Back in the town square the autumn evening is drawing in. The last of the light is fading from the sky like a television being switched off for the night, and a cold wind has blown up, rustling the leaves at Padlock’s feet and making the squirrels in the treetops shiver so hard the hazelnuts fall out of their pockets. But Padlock the bear is so sad that he doesn’t notice the cold, or the wind that riffles his fur, or the way the statues in the town square almost seem to be moving in the gathering gloom . . .
‘Shabba me whiskers,’ whispers one of the statues, a scruffy figure with a big red beard sitting astride a statue of a horse. ‘We been standin’ totally still like this for over a week, waitin’ for our chance. I’m completely sick of it an’ my nose is startin’ to itch.’
‘Patience, me old dressin’ gown,’ replies his horse, who looks surprisingly like a grubby old butcher. ‘Not much longer now.’
The statues wait there a while longer until the last passer-by has passed by. And then, when at last no one else is around –
‘NOW!’ yells the horse, and the statues spring to life, jumping down from their pedestal and running towards the startled bear at the speed of villains.
‘That’s for makin’ me pretend to be a statue all week, you useless mammal!’ snarls Mr Gum, kicking Padlock in the bottom with his hobnail boot.
‘Look at his stupid fur falling out all over the place,’ laughs Billy, tearing out a handful of the stuff with his unkind fists. ‘It’s funty!’
‘Yeah,’ agrees Mr Gum. ‘An’ jus’ you wait ’til we set ’im to dancin’, Billy! We’ll both be filthy stinkin’ rich, apart from you. You’ll jus’ be filthy an’ stinkin’.’
Chuckling nastily, the villains drag the weakened, terrified Padlock away to his new life of dancing around like a washing line. And by the time Polly returns to the square Padlock is nowhere to be found.
‘Oh, GURKLES!’ cursed Polly, rushing over to the bench and feeling about on it just in case Padlock was still there but had turned invisible, like bears sometimes do. But no – he had really gone.
‘What am I a-gonna do now?’ she sighed. ‘I done left Padlock all alone in the World of Men with no one to protect him an’ now he could be in all sorts of troubles. I let that big bear down pure an’ simple. I’m a disgracer to the name of nine-year-olds!’
The autumn wind sighed softly, scattering the leaves which lay fallen in deep drifts upon the ground. Scattering them to reveal –
‘Paw prints!’ cried Polly. ‘Padlock done made brilliant clues with his feet to help me track him down!’
Soon she was hot on the trail, following the muddy marks as they led her through the flower beds and out of the town square. Out of the town square and down the high street. Down the high street and on past Shakyhand McClumsy’s, the best barber shop in town. Past Shakyhand McClumsy’s and through the little backstreets. Through the backstreets and over the railway tracks. Over the railway tracks and . . . but there the trail ended. There was so much rubbish and muck on the ground that Polly couldn’t make out the paw prints in the fading light.
‘Which way now?’ she said in frustration. ‘It’s impossible to tell, that’s what!’
But just at that moment there came a voice and it was calling, calling, calling from the heavens above, it was calling, calling, calling from the heavens above, yeah, it was calling from the heavens above.
‘Look at me, Polly, look at me!’ called the voice, and Polly was flabbergasted to see a splendid red hot-air balloon sailing through the sky, with words FLAVOURS OF DISCOVERY painted on the side in letters of green and gold. And standing in the basket, fiddling with a yellow rope which had got tangled up in his chins, was none other than Jonathan Ripples, the fattest man in town.
‘Huzzoo!’ yelled he, ‘huzzoo, huzzay! I’m bored of the snacks we’ve got here in Lamonic Bibber – I’m off around the world to try out new ones! Who knows what wonderful delicacies I’ll discover?’ he laughed, his eyes shining and his stomach rumbling like a whopper. ‘But, Polly,’ he exclaimed as he noticed how unhappy she looked. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’
‘It’s Padlock,’ replied Polly. ‘I done lost him by accident.’
‘Well, maybe I can help,’ said Jonathan Ripples, scanning the streets spread out below him like a big moving map. ‘Yes, there’s your bear. He’s heading towards the docks. But be careful, Polly – he’s not alone!’
‘What do you mean?’ said Polly, but already her heart had guessed at the awful truth.
‘It’s Mr Gum and Billy William!’ yelled Jonathan Ripples as the balloon rose higher on the warm evening air. ‘They’re the ones who’ve got Padlock!’
‘So they’re behinds it, I might have known,’ trembled Polly. ‘Thank you, Mr Ripples, sir!’ she called after the disappearing balloon.
And with the smell of calamity whistling through her ribcage, Polly raced along the shabby winding lane that led down to the Lamonic Bibber docks.