a panic. “I think I m-m-may be about to sh-sh-shave a c-c-customer …” Just as he said this, the clippers connected with the man’s hair and mowed a neat stripe right down the middle of his head. “Oh!” cried Paddington. He didn’t have time to think, however, as the plug from the clippers had shot out of the wall socket and up into the air. Now it was caught in the ceiling fan! As the fan started whirring, faster and faster, Paddington struggled harder than ever to free himself. But he was tangled too tightly. Before he knew it, Paddington was pulled right up to the ceiling, spinning round at an alarmingly high speed. Outside the shop, a mother and her little boy were having an argument. “I don’t want to!” the boy was shouting. “You can’t make me!” “Now you stop making a fuss, Nelson,” the mother said sternly. “It’s only a haircut. Nothing at all to be afraid of.” At that exact moment, Paddington was hurled against the window by the fan. He landed with a loud SPLAT against the glass, his eyes wide, his mouth open in panic. The plug was pulled from the socket by the force of the collision, and Paddington slid to the floor in a heap. “I’ve changed my mind,” said the woman, quickly turning her son to face the other way. “We’ll go somewhere else.” Paddington picked himself up and went back to the customer. He gasped when he saw the strip shaved into the back of the man’s head. It looked like a reverse Mohican! What shall I do? Paddington wondered. He glanced at the pile of hair on the floor by the man’s chair and had an idea. I’ll stick it back on, he thought, bending down and scooping up the clippings. He patted them into place, but the shaved hair just fell to the floor again. Paddington removed his hat to scratch his head while he thought what to do next. In so doing, he spotted the marmalade sandwich that he had placed there earlier. As he stared at it, another idea formed in his mind. He scooped some marmalade out of the sandwich and spread it on to the man’s head and then picked up the hair clippings and stuck them on top. It was working rather well. Paddington had stepped back to admire his handiwork when the customer stirred in his sleep. “What are you doing?” the man mumbled. “I thought you’d like some hair product, sir,” said Paddington, thinking on his paws. “Jolly good. Carry on,” said the man, going back to sleep. Paddington did as he was told. At last, when he thought he could do no more for the customer, he shook him gently awake. “All done,” he said. “Is sir happy with the trim?” The man surveyed his reflection critically. “I suppose so,” he said. “But what about the back?” Paddington grabbed a hand mirror and fleetingly showed the customer the back of his head. The man frowned. He reached up and patted the marmalade-glued patch of hair. “What’s this?” he asked, puzzled. “Marmalade, sir,” said Paddington in a matter-of-fact tone. “Hairy marmalade,” he added, thinking this sounded more the sort of product a barber might use. “Hairy marmalade?” exclaimed the man. “Well, get it off!” “Certainly, sir. Waste not, want not,” said Paddington. He stretched up on the tips of his paws and leaned over to lick the marmalade off. “WHAT-A ARE YOU DOING-A?” shouted a voice from the shop door. “Ah, there you are, Mr Giuseppe,” said Paddington, glancing up. “This is not at all as bad as it looks,” he added hastily when he took in the look of fury on the barber’s face. Giuseppe opened his mouth to reply that it was possibly a lot worse, but his words were drowned out by the deafening blare of the fire alarm. Paddington looked up to see that sparks were flying out of the ceiling fan and smoke was filling the room! He looked around wildly for a way to stop the fire. He need not have worried, for almost immediately some sprinklers came on, putting out the fire. Unfortunately, they also drenched everyone and Paddington decided that, under the circumstances, the best course of action was to beat a hasty retreat. “I’m sorry, but I think perhaps working in a barber’s shop is not my strongest suit,” he cried on his way out. “Ciao, ciao, Giuseppe!” (#ulink_06307509-86c2-5bfb-b460-5f7fa49dcc41) THAT EVENING THE Browns took the whole family to Madame Kozlova’s Steam Fair as promised. It certainly was a spectacular sight. Paddington didn’t think he had seen anything as wonderful since leaving Darkest Peru. Judy and Jonathan were as excited as he was. They chattered away, pointing out the rides to Paddington and asking him which he would go on first. However, Paddington was deep in thought. He had not been able to take his mind off the pop-up book since seeing it in Mr Gruber’s shop and now that he was here, at the fair, he knew more than ever that he had to find a way of getting