At one thirty three in the afternoon, on the second Wednesday in May, something happened which was to change Robert Handle's life forever.  At the time, he did not realise that it would be a change for the better. 

Rob was lying on his bed, in his room, in the house he in which he had lived for forty-one years and two weeks, eating his way through a family-size bag of Maltesers (made for sharing), when his mother called up the stairs to say that his lunch was ready. 

''Yeah, okay.''  he shouted.

At first, he thought that the sound he heard, a tiny sigh, had come from one of the characters in the Australian daytime soap he was watching on the TV/DVD combi set in the corner of his bedroom.  So he ignored it.  The next sound he heard could not be ignored.

''Go on then!''

He looked at the television set.  The two characters on the screen were kissing, passionately, so the dialogue he had just heard did not seem to fit.  He thought perhaps it was someone in the street below, or in the garden next door.  He shrugged, and put his hand back into the bag, drawing out another Malteser.  He was putting it up to his mouth when the voice came again.  This time it sounded very annoyed.

''Disgraceful!''

He dropped the Malteser in shock, and looked around the room. 

''Get your fat bottom off this bed and get down those stairs to your mother!''

This time, there was no doubt.  He knew where the voice was coming from.  He looked at his teddy bear.

''Paddytum?''  Is that you?''  He felt foolish, addressing the stuffed toy.  He had spoken to it over the years, but never with the expectation of a reply.

''Right!  First of all, you can stop calling me that.  It was fair enough when you were three years old and had trouble with the name, but you have been capable of pronouncing it correctly for at least thirty-six years now. Kindly do so.''

Rob stared at the toy.  He rubbed his eyes.  He stared at it again.  It was motionless.  But the voice had emanated from it.  Of that,  he was certain.  He cleared his throat.

''Paddington...''

''Yes, that's correct.  It was my name, but as my coat is long gone, having been lost on a school trip when you were five, and my wellington boots thrown into the duck pond when you were seven, and goodness only knows what happened to my hat...''

Rob had been watching the toy throughout this diatribe.  Nothing had moved.  The bear was still sitting on the bed, not even facing him while it was apparently speaking.  I must be hallucinating, he thought.  He looked at the packet of Maltesers.  Maybe they were off.

''In any case, I have decided that I do not wish to be called Paddington.  My name is Ferdinand.''

Rob stood, and moved away from the bed.  This was seriously not right.  His bear could not be talking to him.

''How are you doing that?  I mean, you're a stuffed toy.  You don't have lungs, or vocal cords, or a tongue, and your mouth is just a line of stitching...''

''I do not require any of those things, Robert.  You are hearing my voice through the power of telepathy.''

''What?  In my head, you mean?  I knew it was a hallucination...''

''No it isn't.  My voice, and my thoughts, are real.  And it's about time you started listening to me.''

''This is mad.''  Rob sat on the bed again, and put his feet up.

''NO!''  It was a shout this time, and it made Rob jump.  The bear's next words were slow, deliberate, and firm.  ''Go downstairs and eat the lunch your poor, long-suffering mother has so kindly prepared for you.''

Rob got up, and obeyed, walking down to the kitchen on shaky legs.

His mother was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a cheese and tomato sandwich and sipping at a cup of tea, while reading a magazine.

''Hello Robbie,'' she said.  ''Did you have a good sleep?''  He didn't reply, and she looked up at him.  ''Are you all right, son?  You look a bit on the pale side.''

''I'm...   I'm ok, Ma.  Just feeling a bit...  under the weather.''

''Oh dear.  Well, have your sandwiches.  You're probably just hungry.''

''Yeah.'' he said, picking up the plate of sandwiches, as he always did,  and taking it back upstairs, as he always did.  His mother looked disappointed, as she always did.

Rob hesitated outside the bedroom.  He didn't want to go back in, in case Paddytum was still talking.  But maybe the voice was due to low blood sugar or something.   He had conveniently forgotten that he'd ploughed his way through half the bag of Maltesers and that his blood sugar was anything but low.

Tentatively, he opened the door, peeped in, then walked to the bed.  Just to be on the safe side, he picked Paddytum up by one ear, and dropped him on the floor.

''Charming!''

Rob jumped.

''Put me back.  And what are you doing back here?    You're  supposed to eat those downstairs.  This is a bedroom, not a dining room.''

Rob picked Paddytum up, this time by his arm, and placed him gently back on the bed, then turned towards the bedroom door again.

''Well, you might as well stay, just this once.  Your mother is right.  You do look pale.  I suppose this must have been a shock.  I should have taken a... gentler approach.  The thing is, Robert, I've been meaning to talk to you for ages.  Years, in fact.''

Rob put the plate of sandwiches on top of his chest of drawers, and went to sit down on the bed.

''Turn off the television, Robert.'' said Paddytum.  ''I can hardly hear myself think, over that racket.''   Rob obeyed, then perched on the edge of the bed, looking at his bear.

''This can't go on, Robert.  You're wasting your life.  It's time you heard a few home truths.''

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"Grab your belongings, girl, there's a unit already making for the field."

excerpt from The Fox Emblem   by FayDra