Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  “You will put on too much weight, my boy, and then you will have to go back to military school, and you know what will happen to you once there,” whispered the colonel most gleefully. Corporal Beanpod nodded, but still continued to cram his mouth with spoonful after spoonful of ice cream. “Yes, you will be forced to go on a diet, but worse, you will spend the next few months back at squadron headquarters square bashing, old boy. So if I were you, I’d make that your last mouthful,” said the colonel with a chuckle before turning back to face Polly.

  “Now, Polly, where was I? Oh yes, you must now put this whole rather ghastly episode behind you, old sport,” said the colonel cheerfully as he brushed off all remaining cake crumbs from his upturned mustache. “As far as we’re concerned, it was well worth the time and effort to come all this way just for the nice pot of tea, rather splendid cakes, and in, Beanpod’s case, the bungee jump dessert. But now, I really must get back to my men, for heaven only knows what they will have got up to in my absence. Chances are they will have gotten their knickers in a real twist and are now in some tight spot that only I can get them out of.”

  Polly smiled and then walked with them to the exit of the plane stopping only to give them both a hug. Corporal Beanpod shrunk back as Polly approached him with arms wide open, for he remembered her last hug and did not wish a repeat performance. He wanted to go back to the jungle smelling of sweaty socks, gunpowder smoke, elephant dung, and monkey droppings. Anything but exquisite French perfume! So it was with great hesitation and an equal amount of reluctance that he allowed Polly to give him a lingering hug. He did however decline to be kissed by her on his mud-stained cheek that still bore the traces of chocolate ice cream, for he believed there were limits to how much of a softy he was prepared to be!

  Just as he was about to leave the plane, he plunged his hand into the breast pocket of his uniform.

  “Here, Polly, have this little gift as something to remember me by.”

  Polly looked down to see just what he had placed in her hand. It turned out to be a book titled, SAS Survival Guide.

  “Thanks,” mumbled Polly as she continued to stare at the title.

  “I think you might need it in the future, for it might help you stay out of trouble,” said the corporal with a big grin. “Besides, it has plenty of practical advice from the experts, and if nothing else it will be a constant reminder that not only do we exist, but we also do our best in every situation and crisis we encounter. So you’ll take great care of the book, won’t you, Polly? Also promise me that you won’t ever forget us.”

  Polly thanked Corporal Beanpod and promised she would never forget them, no never in a million years, for they had been so kind to her. She also felt bad that she had nothing to offer him in exchange for his kind gift.

  “I could give you this little ring that I was once given by a kind gentleman of the road,” she said to Corporal Beanpod. “I’m not sure if it’s worth very much, though,” she said as an afterthought, twisting the ring around on her finger as she spoke.

  The corporal laughed. “Thanks, Polly, but you keep it, for I am certain the other men would really begin to wonder about me if I returned to my battalion in camouflage and sporting a dress ring! Somehow I don’t think that would go down too well, do you?”

  “I guess you have a point,” said Polly with a smile, “but if you don’t take it, then I don’t think it will be too long before you entirely forget me,” she said with a tinge of sadness.

  “Forget Polly Brown? No, I don’t think so,” said the corporal with a cheeky grin. “I think you’ve made certain that you will always be remembered. Trust me on that one.”

  Polly smiled back at the corporal and promised to take great care of his book. She stood at the top of the steps to watch them disembark from the plane, and then she watched as they drove away in their rather snazzy-looking pink jeep. Then heading back to her seat, Polly pulled down her schoolbag from the overhead locker and safely tucked the book inside along with all her other worldly possessions.

  She was about to sit down and make herself comfy when she changed her mind and headed toward the cockpit. She realized that it was imperative for her to apologize to dear Captain Plimsol, for she knew she had tried his patience to the limit, and she hoped a sincere apology and a shaking of hands would suffice. She needn’t have worried, for the good captain was just thoroughly relieved that the siege was finally over, and without incident. Yes, just happy that his “baby” remained fully intact. His sleek jet had survived the arrival of Colonel Slaughterhouse and his troopers without sustaining any damage whatsoever, and for this he was most truly grateful.

