Free Sebastian by Alan Field Page A

finally Grandpa. Mr Plumstead explained what had happened and introduced Annette.
    â€œHow kind and thoughtful,” said Amanda’s Mummy, “bringing him back after you’d bought him. He really belongs to you now.”
    â€œOh, no,” said Annette bravely. “I want him to come back to his real home.”
    Amanda hugged Annette and me together. “I know,” she said. “Let’s say Sebastian comes to stay with you for his holidays every year.”
    Annette clapped her hands and said what a lovely idea, and Amanda’s Mummy invited her to stay for tea.
    They had hot scones, toasted tea cakes, blackcurrant jam, and jelly and trifle. I began to wish stuffed bears did eat after all. I had the place of honour, of course, at the head of the table and Mr Plumstead sat at the other end.
    â€œWhat has Sebastian been up to all this time?” asked Amanda. “I put a lamp in the window every night like they did in the story about the lost sailor, but it didn’t do any good.”
    â€œPapa and I toured all the streets in the squad car after Sebastian had been stolen,” said Géraldine, “but we never saw him. And then about fifteen days later,” she said, turning to Annette, “I was with Maman at the theatre and there was Sebastian on the stage with a conjurer. But somehow he magicked him away and that was the last I saw of him.”
    â€œWe found him in this awful shop,” said Annette, “looking very sad with cobwebs round him. He must have been there for years.”
    â€œWell, about a month really,” said Amanda. “What was he doing though before he went to the theatre? And who sewed those funny gilt buttons on his jersey?”
    They went on chattering till it was dark and Mr Plumstead said they would have to go. Annette hugged me again and waved goodbye and Mr Plumstead asked them all to tea the next weekend.
    Amanda had to go to bed early because her Mummy said she had had an exciting day.
    â€œDon’t ever be a travelling bear again,” she said, tapping me on the nose. “Now I expect you’ve all got lots to talk about.” And she took me upstairs.
    Diddy and Toots were waiting for me, sitting on top of the cupboard, with a poster pinned to the wall.
    WELCOME HOME SEBASTIAN
    And there was my portrait, all in beautiful splodgy colours, in a white frame, and signed by Gaston Delaunay.
    â€œThree cheers for Sebastian,” said Toots. All the animals cheered, including a stuffed parrot I’d never seen before.
    â€œA present from Auntie May,” said Diddy. “Well, we’re all ready for you to tell us your tale.”
    â€œYes,” said Toots, looking all comfortable on a blue cushion. “Did you go to the North Pole? Or meet any dragons?”
    â€œWell, I was fed to a computer,” I said, “then frozen nearly to death, then cooked like a pudding, then turned into a dreaded Yeti, then taken to Russia, then brought back again, then sawn in half...”
    Diddy’s eyes were getting bigger and bigger. I went on telling the story till it chimed midnight.
    â€œYou ought to put it all in a Book,” said Toots.
    â€œI tried to write a book once,” said Diddy, “but I just didn’t know where to begin.”
    â€œThen you would be called Sebastian the Great, or something, and Go Down in History,” said Toots.
    What an idea, a bear writing a book! Well, plenty of people had written books about bears, so why not a book by a bear, about a bear, for bears? They were always having stories read to them at bedtime. And I hadn’t really much to do now that I was a sitting bear again instead of a travelling one.
    I was nodding off, feeling all contented to be back in Amanda’s room, when I noticed a new travel poster she had pinned up.
    COME TO SUNNY SAN SEBASTIAN
    it said. Fancy that! Naming a place after me.
    SEE THE DAZZLING SPECTACLE OF THE BULLFIGHT. LISTEN TO THE