Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  “Well, what do you think, sir?” Molly Brimstone asked, for of the two of them she was nearly always the mouthpiece.

  He remained silent as he continued to observe the trembling children. There was no warmth about this man. His eyes seemed totally cold and lifeless.

  Finally he spoke. His words were very deliberate as he asked, “Will they be any trouble?”

  “Oh no, sir,” replied Molly Brimstone. “No, we certainly keep them in order here, don’t we, Maisie?” she said over-enthusiastically as she turned to face her sister for verbal agreement.

  “We most certainly do,” replied Maisie Brimstone as she got out of her chair and moved hastily towards the gentleman, anxious to refill his teacup.

  Still he hesitated from giving any sign that he was interested in the children, who stood most pathetically with their heads hung low before him. Molly Brimstone was beginning to experience immense agitation and began to believe that he was on the verge of changing his mind. She therefore turned to Polly and snarled, “Stand up straight, girl, and stop slumping, otherwise I will have to fetch the broom from the kitchen cupboard and slide it down your back to help improve your disgraceful posture!”

  She dropped all scowling as she turned to face the silent gentleman and with a smile alighting her hard-nosed face. She then went to great lengths in her endeavor to assure him that not only was her offer good, but also that he would be making a terrible mistake if he turned it down.

  “They’re in very good health, sir. Truly they are.” She reached out and grabbed hold of Polly’s chin, prizing her mouth open as wide as she was able to. “Here look, sir, see what I mean? Her teeth might be crooked, but otherwise she’s all there.”

  “That will not be necessary,” said the man, his steely eyes remaining firmly fixed on Polly as he spoke. “You say they are orphans with no living relatives, am I correct?”

  “Yes sir, they’re orphans all right,” Molly Brimstone sniggered as she sycophantically fawned all over her potential client, most anxious to please him. “Yes, their father was I think of Italian descent, and he’s long gone…and the children’s mother, well, she had no interest in them whatsoever! Put them all in care at her earliest convenience. Yes, they’ve all been in children’s homes within months of being born. And I can tell you right now, sir, there has never been as much as one visitor to see them. So nobody has the slightest interest whatsoever in these poor little blighters! Yes, I do believe they could disappear from this earth upon which we live, and nobody would ever know or miss them!” she said with a wide and wicked grin on her face.

  “Good, that’s settled then. I will take them,” he said coldly, as he placed his hand out towards Molly Brimstone to shake on it, and thereby finalize the deal.

  “That’s good news, sir, and I promise that you won’t be sorry.” Molly clasped her hands with sheer delight and broke out into a huge smile.

  Polly and her brothers were then frogmarched by Maisie to the cloakroom where their little coats hung, while Molly Brimstone stayed behind and took care of the finer details with the gentleman.

  “Children, put your coats on at once,” instructed Maisie, with an air of pompous officialdom normally reserved for her sister. Polly found it hard to respond, for she felt numb with shock. She glanced over in the direction of her brothers, and they seemed equally bewildered and were struggling just as much to respond to Maisie’s latest order.

  “I said right now!” Maisie thundered as she began, rather roughly I might add, to force Thomas’s arm into the sleeve of his coat.

  Polly felt hysterical as Maisie then attempted to force a coat onto her slightly built frame. She understandably put up quite a struggle, preferring to lunge towards Maisie, grabbing fistfuls of fatty flesh that hung in pleats from her ample thighs and arms. And having successfully grabbed hold, she refused to let go, hanging on to Maisie as though her very life depended on it. She looked directly into Maisie’s eyes and pleaded, “Please don’t do this to us, I beg you.”

  Maisie’s face remained expressionless as Polly searched her face for just a hint of compassion. There was none to be found. “Get off me, girl,” she growled.

  “No, I’m not going,” Polly screamed. “You can’t make me! Please, please help me!” Polly cried, her sad and despair-filled eyes brimming with tears. Maisie remained unmoved, calling instead for her sister to come quickly to give her much-needed assistance.