  For Captain Plimsol was not a stupid man, and he knew that the sometimes “gung ho” colonel was like a fish without water if he did not have smoke grenades in one hand and a semiautomatic in the other. So at the end of the day, he and his jet had come off lightly. Now, all that was left for him to do before take off was change his socks and spray some deodorant under his arms, for unlike the lovely Corporal Beanpod, he much preferred the distinctive smell of heady aftershave to that of stale sweat and smelly socks. With this done, he put on his smart, pristine uniform and then sat down in his chair to await orders from the control tower, telling him he could now taxi down the runway and prepare for take off.

  Once in the air, the captain asked Polly if she was now hungry enough to eat, for he had the most wonderful menu of Indian curries for her perusal. Polly declined the offer, telling the good captain she was so tired and exhausted that she felt she could easily sleep for a week. The captain smiled and agreed to leave disclosing the menu until the following day. He told her that he too would abstain from the evening meal, as he needed to lose a few pounds if he was to remain fighting fit, although he did think he had more than likely sweated off a few pounds, what with all the worry of the SAS arriving on the scene.

  Amanda and Annabel, who were both listening in, turned to each other and smiled, for they did not agree with the captain’s assessment of needing to lose a few pounds. They both thought he looked utterly gorgeous just the way he was.

  “It’s not easy staying trim when you are sitting down all day and night in a plane,” he informatively told Polly. “And it’s even harder when delicious, mouth-watering food is constantly being served,” he said with a smile that showed off his perfect, gleaming white teeth.

  “So I will bid you good night, Polly, and let’s hope tomorrow will be a more peaceful and uneventful day, eh?”

  Polly smiled and agreed to do her best to stay out of trouble. This news did much to gladden the good captain’s heart.

  “If you’re a good girl, we can even watch It’s a Wonderful Life again, how about that?” he said with his big, impish grin.

  Polly felt delighted and said good night, feeling happily reassured that her misdemeanor was now a thing of the past. She found this hard to come to terms with, for in the past her history of crimes had always been repeatedly dragged up at every available opportunity by her guardians. Polly settled down with Langdon in her arms, and with the lights in the cabin dimmed, she fell asleep almost instantly.

  Amanda and Annabel left her as soon as they heard the first hint of a snore and went to make themselves, as well as the rather gorgeous Captain Plimsol, another nice cup of hot Earl Grey with a slice of lemon. While they prepared the refreshments, they chattered on excitedly about all the unusual events that had taken place on the plane that day.

  By lunchtime the following day they were almost at their next destination. All that needed to be done was for Captain Plimsol to read out the lunchtime menu so that Polly could choose what to eat. Then they could all watch a movie together, although he wasn’t too sure if he could face watching The Sound of Music for the third time in only twenty-four hours. Polly perked up as the good captain, over the speaker, read from the extensive menu.

  “Well, Polly, for lunch today, we thought we would give you a taste of India, especially since that’s where we’re headed. I hope you li
ke spices and seasonings, for our curries are nothing short of heavenly.”

  “Yes, simply divine,” Annabel interjected as she was at present in the cockpit serving the captain with a late morning cup of tea.

  “Firstly, we have a wonderful bhuna gosht. This traditional dish comes from Delhi, and this is one of dear Dr. Chipatti’s favorite curries, as well as that of Cyril, his rather greedy pet giraffe. This is a most delicious lamb curry with aromatic stir-fried spices. However, if that doesn’t tickle your taste buds, then why don’t you try some pista chicken? This delightfully creamy chicken and pistachio korma will be served up with rice and popadoms. Also, we have on offer prawns in a sweet and hot curry accompanied by yellow rice and lentils. And finally we have a fish molee. This is fillets of fish in a delicately flavored curry sauce, served on a bed of dill-flavored rice,” said the captain, licking his very kissable lips in anticipation of the first mouthful of one of these very delightful dishes. “So Polly, out of all of these yummy delights, which particular dish tickles your fancy?”

