Looking for Bear Page 4

  “You promised me Smarties,” Cassie hissed at Ben as soon as Dad had finished reading to them and gone downstairs. “Dad wouldn’t let me have any cake because I said I felt sick!”

  “I know.” Ben reached down the side of his bed and pulled the box out. “Here. You were brilliant. I needed to put more sausage rolls out for the bear. We should watch to see if he comes back.”

  “Comes back?” Ben could hear the sudden excitement in Cassie’s voice. “You saw him too? Is that why you came running in like that?”

  Ben shivered a little. Talking about bears in the half-dark of their room made him wonder if the garden was full of them already. “I think so. He was in the greenhouse. I saw his eyes. And his fur. He was a sort of golden-reddish colour.”

  “I told you! I told you!” Cassie squeaked. “You should have believed me.”

  “Mmm. Anyway, maybe you should save the Smarties. I think we’ll need them for energy rations. To help us stay awake.”

  Cassie sighed. “I suppose so. But you have to give me all the orange ones.” He heard her throw her duvet back, and she jumped out of bed and hurried to the window. “I can’t see anything.”

  “That’s why I’m going outside. To stake out the shed,” Ben said, getting out of bed and putting his torch on so he could see where he’d left his fleecy jumper. “Coming?”

  He flashed the torch at Cassie, and saw that she was gaping at him. He never did brave things like this. Ben knew it wasn’t like him. But he was still going – he had to. He had to see the bear. Dave and Les had said that one day he would be famous – Les had even paid for one of his drawings. Ben had the Werther’s Original hidden under his pillow still. Famous artists were always doing mad things.

  Even so, Ben almost hoped that Dad would catch them, because then they wouldn’t have to go and sit in a dark, spidery shed. But he also knew this was their best chance to see the bear for real.

  Cassie grabbed her dressing gown, and after a moment’s thought, she stuffed a small china bear into one of the pockets. Then she nodded at Ben, as if to say she was now fully equipped.

  “Come on, then,” Ben whispered, opening the bedroom and peering round it spy-fashion. Dad’s door was closed. Good. The stairs were a bit creaky, but it was a noisy sort of house anyway – the pipes moaned, and there were odd pinging sounds from the radiators. They ought to be all right.

  “I can’t see where I’m putting my feet!” Cassie whispered, halfway down.

  “Just feel!” Ben hissed back. “Or sit down and go on your bottom!”

  The kitchen was eerie in the dark. The oven timer glowed, and Ben swallowed nervously as he crept over to the back door. He peered out through the window as he felt around for his wellies. The shed was down at the end of the garden, close to the trees, and it suddenly seemed a very long way away. He felt a small, chilly hand sneak into his as he turned the key and stepped out.

  “What if the bear’s in the garden already?” Cassie said worriedly. “We should have brought some food for it. It might eat us!”

  That was exactly what Ben had been thinking, but he sniffed, “Of course it won’t!” and having to be older-brotherly and brave gave him the confidence to march down the garden to the shed.

  Ben knew he’d seen a couple of tatty garden chairs in the shed earlier on, and he hauled them out of the pile of stuff, setting them up just inside the door. Then they could sit with the door open a bit, and if the bear came close they could just shut it quickly. It couldn’t be a really enormous bear or it wouldn’t be able to get through the missing pane of glass in the greenhouse. So Ben was almost sure it wouldn’t be big enough to pull the shed door open. Not if he and Cassie were both holding on to it.

  They settled themselves in the chairs, peering round the door. The moon was out, and they could see the greenhouse quite clearly. Although with the moonlight reflecting off the glass they couldn’t see inside properly – just the odd shadow of a leaf here and there.

  “When will he come?” Cassie whispered.

  “I don’t know!” Ben sighed. He was beginning to wish he hadn’t brought her. “Wait! Look! What’s that?”

  Cassie grabbed his arm as something shadowy lumbered down the garden. Ben could hear its heavy, thudding footsteps, and his own heartbeat seemed just as loud.