the book for Aunt Lucy. But how was he going to get another job after the disaster at the barber’s? he wondered. Mr Brown had gone to buy some snacks. When he came back with candyfloss for Mrs Bird and toffee apples for the others Paddington asked Mr Brown if he had ever been fired from a job. Mr Brown looked uncomfortable. “Not exactly, but … I think you should be careful about entering the workplace, Paddington. Are you sure you’re ready? It’s a tough, competitive world out there, and I should know,” he added wearily. “I worry that a kind, good-natured bear like you might get trampled underfoot.” Paddington considered this as he took a bite from a toffee apple. “Dad’s right,” said Judy, suddenly sullen. “You can’t trust anyone.” Paddington tried to open his mouth to protest that this wasn’t true – he knew he could trust the Browns, for example – but he found the toffee apple had glued his teeth together so he remained silent. Mrs Brown put a hand on Judy’s shoulder. “Is this about Tony, darling?” she asked. “No,” Judy snapped. “Everything’s about Tony,” Jonathan teased. “At least I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not,” Judy retaliated. “Nor am I,” said Jonathan irritably. He moved away from his sister towards a group of boys who all appeared to be dressed in a similar fashion with cyber-shades and baseball caps. “Hey, G-Man!” Jonathan cried, slipping on his own shades and performing a complicated hand gesture. “J-Dog,” said the boy, walking over in a slouch, one hand raised. “Spud bounce, man,” he said, bumping his fist against Jonathan’s. Paddington had finally managed to work his mouth free of the toffee. “But, Mr Brown,” he said, continuing the conversation from before, “I’m sure I will be fine in the workplace. Aunt Lucy said if you’re kind and polite, all will be right.” “Someone’s making sense at last,” said Mrs Bird. She gave Jonathan and his friend a funny look. “You are kind and polite, Mr Brown,” Paddington went on. “And you’ve made it to the top.” Mr Brown grimaced. “I’m nowhere near the top, Paddington. I peaked in the middle. And now my hair’s going grey and my belly has popped out and I creak.” Mrs Brown took her husband’s arm. “You don’t creak, darling,” she said. “When do you creak?” “When I sit down. When I get up …” said Mr Brown. “I thought that was the chair,” said Mrs Brown kindly. “Nope,” Mr Brown said, looking miserable. Just then there was a burst of applause from the crowd and the family turned to see a handsome man bounce on to the stage in front of them. “Oh!” cried Paddington. “Doesn’t that man live in the big house on the corner of Windsor Gardens?” “Yes,” said Judy, taking a photo. “He’s one of dad’s celebrity clients – Phoenix Buchanan.” Mr Brown nodded importantly. “He’s a Platinum Club member and a very famous actor.” “Or used to be,” said Mrs Bird knowingly. “Now he does dog-food commercials.” Mrs Brown smiled. “Mrs Bird doesn’t like him, Paddington, because he can never remember her name.” “That’s not the only reason …” muttered Mrs Bird. Paddington saw that behind the man there was a banner that read: “Kozlova’s Steam Fair – Where All Your Dreams Come True”. Just like the line on the cover of the pop-up book, Paddington thought dreamily. If only I could find a way of getting enough money to buy it for Aunt Lucy – then her dreams would come true as well. His thoughts were interrupted by Phoenix Buchanan’s voice ringing out from the stage. “Thank you. Oh, please, stop it!” the actor was saying as the crowd continued to clap and cheer. He flapped his hands coyly, pretending to be embarrassed by the attention. The applause petered out and Phoenix cried, “No, no, please carry on … Oh, what am I like?” he simpered. “I’m at my absolute naughtiest tonight. I’m tickled to the deepest shade of shrimp to open this wonderful old steam fair.” The crowd cheered. “But let me tell you,” Phoenix went on, “when Madame Kozlova created it years ago she didn’t do it for the likes of me – ‘celebrity’, ‘star of stage and screen’ (I hate all that stuff, honest I do). ‘West End legend’ – there’s another one. Ha ha! No, she made it for the ordinary guys, like you lot.” He pointed at the audience. “And that’s why I’d like to ask one of you to come up here and help start things off. Any volunteers?” he asked, surveying the crowd. Paddington’s paw shot up. “Bears are good at volunteering,” he said. Phoenix looked out at the sea of hands. “Let me see … Eeny, meeny, miny – bear?” he said, looking puzzled as he spotted Paddington. “Yes, why not?” he said. “What about you, young ursine? Come on up.” He beckoned to Paddington to join him as the audience clapped. “And you are …?” Phoenix asked. “Paddington Brown,” said Paddington, raising