The Trouble with Polly Brown (65 page)

“True, perfectly true,” Blenkinsopp muttered.

“Yes, and as the saying goes, ‘A problem shared is indeed a problem halved,'” Lady Butterkist mused. “So, I suggest you motivate yourself to find plenty of ideal tea-drinking companions, and you will see for yourself that as the problem is pleasantly mulled over between sips of hot sweet tea, a favorable solution will almost certainly be found. Isn't that so, Blenkinsopp?”

“Yes, madam. As usual you are indeed entirely correct.”

“Thank you, Blenkinsopp. I do so like it when you agree with me,” she said with a wide smile. “Now, Will dear. As I said, I would very much like to meet with your mother and your brother on some more appropriate occasion, so I would very much like for you to invite me over to your house for tea and some hot, buttered crumpets. How does that sound?”

“Why, yes, that would be so nice, Lady B., for you might not fully believe this, but my housebound mother is almost as passionate about tea as she is about cats. I must warn you now that the house is completely overrun with cats.”

“Cats! How very interesting. Well, I had better leave Tiddles and Piddles at home for this future occasion. But I most assuredly will be in touch, and this engaging date will most certainly materialize, for I do believe your mother is in dire need of a good friend, and you know how women like to, well, gossip about life's ups and downs, as well as every other conceivably interesting topic.”

“Yes, Lady B., I believe I know precisely what you mean,” Will replied as he flashed her an all-knowing smile.

“Well, William, I do perceive that the poor lady has nobody in her private and very anguished world to turn to. May I also be as rude to suggest that your dear and very broken brother is sorely frustrated with everything in his life and so is in much need of a big chest on which to hammer his clenched fists without any fear of retribution? Now I'm not proposing that I am the one for such a thing, for as you can clearly see, I am a lady, and so it would be deemed most unbecoming.”

“We all agree with you on that one, madam,” Blenkinsopp quickly interjected.

“Thank you, Blenkinsopp. Now, allow me to tell you that our very dear Blenkinsopp spent many years in the British army, and he has a son who has followed in his footsteps. So, if anybody can understand something of the pain and anguish that these worn, torn soldiers experience, then it is surely he, and I assure you, hand on heart, that he has a most impressively broad chest. Don't you, Blenkinsopp?”

“Yes, madam. I believe I do.”

“Well, Blenkinsopp, don't just stand their nodding and grinning like a Cheshire cat. Show him!”

“Show him what, madam?”

“Why, your lovely broad chest, of course!”

Blenkinsopp instantly looked horrified.

“Madam, what are you thinking?”

“Well, I would have thought that was obvious! I was thinking that you have such a wonderfully broad chest that I do so admire, so I thought you might just expose it a little for all to see.”

“Madam, I advise you now that my unclothed chest is for my eyes only, or otherwise that of my bathroom mirror,” he snorted.

“Oh, well. Suit yourself, but William's brother indisputably still needs our help regardless of your very shy and, might I say, touchy disposition.”

Will immediately began to laugh. “No, really, Lady B., spare poor Blenkinsopp the embarrassment, for it really is not necessary for the poor man to disrobe himself. I thoroughly get the picture, really I do.”

“Oh, all right then, for as dear Blenkinsopp will most sadly confirm, these brave soldiers might return in body, but their wounded and broken souls and spirits remain firmly back on the battlefield. Yes, I believe it to be such a tragedy that these dear men find themselves hardly able to vocalize anything meaningful; such is the extent of their personal trauma,” she sniffed as she continued to sip from her china cup. “Ahh. This particular blend of tea has most certainly been sent from above, for it is indeed liquefied heaven.”

Will, who was listening most intently, felt strangely reassured by all that Lady Butterkist shared in that strange moment in time, for he felt he had never met anyone who not only understood but also fully appreciated his private home crisis in the manner that she did. He therefore felt secretly relieved that he had finally been given the opportunity to bare his soul and share all that was vexing his mind.

