The Trouble with Polly Brown (44 page)

As Boritz listened, he began to feel quite faint, especially when it came to the part where Polly felt obliged to explain their reasons for running away in the first place.

“Sir, it appears that the aforesaid children ran away due to various unpleasant and acrimonious events that have recently occurred inside these here walls.”

“Now, come on, officer. We all know that these parentless children often suffer from serious psychological problems due to much trauma in their infant lives. Take Polly, for instance. Now, this young girl, along with her brothers, was abandoned by her seriously negligent mother and alcoholic father, both of whom had very checkered pasts. May I also take the liberty of informing you that she is now in the process of having professional assistance from none other than Dr. Ninkumpoop, who, may I remind you, is head of child psychiatric resources at our local mental hospital. This man is a recognized expert in his field who has a regular column in a national magazine, and I assure you that, having read the reports concerning this child, he is so concerned by the extent of her delusional behavior that he is about ready to have her committed to the hospital to undergo very radical therapy. Of this I assure you.”

“Really? Is she that bad then?” the young and very naive officer asked as he swallowed every word that Boritz cared to utter.

“Worse!”

“Well, I never…You poor man,” the extremely gullible constable gasped as, shaking his head, he continued sipping his hot tea.

“She is indeed a most suitable case for treatment, and if you have any doubts concerning all I say, then please feel free to contact the school's headmaster, Mr. Edwood Batty, whom you must surely be acquainted with.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Sadly, he has threatened many a time to have the girl removed, and I assure you, that it is only due to my constant intervention that she still remains in the school system.”

“Golly gosh!” was all the troubled officer could then manage to splutter.

“I have literally had to beg Mr. Batty on bended knee, so to speak, to keep the poor girl in school, and up until recently he always set aside his own misgivings by caving in to my desperate pleas. However, a few days ago he phoned the castle to rather angrily inform me that enough was enough, and he would be putting in his own very chilling report regarding her poor mental condition.”

“Oh, my goodness. So things are really that bad?”

“Unbelievably so, officer! You would have to live at the castle to see firsthand what we are regularly forced to endure. Poor Mildred, my darling wife, is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and most of this can be attributed to young Polly's severe behavioral problems.”

“Well, sir, in the light of all you are confiding in me, I believe it to be my moral duty to wrap this up in such a manner that we can all forget that any of this ever happened and thereby consider the case well and truly closed, ” the generously warmhearted PC informed a now very jubilant Boritz.

“I would be so grateful, officer, if not deeply indebted, for if any of this were to get out, then just think of the negative impact it would have on the other young children we expend all our love and energy looking after. We do so rely on the immensely kind donations that are sent to us by very caring and charitable people, and such a story seeping out might well see this orphanage closing its doors for good.”

“Trust me. Do not trouble yourself further with any such terrible thoughts, sir.”

“Oh, and speaking of charities, before you leave, please do remind me to hand over a rather handsome check that I was intending to forward to the Officers' Retirement Fund. Tell me now, is my good friend “Gung ho” Rob Bobtail still on the force, or has he finally retired?”

“Oh, you're so behind the times, sir,” the foolishly naïve young PC replied, “for sadly he retired from the force many months ago. Would you like me to send your greetings to him?”

“Well, that would be nice. I especially miss his little visits to the castle, for he did so love Mildred's very special brown bread and whisky pudding. But let us get back to the problem in hand, for the children will all be terribly fearful and afraid if they think there is even the remotest chance that we will be closed down due to some terrible misunderstanding, instigated yet again by our very own troubled Polly Brown. Yes, I assure you, hand on heart, that it would be such a travesty of justice, for there would be fountains of tears if the terrified youngsters were to be callously and coldheartedly informed that some uninformed judge had ordered that they be forcibly removed and taken elsewhere.”

“Yes, sir. That would be terrible.”

“They would indeed cling to us in a manner not too dissimilar to that of those poor and terrified folks on the
RMS Titanic
in its last desperate hours before it sank to the bottom of the ocean.”