  In a matter of seconds her sister had excused herself from the gentleman’s presence and raced at full speed to her sister’s side to help her. She gave Polly a quick whack around the head. “This’ll sort you out, girl,” she hollered.

  Though thoroughly dazed, Polly was not about to give up her firm grip on Maisie’s flesh. She fought hard and long as she bit, scratched, and kicked like a wild animal caught in a hunter’s trap. If the fight had been a fair one-on-one, there was every chance she would have come out on the winning side. It would have been a fight to the death, but sadly, she was no match against these sumo wrestlers, and eventually she was forced to admit defeat. Both women eventually had her lying prostrate on the floor, with both of them sitting on top of her as they forcibly stuffed her arms down her coat sleeves. With her coat on, Polly was dragged to her feet and placed in an arm lock by Molly Brimstone, who was more than a potential champion for the boxing ring.

  Polly was still not about to give up, for she would rather be killed than taken alive from this place to be sent elsewhere. So she had to be dragged, screaming and kicking, all the way to the waiting black car that was parked in the driveway. She tried with all her might to break free, but to no avail. It was useless, for her wrestlers had weight as well as strength on their side, and they used it to the full to ensure she made it to the car. Her brothers put up no such fight. They just walked in dumb silence toward the car, climbing onto the rear seats and then sitting like stiff boards as they waited for further instructions. Polly was then bundled like a limp rag doll onto the seat beside her brothers.

  She felt nothing short of terrified, for she was completely convinced that they were being kidnapped. A lady sat in the front passenger seat and did not even move her head to look in their direction. The gentleman stood by the car with his hands deep in his pockets until he was satisfied that they were all there and the back doors of the car were well-and-truly locked in order to prevent them from escaping. He then walked to the front door of the vehicle and, after climbing in and placing his black leather gloves on the dashboard, rolled down the window and bid Molly and Maisie Brimstone farewell. Both ladies turned towards the light of the open front door, and without so much as a good-bye or soft word of comfort to the terrified children, they shut the front door behind them.

  Polly turned her head in one final attempt to catch a glimpse of what had been their home, and therefore all the security they had ever known. It was useless! She was much too small and the seats too low down for her to see out of the window. Besides, it was very dark. The tears tumbled profusely down Polly’s cheeks as they drove down the driveway and headed out onto the open road. She was in a state of fear as well as confusion. Polly felt as though she was being physically ripped apart by being taken away from everything she had ever known. No words could express the depth of that feeling. They had not even been allowed to say good-bye to their other companions in misery, and Maisie Brimstone’s final words of encouragement had been nothing more than, “Right, girl, do as we say and behave yourself!”

  Behave herself? Polly wanted to scream and scream some more, for nothing had prepared her for an ordeal of this enormity! But only uncontrollable sobbing sprang forth from her lips as her teeth rattled and her body quaked with fear.

  The journey to wherever they were being taken seemed to last an eternity. The gentleman who had called at the home sat passively in the front seat of the car, and no conversation took place between him and his lady passenger. The tension in the car was therefore unbearable. Polly’s cries became louder and louder as fear and panic
took its firm hold on her. Still, the man did not as much as flinch. No, he never turned to face Polly and her brothers to offer as much as a hanky, preferring instead to look straight ahead, watching the wipers go backwards and forwards over the windshield as it started to rain rather heavily. Polly believed that they might as well have been a car full of groceries for the lack of concern that was being shown towards them. Were they to be sold as slaves? Or worse still, were they being abducted? Would they be murdered in some dark woods, never to be found? Or finally, were they being sent to prison for, in Molly Brimstone’s own words, “unacceptable naughtiness.”

  There came a point in the long and terrifying journey when Polly’s anguished cries really began to irritate the silent gentleman. He chose this moment in time to ask his equally-silent lady companion to search through a bag that he had placed down by her feet. After rummaging around in the bag, she produced three chocolate bars and handed one to each of them. I might add that this was not done through some kind gesture towards them, but to encourage Polly to shut up, for she was giving him quite a headache, and he believed her noise was also preventing him from concentrating fully on the slick road ahead.

