When The Zoo Comes To You

by Sarah Holman

Bernie was a little alarmed by the polar bear in his wardrobe.

"I don't think you're supposed to be in there," he said. The polar bear wriggled down, pulling clothes off their hangers. A roller skate spun out across the carpet. He lifted his plate-sized paw and took a bite out of an apple.

"And," Bernie scratched his head, "I didn't know polar bears particularly liked apples either."

"Toffee apples," sighed the polar bear.

"Pardon?" said Bernie politely.

"I said," the polar bear sprayed bits of apple into the air, "toffee apples. They get my fur sticky. But normal apples. They're just right." He leaned down to Bernie. "I actually prefer Braeburns, if you find yourself near the supermarket today."

"Oh," said Bernie. "Well, I actually need to get to school."

The polar bear tossed the apple core in the air and snapped it between his jaws. "Don't let me stop you," he said, the stalk sticking out through his yellow front teeth. "I will be just fine in here."

"But, I'm sorry. You're sitting on my blazer."

The polar bear stopped chewing. "Oh. I do apologise," he said. "How rude of me." He stood stiffly, banging his head on the top of the wardrobe. He grimaced and stepped to one side. Bernie slipped past him and peeled his crumpled blazer off the floor. He put it on. It was warm but covered in long white hairs. He tried to brush them off.

"Sorry," the polar bear said, his eyes swivelled away. "I'm shedding."

"Well, I do have to get going now," Bernie said anxiously.

"Don't worry about me. I can amuse myself." The polar bear sat on Bernie's bed and smiled at him. "But," he lowered his voice, "if I could ask you not to mention to anyone that I'm here." He tapped the tips of his paws together.

"Why?" Bernie asked. He heard his nan's car pull up outside. She beeped the horn. Suddenly, the polar bear jumped up and pulled the duvet over his head. He quivered underneath it.

"Shhhhh... The zoo! They've found me. Don't tell them I'm here."

The horn beeped again and the polar bear cowered further.

"I'll be back later," Bernie said running down the hall. "Stay away from the windows." The polar bears whimpering faded behind him.

When Bernie got back from school, his play station was blaring down the hallway.

"What are you doing?" He burst into his bedroom. The polar bear was cross legged on the floor. In his paws he held the play station controls. He was steering a red Ferrari very fast around the bends in Bernie's game. His long dirty claws tapped against the plastic as he leaned with the road.

"Oh, hello, Bernie," he said, not looking up. "Did you have a nice day?"

Bernie looked around his bedroom. His remote control car lay crushed and guiltily tucked under his swivel chair. The chair itself leaned bent to one side and jigsaw pieces peppered the carpet. A fine veil of white hairs covered everything. Bernie turned to the polar bear angrily.

"Oh. Get. Round. The. Corner," the polar bear growled at the game, jabbing the controls with his claws. Sensing an expensive disaster, Bernie slumped down next to him. He twisted the controls out of his paws.

"No. Like this," he said, glancing at the frustrated polar bear. "Take this corner wide. Slow down just a bit," Bernie eased the careening car round the corner of the computer screen road, dodging the police car and ambulance, "then here..." he pushed the controls forward, speeding the car down a tree-lined avenue. "Here you can give it some juice." He passed the controls to the polar bear who nodded meekly. His eyes glowed with the reflection from the screen.

"Ah, thanks, Bernie. You are so kind. I'll be fine from here."

Bernie could not be angry with the polar bear, when he looked so content. But he felt he should say something. "Could I just ask you to be more careful."

The polar bear did not seem to hear.

"It's just, I like to keep things tidier, you know. And that car... it was a present, and well, I quite liked it."

"Oh, that." The polar bear, somehow, managed to look sheepish. "Yes, sorry about that. But your nan said maybe we could get it fixed."

"My nan?"

"Yes," said the polar bear, not looking away from the screen. "She said she knows a shop where they might fix it."

"She saw you?"

"Um hum!" nodded the polar bear. Bernie sat down on his bed, something crinkled underneath the duvet. He pulled out a foil pie dish, with remnants of gooseberry pie clinging to the edges.

The polar bear glanced over. "Yes. Lovely woman. Thought I looked hungry so she baked me some pies. I have to say the banana cream was my favourite. Those gooseberries gave me wind."

Bernie had wondered what the odd smell was. "Did she not mind?" asked Bernie, trying to imagine his tiny white-haired nan with this enormous white-furred bear.

"Mind my wind?"

"Mind you being here, in my room?" he said, feeling confused.

"No, not at all. She gave me a good comb through, actually. Apparently, she found a couple of ticks. But she said not to be embarrassed; they only like clean fur."

"Oh, right," said Bernie.

"We watched a bit of telly, too. There was an interesting feature on anti-ageing products and a man who got amnesia one day, for no apparent reason." The tinny crowd on the computer cheered as the car zoomed across the finish line. "That would be an awful thing wouldn't it, to lose your memory. Strange what life can throw at you." He looked philosophical.

Bernie noticed the stalk from his breakfast apple was still stuck between his teeth. He tried not to stare. "I don't mean to be rude," he said, "I just wondered how long you were planning on staying."