“Goodness, gracious me!” the wide-eyed officer of the law gasped as he began to conjure up pictures in his mind of such a painfully nightmarish event ever taking place.

“Sir, I've seen that old movie. Yes, it was called
A Night to Remember
. I saw it on the telly one night as I sat on the sofa eating fish 'n ' chips with me mum and sister, and hearing their haunting screams and cries as the ship went down into that freezing water was almost too much to bear,” he dolefully admitted.

“Yes, the sinking of the
Titanic
is surely one of history's most terrible of tragedies, so I implore you, PC Inkblot, as our very future lies in your hands alone, please do not allow the closure of this home to become yet a further needless tragedy to rather shamefully go down in the annals of our history books.”

“Oh, heaven forbid! That would be terribly unbearable.”

“You must try to understand, officer, this is the only loving, secure home most of them have ever known. I therefore am of the opinion that such a kind, conscientious man as you so clearly are would struggle to ever forgive yourself if this were to happen as a mere result of a few inconsiderate children's self-gratuitous actions,” he gushed.

“Goodness, gracious, you are right on that one, for I could never live with myself if I were to allow such a terrible thing to happen!” the innocent officer cried out loud.

On track, Boritz then tried to force a few crocodile tears to spring forth from his eyes. When the tears failed to appear, he quickly plunged his hand into his gold dressing gown pocket to whip out one of Mildred's spectacularly colorful handkerchiefs. Then, placing the handkerchief into the corner of his right eye, he began to squeeze down and pinch hard. Finally, due to the immense stinging sensation, a few desperate tears thankfully began to finally well up in the corners of both eyes.

“Pray, tell me, officer, if we were to turn our backs on these little, downtrodden mites, where on this forsaken earth would these poor, desperate creatures go?” he sobbed, as he deliberately allowed a tear to trickle unchecked down his bloated cheek.

PC Inkblot was, by this point, reaching into his pocket in search of his own handkerchief to wipe away the string of tears that were now positively streaming down his withdrawn but very reddened cheeks.

On seeing the profound impact his words were having on PC Inkblot, Boritz felt most encouraged to continue on drawing a hopelessly bleak picture of the youngsters' futures.

“It would forever weigh heavily on my already broken heart if we were to lose any of these infants and young children, all of whom have already suffered more than enough in this life,” he sniffed as yet again he took his handkerchief to dab his once more dry eyes.

“I wholeheartedly agree with all you are saying, sir,” sighed the young and very inexperienced police officer as he proceeded to wipe down his cheeks before noisily blowing his nose. “Sir, I truly cannot bear to hear anymore, so the matter in question is fully settled. I wholeheartedly agree with all you are saying, so there is no question in my mind that details concerning this event must never be allowed get out.”

Moments later saw him take the pad that held all three children's statements, only to tear them up into little pieces in front of Boritz.

“There. And if my senior colleagues or my mother ever dare to challenge me as to how I lost all three statements, I will just throw my hands into the air and plead total ignorance.”

“Ah, yes. Very commendable, PC Inkblot, but surely being an officer of the law and therefore fully conversant with the laws that govern our land, you of all people should surely know that you cannot plead such a thing, for ignorance of the law is no excuse.”

“Sir, you're absolutely correct, but I'll worry about that later, for the thing uppermost in my mind is the welfare of these poor, dear children. Yes, I will gladly put my head on the block, if only to save them,” he said as with a swelling breast he proudly continued to tear the evidence into tiny shreds.

“Allow me to dispose of your litter,” Boritz said with a sly smile as he hurriedly removed the shredded statements from the constable's hand and then casually walked over to a nearby waste paper basket.

As the evidence tumbled into the basket, Boritz privately determined to come back and burn the paper trail at the first opportune moment, which hopefully would be as soon as this irritating and naively dumb constable left the building to go on his merry way.

