The Trouble with Polly Brown (52 page)

“Go do your worst, Gailey,” he muttered as he gave her a friendly pat of approval on the head.

He then stood in the center of the dining area of the large kitchen and called everyone to attention, for he had an important announcement to make. “Children, I know I gave you strict instructions to steer well clear of Polly. If I am correct, I also forbade you all to engage in any conversation with her whatsoever; well, I am about to release you from this obligation. Polly is due to leave for the hospital, and I think it would be appropriate if you were to all go out to the car and give her a final send-off.”

“Oh, do we 'ave to? For I've only just started eating me breakfast,” Tommy Pulleyblank sulked.

“Yes, you do. Look, I know that most of you have not yet finished your cereal, but as we are due to depart in about ten or so minutes, it would be good if you were to get up from your seats to go out and say your good-byes. I promise your breakfast will still be here when you return. So do as I say and go see her,” he sternly ordered.

Seconds later saw all the children, minus one, gathering like a pack of out-of control-hoodlums as they quickly surrounded the car. Boritz, for his part, stood watching from a large window in the long corridor with Pitstop drooling by his side. As he stood in the hall looking out of the window, he casually jangled his big bunch of jailer keys, all the while callously observing all that was taking place outside by the car. His face betrayed nothing short of total amusement.

“Polly Brown, Polly Brown, the biggest loony's leavin' town,” they chanted as they danced around the car like Indians on the warpath. The chanting got louder and more frenzied by the minute as they stuck their noses up to the window and pulled idiotic faces, wiggling their fingers in their ears and poking their tongues out like a brood of vipers.

Unbeknown to Boritz, a little farther down the hall, young James had taken it upon himself to stay behind and anxiously kneel on a window seat to watch out the window. He was therefore an extra witness to all the cruelty and vicious taunting that was taking place outside. However, unlike Boritz, he could only watch, feeling utterly powerless as well as sick to the pit of his stomach.

Soon James turned his attention from the window and tentatively peered down the passageway. James's heart began pounding loudly as he realized that Uncle Boritz had no idea that he was hiding away in one of the many window seats. He hoped and prayed that he would not be discovered, for he knew if he were caught, he would indeed be brutally punished.

While still gazing in Uncle Boritz's direction, in that briefest of moments James was flabbergasted to see just how much his guardian was thoroughly relishing and savoring every moment of this terrible scene. It was blatantly obvious to him that Uncle Boritz was the instigator behind this terrible event, as the children's heinous antics caused his uncle to chuckle out loud, at one point almost doubling him over with raucous laughter.

Finally Boritz stopped for long enough to look down at his watch, and he observed that the children had been out by the car for just over five minutes.

“This is giving me such pleasure,” he loudly mused, “so let's say we give them another ten minutes or so,” he muttered as he patted Pitstop on the head.

Pitstop made a loud whimper as if to express that this was all very boring for him, as he was unable to see a thing of what was going on as the window was well out of his reach.

“Oh, you poor thing. I didn't realize you were missing out on all the fun that is going on outside. So come on then, my big pooch. Jump up on this window seat. There's a good boy,” he cried.

Outside, Gailey then began to sing a little ditty. “Come on, all of you, sing along,” she cried as, picking up a fallen piece of branch from the ground, she then leaned into the car to poke and jab poor Polly.

Polly held her hands up to cover and protect her face.

“Oh, you're such a little scaredy cat,” griped Gailey. “Come on, everyone. Now's yer last chance for payback,” she bawled.

“Good-bye, Polly. Good-bye. Good-bye, Polly. Good-bye. Ha ha. We'll see you again, though we don't know or care when. Good-bye, Polly. Good-bye.”

Gailey then reached in with her stick to give Polly another sharp jab in the ribs.

Polly curled into a small tight ball, her trembling hands now covering her ears as their screaming and howling felt overwhelmingly terrifying. She felt like an injured animal caught in a hunter's trap. She had nowhere to run or hide, and she even began to feel afraid for her life. She tried to crouch down on the floor of the car, as she mistakenly believed this might help protect her, as they would find it harder to reach in and hurt her. She was wrong.

