The Trouble with Polly Brown (76 page)

“Oh, absolutely, dear woman. Absolutely!”

“Oh, good. Now I am already halfway through, so almost nearing my last request. I do believe that I'm already up to number three. Am I correct in my thinking?”

“Yes, Lady Butterkist. This next request will indeed count as your third.”

“Good, because sometimes I get a little confused when it comes down to numbers, or so my faithful butler, Blenkinsopp, tells me.”

“Yes, well we all get to that stage in life where we momentarily begin to struggle. I think we rather aptly call them ‘senior moments.'”

“Yes, Mr. Scumberry, I happen to think you're absolutely right on that one. Trouble is, my senior moments seem more and more to be joining up,” she said, giving a deep, very resigned sigh.

“Well, madam, you seem perfectly clear in the head as far as I'm concerned,” he consoled. “So pray, tell me, what might your third request be?”

“Well, now that you ask, I am more than hoping that you will happily succumb to my splendid idea of taking Polly away on a little adventure.”

“Adventure?”

“Oh, don't sound so surprised, Mr. Scumberry, for I am more than a little inclined to believe that dear Polly is in desperate need of some sort of holiday break to recoup after her very ghastly and most elongated stay in this dreadful hospital. Yes, months of interrogation under the guise of therapy has, I believe, left the child utterly broken and demoralized, so I was thinking of taking her down to the west country for the next few months. I promise you, hand on heart, that she will keep up with her schoolwork, so you need not be the slightest bit worried or concerned about that.”

“Oh, homework? Oh yes, yes.”

“You know, Boritz, I am inclined to believe that she will need this length of time if she is to have any hope of making a full recovery from this very painful time in her life,” she mused.

“Oh, help me. How much worse can this get?” he cried as the now very shocked Doctor Ninkumpoop momentarily stopped filling in Polly's release forms to rather petulantly throw down his pen. “How can this inexcusably rude and abhorrently abrasive lady be so dismissive of all my selfless, pioneering work,” he mournfully muttered. “The cheek of the woman!”

“Uh!” sniffed Boritz, as talk of a holiday instantly produced large monetary signs that immediately began flashing in front of his eyes. “Lady Butterkist, please understand me when I say that we'd love to give Polly and all the other pitiful paupers, I mean children, a well-deserved holiday. But sadly, I happen to believe that at this present time it is quite out of the question, for there is simply not enough money in the coffers. Sadly, we are all having to endure certain hardships back here at the castle. I hate to admit this, but we are not exactly flush with money at present.”

“Oh no, good sir, you have me wrong, for I am in no way requesting any monetary contribution from your good self. Oh, no, no, no,” she tutted. “This would be coming entirely out of my own purse strings. I would very much like it if Polly were allowed to accompany me down to the west country. There is a most wonderful daffodil farm down there that I believe Polly will simply love and adore.”

“What? A daffodil farm?”

“Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, Mr. Scum-belly, for rest assured it will be a working holiday.”

“A working holiday? I'm glad to hear it!”

“Yes, for I believe hard, physical work is not only extremely gratifying, but it is also very good for the soul. She will work alongside many other youngsters, and by the end of the day she will indeed flop into bed exhausted but very happy. Trust me on this one.”

“Oh, trust me too, dear lady, when I say that I also favor hard, physical work.”

“Oh, Mr. Skunkbelli, I have no problem believing you on that that one! So Polly will be working very hard alongside other youngsters as they plant vegetables, groom horses, feed chickens, climb trees to pick apples, and take a scythe to the corn harvest. I wonder, have you ever had that most wonderful experience that comes from being ‘lord of the applecart,' Mr. Scumberry? For it is a most exhilarating feeling, I assure you now.”

“No, no, Lady Butterkist. Trust me when I say that I have never felt the need for such things. Such affirmations are for other lesser, struggling mortals, for I already enjoy the pleasure of being lord of the manor, so to speak.”

“Ahh, well, what is truly wonderful is that Polly will be blessed with the opportunity of working in the fields, as well as with a variety of animals, and their gentile influence will be most beneficial in allowing her the necessary length of time required if we are to believe for a full recovery.”

“Hmm. Fair enough, although I'm still not sure I entirely understand where you're coming from,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Besides, if she were to have this little break, Boritz—may I still call you Boritz?”

“Oh, Lady Butterkist, I would be so delighted if you would,” he fawned.

“Well, think of it this way then, Boritz dear: if Polly were to come away with me, it would then allow Mildred the space she might well need to come to terms with Polly returning home at such short notice. So can you not see a certain sense of rightness about my proposed plan?”

Poor Boritz could clearly see that this would give him the much-needed extra time required, for he knew for sure that when his good wife heard this latest piece of unsavory news, she was likely to explode to a degree not witnessed by man since the catastrophic eruption of Mount Vesuvius many moons ago. He therefore had no difficulty believing that the next few weeks at the castle would be an intolerably miserable affair as she spoiled handkerchief after handkerchief in her urgent and most dire need to vent a large amount of deeply rooted frustration from her most inconsolably wounded spirit.

“Yes, Lady Butterkist. I am beginning to think that your admirable plan would be most advantageous to all parties concerned.”