  The last thing Polly wanted was a chocolate bar. No, all she desperately wanted was a cuddle and a few words of tender reassurance, but sadly, neither of these were on offer that most terrible of nights. Polly tried hard to force the chocolate down, for it felt as though it was stuck in her paralyzed throat, so great was the level of fear she was experiencing. Within minutes, she was sick. Yes, sick all down her black gaberdine raincoat, sick all over her shoes, and sick all over the floor of the moving vehicle. This disgraceful and unexpected happening forced the gentleman to quickly wind down his side window in an effort to dispel the unpleasant acrid aroma as he continued to concentrate as best he could.

  The long journey finally came to an end when the car turned off the main road and headed down a gravel pathway, coming to a sudden halt in front of the largest towering black gates. Seconds later, the large black gates slowly opened and then closed behind them as the car drove through into a large open space, coming to a halt under an oak tree. Polly could hear the crunch of the gravel under the tires, then the rear door was flung open and the children were ordered to get out.

  Polly stumbled as she alighted from the car, hurting the palms of her hands on the gravel as she attempted to break her fall. Looking up, and despite the darkness, she could see the definitive outline of a castle. Yes, this was most definitely a castle. She had seen plenty of pictures of these buildings in books at her nursery school. However, she had to admit that she’d never seen anything like this before. It was tall, gloomy, and archaic, with huge flint walls that rose high into the clouds and then beyond. Every way she looked her surroundings felt hostile, making her heart race even faster from terrifying fear. She stood by the car shuddering as the ice-cold wind whipped around her, showing no compassion as it mercilessly bit into her young and tender flesh.

  Then a hand hit down hard on her shoulder, and before she had time to understand what was going on, she and her brothers were frogmarched across the large quadrangle in single file toward a baronial door. Polly and her brothers walked with heads down in stupefied silence, for pure terror was clutching at their loudly-pounding hearts. The only other noise was the crunch of gravel under their feet as they walked, most afraid, toward the front door. The large wooden door squeaked loudly as it opened and then shut behind them. Polly then heard the sound of the massive black locks as the door was then bolted. Once inside, they were quickly ushered down a bleak, long corridor and into a side room where they were ordered to sit down at a table. Once seated, lukewarm tea accompanied by a plate of brown bread and butter was served to them along with the order to “eat up.”

  Polly, who was still covered in sick, attempted to obey, but once again found herself trying to force food down her dry throat to no avail. For try as she may, she could not swallow the bread that felt like hard lumps of rock, even when she took a few gulps of cold weak tea to wash the bread down. And, as she dared to look up from the table, she could see the faces of many children staring directly at them from behind different pieces of furniture in the room. Polly instantly discerned that all their eyes held great sadness as well as morbid curiosity. She felt so uncomfortable with her every move being watched. She was very relieved when finally they were dismissed by someone in authority and then accompanied up the large oak stairs before heading towards the dormitories.

  Polly and her brothers were together, that is, until they reached the top of the stairs, when without warning they were parted. For the first time that day the boys let out a little whimper as they tried and failed to grad hold of Polly’s hand for help and comfort. It was to no avail as hands stronger than theirs physically separated them, the boys down one corridor and Polly down another as they headed toward their sleeping quarters. On the way to the dormitory, she noted a picture of Jesus on the wall. It had Him pointing both hands towards His heart, which was lit up in gold. It gave her no comfort.

  Halfway down the long corridor the silent helper stopped and opened a door. Polly was then beckoned to go into the room. Polly reluctantly moved towards the silent lady and the door. She stopped and peered in. Her eyes hastily scanned the bleak room before settling on two rather formidable-looking rows of ancient, creaky beds. The room was otherwise very sparsely furnished with only the minimum perfunctory furniture, such as bedside lockers and a large old-fashioned brown wardrobe.