  “Is it the bear?” Cassie whispered. “It doesn’t look very furry…”

  “I don’t know…” The dark shape was so tall. It would definitely need to eat more than just a few sausage rolls. Ben reached out for the shed door, ready to slam it if the bear looked hungry.

  “What are you two doing?” The lumbering shape was in front of the shed door now – it was Dad, in his dressing gown, and he looked very cross. “I thought you were in bed! I thought it was burglars trying to steal the lawnmower!”

  Ben shone his torch at the lawnmower, which was very old, and had bits falling off it. “I don’t think anyone would want our lawnmower, Dad,” he said, his voice shaky with relief.

  “Why aren’t you in bed?” Dad snapped.

  Ben considered trying to explain about the bear in the greenhouse, but Dad was already cross. It didn’t seem like a good idea.

  “We’re looking for a bear,” Cassie said brightly, and Ben groaned. He really shouldn’t have brought her.

  “My best bear. I left him in the shed, and I wanted him, and Ben said he’d help me find him.” She held up the china bear from her pocket. “We found him, look!”

  Dad sighed. “Next time, Cassie, love, ask me. Don’t go out in the garden in the middle of the night.”

  “Want to play, Ben?”

  Ben looked up cautiously from his sketchpad. He knew it was James standing there, with Kurt behind him, and all the other boys lined up behind them.

  Somehow, even though James was smiling at him and his voice sounded friendly, Ben knew that it wasn’t real. They were setting him up. They wanted him to jump up excitedly, and then they’d all laugh and tell him he couldn’t play.

  He folded his pad back over and rested both hands on it, gazing calmly up at James. Who cared about football? Famous artists with pet bears certainly didn’t. Dave and Les were right. He should be proud of what he could do, instead of worrying about what he couldn’t.

  Ben rubbed the ball of his thumb over the cover of his sketchbook. He couldn’t see the bear he’d been drawing, but he knew it was there. It wasn’t done – it was only a pencil sketch, and he wasn’t quite sure what colours he was going to use to finish it. When he’d seen the bear hurrying away from the greenhouse it had been shadowy under the trees, and he couldn’t really be sure what colour it had been. Except that it hadn’t been brown as he’d expected. More golden, or even red. He’d drawn it sitting among the pumpkin leaves, just parts of it showing, here and there. He might give it red paws and a red muzzle, to stand out against the green leaves.

  “Do you want to play?” James snapped, sounding quite a lot less friendly. Clearly he’d expected Ben to leap at the chance. His big show-off moment wasn’t going the way he’d thought it would.

  Ben smiled at him. “No.”

  James looked comically surprised. His mouth almost fell open. “What?” he demanded. “Why not?”

  “I’m not bothered about football.” Ben shrugged. “I’m busy.”

  James recovered himself. “Busy doing what?” he demanded scornfully. “Drawing some stupid picture?” He turned round to look at the others. “Ahhh, Ben’s colouring!”

  Obediently, they sniggered. But they were looking bored, and Kurt was tapping the ball back and forth between his feet.

  Sam darted a guilty, unhappy look at Ben, as though he was sorry. “Come on, James. We want to get on with the game. Break’s going to be finished soon.”

  “We wouldn’t let you join in anyway,” James told Ben crossly. “You’re useless. Isn’t he?” he snarled, turning back
to the others. But somehow his glory had worn off a little, and they only shrugged and muttered, which made James even crosser. He leaned closer to Ben. “I’d rather have your little sister play than you,” he spat. “At least she could probably kick the ball the right way.”

  Ben pressed his fingers harder on to the sketchbook and thought about the bear lurking inside. And about how brave he’d been the night before, looking for it out in the dark. He smiled wider at James, showing his teeth like a bear. “Yeah, but I don’t think my little sister would want to play with you,” he said, shaking his head. “She thinks you’re a bit useless.”

  James gaped at him in a fishy sort of way, and the other boys grinned – at Ben – and wandered off to start their game, leaving James to follow after them, shouting orders. They didn’t seem to be listening to him all that much.

