Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  He did not tell Polly all of this, for he did not wish to make her any more upset than she already was. But he did promise that as soon as he had drained the dregs of his tea, he would go back to the cockpit and phone the company chairman for a little chat.

  Polly felt deeply grateful to Captain Plimsol. After handing his empty cup to Amanda, he picked up his racket and headed back to the cockpit, privately promising himself that he would take that urgently needed shower as soon as he had spoken to the chairman of the board on Polly’s behalf.

  Captain Plimsol returned to the cabin some time later to inform Polly that he had indeed made the phone call on her behalf and that the chairman’s response had not only been sympathetic, but also favorable.

  “He’s agreed to bring it up at the next board meeting, Polly, but please don’t get your hopes up too high, for he is only one of many on the board.” Polly nodded. “However the good news is that until then, you are free to help yourself to supplies of sweets and coloring books whenever you venture into a new city.”

  “Brilliant. I feel better already,” responded Polly enthusiastically, for the news had gone a long way in gladdening her otherwise heavy heart.

  “I’m glad that’s sorted you out, Polly,” said Captain Plimsol. “I was beginning to think I was dealing with Mother Teresa and the Pope all rolled into one!” Polly laughed at his keen sense of humor.

  “Speaking of the Pope, I was wondering…” Polly stopped short, suddenly feeling that she would be well out of order to continue on and verbalize her unusual request.

  “Well, speak up, Polly. What was it you wanted to ask?” said the good captain.

  “Oh, nothing,” replied Polly. “Really it was nothing.”

  If Polly had unwisely continued with her request, the good captain might well have found himself filled with dismay, for Polly, suffering from tired legs, had momentarily wondered if just like the Pope’s Popemobile she too could be allowed to have a vehicle on wheels. After all, it made perfect sense, for she could take much more with her as well as cover a greater area. And it would do much to relieve the bunions that were now beginning to develop on her toes. After much serious consideration, she decided to hold her tongue and put up with painfully swollen ankles, for even she knew better than to push her luck too far!

  That evening after yet another plate of fried egg and chips, Polly settled down with all the cabin crew to watch It’s a Wonderful Life for the umpteenth time. As she watched the movie, it made her wish that one day she too would understand why she had been born into a life of such sadness and whether there ever would come a day when any of it would finally make sense. With that thought meandering its way through her mind and the film credits going up on the screen, Polly dozed off, still cuddling Langdon tightly in her arms.

  Amanda found a blanket to tuck her in, and Annabel dimmed the cabin lights before heading towards the galley area to make the rest of the crew and the lovely Captain Plimsol a fresh cup of Earl Grey tea served with a slice of lemon. While the tea was left standing to brew, she hunted around in an overhead locker for the Scottish shortbread which she knew the darling captain loved. “How does he stay so sleek and handsome,” she pondered as she lingered to study the disgracefully high fat content figures printed on the shortbread wrapper.

  “Bless him,” she whispered with a giggle before placing an extra shortbread finger on the gorgeous captain’s plate.

  With the tea brewing nicely in the pot, she picked up her tray and headed for the cockpit to join the rest of the crew.

  Chapter 25

  ANOTHER DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

  THE NEXT MORNING found Polly and the crew of Concorde well on their way to Durban, followed by Cape Town in South Africa. Again Polly found herself shunning the glamour and opulence of these beautiful cities, preferring to head out into the townships and see with her own two eyes the immense poverty that many people had to endure. Again she found herself meeting sad children like little Pedro. Their names were different, and much more difficult for her to pronounce, but their plight was just the same, and their despair equally recognizable. As usual, Polly found herself desperate but powerless to change anything.

  Polly did have to admit that despite all the hardships she had witnessed in her travels, the children had something unusual—a richness, yes, an inner joy—that appeared to exude from their beings. They broke out into the most beautiful smiles at the drop of a hat. How could this be when they had experienced nothing but hunger and hardship? Yet love and laughter came so quickly when they gathered to kick an empty tin can around the streets. They also showed such immense gratitude when handed a small, insignificant bar of chocolate. This made no sense at all, and it served to confuse her further. There could be no denying that there was something profoundly rich about these poor countries, for the hardship seemed to make them more alive and passionate, with more ability to give of themselves to others. Could it be that despite having nothing, they in truth were the rich ones and those with too much wealth or comfort were actually the poorer ones?

  She found herself continually perplexed by this nagging thought as she emptied her backpack time and time again to joyous huddles of wide-eyed children that always grew in number wherever she went. Finally, after endless kissing and an equal amount of hugging, she hurriedly made her way back to the airport to board the supersonic jet as it was getting late and she was looking forward to her next hot meal. Amanda and Annabel were standing by the steps ready to greet her.