  “Well, they all sound very nice, but please may I just have egg and chips, sunny-side up?” Polly asked very politely.

  “You mean egg and French fries!” repeated the captain, totally taken by surprise by her simple request. “Oh, but Polly, you must surely give one of these wonderful and utterly scrumptious curries a try?”

  “Yes, I know I should, but what if I find I don’t like a particular dish. What then?” Polly anxiously asked. “It’s not as though there is an open window that I can throw it out of,” she said, thinking back to the jugged hare episode at the orphanage.

  The good captain saw her point.

  “I certainly wouldn’t want to upset or offend Bernie the chef, who has spent an awful amount of time making these exotic dishes…” she continued, her voice trailing off.

  “Polly,” the captain cut in, “why don’t you just try a little smidgen of each dish, and then if you still think you would prefer egg and chips, I will ask Bernie to cook some for you,” said the captain, trying to be helpful. “Or perhaps you would like to try a few mouthfuls of my favorite dish: shepherds pie with lashings of gravy, eh?”

  Polly really enjoyed her egg and chips, or French fries, as the captain preferred to call them. In no time at all she had eaten every morsel on her plate, which washed down very nicely with the large glass of lemonade. This was then followed by a disgracefully huge knickerbocker glory, as well as an exceptionally large portion of pineapple upside-down cake, served with piping hot custard. Polly ate until she had no room for any more. “They can keep their curries to themselves,” she thought most contentedly to herself, for she had thoroughly enjoyed her lunch, minus all aromatic spices and herbs.

  The plane thankfully landed in Bombay later that afternoon and without further incident. Polly and Langdon happily disembarked from the plane without giving the crew a difficult time, although Polly did ask if there was any possibility of filling her schoolbag with comics and sweets. She was delighted to hear that this had already been done by Amanda. Soon Polly was walking through the artistically brightly-colored, hustling, bustling streets of Bombay, dodging doddery old men on equally dodgy bikes as she meandered through the streets with Langdon tucked securely under her arm.

  This time, just as in Brazil, she found herself alarmed and horrified by the sight of poor, painfully thin children living on the streets and dressed in rags. Again she saw prematurely aged women with crying babies and old, blind men, many with only one leg, hobbling along and begging on the street corners. She once again felt saddened to the very core by all the atrocious suffering going on around her.

  In no time at all she emptied her schoolbag of all the comics and sweets, which she then shared amongst the children. There was not one child who did not show immense pleasure at being given a sweet or chocolate bar. Polly felt touched as they eagerly shook her hand and beamed the most beautiful smiles from hearts filled with the deepest joy and gratitude. Polly found it touching, as well as difficult to believe, that these street children could be so grateful at her seemingly pitiful gifts. “Anyone would think I had handed each of them a million pounds,” she thought privately to herself.

  On this occasion Polly did not hang around too long on the streets, for the sweltering heat and stench were unbearable, and besides, she was once again feeling very distressed by all she was seeing. She knew if she stayed longer, her feelings might lead to another explosive outburst back on the plane, and she could not allow this to happen again to dear Captain Plimsol and the lovely Amanda and Annabel. No, this time she needed a more diplomatic solution to the problem.

  Later the same day, and after she was safely back on the plane, Polly asked Amanda if there was the possibility of a quick chat with the captain. She was quite disappointed when Amanda informed her that the good captain was not at present on board, for he had gone for a quick game of tennis with Captain Bumble, his copilot. However, she went on to reassure Polly that she did not think it would be too long before they returned. So Polly sat down with Langdon and waited.

