Abigail was very excited. She couldn’t sit still. There seemed to be so much to do. Patrick and Preston spent most of the day typing things into the screen. And arguing. Or pushing each other out of the way and trying to type even more things into the screen. Abigail stayed out of the way when they did that. It all seemed a bit silly to her and she didn’t really understand why everything was taking so long.
Each day letters flew through the door, landing on the mat with a loud thud. Most were addressed to ‘P and P Polar But some were just to Patrick and some to Preston. Abigail never got any letters but she told herself she didn’t want any. They didn’t look very interesting. Every morning she collected them and put them on the table before she got her breakfast. There were lots of them now. Preston always put them in neat piles, with a clean stone from the garden balanced on top to keep them all together.
Every now and then, when she was bored, she moved them around and made nice paper patterns on the table. It seemed to really annoy both of the polars which made her giggle. Eating her breakfast, she kicked her paws against the chair and patted the latest pile.
‘Abigail why is there orange juice all over this letter!’ Patrick shook the piece of paper in the air and sticky yellow drops flew all over the kitchen. Wiping them off his face with a paw and he sighed.
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Abigail through a mouthful of toast. She reached out for the glass and Patrick jumped back nervously.
‘And you’ve got jam all over your paws. Looks like strawberry.’
Abigail licked them. ‘Raspberry. I don’t understand what you’re both doing, and what all these pieces of paper are for.’
‘There’s a lot to do, but we’re almost there. You’ve just got to be patient.’
Abigail snorted. She was a very patient bear she was sure of it. She just liked things to happen quickly. She wondered if there was any cake in the fridge. Climbing up onto a chair she opened the door and climbed in. It seemed a bit empty. But there was a bit of cheese on the top shelf.
‘Abigail please get out of the fridge,’ sighed Patrick opening one of the letters.
‘That’s got Preston’s name on it he won’t be happy,’ said Abigail peering down. It was a bit cold in the fridge, perhaps she’d better get out. Climbing down, she slammed the door shut loudly.
Patrick ignored her. ‘And then when the house is ours we need to think about what to do next.’
‘We won’t need to do anything,’ said Abigail, ‘we’ll be safe here. No one will see us.’
‘Yes but we need to find somewhere to hide when the people who live here move out. They’ll be back for a while.’
‘I’ll hide under the bed,’ said Abigail, drawing jam circles on the table with her paw.
Patrick laughed, ‘there won’t be a bed, it’s not ours. When the house is sold they will take everything in it away.’
Abigail stopped drawing, her paw in the air. ‘Away? But.. but.. where will I sleep?’ She thought of her cover and her marbles. And her Christmas tree. Everything? Her eyes started to fill with tears ‘And my…’
‘No they won’t take your things Abigail,’ said Patrick quickly, putting a paw on hers, ‘they’re yours, don’t worry. And we can buy our own things.’ Lifting up his paw he tried to wipe the jam off of it.
Abigail’s nose trembled, ‘but I like my bed. It’s soft and comfy.’
Rubbing his paws together Patrick nodded. ‘I know. But we’ll get you another one, you can even choose it.
Tears dripped down from Abigail’s eyes into her fur and she rubbed them away.
‘You can choose the colour of your room too,’ said Patrick quickly, ‘how would you like that?’
Abigail sniffed. She thought hard. And then thought some more. Rubbing at her eyes again she nodded. ‘I think I’d like that a lot.’ Clambering to her paws she padded down the hall and up the stairs. Pushing open the door to her room she sat down on the rug and looked around. Pink? Or maybe blue. With a silver ceiling. Definitely.
Finally the letters stopped. Patrick and Preston stared at the screen and then closed the lid.
That evening as they all sat around the kitchen table there seemed to be an air of excitement. Patrick and Preston had said they should all have dinner early. The polar bears both sat side by side at the top, a plate of fish sandwiches between them. Grigs was sitting on a chair, his whiskers twitching. Every now and then he bounced slightly. He looked a bit nervous and hadn’t eaten any of his pie. Abigail stirred a spoon around a bowl of tomato soup. Something was going on…
Patrick cleared his throat. ‘Well… we’ve got something to tell you,’ he glanced at Preston. ‘We found out today that… that….’ he cleared his throat again.
‘That what?!’ said Abigail, holding both her breath and her soup spoon in the air.
‘The house is ours!’ said Preston throwing his paws in the air. Jumping up he bounced into the air.
‘Nice bounce!’ said Grigs, waving his tail in the air. ‘You’ve got potential.’
Preston looked at his paws in surprise, he wasn’t usually a polar that bounced. ‘It’s our house! No more hiding from people, it’s our very own house!’ Stepping forward he tripped on the edge of a fish sandwich and fell over.
Dropping her spoon Abigail climbed up onto the table and ran towards them, paws outstretched. ‘You did it!’ Both polars shrank back towards the wall.
‘Look out,’ muttered Preston.
Pulling them forward and wrapping them both into a huge hug, Abigail leant forward and with a heave pulled Grigs up onto the table and into the hug. She squeezed as hard as she could.
The tiger wriggled. “‘Watch the whiskers!’ One of his paws landed in the soup bowl. ‘Whoops!’ Shaking it he covered them in red drops of tomato.
Giggling Abigail let go of them, raising her paws over her head and twirling around. Both Patrick and Polar were now sitting on the fish sandwiches. They didn’t seem to mind though and were both giggling. ‘It’s our very own house!’ shouted Abigail, ‘and I’m going to paint my room blue! With silver stripes!’
‘Lovely…’ said Patrick brightly, ‘we cant wait can we Preston?’
Abigail sat down on the table and wriggled her paws. She was a very happy bear…