  A firm hand pressed lightly down on her shoulders, suggesting she should move towards an empty, freshly-made-up bed with a bare locker by its side. It was the last bed in the room, and farthest from the door, so it was up against a wall. Strange as it may seem, having the wall on one side made her feel a tiny bit safer, simply because it was something immoveable. She was then ordered to undress and change into pajamas that were neatly folded by her pillow. The room was freezing cold, so she struggled to remove her clothes and put on the pajamas. The carer, who stood by silently watching, stripped back the bed, ordering her to quickly get in. Polly dutifully obeyed, clambering as quickly as she could between the sheets. She desperately wanted a bath, for she was still covered in sick, but she was much too afraid to ask for anything. Her plastic carrier bag, containing all her worldly possessions, was then hastily dropped down beside the bedside locker by the mysterious and silent carer.

  Polly covered her head under the thin blanket in her futile and desperate bid to escape the world and blot out all that was happening to her. Her helper stood a moment and then moved back toward the door to switch off the light. Polly listened intently as she heard the pitter-patter of her unknown carer’s footsteps heading down the long corridor towards the creaky oak staircase. Then she was gone. Polly would later learn the identity of this mysterious carer. Her name was Miss Scrimp and she was normally in charge of the laundry room.

  Polly hid under the thin bed clothing and cried into the pillow as she attempted to stifle the deep sobs that rose up like an active volcano from deep within her breast. As she lay there in the dark, frightened and shivering from cold, she was unable to sleep. She felt so worried for her brothers. Were they all right? James hated the dark, so would he cry and then come and try to find her? Who were all those nameless children she had seen peering at them? Had they been taken to prison after all? And if so, was it because she had borrowed one of the other children’s red pencil sharpeners and not given it back? Polly couldn’t think of any other incident that could have caused the Brimstones to have them sent away to be locked up forever in a castle. After all, being only five years old, she hadn’t yet been given enough time to build any sort of impressive criminal career.

  Polly felt exhausted by the stream of questions swimming around inside her head; questions that would, in the fullness of time, be answered, but at this present time gave her no hope or assurance when she so desperately needed it. All she knew that most terrible of nights was that she had been left with th
e sneaking suspicion that this was no holiday camp where they could pack their bags and leave after two weeks. Oh no! This place felt more like the very bowels of hell! And if not its bowels, then most certainly its mouth, for she felt as though she were being slowly sucked in to be agonizingly devoured! Nothing could, or would, in the years to come, persuade her otherwise!

  With those big black gates firmly shut behind her, she would very soon come to realize that she was locked in and, worse still, there was to be no way of escape! Yes, I think it is fair to say that Polly and her brothers had been well-and-truly “hung, drawn, and quartered” by the social services, a shameless body of people to whom she, as well as her brothers, had been entrusted!

  As Polly remembered back on the events of that most terrible of days, she likened it to that of Jessica’s kidnapping. The whole episode had been a truly terrifying ordeal, and just like Jessica, there had been nobody to help her. The same had been true ever since! She felt as though her hands were bound behind her back, for she was powerless to do anything. Also, she might as well have had sticky tape around her mouth, for nobody had ever listened to her or asked her to share her feelings regarding any decision that was being made concerning her family members or herself. As a result, Polly felt that, just like Jessica, she had stumbled around in the darkness, torn and bleeding from wounds that never healed as she searched for hope and reason to her crazy roller-coaster life. And just as Jessica had kicked up sand in her attempt to be noticed, the same could be said for Polly. No matter how much fuss she kicked up in her attempt to be heard, it was as though she didn’t exist.

  She had given up all hope of help ever coming, for she and her siblings were just pawns on a chessboard to be moved from here to there at the whim of the faceless people from the social services. These unknown individuals happily stamped all documents without a flicker of thought as to the impact that their decisions—or their hideous effects—would have on the tender hearts and souls of pain-filled children who were already suffering terribly from having no mummy or daddy to love and care for them. It made Polly want to weep.