  Amanda was right. Polly did not have to wait too long for the captain to return. She watched from a window as he bounded up the steps three at a time, dressed from head to toe in white and holding a racket under one arm. Once on board, the captain casually headed towards the bathroom to take a cool shower and then change back into his neat, prestigious uniform with gold braiding. Amanda caught up with him just in time and told him that Polly needed to speak to him rather urgently. Captain Plimsol sighed, feeling very reluctant to abandon his shower, but all the same, he gave in to the request and headed down the cabin aisle to talk to Polly. He asked Amanda to make them a pot of tea, for he had the sinking feeling that he might be with Polly for some time. He smiled as he sat down, propping his tennis racket on one of the vacant seats.

  “Hi there, old sport,” he said with a cheerful grin. “I say, would you like to play a spot of tennis with me?”

  “I’m sorry, Captain Plimsol, but never in my life have I even picked up a tennis racket, let alone swung one,” she admitted rather ruefully. “Anyway, I’m not too sure that I would be able to play tennis, for I have extremely poor sight,” she said, pointing a finger towards one of her eyes.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Polly,” said the captain rather disappointed. “I was hoping you would give me a game, for I do so love the sport.”

  Amanda and Annabel, who were standing nearby making a pot of tea, started to quietly giggle, for both of them would have loved an invitation to play tennis with the rather gorgeous Captain Plimsol, and neither girl would have ever declined such an offer, even if their hands had never before as much as touched a tennis racket!

  “Well, Polly, even if you don’t play, surely you must watch Wimbledon on the television?”

  “No, I don’t think I ever have,” Polly replied. “All I ever get to see is wrestling on Saturday afternoons, and I really hate that.”

  “Well, perhaps one day you will be lucky enough to go to Wimbledon and actually watch a live match. It is the most wonderful experience, believe you me. Oh, and when you do go, be sure to buy a bowl of English strawberries and cream. I must admit this is one occasion where I turn a blind eye and do not count the calories. For I often have two or three bowls of strawberries and cream, all washed down with a couple of glasses of sparkling champagne,” he cheerily confessed.

  Polly produced a lame smile, for she could not help liking the captain and his enthusiasm for just about everything in life. She just wished that she had even the teeniest bit of his spark and zest for life and all its pleasures instead of horrible sadness that at times seemed to zap the very life out of her. As they sat drinking tea together with Langdon close at her side, Polly unburdened herself of all her latest anxieties, for her heart was once again very heavy indeed.

  Luckily for Polly, not only was the captain jolly good looking, but an equally jolly good listener who also liked to drink considerable amounts of tea. So, much as
he suspected, he remained seated for a rather lengthy amount of time as Polly sought consolation as well as sound advice from this kindly man who had many years of experience behind him. Before long, he found himself being pressured to do all within his power to get a consignment of food and clothing to them. He told her he would have to go higher up in the chain of command, but promised her that he would try his hardest. Before leaving his seat to go back to the cockpit and make the urgent phone call to the boss of the airline company, he turned to Polly and said, “Look Polly, we still have many other cities to visit, and what concerns me most is that you will see similar scenes wherever we land. We will be going on to Hyderabad and Delhi, as well as many other countries on other continents,” he said, a look of great consternation written all over his face. “And my main concern is that if we keep handing out large consignments at every destination, our company will pretty soon go bankrupt.”

  “Oh dear,” muttered Polly.

  “Yes, and then before too long, Concorde will be a thing of the past, with future generations having to look at pictures in history books just to see what the world once looked like!”

  Polly understood the poor captain’s predicament, but she also felt a deeper sense of urgency to help the desperate, suffering children that she kept meeting. Soon she came up with what she considered a very bright idea: perhaps at some time in the future an appeal could be made each time the jet took off with its wealthy passengers, who she believed could easily afford to give a generous contribution without ever feeling the pinch.

  The captain was not entirely certain that Polly’s idea would go down well with the company chairman, for he knew that rich travelers would more than likely feel most annoyed, if not intimidated, at the prospect of being asked to part with their money every time they came aboard. No, if they had paid thousands of pounds for the luxury and privacy of flying to their destination aboard Concorde, the last thing they would want to concern themselves with was other people’s troubles. The captain knew only too well that such harassment might well force their rich clientele to look elsewhere to other competitive airlines for future flights.