The polar bear gazed out of the window. His lip and heavy brow quivered. "Of course," said Bernie, quickly, "you can stay as long as you like... but I just thought you'd have other places you needed to be."

"You are so very kind, Bernie. I know I am not the most considerate guest. Although I try." He pointed at the jigsaw on the floor. "Some unkind person had cut that picture into pieces. I was trying to put it together for you before you got back." He sighed. "Alas. The little bits proved too tricky for my paws. I'm sorry." Snot dribbled from his snout. He wrenched the duvet cover from under Bernie and blew his nose loudly.

"But apart from my nan, wouldn't you get lonely here all day?"

"I will have you know, your nan is exquisite company," the polar bear said. "She promised to take me to beetle drive next week. And she knows a surprising amount about Formula One."

"Oh. I never knew that," said Bernie.

"But, yes," the polar bear continued, "I have to admit. I miss my people."

"Other polar bears?"

"Well, I suppose. I meant people with a common interest in scuba diving, you know- swimming underwater like a fish, with an air tank. Your nan wasn't very interested in that."

"Did you do that in the zoo?"

"No. That's why I left," said the polar bear. "I had set up a successful club. We had penguin members and ducks, even a lion. We made him sign a no-duck-eating contract before we let him join."

"So, what went wrong?" asked Bernie.

The polar bear sighed deeply. "I had to close the club. The zoo keeper kept taking all our equipment, even when we hid it." The polar bear looked sad.

"Why did he do that? It wasn't hurting anyone was it?" Bernie said.

"No. But he said animals scuba diving didn't look right. He said people would be disappointed if they turned up and we were out of sight under the water. But we all knew."

"Knew what?" Bernie asked.

"He was bitter," said the polar bear darkly. "Jealous, because he couldn't swim. He wore armbands to feed the penguins in case he fell in." He smirked.

"Well, that's a shame." Bernie said.

"It's discrimination." Cried the polar bear. Bernie reluctantly agreed.

"So I've heard there might be a place I can go. Where they're looking for a scuba instructor. Another zoo, actually, with a more open-minded approach."

"Oh, good! Where is it?"

"Well." The polar bear looked resigned. "That's the problem. Siberia. Your nan looked it up on teletext for me. A flight leaves tomorrow."

"Well, that's ideal, isn't it?" asked Bernie.

"I haven't got a ticket. Or a passport. There's no way they'd let me fly." His eyes welled up.

Bernie patted his paw. "You can stay here, don't worry. We've got a pond; it's not very deep though."

"Thanks, Bernie. You're a good friend," said the sad polar bear. Through the window a plane slowly glided across the sky. As he watched, an idea occurred to Bernie. Although risky, it could work.

Bernie got up early and squeezed out from under the polar bear's paw. He sneezed tickly hairs from his face as he ran to the fancy dress shop in town. When he got back, the polar bear was brushing his ears with Bernie's tooth brush.

"Your nan said I should groom to avoid matting," he said.

"No time for that, put these on." Bernie handed him a bag. The polar bear looked confused and delved his paw into the bag. Bernie helped him into the extra large blazer and creased trousers. He pulled the cap over his brow and tucked his ears underneath it. They kept popping out, so Bernie got some parcel tape and stuck them down.

"Careful!" said the polar bear, excitedly. He bent down and Bernie put the aviator glasses and sticky moustache on him. He handed him a smart brief-case.

"You look great. Big and furry, but absolutely a pilot."

The polar bear rattled the brief-case. "What's in here?" he asked.

"My nan made you a banana cream pie. In case you get hungry. It's a long way to Siberia, and she thought you could share it with the other pilots."

The polar bear smiled. A horn sounded outside.

"That's nan. She's driving us to the airport."

The polar bear clapped his paws. "What a woman. And you, Bernie, are the best friend any scuba diving polar bear could ever wish for. Thank you, for everything." A tear emerged from underneath the aviator glasses as the polar bear placed a paw on Bernie's shoulder.

"No problem," said Bernie.

When Bernie got back from the airport, his room was very quiet. Whenever he played his play station he would look at the claw scratches on the controls sadly, and wonder whether the polar bear reached his Siberian zoo.

Then, one Saturday, a parcel arrived for him. Inside, amidst a cloud of white hairs was a remote control car. It was a scuffed but worked well when Bernie laid it on the floor. There was a postcard.

'Dear Bernie,' it said 'I acquired this off an undeserving child at my zoo in Siberia. The scuba club is going well. We have some orang-utans who are eager to have a go. I will never forget your kindness. Visit soon, bring your nan.

With best wishes,

Polar bear.'

The controls had claw scratches on them. Bernie smiled.

Then he heard a noise. It was coming from his wardrobe. Very slowly, he swung open the door.

"Hello, sorry to bother you," said a penguin, stepping from a dark corner.

A waft of mackerel seeped into the room as two other penguins shuffled into view, smiling bashfully. They had oxygen tanks strapped to their backs. In their flippers they carried little masks. "We're looking for Siberia. Could you point us in the right direction?"