January 2011
Teddy Edward winked at Maisie. Mind you, when a teddy bear only has one eye, there's not a lot else he can do; but, nevertheless, Maisie just knew he had winked at her.
Of course Teddy Edward was not born with only one eye; when he was lovingly created in Edison's Mill Soft Toys Factory in Radcliffe, he had been fitted with the standard two deep chocolate brown eyes, warm and inviting and contrasting beautifully with his soft, lush sandy coloured fur. His nose had been carefully hand sewn in shiny black thread, as was his mouth which was fixed forever in a happy, playful smile. He stood two feet high, but his legs were wobbly so he much preferred to sit down; his jointed legs allowing him to sit proud and erect, while his jointed arms were perfect for offering a special hug.
Teddy Edward was born prematurely on September the 3rd 1952; he was actually due on December 25th.
A month earlier, Arthur Bramley had taken his wife Eileen to London for a special birthday treat. In the evening they had seats booked for the Apollo Theatre, where a play called The Mousetrap was celebrating its first anniversary; this was her first ever trip to the theatre. Of course, they had arrived at Liverpool Street plenty with plenty of time for her to browse the West End shops first, and she felt like a schoolgirl again, brimming over with excitement at the ostentatious post-war opulence displayed behind the glass.
In Regent Street, she stood transfixed before Hamley's, where, in the centre of its vast window sat the most gorgeous teddy bear - surrounded by a host of other toys, the like of which she had never seen - but her gaze kept returning to the teddy. 'Arthur,' she pleaded, squeezing his hand through his leather gloves, 'we simply have to have that bear!'
Her husband, who had already seen the price tag, winced, 'Darling, have you seen how much it costs?' But he knew that the cause was lost right from the start; Eileen was always prudent and thrifty and as a rule asked for very little, but, when she set her heart on something, she was always absolutely unshakeable.
Her elfin face turned up to his and she said, earnestly, 'Arthur, it would make the most perfect present for Constance at Christmas; she would simply adore him.' He sighed; how could he possibly refuse the two most important ladies in his life?
As Arthur carefully wrote out the outlandish cheque in his precise, copper plate hand, he heard the sales assistant giggle. Looking up, he saw Eileen cuddling the bear to her like a newborn; it looked so natural, her face was ecstatic as she crooned to the wretched animal, telling him all about Constance and patiently explaining the intricacies of Christmas. By the time he was signing the cheque off with a flourish, he was grinning himself; the damned bear was actually smiling at him.
Now, not many Teddy bears ever get to see a West End play; Eileen had struggled along the row of awkwardly standing people, apologising profusely when the huge Hamley's carrier bag bounced against their knees as she passed, until, finally, she reached her seat. She was surprised at how little space there was; there was no leg room in front of her seat to accommodate the bag, so she was forced to remove the bear and sit him on her lap throughout the performance. Teddy Edward was fascinated by the theatre with its chandeliers and its ornate gilded mouldings, but most of all he enjoyed the whispered confidences as Eileen explained the plot to him in loving detail as it unfolded.
Back home, Teddy Edward was carefully hidden at the back of Eileen's huge oak wardrobe, concealed from prying eyes by the bulk of her long winter coat. And there he sat in claustrophobic isolation for three long weeks until the day when Constance's cousins Michael and Joyce came for the day, and a game of hide and seek was suggested. At first, Constance considered the cavernous depths beneath her parents' bed, but, never quite sure whether the bogeyman really existed or not, she settled instead for her mother's wardrobe. Pulling the door silently closed in front of her, she backed through the curtain of dresses, savouring the hint of her mother's perfume that lingered in the still, dry air. She tried to wedge herself into the furthest corner, but couldn't sit down for the huge carrier bag that was in her way. As she eased it forwards, her hand slipped inside and snuggled into thick, warm fur. She let out a startled squeak and investigated further, and, as the bag moved and the furry lump within rolled forwards with a deep, rumbling growl, the shape of the bear became unmistakable.