  Ben let out a shaky breath and opened his sketchbook again, looking down at his bear. “Thanks,” he whispered.

  He didn’t want to finish the sketch in the playground – it was too important. He’d wait till he was home. Maybe even until he’d seen the bear again. He’d nipped out to the greenhouse this morning before breakfast, and the sausage rolls had been gone, but there had been no sign of the bear. Ben hadn’t searched under the leaves – they were the bear’s bed, and it seemed too rude. Instead, he’d left a small pile of honey-roasted peanuts, and an egg. It was an odd breakfast, but he hadn’t had a lot of time to look in the cupboards – only a few minutes while Dad was shaving.

  Ben turned over another page in his sketchbook and looked thoughtfully at the boys kicking the ball around on the other side of the playground. Then he started to draw, smiling and humming to himself a little. Bears were much cooler than football – but he’d never thought of putting the two together…

  Ben sketched in a football pitch, with goals, and two teams of chunky-looking bears. Then he laughed and added the final bear – the one who actually had the ball, which was stuck on his claws, and completely flat. The bear looked a bit confused and Ben quickly changed all the rest of his team too, so that they were rolling their eyes at him.

  “That’s really funny!”

  Ben looked up in surprise. He’d been enjoying himself so much, he hadn’t realized he’d got an audience.

  Joe, one of the boys from his class who’d been in the football game, was sitting near him on the wall.

  “I thought you were playing with James and Kurt and that lot,” Ben said, looking vaguely across the playground.

  “Gave up. James is having some stupid argument with Sam. And it’s his ball. Got bored waiting. You should do a football comic. You’re really good.”

  “I don’t know that much about football,” Ben said, shrugging.

  “Mmmm. Maybe.” Joe looked embarrassed. “You shouldn’t listen to James, you know. He’s a pain.”

  Ben stared at him. “But…”

  Joe sighed. “I know. He’s good at bossing everyone around. And no one wants to get on the wrong side of him.” He looked hopefully, shyly at Ben. “Could you do a picture of me? Please? I’ll sit still.”

  Ben nodded. “OK. It might not be any good… Oh – James is yelling at you. I think they’re starting again.” He waited for Joe to leap up, but he didn’t – he moved closer to Ben and looked at him eagerly.

  “Doesn’t matter. I can play football any time.”

  Ben tore the Sellotape off with his teeth, and carefully stuck the page to the glass. He was putting it in the corner, behind some of the leaves, so that Dad wouldn’t notice. The bear might not notice either, but Ben loved thinking that he might see his artwork. Everyone else had liked it. Joe had told lots of the others in his class, and people kept coming and asking Ben if they could see it. He’d talked to more people that day than he had in weeks. And loads of people had asked him to draw their portraits. He was going to be busy every lunch time.

  He smoothed the paper admiringly and let himself out of the greenhouse with a last, hopeful look at the pumpkin plants, watching for a glint of reddish fur. Then he hurried back into the house – the new staircase up to the loft was in place, and Dave and Les had promised that he could have his first proper look at his new room today.

  Until now they’d been getting up to it with the scaffolding and with ladders, and Ben had only been able to peer up through the ceiling. But now he would actually be able to walk up on his very own stairs. Ben loved stairs. He was intending to use them as a bookcase as well. And Dad said he could have hooks all up the wall for hanging his drawings. Feeling excited, he flung himself up the stairs to the first floor, and practically ran into Dave and Les and Dad, who were standing at the bottom of the new staircase, eyeing the banisters thoughtfully and talking about paint.

  Dave grinned at him. “Aha. Come to see it, have you? It’ll look strange, though – the walls still need plastering. Just don’t be disappointed.”

  Ben shook his head. “I won’t.” He sniffed happily – the stairs smelled of wood, a fresh, spicy sort of smell. And he loved the way they curled round, leading up into his room. He couldn’t believe this was all his. “Are you sure, Dad?” he asked suddenly. “You’re sure I can have this room? You don’t want it?”

