The Trouble with Polly Brown (67 page)

“No, doctor, you're right; it is none of these,” she mumbled.

“Well then, maybe the pope has deigned to pay us a short visitation to pray for the hearts and minds of the many poor souls that wander the wards of this hospital feeling lost and forlorn? Which is it to be, Nurse Shufflebottom?” he sneered.

“Ahh. Well, it's not the darling pope either. It's actually a woman,” she hesitantly replied as she began to stumble over her words.

“Precisely. Just a woman! Now, Nurse Shufflebottom, I do believe you are beginning to seriously irritate and therefore exasperate me, so kindly follow my direct orders and take my surprise visitors up to the canteen, and then do as I have already suggested by plying them with endless cups of disgustingly, insidious hospital tea,” he furiously stated as he began chewing the end of his pen out of sheer frustration.

“Yes, doctor, but I think you are doing the wrong—”

“Enough, Shufflebottom! When I have need of your impertinent advice and wisdom, I will not hesitate to ask for it. Until such a time, I would urge you to do as I bid and take my guest or guests up to the canteen, pronto,” he roared.

“Very well, doctor,” she gently replied, her sorrowful voice trailing off.

As the poor nurse did her duty by leading the visitors up to the canteen, she did all she was able to protect and therefore cover up this most awkward and embarrassing situation by apologizing on behalf of Dr. Ninkumpoop.

“Lady Butterkist, I feel so terribly embarrassed. Please accept my profuse apologies, for it's quite obvious to all and sundry that our very dear Dr. Ninkumpoop got out of his bed on the wrong side this morning, and I can only hope that when he realizes the full extent of his error, he will most certainly want to apologize in full for being such a….” She stopped mid-sentence, all the while struggling to find a suitably inoffensive word.

“Insufferable prat,” Lady Butterkist quickly suggested.

“Excuse me!” the nurse mumbled, her eyes instantly widening. She could feel the heat rising to her face. “Madam, did I hear you correctly?”

“Yes, nurse, you did indeed hear correctly. I just helped out a little by filling in the little blank on your behalf,” she said, giving a warm smile.

Nurse Shufflebottom, unaccustomed to such brutal honesty, took a step backward as if to express deep shock, but she could not stifle a visible smile.

“Well, I wasn't exactly going to use such strong, distasteful language in the presence of such a prominent lady as your good self, but as you are the one to be suggesting it, then yes, Lady Butterkist,
prat
certainly seems to be most appropriate, for it most surely hits the nail on the head where the doctor's misguided and rude actions are concerned,” she said with a smile as she wholeheartedly agreed with the ever-soposh lady standing in front of her.

“Oh, and Lady Butterkist, please do not take offense, but as a rule we do not allow any dogs to be brought into the hospital, something to do with the hygiene rules of this facility, but as you are something of a VIP and to date you have been offended by disgracefully rude behavior, well, I think this calls for a little bending of the rules. Don't you think?”

“Oh absolutely, my dear nurse.”

“Yes, I think we should definitely turn a blind eye on this occasion.”

“Why, thank you, nurse. Both Tiddles and Piddles are very glad to hear that they are not going to be mercilessly shunned, and instead they are to be welcomed. Yes, you are delighted, aren't you, my little pooches?” she said as, moving nearer, she allowed them to lick her cheeks.

The nurse took Lady Butterkist and her pups, along with Giles Blenkinsopp, her faithful and attentive butler, up to the draughty and equally dreary canteen, and just as the doctor ordered, she supplied both of them with a lukewarm cup of hospital tea, along with an overly generous slice of shriveled-up Dundee cake. She then considerately brought the pooches some much-needed liquid refreshment.

“I thought the pups might well appreciate a nice and refreshing bowl of water,” she stated, placing the bowl on the ground.

“Thank you, nurse. That is so thoroughly kind and thoughtful of you,” Lady Butterkist generously commented as she allowed both dogs to slip off her lap to go and drink from the bowl of water.

“Don't mention it. But, Lady Butterkist, please do try and make yourself and your butler as comfortable as possible while you wait for the good doctor to appear. However, I urgently need to get back to my ward duties, so if you require more tea, then our kitchen staff, who at present are setting up behind that counter, will gladly oblige by giving your cup as many refills as you so desire.”

“Thank you, Nurse Shufflebottom. We are indeed most grateful for all that you have done for us,” Lady Butterkist said, giving the old and very wearied nurse the first appreciative smile she had received in the many long months she had been working in this hospital.

As soon as the old nurse disappeared from sight, Ralph, or rather, Lady Ralphella Butterkist, picked up her cup of tea to contemptuously pour it into the nearby flower arrangement. “Who in their right mind would dare to drink this disgustingly offensive stuff, for it truly tastes like rat poison!” she loudly verbalized in the direction of Blenkinsopp, her trustworthy butler, who, after agreeing with her verdict, chose to do likewise and follow his mistress in dispensing with his cup of dish-watery tea into the same flower bowl.