“Now, tell me truthfully, Will, dear thing. I am more than inclined to believe that you, my dear, are holding something back from me, yes, concealing something of considerable importance that most urgently needs to be addressed forthwith.”

Will, who was in the process of consoling his dry throat with further gulps of sumptuous tea, immediately began furiously spluttering, for how on earth did she know he was holding something back?

“Yes, I do declare there is definitely much more going on here than meets the eye,” she thoughtfully mused.

“All right. There is more, and it has much to do with a young friend whose name you so casually and unwittingly mentioned much earlier in our conversation.”

“Well, William, please enlighten me further, for I am not aware of mentioning anyone unfamiliar during our most pleasant discourse.”

“Well, her name is Polly, Polly Brown, to be precise.”

“Hmm. Much as I thought! Go on, young man. Spill the beans, and remember, leave nothing out!” Lady Butterkist anxiously ordered.

“Do I have to, for I believe it to be nothing short of a real can of worms?” he moaned.

“Oh, I'm afraid so, William, for those monstrously dark secrets you hide inside will, in time, most assuredly eat you up. That, my dear boy, is a mathematical certainty!”

Will finally caved in, and through misty, tear-filled eyes, he told the story of the strange, unpretentious young girl he had met on his first day at the new school.

“At first I had no idea as to why I was so attracted to her, for as she herself told me, she was considered the school's bumbling idiot or, rather, the patsy who appeared to take the blame for everything. Still, I felt this urgent and deep need to get to know everything about her. She seemed so scared and yet so defiantly defensive, so it was difficult, if not impossible, at first to make her see me as a friend and not foe. Before long I invited her to my house, and after much persuasion, she agreed. Sadly, it was not too long before my mother did her usual thing, which was to insult her and make her wish she had never come. As for my brother, he too was no better, for he raged on and even hurled things at her. What was I to do?” he lamented.

“Go on, young man,” Lady Butterkist urged as she reached over with her serviette to wipe a stray tear that was racing headlong down his cheek as he continued to unravel his story.

“Well, finally she opened up and told me something of the terrible things that were happening to her and others in the children's home, and then she begged me not to say anything to anybody. Of course, I gave her my word. But then, quite out of the blue, she began telling me the most wildly fanciful stories about a ridiculous place that could not possibly exist, and I have to admit it was at this point that I felt I could bear no more.”

By now a deluge of hot tears were streaming down his ruddy cheeks, and Lady Butterkist tried her very best to catch all that were visibly running down his face, but to no avail, for she could not keep up.

“Polly asked me if I would be willing to meet up with the two boys who had joined her on the adventure, for she truly believed they would fully back up her story.” Will began to feel all choked up.

“Carry on, William, for I am all ears,” she gently urged.

“Well, Lady B., the meeting with them was little short of totally embarrassing. Polly was talking like a crazy person. The boys were intent on chatting up two young ladies who were having refreshments in the station café, and they did everything they could to get Polly to leave them alone. It was so incredibly horrible and painful to watch.”

“Hmm.”

“Then, as if all this was not enough, my mother called me into her private boudoir to inform me that Polly's guardian, Mr. Scumberry, had paid her a timely visit—yes, a very threatening visit, if truth be known,” he sighed. “My mother insisted I was to have nothing more to do with the girl, for Mr. Scumberry sincerely believed it to be his moral duty to inform her that many years previous Polly had been diagnosed with something called schizophrenia, and therefore she was considered to be something of a danger to herself and others. The next thing I knew, Polly had been placed within the confines of the local mental hospital. I never even had the opportunity to say my good-byes. I miss her so much. I doubted her for too long, but now I have come to realize that she is just about the most wonderful, caring girl I have ever met,” he pathetically wailed.

“There, there, dear. Please continue,” Lady Butterkist said as she gave him a comforting pat on his shoulder.

“I seriously considered visiting her the Christmas before last, but as she had only been at the hospital for a matter of weeks, I thought that it might not be to wise, as she hadn't had an adequate amount of time to settle in.”

“As if one can be left to settle into such a place!” Lady Butterkist snorted, at the same time shaking her head as a show of her absolute disapproval.

