Christopher Robin_The Novelization Read online

  Evelyn’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, gasping for air. Then she looked over at Christopher. He hadn’t been making up stories. He wasn’t going crazy. Somehow, these animals were real. They were real and they were the only link she had to her daughter. Pulling the car over, she had Christopher quickly bring them inside the vehicle.

  “Where’s Madeline?” Christopher asked as the three got settled on the seat.

  “In a truck headed W-w-w-woozle-wards!” Piglet answered.

  Christopher and Evelyn exchanged a shared glance with one another. Then Evelyn put her foot to the pedal and pushed down—hard. Wrenching the wheel, she steered the car back into traffic and once again headed toward the Winslow Luggage building, right where they believed the truck they were now pursuing was headed.

  Madeline looked up at the big stone building in front of her. She and Pooh had made it! The truck had stopped in front just as Madeline had hoped, and she and the bear had managed to sneak out before anyone could spot them. She needed to get inside and find her father. But when she glanced up at the large clock on the top of the building, she frowned. It was after eleven. They were late. And they didn’t have her father’s papers.

  “Oh, look!” Pooh cried. Madeline turned her head just in time to see Pooh pick a pile of papers off the top of a trash pile on the street corner. “It’s the Important Papers.”

  Not sure how they got there, but not concerned, Madeline grabbed them out of his outstretched hand and smiled. Late or not, they had to get these to her father. Quickly, Madeline grabbed Pooh with her free hand and marched toward the entrance to the building. “We did it, Pooh!” she said, smiling down at the bear.

  Pooh smiled back. “We’ve saved Christopher Robin!”

  But just as the words left his mouth, a strong gust of wind blew down the city street. Madeline let out a cry as the gust threw her off-balance. Flinging her hands in the air, she sent Pooh—and the Important Papers—flying. Instantly, the light sheets were picked up by the wind and carried up, up, and away. “No!” Madeline shouted, trying to grab a sheet but missing. She reached for another, but again she couldn’t clutch it. Over and over she tried to save the papers, and over and over again, she failed. All she had, when the wind died down, was half a sheet that she had ripped right before it, too, got swept away.

  Madeline sunk to the ground, her eyes filling with tears. In the sky above, the papers floated farther and farther away from her. “No, no, no, no,” Madeline said. She had failed. And now she was going to end up going to boarding school.

  “Christopher Robin!”

  Pooh’s excited shout made Madeline look up. To her surprise, she saw her father running toward her. “Daddy!” she said, getting to her feet.

  “Thank God I found you,” he said, reaching her and pulling her into a tight hug. Behind him was her mom, helping the others out of the car. Evelyn waited, letting father and daughter have their moment.

  “I’m so glad a Woozle didn’t eat you,” Pooh said when Christopher finally stopped hugging his daughter.

  Christopher smiled down at the bear. “So am I,” he said. Then he turned back to Madeline. Before he could utter a syllable, the little girl began to cry.

  “I lost your papers,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

  Squatting down, he gently put his hands on her shoulders. “Oh, Madeline,” he said, his voice soft and full of love, “that really doesn’t matter.”

  “But your work is so important,” Madeline said. “I thought that maybe if I brought you your papers you wouldn’t send me away, and we could all be together. Look, I saved a little bit.” She held out the small ripped piece of paper.

  For a moment, Christopher was speechless. Her response broke his heart. Wiping away a tear, he gave Madeline another hug. Then, looking her right in the eye, he spoke. “Thank you for trying, my darling. And I’m sorry. Sorry for being a Father of Very Little Brain.” He paused, wanting the next words to sink in, wishing that once upon a time, his own father could have said the same thing. “Of course you don’t have to go away.”

  Madeline flung her arms around her father’s neck. Her smile stretched from ear to ear as Christopher hugged her back. It was the biggest and best and warmest hug of her life.

  “I can read you a bedtime story every night,” Christopher whispered into her ear.

  “I’d like that,” Madeline whispered back.

  “You gave us a real fright.”

