Free Paddington Races Ahead by Michael Bond

splendid time you’ve had.”
    As she was ushering Paddington towards the front door the banging stopped and whoever was outside pushed open the letter box flap.
    Anxious to be of help, Paddington made a dash for the door and held the flap open with one paw while he peered through the gap.
    “Bear!” bellowed a familiar voice. “I might have known! What are you up to in there?”

    In a state of shock, Paddington let go of the flap and as it sprang back into place there was a cry of a pain from outside.
    “Oh dear,” said Miss Brimstone. She slid back the door bolt. “Was that a friend of yours?”
    “Not really,” said Paddington. “It’s Mr Curry. Mrs Bird says he’s always sticking his nose into things that don’t concern him.”
    “It sounds as though he’s done it once too often,” said Miss Brimstone. “And I haven’t even unpacked my first aid box yet.”
    “Are you practising for the Games, Mr Curry?” asked Paddington hopefully, as he went outside and found the Browns’ neighbour dancing up and down on the pavement.
    “No I am not, bear!” barked the Browns’ neighbour, rubbing his nose. “You know very well what happened.”
    “I’m sorry, Mr Curry,” said Paddington. “I didn’t realise it was your nose. I thought it was someone trying to deliver a parcel…”
    “Are you trying to tell me you mistook my nose for a parcel?” bellowed Mr Curry. “Just you wait until I get back home. I shall report you for this.”
    “Oh dear,” said Miss Brimstone. “Have a nice day!” With that, she handed Paddington the card she had been carrying and hastily shut the door, ramming the bolt home for good measure.
    “What have you got there, bear?” demanded Mr Curry.
    “It’s a prize,” said Paddington. “Were you going to take one of the courses?”
    “Take one of the courses?” repeated Mr Curry. He pointed to a board on the wall. “Have you seen the prices? It’s disgraceful. I was about to complain.
    “Er… what sort of prize did you win?” he asked casually.
    A gleam came into Mr Curry’s eyes when Paddington told him. “If you let me have that card, bear,” he said, “I promise we’ll hear no more about your deliberate attack on my proboscis. Keep it for yourself, and who knows what might happen?
    “And no telling anyone else,” he warned. “Otherwise it will be the worse for you.”
    With that, he put the card into his wallet and went on his way in high good humour.
    Paddington kept to his side of the bargain and didn’t mention what had happened to anyone, but Mr Curry couldn’t wait to tell everyone else he met about his windfall, without mentioning how it had come about, of course.
    The news spread like wildfire, and many a curtain twitched in Windsor Gardens a few days later when he set off early in the morning for Miss Brimstone’s gymnasium.
    They twitched again when he staggered back home later that day, cutting a sorry figure in his bedraggled shorts and sweat- stained shirt. For some reason he kept shaking his fist towards number thirty-two Windsor Gardens, but wisely Mrs Brown pretended there was no one at home.

    It was Mrs Bird who eventually discovered the truth. “I thought it was unlike Mr Curry to splash out on a course like that,” she said. “It seems he had a free pass, but it turned out to be in someone else’s name so he wasn’t able to use it.”
    “I wonder how he came by it in the first place?” said Mrs Brown.
    “I wonder,” said Mrs Bird. “But I haven’t seen Paddington doing his press-ups on the lawn for several days. I think he’s keeping a low profile.”
    It was left for Mr Gruber to sum things up.
    “I do like stories with a happy ending, Mr Brown,” he said, when Paddington had finished telling him the truth of the matter.
    “That dreadful Mr Curry won’t be bullying you again for a long time. Miss Brimstone has got her business off to a flying start, and here we are again, enjoying our elevenses in