Polly found it hard to believe how passive and brainwashed the other children were. They never seemed to question anything that was said to them. Uncle Boritz constantly told them that no one else would ever want them. With great relish he made up awful stories concerning their terrible parents. The other children seemed to lap it up, unbelievably encouraging him to tell them more! And the worse the stories got, the more cheerful they became. They all seemed to truly believe their guardians when they were regularly told that God had sent them to run the orphanage to protect them all from this most evil world. What would they do, and where would they all be now had it not been for these wonderful, saintly crusaders of homeless children?
Polly’s thoughts were rudely interrupted by a loud bang as Boritz thumped his clenched fist down hard on the desk to get her undivided attention.
“Yes, Polly Brown, you entered the forbidden zone with only one intention in mind, and that was to steal the highly treasured possessions of other poor children,” he said snidely. “And as I wish to discuss this no further, you are therefore sentenced to another three weeks on R.O.P.E. So when you are not at school, you will work until you realize that disobedience and attempted theft are not to be tolerated in my castle!”
The children still sat cross-legged on the floor, much too terrified to move. They all secretly wondered why Polly was still making such a stupid, unnecessary fuss! After all, it was only Thomas the loony that had departed from their midst. It was true that they would certainly miss teasing him and tying him to a tree in a potato sack, for he had made such an excellent punch bag! Now they would be forced to search for a replacement victim to torment. This might prove a trifle inconvenient, but they were certain that in the fullness of time another victim could, and would, be found. However, their biggest fear was which of them, besides Polly, would become their guardians’ next scapegoat now that Thomas was gone? The thought that they could possibly be next on their guardians’ hot list for special attention made each of them shudder. For deep, deep down, never to be expressed, they knew only too well that their guardians were people who took sport and pleasure from the pain of others. Therefore, if they were true to character, with Thomas now out of the way, a suitable replacement would become an urgent priority. Suddenly the idea of Thomas’s death did not seem quite so fine.
The children were dismissed, and as they filed out of the room Uncle Boritz shouted at them to stop, for he had forgotten something very important—something he had never failed to state and remind them all of in the past. He began to fear that he really was losing his God-given gift of controlling everything under his power. Heaven forbid that such a thing should ever happen!
“My little whippersnappers,” he said, lowering his voice. “I feel I must caution you that if news of Thomas’s sudden departure were to somehow leak out of here accidentally through careless talk…” He momentarily faltered as he moved closer towards the children, his eyes widening as big as saucers. “Then you must realize that the child care agency would come and take you all away without any warning whatsoever! You would all find yourselves locked up in the back of their big black van,” he whispered in a barely audible voice. “And let me assure you now that none of you would ever be seen again! Of this I am most certain, for having removed you all from our safe castle in the dead of the night, they would then take you to a most secret hideout where men in white jackets would pull out a drawer filled with special, very frightening instruments used only when they wish to interrogate someone.”
“What does interrogate mean, Uncle Boritz?” whimpered Bertha Banoffee, her large blue eyes widening as they filled up with tears. “It means, Bertha, that they would use all kinds of force to get you to tell them what happened to Thomas,” Uncle Boritz replied, his eyes bulging out from their sockets as he endeavored to put great fear into them. “And may I remind you all that there is nothing, no nothing, they would not resort to in order to find out what happened. Why, they might even tie your bodies to chairs and, I hate to say it, but they might…well…er…” he paused, for timing was of the essence.
“Go on. Say it. Get it over with,” urged Aunt Mildred, showing great irritation as she spoke. For she had looked up at the clock in the study only to realize that she was now missing Coronation Street, her favorite television program.
Uncle Boritz could barely hide his annoyance at being interrupted, but he took a very deep breath and then, softening his voice to that of little more than a whisper, he said. “Well, I hate to say it, girls and boys, but they might even torture you!”
On hearing this, little Sacha Shoesmith drew a deep breath and began to cry. For she was utterly horrified at the thought of the hateful child care agency showing no mercy whatsoever as they slowly pulled out her fingernails, followed by her toenails! And, if they still had not got the information they were after, they would then proceed to gouge out her eyes! She knew, just as the other children knew and believed, from watching old war movies that torture could at times be a most unpleasant experience.
Therefore, as little Sacha and the other children filled their vivid imaginations with the ten most terrifying ways of being tortured, each of them privately resolved that they would never say a word. The decision they all made that most wretched day was, in their little minds, set in concrete. They would never spill the beans and become the castle traitor or the disloyal one responsible for breaking up the family.
Uncle Boritz had not quite finished.
“Of course, children, I am not saying that this would definitely happen, just that it is a real possibility.”