“Well, anyway. I decided against the idea, lest paying a visit proved to be more disruptive than helpful.”

“Plainly.”

“When Easter came 'round I once more found myself pining after her and therefore desperate to see her, but then I got cold feet. I then considered paying her a visit during the summer holidays, but once more I turned—”

“Chicken!”

“Thank you, but no thank you, Lady B., for I have had more than enough to eat. In fact, I'm pretty stuffed,” he admitted, patting his stomach as if to emphasize the point.

“Oh, William, I wasn't offering you anymore to eat! Oh, no. I was merely suggesting that the word you required was, in fact,
chicken
. Yes, put bluntly, you, young man, chickened out entirely. And that is surely quite indefensible, is it not?” she stated quite abrasively.

“Well, yes, I guess it is,” he lamely agreed, for he was plainly caught off guard by her bluntness.

“Oh, young man, please forgive my unintentional rudeness, but I don't ever stand on ceremony. Trust me, when something needs to be said, I do not hold back,” she stated in her very matter-of-fact way.

“No, that's fine, because in truth you're absolutely right. Sadly, I did find myself yet again having cold feet,” he admitted.

Giles interjected, “Yes, cold feet, madam. And have we not all found ourselves in that difficult position at some time or another in our life? We surely need to lay aside all harsh criticism and judgment, for I feel we must be a bit more charitable here.”

“Yes, yes. So do be quiet, Blenkinsopp, for I need to hear more.”

“Well, this last Christmas Eve I finally plucked up the courage to pay a visit to the hospital, and then, just as I got to her ward, I yet again chickened out, to use your words,” he croaked, his face turning a bright scarlet. “I mean, I had heard the most terrible screams and cries as I approached her ward, and then as the nurse went ahead of me and opened the door, I caught a sudden glimpse of her standing in front of a Christmas tree. It was as though she was not really there. I mean, there was a girl who looked like Polly, but it certainly wasn't a Polly I had ever seen before, for this ghost of a girl appeared to me to be very broken down and vacant.” Will began to break down as he tried and failed to continue on.

Lady Butterkist gently placed her arm around the distraught young man's shoulder. “Will, allow me to say that you, I believe, are the only real friend she has, so stop licking your wounds and try attending to hers,” she gently advised. “Just get up, brush yourself down, and then get back into the arena. If I am allowed to be frank with you, I have to say that I am of the opinion that she never once lied to you, and she really trusted that you would be her friend through thick and thin, yes, through the ups and downs of life, through the wind and rain, over the hills and dales; yes, over the lumps and bumps and—”

“Madam, enough said! I think young Will gets the big picture. Don't you, young man?” Blenkinsopp quickly and sharply interjected before Lady Butterkist got too carried away.

“Oh, I know I have completely let her down. I mean, only yesterday I found myself unexpectedly running into both boys Polly took me to meet at the train station café. They were meeting up with a friend who attends my school. I was very surprised when they asked to speak alone with me, and in doing so they finally admitted to all that had happened. I have to say, I was very heartened to know that Polly had not been lying, and this has made me more determined than ever to pay her a visit, even though it is against my mother's express wishes. However, I still feel so torn, if not thoroughly miserable.”

“Yes, that's how
you
feel, but what of dear Polly? How miserable do you think this darling, fractured soul feels, locked away with only the dark whisperings of the insanely mad for comfort and with no one even remotely willing to place an arm around her shoulder to console or wipe away a tear? Yes, dear boy, think again, for she has absolutely nobody to stroke her forehead and tell her everything will one day turn out all right.”

“I know, I know,” he cried as he hugged his head with both hands, utterly desperate.

“Yes, William, she has nothing and nobody. Would you believe it if I said that she has spent two Christmases without a single hug to reassure her that she is the slightest bit precious to anybody? So try as you may, William dear, but you only deceive yourself further if you as much as attempt to trivialize or worm your way out of this one.”

“Oh, dear lady. Everything you say is true,” he anxiously cried. “So what can I do?”