  Christopher and Madeline pulled apart at the sound of Evelyn’s voice. Turning, they saw her standing a few feet away, a tearful smile on her face. Then she made her way to them and flung her arms around them both. The family stood, reunited, as the Hundred-Acre Wood gang watched, happy to see them all together.

  “Well, another disastrous expotition,” Eeyore said, looking on. While his voice was droll, his eyes were warm. Even he, the grumpiest of grumps, was touched by the scene unfolding in front of them.

  Hearing him, Evelyn disengaged herself from the hug. She couldn’t remember the last time Christopher had hugged either of them so strongly and with such intensity. She still wasn’t quite sure how any of this was possible, but if these animals had helped him find his humanity, she owed them—a lot. “Oh, I don’t know, Eeyore,” she finally said, smiling at the dour donkey. “It all depends on how you look at things.”

  It all depends on how you look at things. Evelyn’s words bounced around Christopher’s head. His brain twitched and itched as an idea formed. He had spent so long looking at the numbers with just one thought in mind—cutting cost. What if, he suddenly realized as the idea took shape, he looked at the numbers a different way? He glanced down at the single piece of ripped paper in his hands.

  Christopher smiled.

  He—or rather Evelyn—had just saved his job. And possibly the company. Planting a surprising kiss on his wife’s cheek, he turned and ran toward the lobby. Behind him, Evelyn and Madeline grabbed the animals and followed.

  A few moments later, Christopher barged into the conference room. His family stayed right outside. In their arms, the animals “played nap time,” but they didn’t play it well. They were too excited to see the Woozle.

  “Stop!” Christopher shouted, startling Mr. Winslow, his son, Giles, and the board members. “I have the answer!”

  Mr. Winslow raised one grey eyebrow. He had spent the better part of the past hour listening to his wretch of a son lie through his teeth about working, when he knew Giles had spent the weekend golfing. He had spent another part of that hour trying to explain to the board members why they shouldn’t immediately fire Christopher, despite his erratic behavior. And then, just as he had managed to convince them, Christopher had come barreling back in with a crazed look in his eye. “This better be worth the wait,” Winslow said when Christopher had caught his breath.

  “Oh, it is,” Christopher said, nodding emphatically. “Because the answer to all your problems is…” He paused, letting the suspense build. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Mr. Winslow repeated.

  “Nothing comes from nothing, Robin,” Giles said, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face.

  But Christopher went on. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Doing Nothing leads to the very best Something.” As he spoke, he looked toward the door, where Evelyn stood with Pooh in her arms. He smiled at Pooh. The bear was smiling back proudly. Walking over to the overhead projector, Christopher placed the piece of ripped paper on it. “What happens when people have time off from work? Nothing to do?” he asked the room.

  His query was answered with silence. The board members stared back at him blankly.

  “They go on holiday,” Christopher said, answering his own question. “And what do people need to go on holiday?”

  Once more, he was met with silence.

  “Luggage,” he said, answering his own question—again. He turned to his boss. “Mr. Winslow, you employ thousands of people across all your companies. If you gave them a
ll paid holidays—”

  “Paid holidays?” Mr. Winslow repeated, beginning to think Giles had been right about Christopher’s mental stability—or lack thereof. The board seemed to be thinking the same thing. The room filled with their disbelieving laughter.

  Christopher was not swayed. He switched the projector on, and a graph of Winslow’s wealthiest customers filled the wall. He went to point at it but realized he didn’t have a pointer. Scanning the desk, his eyes landed on his open briefcase. Grabbing a Pooh Stick, he continued. “At the moment, you’re only selling to the wealthy and no one else. But look…” He pointed at the graph with the Pooh Stick. “If more of us could afford to go on holiday, it would mean hundreds of thousands of ordinary people going off to the countryside and lakes and beaches…with their Winslow Luggage. And if we made our prices cheaper, everyone could afford to buy them.” He stopped and waited.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Great,” Giles said sarcastically. “Our lovely beaches crammed with the hoi polloi and their gramophones and bottles of cider.” He winced as though the thought itself were revolting.