his hat. “Of course you are!” exclaimed Phoenix. “You’re my next-door neighbour.” He beamed. “You live with Henry and Mary and Mrs – er – Fuh-Nuh-Nuh,” he mumbled. “You mean Mrs Bird,” said Paddington helpfully. “That’s the one,” said Phoenix dismissively. “More importantly, do you know who I am?” He pointed to himself and winked at the crowd. “You’re a very famous actor,” said Paddington. “Oh, blah!” said Phoenix, fluttering his eyelashes with false modesty. “Or used to be …” Paddington went on. “Now you do dog-food commercials.” A snigger ran through the crowd and Phoenix’s smile faded. “Well, a man has to eat,” he said. “What, dog food?” Paddington asked, puzzled. The crowd erupted into laughter and Phoenix forced a laugh along with them. “Ha ha! Very funny.” He paused and became dramatically serious and mysterious. “Enough of me … They say that at Kozlova’s ‘all your dreams come true’. Did you know that, young bear? If you could have one wish come true tonight, what would it be?” “That’s easy,” said Paddington. “I’d like to get Aunt Lucy a birthday present.” “Aww!” Phoenix gushed, clutching his hands together. “How sweet!” “Yes, I’ve had my eye on an old pop-up book of London,” Paddington explained. “Made by Madame Kozlova’s great-grandmother, as it happens.” Phoenix’s eyes lit up at this bit of information. He quickly tried to hide his interest. “Really?” he said carelessly. “How … fascinating.” “Yes, just as soon as I saw it I knew Aunt Lucy would love it,” said Paddington. “Well, I’m not sure I could promise you that,” said Phoenix. “But …” He faced the crowd and raised his voice. “I can promise you will all have oodles of fun, darlings! So, if you’ll lend me a paw, Paddington, I’d like to declare Madame Kozlova’s Steam Fair OPEN!” Paddington put his paw on top of Phoenix’s hand and together they pulled a lever. Immediately the old fairground organ sprang to life. Paddington stared in awe as thousands of light bulbs flicked on around the fair and the magnificent old steam rides started moving. The horses spun round and round and up and down on the carousel, the swingboats began swinging, and the ghost train let out a stream of spooky noises. Paddington couldn’t wait to go and explore. He was about to set off to find the Browns again when Phoenix Buchanan took him to one side. “Young bear! Young bear! A word in your ear. This pop-up book,” said the actor, looking around to check that no one was listening in. “Do you know it?” asked Paddington. “I know OF it,” said Phoenix, “but I was led to believe it was lost. Where on earth did you find it?” Not picking up on the eagerness in Phoenix’s voice, Paddington replied, “I saw it in Mr Gruber’s antique shop on the Portobello Road. He’s keeping it to one side for me, but it’s very expensive. I don’t suppose YOU have any advice about making money, do you?” he asked hopefully. “Not really, no,” said Phoenix. He was losing interest in talking to Paddington now and rather wanted to get rid of him, as a plan was forming in his mind. “I suppose you’ll just have to start at the bottom of the ladder and work your way up,” he added hurriedly, before turning away. Paddington’s eyes lit up. “Do you know what, Mr Buchanan? You’ve given me a brilliant idea!” (#ulink_babf4e49-4b1d-54d4-93fd-ecf3a65ab4d3) PHOENIX’S COMMENT ABOUT starting “at the bottom of the ladder” had got Paddington thinking. The residents of Windsor Gardens had been saying for some time that they needed to find a new window cleaner. The morning after the steam fair, Paddington announced that he was the bear for the job. “I have always fancied a job that involved heights,” he told them. “In Darkest Peru I was very good at climbing trees.” He asked Mr Brown if he could use an old telescopic ladder he had found in the basement. “It will fit into my suitcase beautifully,” he explained. “I’ll have every window in the street cleaned by the end of the day.” Surely this will earn me enough money to buy that book for Aunt Lucy, he thought as he went on his way. Mr Brown watched Paddington go down the street with a bucket, some soap and cloths and the telescopic ladder folded into his suitcase. “Are we sure that bear knows what he is doing?” he said. “Oh, darling, you worry too much,” said Mrs Brown, patting his arm. Paddington had decided to start at Dr Jafri’s house. He extended his ladder and propped it up against the wall, then filled the bucket with water from an outside tap and squirted soap into it. He intended to climb the ladder with the bucket and start cleaning from the top floor down. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/anna-wilson/paddington-2-the-story-of-the-movie-movie-tie-in/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.