She exploded out of the wardrobe clutching Teddy Edward to her as she flew down the stairs shouting out, 'Mummy! . . . Mummy! . . . He's been!'
Eileen groaned as Constance burst into the room, but the pure joy on her daughter's face was irresistible and she found herself fabricating the tale of how they had met Father Christmas in Oxford Street . . . and how she had been so good all year . . . and, yes, of course she could have him now!
Constance squealed with delight - the game of hide and seek completely forgotten as she hunted down her cousins to show off her magnificent premature present.
And so it was that, forever afterwards, Teddy Edward's birthday fell on September 3rd. From that moment on he rarely left his mistress;s side; he cuddled her to sleep; he had a place set beside her at the dinner table, although her mother drew the line at actual food being put in his bowl, so Constance had to pretend instead. She reluctantly left him behind when she went to school, but always hurried home to where he sat proudly against her pillow, bravely keeping the bogeyman away from beneath her bed.
Every day Teddy Edward sat on her lap, listening to fascinating stories of the exploits of Janet and John and their dog, Spot. The bear could not have been happier and the two were inseparable.
Many years later, in a tiny room in Oxford halls, he sat intently beside her keyboard and struggled with her to absorb the intricacies of Applied Mathematics. However, whenever Robert came to visit, he was always turned discretely to face the wall, even if he had not been naughty at all! But it was there, in that small room, that the dreadful thing happened. While she was clearing her things at the end of term, Teddy Edward rolled off behind the bed and onto the floor. Constance was running late, as usual, so she thrust her arm down the narrow gap, grabbed at a furry arm and tugged . . . there was a brief moment of resistance, then the bear flew out of the gap. It hung before her, its single eye focussed in disbelief; she stared back in abject horror.
The bed was dragged out from the wall and the lifeless eye was plucked from the detritus clinging to the rough cast iron leg of the ancient bed-frame. She cuddled the poor bear to her, crooning her remorse, but there was no time to attempt a repair and she was forced to cram the bear and his eye into a carrier bag for the long trip home.
Her mother was an expert seamstress, but, after a couple of abortive attempts, even she was forced to admit that the fabric was just too damaged to hold the eye and there was no option other than to stitch the socket permanently closed.
Of course, the blemish did nothing to reduce Constance's love for the bear; on the contrary, she never forgave herself for her carelessness and loved him all the more for his scar.
Her son, William, however, was not so forgiving: he called the bear, 'Cyclops' and never had any interest in playing with him; he much preferred his action figures, his soldiers and his six-guns.
Teddy Edward bore no grudge; and, over the years, from his special place in front of her pillow, he steadfastly protected Constance's room from danger - the bogeyman never gained access while ever he was on guard. When William first brought Maisie to visit, it had been love at first sight. The toddler had buried her face in the soft warm fur and giggled and that had been that. Teddy Edward was the only bear that was allowed to cuddle her to sleep whenever she stayed over at Nanna Conny's house. There had been a few tears on that first morning, when Maisie hadn't understood why she couldn't take the bear home with her, but Nanna Conny had sat her on her lap and patiently explained how much she loved Teddy Edward and how she couldn't bear to ever be parted from him, but that Maisie could play with him whenever she was here.
And now, Maisie found herself in this big cold room, where Mummy and Daddy and all of the other grown-ups were so sad; Nanna Conny was nowhere in sight, but Maisie knew she couldn't be far away, because Teddy Edward was sitting there alone on that great big box; but, even surrounded by all those pretty white flowers, his usually infectious smile had lost its sparkle - he looked lonely and sad and . . . he had definitely winked at her.
Maisie knew exactly what she had to. As she trotted down the aisle, she ignored the gasps from the congregation; she focussed on the look of desperate longing on the face of the poor bear. She pulled him down and he fell into her arms, snuggling in close.
As she toddled back to her seat, she decided that she would just have to look after Teddy Edward until Nanna Conny got back.