  His father, on the other hand, was not so quick to pass judgment. He raised a hand. “Now hold on, Giles…”

  “Oh, Father, please!” Giles snapped. “This is clearly codswallop!”

  “Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you, Giles?” Christopher said, jumping in between father and son.

  Giles’s face turned red and he angrily pushed away from the table, getting to his feet. “And why, pray tell, is that?” he asked.

  Christopher ignored the threatening look Giles was giving him. Instead, he shrugged. And then, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world, he replied, “Because you are a Woozle!”

  In the doorway, Pooh perked up, forgetting for a moment to play nap time. “So that’s what a Woozle looks like,” he said, pleased to have finally seen one. The Woozle was definitely as scary as he had imagined it would be—right down to its mean, beady eyes.

  “And what the devil is a Woozle?” Giles asked.

  “A Woozle,” Christopher answered, “is a slinking little monster who gets everyone to do his work for him and hopes we forget what’s really important in our lives: our families, our dear old friends, the people who love us, the people we love.” As he spoke, he walked over to the door. Gesturing to Evelyn, Madeline, and his team, which had gathered to see what would happen, he brought them into the conference room. Then he put one arm around Evelyn—and one around Katherine. “Well,” he went on, “I’m here to tell you that we’re not afraid of Heffalumps and Woozles anymore!”

  Giles looked back and forth between Christopher, his father, and the gathered onlookers. Then he shook his head. “Good Lord, he’s lost his marbles!”

  “Has he?”

  Mr. Winslow’s response surprised not only Giles, but Christopher as well. Both men turned and looked over at the business owner curiously.

  “Let’s address the Heffalump in the room, shall we?” Mr. Winslow went on, looking at his son pointedly. “What were you doing this weekend, Giles?”

  Giles fidgeted nervously. He gulped and pulled at his necktie. “Me?” he asked, trying to sound innocent. “I told you, I…I was working.” As a bead of sweat began to roll down his temple, Giles reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. Instead, he pulled out a golf ball.

  Mr. Winslow’s brow furrowed. “What on? Your golf swing?” he asked. His expression grew disappointed and he shook his head. “I’ve not heard of a Woozle before, son, but from the sound of it…you are one.”

  “Me? A Woozle? But—” Giles stammered.

  “Sit down, Giles!” Mr. Winslow ordered. Then he turned and looked over at Christopher, who still stood in front of the door. “Congratulations, Robin. I’d like you to start on this immediately.” The others let out cheers and even the board members, who had been watching everything with a mixture of confusion and fascination, began to applaud.

  Smiling from ear to ear, Christopher took Mr. Winslow’s outstretched hand and shook it. “Thank you, sir,” he said sincerely. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Evelyn and Madeline. “But I’m going to do Nothing for a while myself now.”

  Mr. Winslow nodded. “Because when you do Nothing, it leads to the very best of a Something,” he said, repeating Christopher’s words back to him. “Did I get that right?”

  “Close enough, sir,” Christopher said. “Close enough.”

  Then, turning, he took his family’s hands in his and walked out of the boardroom. Over his shoulder, he heard Giles let out a squeak. “That bear was staring at me!” the man said.

  “A bear, staring at you?” Mr. Winslow said. “Clearly, you’ve gone crackers.”

  Looking down at Pooh, who was now flopped over Madeline’s shoulder, Christopher saw that the bear was still playing nap time. But sensing Christopher’s gaze, Pooh lifted his head ever so slightly. Then he smiled. Christopher smiled back. “Silly old bear,” he mouthed.

  But Christopher was only teasing. Pooh wasn’t silly. He wasn’t silly at all. He was the best bear in the whole wide world. And Christopher couldn’t wait to get back to the Hundred-Acre Wood with Pooh and practice doing Nothing. After all, he had wasted too much time already doing too much of Everything.

  “Oh, boy, it’s good to be home.”

  Walking through the green door and into the sunshine of the Hundred-Acre Wood, Christopher had to agree with Piglet. He took a deep breath, inhaling the air that now smelled sweeter and squinting under a sun that felt warmer somehow. Behind him, he heard the door creak farther open and turned in time to see Evelyn and Madeline appear.