“See yer, see yer, wouldn't wanna be yer,” one of the older boys yelled out before picking up a small stone from the ground to lob at her. The stone hit her shoulder before bouncing off. He then threw another stone at her. “Bull's-eye,” he screeched as the small stone hit her forehead, causing it to instantly begin bleeding.

“Loony, loony, the lunatic dipstick is off on the funny farm trip,” they taunted.

“Yeah, she's off to the madhouse.”

“No, it ain't the madhouse; it's the nutter's house, more like.”

“Yeah, a one-way ticket with the barmy army.”

“Yeah, she's off to la-la land, where, if they have any sense, they'll fry her brains,” Gailey taunted.

“What brains? She ain't got any!” Toby Trotter sneered.

“Eh, rat bag. Take this,” Gailey screamed as she reached in to give Polly a good, hard punch. In no time at all they were taking it in turns to reach in and punch, thump, scratch, or pull her hair.

Polly was helpless to do anything.

James knelt on the window seat feeling completely paralyzed as he watched his precious sister cowering with fear on the backseat of the car with the frenzied mob of baying wolves attacking her with whatever came to hand, which included sticks, stones, and shoes.

Shaking violently from head to toe, he was forced into placing a timely hand over his mouth to muzzle the desperately painful whimpers that were coming from deep inside and were threatening to escape, for he determined that his presence in the corridor must remain a secret from Uncle Boritz.

“Someone, please help her,” he croaked.

Seconds later what had been nothing more than a light, breezy wind noticeably began to pick up. Then within a matter of seconds, dark clouds quickly began to roll in. Soon the wind was howling and moaning in low-pitched tones as though it were preparing to go into the deepest fit of mourning. Large spots of rain began to hit the window panes with great force, their intensity increasing with each second that passed by.

“Oh, dear. I'd better call them in soon, for it looks like we're heading for an almighty downpour,” Boritz gloomily informed his highly favored canine beast. “There was no mention whatsoever of this on the forecast this morning. How could they get it this so wrong?” he muttered.

Before he had even finished his sentence, an almighty boom, followed by a terrifyingly loud crack, rang through the sky as the enraged heavens finally burst forth, pouring down their vial of liquid fury on the earth below. Flashing, fiery lights swiftly cut through the veiled, dark skies like menacingly sharpened swords dividing asunder the surly, slothful clouds as in some deranged and frenzied stupor they dramatically lit up the heavens with their sheer brilliance.

“Oh, my goodness. Pitstop, I do believe the children will by now be soaked to the skin,” he sniffed. “Yes, I think they've had long enough,” he stated as once more he observed the time on his watch. “Yes, they've had a good fifteen minutes. Time enough, wouldn't you say, Pitstop? We'd better call them in quickly before they either drown or catch pneumonia. Yes, Mildred, would certainly give me much grief if that were to happen.”

Pitstop growled his approval.

On Boritz's supreme orders, the children were reluctantly forced to back off and stop their childish games. As they reached the front door, it was clear that they were indeed dripping from head to toe. “Goodness me, you're all absolutely drenched. Now, do as I say and go upstairs and dry off and change, and make sure you put your wet clothes in the wash bin before Aunt Mildred gets to see you all in this terrible state,” he commanded.

“Yes, Uncle Boritz,” they simpered.

“Right, my little whippersnappers, I appeal to the lot of you to calm down. Yes, calm down. That's better. Now, you older ones do as I say and help the younger ones to get dried down, for they are soaked to the skin,” he sternly ordered.

It was only a matter of a few seconds later that Mildred appeared on the scene, only to brightly announce that she was finally ready to go with her husband and Polly to the hospital.

“Boritz dear, please tell me, where are all the children?” she innocently asked.

“Oh, they all got a little bit wet,” he quickly replied.

“All of them?”

“Yes, you heard right. All of them.”

“What on earth were they all doing to get themselves wet? Oh, Boritz dear, please don't tell me you allowed them to go outside in the rain without their mackintoshes and Wellington boots?” she despairingly cried.