He added this as he realized it was always essential to cover his tracks. For heaven forbid that one of the children would accidentally get to meet someone from the child care agency and finally discover they were not the cruel and utterly contemptible people that he had spent much of his lifetime making them out to be. There was a real possibility, if this were ever to happen, that they might well crumble and tell all! This could never be allowed to happen! So, with sweat now pouring profusely from his brow, he finished up by saying, “Children, may I remind all of you that if any of this were to happen, neither Aunt Mildred nor myself would be in any position to help you. Yes, sadly our hands would be completely tied, and we would be unable to come to your rescue. So please, please, remember our little, and very private motto, and repeat it after me. ‘What happens in the castle stays in the castle.’”
They all dutifully repeated every word of the motto, nodding continually to show their total allegiance to the family. Uncle Boritz and Aunt Mildred breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Polly stood up to join the end of the growing queue lining up to leave the room, but when it came to her turn, Uncle Boritz moved over and blocked the doorway.
“And where do you think you’re going?” he asked coldly. “I haven’t finished with you yet. So get back over there,” he angrily snapped before turning to shoo the other children away from the open door of the study. “Children, please go and stand patiently by my goodies cupboard, and I will be along shortly to give you all a treat. So hurry up my dears.”
With the room now empty of children, that is, with the exception of Polly, he was finally free to do or say whatever he wished. He continued to stand with his arms folded across the doorway, preventing her from escaping. “Stay right where you are, girl!” he barked.
Polly obeyed, for she had no choice. He was, after all, so much bigger than her, and besides, she was in no mood to argue, for she was experiencing such immense pain deep down that she cared very little about anything else her guardians might want to do to her.
“You really take the biscuit, girl, defying me at every corner and undermining my authority,” he snarled. “You will not be attending the funeral, for you will be going to school—unless, of course, you want further punishment. Are we clear about that?”
Polly stood with her head hung low and remained silent. She had no idea how best to answer, for she had made up her mind and nothing was going
to change it. She instinctively knew that if she were to openly repeat her decision, it would only serve to make things worse than they already were, and she had no desire to escalate things any further.
“Answer me, girl. Do you understand my order?” he bellowed, giving her arm a hard prod as he continued to sneer at her. “I have had quite enough of you and your family. Now at least, there is one less annoying little nuisance to deal with! Get out of my sight before I lose my temper and give you something to really cry about.”
Polly wasted no time in obeying, moving at great speed to duck under his outstretched arm in order to get as far away from him as she possibly could.
She staggered and stumbled down the lengthy corridor, struggling to remain upright, for her arms and legs felt like wobbly jelly. She felt she was in a nightmare, only this was for real. She did not want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to be alone to grieve, come to terms with her terrible loss, and work out how she might get to his funeral.
She did not care about any of the threats made that day concerning further possible punishments. She was going to Thomas’s funeral no matter what! She reasoned that she had more right to be there than anyone else, and she knew Thomas would have wanted her there. It was settled. She would find a way, although at this moment in time she had very little idea as to how to make it happen. She sadly came to the conclusion that it would be wise to leave James behind and go on her own, for she did not wish to bring any more unnecessary suffering into his life.
Polly decided to go to the only place she knew she would not be disturbed. The place she ran to whenever she needed to sort out her head and find some measure of peace was a little church that was only a short distance away from the castle. As she sang in the choir and regularly attended choir practice, she knew that the small side entrance would still be open, so hopefully she could slip undetected into the church. After lighting a candle for Thomas, she made her way down a passageway before opening a little door that led up some long, winding, narrow steps. She stopped halfway and, taking a left turn, slipped under the thick rope that blocked off a further flight of steps. She then headed up the long and winding steps and made her way towards the belfry, her only place of sanctuary from everything in her crazy, mixed-up little life.
The room that held the bell was very small. It was also very, very dangerous! So Polly took great care as she walked over the rotting wooden planks, some of which were very loose. She often thought that if she accidentally fell, her body would never be found, for the bell tower was out of bounds, and no one except herself ventured up there. This was her secret place, a place she could be alone without any fear of being discovered. She had once seen a black and white movie called The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It was about a monster named Quasimodo who was forced to live and hide away in a bell tower. She remembered crying throughout most of the film, for she felt just like him. Deep down inside, she too felt like a monster. She therefore thought it eerily strange that, just like the hunchback, she had a bell tower to live in, even though hers, she believed, was considerably smaller.
Polly had not been to choir practice for a number of weeks, and for this she felt guilty. She even thought that her failure to attend choir had in some strange way been the reason for Thomas’s death. Perhaps it was her fault, and God was very angry with her; and perhaps Thomas’s dying was meant to teach her a lesson. First her two most wonderful teachers disappear without a trace from school, and then her beloved brother just happens to die. It was all too much of a coincidence for Polly, and the thought that she could have caused all this made her feel even worse.
