Free Paddington Here and Now by Michael Bond

continued Mr. Brown, “according to this paper, the gates are about to open on a flood of boat people from Peru.
    “Our question is, WHEN WILL SOMETHING BE DONE ABOUT IT? THERE IS NO TIME TO BE LOST!”
    “Does it say who’s behind it?” asked Mrs. Brown.
    “Apparently the gang-master-in-chief is a woman,” said Mr. Brown. “Notorious for her dumplings, and wielding an iron bar, she so terrifies those around her that the subject of the interview is forced to hide his marmalade sandwiches under his hat.”
    The Browns looked at one another. Suddenly it was all starting to sound much closer to home than they had thought.
    “You don’t think…” began Mr. Brown.
    “Oh, dear, Henry,” said Mrs. Brown. “I’m very much afraid I do.”
    “He asked if he could borrow your pruning shears yesterday morning,” said Mrs. Bird.
    “He wanted to do some work in the front garden.”
    “Don’t tell me he was having a go at my roses?” exclaimed Mr. Brown, the full seriousness of the situation suddenly coming home to him.
    “I don’t like the sound of that last bit,” said Mrs. Bird. “If the powers that be get hold of the story, there’s no knowing what will happen. We can await the ring on the front doorbell.”
    The Browns exchanged anxious glances. In the beginning Paddington had just sort of happened, but over the years he had become so much a part of the family they couldn’t picture life without him. They had certainly never thought of him as being a refugee, still less the possibility of his being an illegal one.
    “I think they’ve starting doing something about things already,” said Jonathan. “I saw an ambulance outside Mr. Curry’s house soon after we got back. There was a terrible row going on. They were trying to tie him onto a stretcher.”
    “I suppose they might declare Paddington persona non grata,” said Mr. Brown.
    “That means an unwelcome person,” said Judy, for her brother’s benefit.
    “Thanks a heap!” said Jonathan. “Who got an A Star in his exams?”
    “Anyway,” said Judy. “He’s not a person. He’s a bear.”
    “ And he’s always welcome,” chimed in Mrs. Bird. “If anyone tries to take him away after all this time, they’ll have me to deal with.”
    “Who in the world would want to report him?” asked Judy.
    “I imagine Mr. Curry, for a start,” said Jonathan, “if Paddington had anything to do with what happened this morning. Perhaps we could hide him under the floorboards—like the French did with escaped prisoners during World War Two.”
    “I shall never go out and leave that bear alone again,” said Mrs. Bird.
    “I’m sure he meant well,” said Mrs. Brown.
    “They can’t,” said Judy. “Take him away, I mean.”
    “There’s no such word in the English language as ‘can’t,’” said Mrs. Bird grimly.
    “What shall we tell Paddington?” broke in Mr. Brown, lowering his voice.
    “For the time being,” said Mrs. Bird, “I suggest we don’t tell him anything. He’ll be most upset if he thinks the whole thing is his fault.”
    “He really will have trouble with his ‘er, ums’ then,” said Jonathan.
    “Careful,” hissed Judy, “I think he’s coming downstairs. I was wondering where he’d got to.”
    Sure enough, a moment later the door openedand a familiar face appeared around the gap.
    “Can anyone tell me what air miles are?” asked Paddington.
    “Well,” said Mr. Brown, after he had gone. “That was a conversation stopper if ever I heard one. I wonder what he’s up to now?”
    “I shudder to think,” said Mrs. Brown.
    “Time alone will tell,” said Mrs. Bird. “I daresay we shall know soon enough.”



Chapter Six
P ADDINGTON A IMS H IGH
    T HE FOLLOWING MORNING , blissfully unaware of the dark cloud that had settled over number 32 Windsor Gardens, Paddington set out soon after breakfast.
    Heading in the opposite direction from the one he normally took, he made his way uphill toward a shop he remembered seeing