“Splendid! Now let's quickly move on to my fourth request, and this is that I require you to contact the school's formidable headmaster, Mr. Batty, and confirm that Polly will be back at the school in a little over two months' time, yes, just in time to start the new school term, which, if I am correct, starts on September the seventh?”

“Oh, goodness gracious me! I don't think he will be happy to oblige with regard to this most specific request,” he said, reeling back from her latest proposal.

“Oh, rest assured, Mr. Scumbelly, he will! I hope you don't mind, but I have already taken the liberty of speaking with him earlier this morning, and he has assured me that as long as you are in perfect agreement, then he will willingly take her back. I have also assured him that despite Polly being out of school for almost eighteen long months, she will be up to the task by the time she is ready to return.”

Poor Boritz felt like a mutilated animal that was now completely cornered, and so he was left with little choice other than to concede fully to her fourth demand.

“Finally we arrive at my very last request, and this is, quite simply, that I would very much like to escort Polly home today. I was thinking if we, meaning Giles Blenkinsopp as well as my good self, were to board the coach along with the other ladies and gentlemen that you've already invited to tea, then perhaps you would allow me the privilege of joining you and your good wife for this special and most splendid occasion.”

Boritz could hardly believe his ears, for ever since Dr. Ninkumpoop had first made mention of her, he had spent a considerable length of time trying to mastermind ways that would have her agreeing to pay a timely visit. Now, out of the blue and of her own volition, she was the one requesting permission to come to his castle, and he had not even had to put pen to paper to send out one of his usual begging letters. How amazing was that! He mouthed a silent thank-you to the heavens before responding.

“Mr. Scumbelly, or rather, Boritz, I do believe you have gone deathly silent on me, so is there a problem with my last request? Speak up, my good man. I strongly urge you.”

“Oh, not at all, not at all, Lady Butterkist. I can safely speak for both Mildred as well as my good self when I say that we would consider it a truly great honor for you to pay us a little visit.”

“Splendid, then lay a further two places at the table, for Giles Blenkinsopp, my trustworthy butler, and my good self will be with you before you can say, ‘Is there any mustard in this custard?'”

“Yes, madam. Rest assured, you will be treated in a manner befitting a queen.”

“Oh, Boritz, please see to it that you don't treat me any differently from any of the other guests, that is, unless we are all to be treated like royalty.”

“Oh, yes, madam. That goes without saying. They will all be given royal treatment, but you, my dear, well, this special day you will be our queen of hearts,” he obsequiously fawned.

“How touching, for whether you know it or not, I am all about hearts, changes of heart in particular,” she muttered.

“Pardon me, madam. I didn't quite understand what you meant by that last statement.”

“Oh, nothing to worry your very ambitious little head about. You know something, Boritz? It's amazing how easily things work out when we all get our heads together and then concede to bow to each other's expansive ideas,” she wearily sighed as she placed the receiver down.

“Now then, Poopy, my boy, have you almost finished the paperwork? Wonderful. Then let us head back to the ward.”

The doctor readily agreed, as he was feeling terribly broken if not a trifle nauseated by her conversation with Boritz, mainly due to her continual references that associated him with dung. After all, poop and dung were very much in the same category, if not the same thing, were they not? This day, this moment, there was nothing more he wanted to do other than go home to bed and have a good old bawl into his pillow.

Chapter Thirty-One

NOW EVERYONE WANTS A PIECE OF THE ACTION

Meanwhile, back in Piadora there was much talk of throwing a grand-scale impromptu party, for word had spread like wildfire that Ralph had succeeded in his mission, and as a result Polly was on the verge of leaving the hospital. As a result of this truly wonderful story circulating Piadora, a large number of angelic beings began to congregate, as they desired to hear more
.

“Is it really true?” they all cried
.

“Yes, it is absolutely true,” Hodgekiss was happy to confirm
.

“Then can we go and tell Mrs. O'Brien the good news?” some of them eagerly asked
.

“By all means do, as you all are well aware she has been praying and waiting patiently for some good news regarding Polly, and at last it has come.”

“Then can we throw a party?” one of the angelic beings asked, producing a large box of streamers and party whistles from out of nowhere. He then quickly began handing them around
.

“Well, of course! You know me well enough to know any good news is the perfect excuse to throw a party,” Hodgekiss said, giving one of his deep, reassuring smiles
.

“Go spread the good news, and then tell Mrs. O'Brien to stoke up the fire in her stove, for this is the sort of splendid occasion that demands plenty of appletude pies to be baked.”

A number of overexcited angelic beings departed to go and find Mrs. O'Brien, but some stayed behind, as they had further, very unexpected requests. They were indeed full of grace as they very politely made their requests known
.

“After you, dear Gabriella.”

“No, after you, dear Marcus.”

“Oh, please—you speak first, dear Horatio.”

“No, I think it would be respectful if I were to allow Demetrius to speak first, as—”

“Please, though your kind manners are most touching, I do fear we will be standing here for many a century if one of you does not take the plunge and go first,” Hodgekiss interrupted. “So will someone just tell me something of what you so anxiously desire?”