  As they straightened up and began to look around at the Hundred-Acre Wood for the first time, Christopher just watched. The smile on his face grew broader as Madeline let out a happy little squeal and began to skip after Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, and Eeyore. Her eyes were bright and her shoulders light. She was, finally, enjoying being a child. Reaching over, he took Evelyn’s hand in his and squeezed. Then they, too, began to follow the others.

  While they walked, Christopher pointed out the sights of the wood. Passing Pooh Sticks Bridge, he told Evelyn and Madeline all about the game of Pooh Sticks. When they walked by Owl’s house—now safely back in the tree—Christopher told them all about defeating the Heffalump. With every adventure he recalled, Christopher felt the years fall away. Through the eyes of his wife and daughter, he was getting to experience the Hundred-Acre Wood like it was when he was a child.

  Finally, they reached the picnic spot where all important events in the wood were held. Rabbit, Owl, Kanga, and Roo were waiting. Over the table, a banner was hanging that read: WELCOM ROBIN FAMILY. Seeing the spelling error, Evelyn turned and raised an amused eyebrow at Christopher. Expotition, she mouthed, just before being swallowed up in a hug from Kanga.

  Noting the sign and listening to the others welcome everyone back, Eeyore nodded slowly. “On the happiest day of the year,” he said gloomily. “My birthday.”

  “Today?” Roo asked at the same time as Piglet said, “Your birthday?”

  “No presents and no proper notice taken of me at all,” Eeyore said in answer. “Everything is back to normal.”

  Listening to his old friend, Christopher bit his cheek and tried not to smile. Everything was back to normal—finally. And it felt wonderful. Then he cocked his head. Well, not quite everything. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out Eeyore’s tail. He walked over and pinned it on the morose donkey. “Now everything is back to normal,” he said.

  As the others laughed and began to enjoy the picnic, Christopher’s eyes scanned the clearing. Pooh was missing the festivities. Whispering in Evelyn’s ear that he would be right back, Christopher left the party—but not before grabbing a jar of honey.

  As he walked away from the picnic area, he could hear Madeline’s sweet and happy laugh followed by a chuckle from Evelyn. He wondered why he had spent so long trying to keep this place hidden from them—and fro
m himself. With all the bad things he had seen, with all the troubles he had had to deal with, the Hundred-Acre Wood and his friends were like a healing balm. He never should have left. And as he went to find Pooh, he vowed silently that he would never keep his daughter from this place. He would let her enjoy life and the innocence that the wood brought for as long as he could. It was the least he could do.

  But first, he needed to find Pooh. And he had a pretty good idea where his friend had gone.

  Making his way quickly through the woods, Christopher crested the small hill that led to the Enchanted Spot. Sure enough, Pooh was already there, sitting on the log. Walking over, Christopher sat down and then handed Pooh the jar of honey.

  Delighted by the snack (after all, Pooh was hungry—again), the bear dug in immediately. For a while, they just sat there, content to be doing absolutely Nothing. Finally, Pooh looked up from his honey. His nose was covered in the sticky sweetness and his paw was dripping. “Christopher Robin,” he asked, “what day is it?”

  Christopher smiled at the bear. He knew this refrain. They had had this exact conversation hundreds of times before. Still, he played along happily. “It’s Today,” he answered.

  “My favorite day,” Pooh said with a nod.

  “Mine too, Pooh,” Christopher agreed. “Mine too.”

  Pooh looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he spoke again. “Yesterday, when it was Tomorrow, was too exciting a day for me,” he said, surprising Christopher. This was not part of their usual banter.

  But Christopher had to agree. Yesterday had been too exciting. Yet, he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. For without yesterday, today wouldn’t be happening. And without yesterday—or any of the days before, for that matter—Christopher wouldn’t have been able to understand how truly special this moment was, or how lucky he was now. “Silly old bear,” Christopher finally said. Then, putting his arm over his friend’s soft and furry shoulders, Christopher turned and looked out at the sun as it once again began to sink behind the horizon of the Hundred-Acre Wood. Beside him, Pooh did the same.