The truth of why she failed to attend choir was twofold. Firstly, one afternoon after school they had been asked to go to the church for practice much earlier than usual—three thirty to be precise. Their practice that day was unusually short, and afterwards two sisters named Constance and Beatrice Bickertree happily showed all the young choir members their brand new bikes. Polly had always dreamed of having a bike, and despite never having ridden one before, she used every persuasive method in the book in her desperate bid to get Constance to part with her bike and let her have a little ride. Eventually, and against her better judgment, Constance reluctantly gave Polly the permission to mount the bike and take it for a short spin.
Off she went at great speed, very delighted to have this wonderful opportunity to ride this highly desired machine for the first time ever. The trouble was that the hill was very steep, and Polly had no idea whatsoever as to how to stop the bike. She didn’t realize that the bike had special brake handles that, when clutched, would bring the bike to a grinding halt, for up until this moment in time no one had ever even given permission for her to as much as sit on their bike seat. The bike picked up speed as it hurtled down the hill. Polly anxiously held on for her life, her trembling hands clammy with sweat as she struggled to remain in control. She quickly realized that she was in deep trouble and had to do something fast if she was not to have a terrible accident. She knew that there was more than a fifty-fifty chance that she would have a collision with a car or, worse, a truck, if she did not stop this stupid bike before it reached a major road and disaster struck.
Feeling decidedly panicked and afraid, as she and the bike went further out of control, she decided to take a chance and swing the bike very hard to the right, heading straight towards the little hairdressing shop. The front wheel mounted the pavement and then continued to hurtle towards the shop before crashing into the pane glass window. Polly was then hurled through the window, still mounted on the bike, which came to land with an almighty crash, just missing a line of women sitting under hairdryers.
When Polly finally got back on her feet, she, as well as all present, were amazed to discover that she was unharmed, although covered from head to toe in shattered glass. Polly noted that the bike had not fared as well. As it lay on its side on the vinyl floor, its back wheel spun as furiously as Polly’s little head. Polly could not fail to notice that it now looked like an entirely different contraption from the one she had originally mounted! The ladies under the dryers had also not fared too well. A large number of the old dears were scared witless by the brief and very sudden catastrophe. Many of them, because of the magnitude of distress suffered on that eventful day, chose to leave the premises with curlers still firmly attached to their heads.
Constance Bickertree’s bike was beyond repair. Both wheels were severely buckled, and the handlebars now faced entirely the wrong way. Neither sister ever spoke to Polly again. She was also given a lifetime ban from entering the hairdresser’s shop, for the owner was forced to offer free hair styling for a month as a conciliatory gesture to the large amount of deeply distressed women seeking compensation. Polly too paid dearly for her unfortunate episode, for there was a new bike and a new front window to pay for, and as she only received a miserly pittance in pocket money, she sincerely wondered if she would ever receive another penny. She was also placed on R.O.P.E. for many more months to punish her further for her disgracefully wicked misdemeanor.
Polly deeply regretted ruining Constance Bickertree’s new bicycle, torturing herself daily with the wish that if she could somehow turn back the clock, then none of this would have happened and Constance would still be friendly. Now she had to face the cold treatment, which meant being completely ostracized by all who attended choir practice. In no time at all, it appeared that the whole jolly town knew every grim detail of her little escapade, and the townsfolk could also be very unforgiving. From the time of the mishap, she had endured hostile glances and people moving to the other side of the pavement and shunning her whenever she passed them on the street corner. Polly was at a complete loss as to how she could ever put things right, although she longed to with her whole heart.
Eventually, Polly did the only thing left open to her. She put on a brave face and still attended choir for several weeks after the incident, even though it meant enduring secretive whispering behind her back. Things finally came to a head when, by pure cha
nce, she discovered that all the other children who attended choir practice were discreetly being paid by the church to sing in the choir. This disclosure had come as a complete shock to Polly.
She had joined the choir at the same time as the other children, for the church had approached the school in search of volunteers. Polly had said yes to the opportunity without any thought of payment for her services. She was just happy to be part of a group that loved to sing. When she discovered that all the other youngsters were secretly being financially rewarded for their attendance, it was too much to bear and left Polly feeling very hurt. She knew that none of the other children suffered lack on the scale that she experienced. Every other child in the choir had warm houses to go home to, loving parents, nice clothes, shiny polished bikes, holidays by the beach, and every other imaginable delight that Polly could only ever dream of having. “Will life ever serve me a better deal?” she bitterly wondered as she struggled to come to terms with yet another cruel blow.
She remained hidden away in the tower, weeping and completely ignoring the stomach pangs that reminded her that she had not eaten all day. Finally, very tired as well as cold, Polly slipped out of the church and hurried home. Her heart raced within her breast as she ran down the road towards the castle, hoping her unexplained absence would go unchecked.
Once inside, she crept quietly up the creaky oak stairs and headed for the dormitory, slipping quietly under the bedclothes so as not to disturb the other girls deep in their slumber. She nestled her head into Langdon’s soft body and quietly sobbed until she fell asleep.
Chapter 10
Polly Brown Page 13