Paddington: The Junior Novel by Jeanne Willis

Author:Jeanne Willis
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers

The next day, Paddington put one of Mrs. Bird’s best marmalade baguettes under his hat and set off with Henry to the Geographers’ Guild. He could hardly wait to find out the name of the explorer. Together, they hurried past the phone box at the corner of Windsor Gardens, without noticing that someone was lurking inside it.

Millicent raised her dart gun. She was just lining it up with the back of Paddington’s hat when Mr. Curry appeared and rapped on the window.

“Can I help you, son?” he said. “You’ve been in there for forty-seven minutes. Either that’s a very long call or you’re placing dodgy adverts in a public place.”

Millicent hid the gun in her bag, whipped off her cap, and smoothed down her short blond hair.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she purred.

Confronted by a beautiful woman instead of the hooligan he was expecting, Mr. Curry’s legs turned to jelly.

“Not a problem, young lady,” he stammered. “Apologies if I startled you, just doing my neighborly duty. We’ve had some very unsavory characters hanging around lately, not least a bear. Filthy creature, all marmalade and whiskers.”

The mere mention of marmalade made Millicent’s hackles rise.

“That bear is the reason I’m here,” she said, lowering her voice. “We may have something in common.”

“Really?” said Mr. Curry, unable to imagine what that could possibly be.

“You look like someone I could . . . trust,” cooed Millicent. “Can we talk in private?”

Wishing he’d swept his toenail clippings off the sofa, Mr. Curry let her into his flat.

“You have a beautiful home, Mr. Curry,” purred Millicent, casting her eye over the filthy furniture. “I can see how having a bear living next door might lower its value.”

Mr. Curry offered her a bowl of stale nuts and sat beside her on the sagging sofa. “I suppose I should be grateful it’s only one bear,” he said.

“Oh, it always starts with one,” said Millicent. “But before you know it, there’s a relative. Then a couple of friends who are ‘doing the garden’ but never leave. The whole street will be crawling with them. Drains clogged with fur, buns thrown at old ladies. Raucous all-night picnics . . .”

Mr. Curry turned pale.

“My god. But what can we do?”

She sidled up to him and murmured breathily, “I have connections. If I catch the bear, I can have it sent where it belongs, but I can’t do it alone. I need a strong, capable man to help me.”

Mr. Curry scratched his greasy comb-over.

“No one springs to mind.”

Millicent batted her eyelashes.

“I mean you, Mr. Curry. You could easily keep an eye on him . . . just for me?”

“Of course!” he said eagerly. “I can hear every word that goes on in that house. Sometimes I don’t even need to press a glass to the wall.”

“Well, you do that and as soon as he’s alone, we’ll pounce.”

She held out her hand.

“Partners?”

Mr. Curry gave it a limp, sweaty shake.

“Partners.”

He was putty in her hands.

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