It was going to be one of those long hot sunny weekends. Martin scuffed his feet against the fence and wondered what to do with the whole Saturday. Dad had gone away on a business weekend: Mum was trying to catch up on a load of housework, and Martin’s little sister Gemma was playing with her dolls house.

Martin had rung his friend Mike to ask if he could hang out with him and his mates for the day. Mike, Adam and Phil were all going up to the canal to go fishing, since Adam had got a new fishing rod for his birthday. Martin asked if he could go along - but Mike said no. Martin wasn’t welcome because he didn’t have a fishing rod of his own.

So Martin had nothing to do. The whole day stretched on front of him. If only Dad were here, they could go fishing together. Dad had a whole set of fishing tackle.

The more Martin thought about that, the more tempted he was. He could borrow one of Dad’s fishing rods. He’d put it back in the evening, and Dad need never know. Mum wouldn’t notice, she was far too busy.

Martin looked at all Dad’s gear in the back of the garage. There were three or four rods, a tackle box, a little tent to sit in if it rained, two folding stools, and all sorts of things. Most tempting of all was Dad’s new rod. It was sleek and streamlined, and powerful rod for a Serious Fisherman.

Marting had no trouble finding Mike, Adam and Phil. They were very impressed with the rod - Martin told them that Dad often let him borrow it.

It was halfway through the afternoon that disaster struck. Adam and Phil were larking about with the maggots and worms they were using as bait. Phil pushed Adam, who shoved into Mike, who lost his balance. Mike tripped and knocked the rods. He made a grab and caught two of them. Phil’s rod floated gently into the canal. But Martin’s rod - Martin’s Dad’s rod - fell into the water, caught on a stone, and with a resounding crack broke and bent in two.

An awed hush fell on the four boys. Martin felt as if time was standing still. He stared at the broken rod, which jutted out of the water like a bent umbrella. His mind spun with the reality of what had happened. How would he tell Dad? What would he say? Would Dad go ballistic? Would Martin have to pay back all the cost of the fine rod - it would take years? Did he have to tell Mum?

The fishing expedition was suddenly over. The boys picked up their gear, mumbled their goodbyes, and wandered off. Leaving Martin staring at his Dad’s broken rod. He pulled it gingerly from the water and wondered how bad the damage was. He ambled home, as slowly as he could, taking the long way round.

When Martin got home, Mum was still busy. He hid the rod at the back of the garage with the others. At least he didn’t have to tell Mum as well. It even occurred to him not to tell Dad. Maybe he’d think a cat or a dog had got into the garage.

Martin was quiet all evening. Mum kept asking whether he was ok. Gemma even leaned over and kissed him ‘goodnight’ when she was being sent to bed. He must have looked bad!

Martind didn’t sleep much. Every time he settled down, the awful picture of the broken rod sticking out of the canal floated into his mind. He couldn’t face breakfast, and told Mum he’d be out for lunch.

It was the longest day he’d ever lived through. He checked his watch at least every five minutes, waiting for Dad to come home. He’d made up his mind to be brave and face Dad with the truth of what he’d done.

As it turned out, the reality of telling Dad about the rod wasn’t nearly so bad. Aftyer lying awake all night, then not eating, and waiting all day for Dad to come home, Martin was just glad to get it over with.

Dad was pretty cross. But he didn’t rant and rave. He realised that Martin knew that what he’d done was wrong. He also recognised that Martin had had a horrid time waiting for him to come home. He reckoned that was probably punishment enough. He was sure that Martin was very, very sorry. So he settled for giving him a telling off and docking next week’s pocket money towards the repair of the fishing rod.

On Monday afternoon, Martin was late getting home from school. He’d had a lousy day, because of still being so tired after the weekend. After school, Adam, Mike and Phil had stopped him and asked how his Dad had reacted about the rod. So Martin was already tired and grumpy when he came home.

He ran upstairs and threw himself down on the bed. He could hear the radio somewhere downstairs, where Mum was listening. He could hear Gemma playing with her toys in her room. Martin gazed around his room: something wasn’t quite right, only he couldn’t define what. His eye roved over the shelves - who had moved what?

And then he noticed. In amongst all his cars, football stuff, computer games and so on Martin still kept his old Teddy Bear, Huggles.And Huggles was missing. Someone had Taken Him!

Martin leapt off his his bed and puched the door open into Gemma’s room. She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by all her cuddly toys, having a Teddy Bears’ Picnic. And there, Guest of Honour at the feast, was Huggles. Martin snatched the bear up:

"How dare you!" he yelled "You took my Bear! You came into my room and went through my things! You have NO RIGHT! Huggles is MY bear!" And he stormed out, leaving Gemma in tears.

Martin thumped back down on the bed, and settled Huggles on the bedside table. He was still fuming inside at the outrage.

About half an hour later, there was a tap at the door. Martin didn’t answer.

"Martin? It’s me" said Dad’s voice, "I’m coming in". Dad walked in, took the chair from the desk and sat down. He didn’t say anything.

The time dragged on. Still Dad said nothing. Martin began to feel obliged to explain his temper.

"Gemma took my bear" he announced sulkily.

Dad said nothing.

"She didn’t even ask! She just came in and took him!" Martin protested.

Dad still said nothing.

"He’s my bear" said Martin, sounding less and less convinced. He thought about Dad’s fishing rods, broken in the canal. He thought about how patient and understanding Dad had been. He thought about the way Dad had forgiven him.

He tried to look at Dad, but couldn’t face him. He turned to Huggles, looking for support. But even Huggles seemed to look disapproving.

Martin sighed.

"I suppose I’d better say sorry to Gemma for yelling at her" he said in a small voice.

"You do that" said Dad

"You do that" said Huggles, in a Teddy voice that only Martin could hear.

Later that evening, the Teddy Bears’ Picnic was resumed. This time, there were two Guests of Honour - Huggles and Martin. The bears had pretend honey and marmalade sandwiches. The humans had real crisps and chocolate biscuits.

When nothing was left of either real or pretend picnic except crumbs, and the picnic song had been sung six times (or was it seven), Martin and Huggles got up to leave.

They paused at the door and smiled at Gemma.

"If you ever want to borrow Huggles again, you’re welcome"offered Martin, "Just help yourself."

Gemma smiled happily and nodded. And as Martin headed back to his room, Huggles looked up at him and said in a Teddy voice, which only Martin could hear:

"Grrrr I love you Martin, Grrrr".

Back to the front page

Back to the story archive

Worry is a heavy load, but a kind word cheers you up (Proverbs 12:25)

All Worry's stories are copyright by Rev K Smith (cos bears can't hold copyright) but permission is granted for use in a non-commercial setting.