  Dad shook his head. “Nope. I’d keep worrying I was going to walk into the roof.”

  Ben nodded. Dad had explained that the loft room would have sloping ceilings to fit into the roof space. It was tall enough to stand up in the middle, but sloped down at the sides. But then Dad was over six foot – it didn’t worry Ben.

  “Go on then!” Dad said, giving him a gentle push.

  Ben walked slowly up the stairs, finding it hard to believe that they hadn’t been there this morning when he’d left for school. They creaked gently underneath him, and he peered hopefully up towards his room.

  Parts of the walls and ceiling were still covered in silvery stuff, which Dad had told him was to keep the heat in. The proper walls and the paint would go over the top. But he could see what the room would be like in the end.

  “It’s huge,” Ben whispered.

  “Do you like it?” Dad asked anxiously, coming up the stairs behind him.

  “It’s brilliant. I can’t believe how big it is.”

  “I’ll show you the best bit,” Les said. He crouched down at the side of the room, where it was lowest. “You’ve got a secret compartment. There’s a little door here, do you see? Leads into the roof space. Put a chair in front of that, and you’ve got a cupboard nobody knows about.”

  Ben nodded. “Or my bean bag… It’s like the secret compartment in your toolbox.”

  Les blinked. “How did you know about that?”

  Ben looked apologetic. “Cassie saw it. She said there’s an extra little bit inside that you never open. She thinks it’s got emeralds and diamonds in it.”

  Les sucked his teeth and eyed Ben thoughtfully. “Want to see what’s really in it?”

  Ben’s eyes widened. “Yes! Please, I mean.”

  Les chuckled. “You might not think it’s that exciting. Better let Cassie go on believing it’s treasure.” He flipped a catch and opened the little box up, pulling out a paper bag, which he offered to Ben. It was full of round, dark reddish things. Ben looked at them, trying to work out what they were. Not any sort of treasure, he was pretty sure. He sniffed, and the strong, sweet smell reminded him of Grandpa, who lived on the other side of town.

  “Aniseed balls!” he said, giggling. “You’ve got aniseed balls hidden in your toolbox?”

  “I love aniseed balls. They make very good treasure, and I have to keep them hidden; Dave would nick them all otherwise.” Les grinned at him. “Right. I need to go and get started on filling in the soakaway – your bear trap, I mean.”

  “Filling it in?” Ben frowned. “Why?”

  “Ah, well, we’ve decided your bears are friendly. We don’t want to catch them. And…” Les paus
ed, and looked at Ben sideways. “We’re finishing off now. Bit more plastering, and the painting. We should have filled the bear trap in ages ago, to be honest, but then the new materials for up here arrived, and we wanted to get on…”

  Ben stared at him. “So – so you’ll be going? You’re going soon?”

  Les looked around the room thoughtfully. “Another week? Maybe week and a half?”

  Ben gulped. Of course they had to go sometime. He’d known that they would. And he wanted his new room to be finished. But he hadn’t thought it would be quite so soon. He hadn’t realized quite how much he would miss them, either. No one else believed he was going to be a famous artist. No one else had wanted to buy one of his drawings. It was going to be a lot harder to be brave without Dave and Les.

  “They’re going?” Cassie wailed. “They can’t! I need them!”

  Ben nodded, gulping. “So do I.”

  Cassie stood up from in front of the game of bear school she’d been playing and folded her arms stubbornly. “I’m going to make them stay.”

  Ben shook his head miserably. “You can’t, Cass. They’re builders. They have to go when they’ve finished the work. They – they’ll go to someone else’s house.”

  Cassie stared at him, round-eyed. “And talk to other children instead?”

  “I suppose so.” Ben shrugged. “Or there might not be children at all.”

  Cassie scowled. “What a waste.” It was one of Dad’s favourite comments, usually about leftover cereal.

  “Where are you going?” Ben asked as she stalked to the bedroom door. She was walking funny, lifting her feet up and stepping on tiptoes. It was her secretive walk, the one she did for being a spy, or a detective.