“Madam, I am of the opinion that you are being far too kind, for it tastes more like old gnat's pee, to be precise,” he snootily sniffed before placing his drained cup back on the saucer.

“Giles dearest, grant me the pleasure of verbalizing as to how you, of all people, would even begin to know what gnat's pee tastes like.”

“Madam, I have about as much an idea on that one as you have at sampling rat poison. I therefore believe to date we are both equal in our personal ramblings.”

“Hmm. I understand, Blenkinsopp, for it's perfectly true to say that I have never once tasted rat poison, but mark my words when I say that this rather splendid flower arrangement will surely be dead, if not within a matter of minutes, then certainly a few hours,” she disdainfully whispered in his direction.

She then picked up the plate holding the uninvitingly stale lump of Dundee cake. “Fascinating,” she mumbled as using her fingers she raised it to eye level for the distinct purpose of examining it before loudly exclaiming, “Utterly disgraceful!”

Letting go of the cake, it instantly became the next casualty as it crashed back down on the plate, crumbling into many pieces at the moment of impact. “I do declare this moldy, dried-up excuse for a piece of cake would break most, if not all, my teeth, for not only is this cake at least a month out of date, but it is not fit for consumption by either man or beast,” she haughtily informed Blenkinsopp as she contemptuously pushed the plate to one side. “I think I'd be in danger of going quite mad if I were forced to eat all my meals in this canteen.”

“Yes, I believe you would quite quickly go off your rocker,” Giles quietly commented.

“Now then, Blenkinsopp, be a good man and find me a suitable glossy magazine to browse through while we await for his most royal highness to get off his narcissistic—”

“Bottom?”

“No, Giles. I was about to say ‘throne.'”

“Oh yes, madam.”

“Yes, anyway, until he takes the trouble to come to find us.”

“Yes, madam.”

“Ahh, yes.
English Heritage Magazine
. Hmm. I rather like the look of that manor house on the front cover. Blenkinsopp, be a dear and kindly bring that magazine over to me,” she politely ordered.

“Why, I do believe it is our home being depicted on the front cover. Well, I never! Here, Blenkinsopp, take a look, for it really is our very own magnificent Blenkinsopp Castle,” she excitedly cried. “Now haven't they done a most splendid job of showing it looking its absolute best? Wouldn't you agree?”

It would be well over thirty-five minutes before Dr. Ninkumpoop finally had the courage to pull himself away from his precious crossword puzzle to then head up to the canteen in search of his mystery visitors.

Before he opened the door leading into canteen, he deliberately began to breathe louder and faster, only stopping a little short of hyperventilating. Finally he burst through the door and rushed over to where they were still perched whilst browsing through a stack of magazines and newspapers.

As he approached them he was both annoyed and horrified to see that these insubordinate visitors had entirely broken the rules by bringing dogs into the facility, and so he determined to address this situation as quickly as possible.

“Greetings. I am Dr. Ninkumpoop,” he breathlessly stated as he held out his hand for the widely proportioned but well-heeled lady in the wide-brimmed hat to shake. “I most profusely apologize for keeping you waiting this long, but may I also remind you that, sadly, no animals are allowed in this hospital. It clearly states so on a large sign at the front entrance, so I'm afraid I will have to ask you to take your dogs back to your car as soon as is reasonably possible.”

Lady Butterkist was clearly not amused. She showed her frustration by choosing to ignore his outstretched hand, snubbing him further by turning her head to one side in a show of utter disgust. She then slowly and deliberately placed the magazine down on the coffee table before getting to her feet to formally shake his outstretched hand, a displeased frown betraying her displeasure, her mouth as tightly closed as a walnut desperate to be cracked open.

“Awfully sorry to have kept you waiting, but I have so much to do and so little time in which to do it,” he breathlessly cried. “So, may I be so bold as to inquire as to who might I be speaking with?” he quizzed.

“Sir, to answer the question, my name is Lady Ralphella Butterkist, and this here is my trustworthy butler, who answers to the name of Giles, although I almost always prefer to call him Blenkinsopp after my recently deceased husband's stately home.”

Dr. Ninkumpoop felt the blood suddenly drain from his face, and before long he began to flounder most pitifully. He then began having erratic heart palpitations as it dawned on him that standing in front of him was the generous-hearted lady who had sent him the magnificently humongous donation and whom he had deliberately kept waiting as he enjoyed his special tea and crossword. And to add insult to injury, he had rather stupidly rebuked her for bringing her dogs into the hospital! Oh, how could he be such a dumb idiot? He took a deep gulp, and then he began to sway a little.

“Goodness gracious me. So you, madam, are
the
Lady Butterkist? Well, I never,” he cried, instantly feeling acutely embarrassed by his hideously undiplomatic error. “Dear, sweet lady, forgive me for saying this, but you have much need of checking your calendar, for I am afraid to inform that you must have your days somewhat confused. The ribbon-cutting ceremony to which you are so cordially invited is not happening today, nor tomorrow, but the day after. Therefore it is my humble opinion that you have mistakenly arrived on entirely the wrong day,” he declared as his vexed heart continued to race most erratically.