  “Did you have a wonderful day, Polly?” Annabel asked with an air of excitement in her voice. “I mean, isn’t Cape Town just about the most beautiful place on Earth? I bet you took the cable car up to the top of the mountain to see for yourself. For the views over the bay are just breathtaking, don’t you think?”

  Before Polly could give any reply, Amanda jumped in.

  “Yes, Annabel, I agree with you. The views over the bay are simply stunning, and often you can see whales and dolphins swimming in the clear blue water below. It’s simply wonderful.” Amanda smiled as she patted Polly’s shoulder. “Polly, I do hope you took Langdon on a safari tour so he could see some of his relatives? For the elephants walking with their babies in tow is such a wonderfully cute sight to behold. So tell me, please do. Did you take Langdon to meet up with them?”

  Polly gave no reply, choosing to remain silent. For once again, she was having a serious fit of the blues. So she just shook her head, and proceeded to wearily climb the steps up to the plane. Once on board, she headed for her seat, and after placing Langdon down next to her she sunk back into her seat and closed her eyes.

  Amanda and Annabel both looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders as if to say that as usual neither of them had the slightest idea as to what was upsetting Polly. The sad truth was that they were both finding it very hard to understand why, having been given the gift of the trip of a lifetime, Polly wasn’t showing more excitement and coming back from each city with camel loads of goodies and presents? If nothing else, they thought, at least lots of beautiful new shoes, for both hostesses had a real weakness for new shoes. Yes, if the truth were to be known, both girls were well on their way to becoming the next Imelda Marcos, with the competition being very close as to which one of them had the fullest wardrobe stuffed with hundreds of pairs of shoes. So to both girls’ way of thinking, none of Polly’s behavior made any sense at all.

  Amanda crouched down by Polly’s seat in a final effort to communicate with her while Annabel went to pour Polly a cool glass of lemonade.

  “Polly, do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you?” Amanda asked, feeling very concerned.

  Polly remained silent, her eyes firmly shut. Annabel joined Amanda in crouching down in the aisle as she then attempted to place the glass of lemonade in Polly’s hand. Still Polly would not open her eyes or take hold of the glass. Both girls looked at each other resignedly and decided to leave her alone until she was ready and willing to talk.

  What n
either girl knew—and Polly felt they would never understand—was that she was feeling desperately homesick. But homesick for where? Polly hated the orphanage so much that to long to be back there was nothing short of crazy. But as she sat in her seat with her eyes firmly shut, she found herself being confronted by the same vision that constantly haunted her, a vision of a little girl aged around five or six, sitting on a chair in a dark empty room, constantly crying “I want my mummy; I want my mummy.” Nobody ever entered the room to answer her call, and her cries seemed not only to get louder but also more heart-rending as she sat alone in the dark in a state of deep distress. Often when Polly was finding life difficult, she would find herself picturing this disturbing scene. Only recently, she had begun to realize that the little girl was, in fact, none other than herself.

  Polly had spent years rocking her head back and forth, crying over and over for her mother. But no amount of rocking brought her mother to her side, and only after completely exhausting herself did sleep ever come. She had tried hard to imagine a warm, sweet, tender woman with a delicate string of pearls around her neck, bending over her to stroke her hair and whisper kind and touching words as she wiped away her tears. Oh, how she had always longed for the comfort and sense of security that mothers bring. To Polly’s way of thinking, parents were the most precious gift any child could be given, and cut the deepest wound imaginable if they were absent from a child’s life. She knew for certain that no amount of fancy clothes and classy shoes could ever fill that void. Yes, she’d forgo every imaginable luxury for the gift of having parents, for their absence in her life had done much to cause turbulence in her heart that felt crippling in its impact. This turmoil never seemed to subside in its strength and seemed happy to engulf and overwhelm Polly at the drop of a hat. It sought to invade and highly influence just about every event of her young life as it continued to wreak its trail of total havoc.

  Polly thought back to a day at the beach when at the young age of four years old, she had been in the care of Molly and Maisie Brimstone. They had gone to the beach as a treat. Polly had just been given a new turquoise stretchy swimsuit to replace the dark blue, bubbly old costume that, like a sponge, never failed to hold in the water until long after she came out of the sea. It was horrible, for as well as keeping her cold and clammy as it stuck like superglue to her skin, it also made her feel ugly. Therefore, the joy of being presented with a new rather trendy costume had felt indescribable, so great was her joy at the surprise gift. Once she had the costume on, she dispensed with all self-control as she raced down the shoreline and began to skip and dance through the small soap-sud waves that rushed up the beach to meet her.