“My lips are sealed, sir. It is as if this difficult situation never occurred. But before I take my leave and head back to the station, might I suggest that you give all the children a very stern talking-to on the dangers of taking lifts from complete strangers.”

“Oh, absolutely, Inkblot. You have my word on that one. Trust me.”

With the nuisance officer now on his way back to the station, Uncle Boritz headed back to his private sitting room to anxiously dispose of the evidence, which now lay in tatters at the bottom of the waste paper basket. He hastily dropped a lighted match into the basket and watched over it until he was thoroughly satisfied that all the evidence was nothing more than thoroughly irredeemable, charred remains. He then upturned a glass of water into the basket in order to douse the flames.

This done, and even though it was only nine thirty in the morning, he still decided to pour himself a glass of the finest Napoleon brandy and then went to find himself a comfortable chair. Once seated, he smugly placed his thick glasses back on his nose, then he took a quick slug of brandy from his glass before reaching over to pick up an envelope that sat waiting for his undivided attention. He then calmly opened up a large envelope and turned it upside down. Out spilled a number of suspicious-looking photographs, as well as a small pocket notebook. He opened the notebook, adjusted his thick glasses, and began to read.

“Well done, Gailey dear, for as usual you have really done your homework. I won't ask you how you managed to find out so much about the Montgomerys' murky private life,, but I know for sure it will assist me in what I have to do,” he muttered loudly under his breath. “Now then, Pitstop, I need to make a few personal phone calls to confirm all this, and then after a little nap I believe it is high time I paid a little visit to make her acquaintance.”

Pitstop instantly growled his approval.

At eleven thirty on the dot he made the promised call, and after placing the phone back on its receiver, he wasted no time putting on his old, heavy overcoat. He then placed his herringbone hat on his head for added warmth before tucking a thick, long scarf many times around his throat before leaving his private room to head toward the front door.

“Good boy. Now you stay here and look after Mildred for me. I won't be away too long, I promise,” he said as he gave the beast a consolatory pat on the head.

Pitstop continued to whine and slobber as his master braced high winds to set out in the direction of the Montgomerys' house.

“I'm so glad she has agreed to see me, and at such short notice,” he muttered as he tried to stop his teeth chattering from the cold. “Fancy living with a load of flea-infested cats,” he continued to mutter as the harsh, cold wind tried its best to bite down hard into his flesh. “Now, a house filled with dogs, well, of course, that's an entirely different matter.”

With the help of Gailey's simple directions, most of which were in the form of very basic drawings, Boritz soon found his way to the large, well-hidden house. He knocked hard on the door and then waited a considerable length of time for the door to be opened. Boritz blew his warm breath into his cupped hands as he attempted to keep warm.

“Brrr. It is so unbelievably cold,” he miserably moaned.

Finally the creaky door opened, and as he dared to look down, he came face-to-face with a wizened, white-haired, fragile old lady strapped into a wheelchair. Boritz balked and stepped backward, as he was caught off guard as the amount of cats that had come to greet him at the door far exceeded his expectations.

“Don't stand at the door catching flies, Mr. Scumbrolly. Do come in. There's a good chap, for it is indeed a very cold and blustery day. So come on in, and I will make us a nice pot of Darjeeling tea. Then perhaps you can accord me the privilege of explaining why this meeting was of such urgency that it could not wait until later on in the week.”

“Madam, before I enter your house I wish to point out that, like many before you, you too have my name entirely wrong.”

“Oh!”

“It's Scumberry. S-c-u-m-b—”

“Yes, yes, all right,” the lady impatiently replied.

“How appallingly discourteous of the old biddy,” Boritz, feeling most annoyed, quietly mumbled under his breath as he entered the old lady's house.

As a matter of common courtesy, Boritz removed his hat and scarf and then subserviently followed after her and a hundred or so odd cats as they silently made their way down the long hall heading for her boudoir, where they could privately pour the tea as well as pour out all that was concerning their hearts and minds.