  The water was so chillingly cold that as the suds covered her toes she screamed with delight. However, from her guardians’ perspective, she had quite clearly forgotten her place, and therefore needed to be taken down a peg or two. They seemed incapable of appreciating that Polly’s delirious state of happiness had nothing to do with her being a show-off, but simply that she felt wonderful and like a little princess for the first time in her otherwise forlorn life. Before she had the opportunity of even getting the costume fully wet, one of the other children was ordered to run and fetch her, for Maisie and Molly required her presence back at base camp.

  Polly obeyed the command and immediately raced up the beach as fast as her legs would allow. She hardly noticed the pain of the sharp pebbles under her feet, so great was the rush of adrenaline that came from experiencing such newfound happiness.

  Finally, a little out of breath, she reached the area where her two guardians sat. Their overgenerous bodies overlapped on striped deckchairs that appeared to be on the verge of collapsing under the strain of their weight. Polly innocently assumed she had been called because it was now lunchtime, and they wanted everyone present before the large wicker hamper was opened for the sandwiches to be handed out.

  As she approached them she saw one of the girls, Carol, sitting beside the ladies crying, and Maisie was patting her on the shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Polly had no idea what the problem was, and therefore never considered that she could possibly be the root cause of young Carol’s plight. She therefore arrived on the scene still excited and very, very happy.

  “Come here immediately, Polly Brown,” Molly officiously demanded.

  Polly, though perplexed by Molly’s gruff tone of voice, immediately obeyed.

  “We have all had quite enough of your prancing and parading around as you try to make the other children jealous,” she sneered.

  Polly stood in a stupefied silence as Maisie pulled the face of sobbing Carol further into the cleavage of her heaving bosom. However, Carol did manage to flash a wicked smile in Polly’s direction on her way down into Maisie’s ample chest. Before Polly could speak out, Molly jumped to her feet, and without prior warning, she lunged towards Polly. In just a matter of seconds Polly’s new stretchy turquoise costume was forcibly stripped from her waiflike frame, leaving her cold and exposed, as well as completely shocked.

  Despite being only four years old, Polly felt instantly humiliated and quickly grabbed hold of a towel to cover her exposed and shivering body. She then raced over to where her clothes sat nearby in a small pile. Gathering them up rather frantically in her arms, she then rushed up the beach in search of the public facilities so she could put her clothes back on. Hot tears stung her eyes as they mingled with sand. Her cheeks were also burning as she fought back the awful sense of humiliation she was experiencing. Once inside the ladies room, she locked herself in one of the cubicles and slumped down on the seat. With her towel still wrapped around her, she began shaking and crying as she tried to come to terms with what had taken place. Eventually she forced herself to put her clothes back on, for she feared she would be in further trouble if she remained absent too long. Then as she stood up to open the cubicle door, she found it was stuck. She began to panic, trying desperately to push the thick bolt back and free herself from the stall. All her attempts were futile. She finally admitted defeat and slumped to the floor weeping loudly as she cried out for help.

  Her cries for help eventually caught the attention of other vacationers, and it was not too long before she was rescued and released from her temporary prison. Polly was shaking so badly from her ordeal that all the ladies were most concerned for her welfare. Suddenly one of the ladies bent down to look in Polly’s tear-stained face, and once their eyes met, she took it upon herself to ask what in any other situation would be considered a reasonable question.

  “Little girl, please stop crying. Where is your mummy?”

  She presumably asked that oh-so-explosive little question in total innocence so that Polly and her mother could be reunited. Instantly, Polly felt a sharp stabbing pain in her heart as she opened her mouth and began to stammer, “I have no mummy,” before making a further spectacle of herself by collapsing in a heap down by the group of ladies’ feet. Her grief at being publicly humiliated by the removal of her swimwear had been bad enough, and being locked in the stall had been pretty terrifying. However, the awful realization that she had no mummy to help or comfort her suddenly superseded both other painful events, forcing them way down the trauma Richter scale. The concerned lady had asked the same question that tormented Polly every single day of her young life, and it had never been satisfactorily answered. Where was her mummy? At that painful moment in time it forced Polly to sob deeper than ever at her loss.

  The group of very concerned ladies made it their business to take Polly back to where her guardians sat, and one lady kindly took it upon herself to explain that Polly had accidentally got herself locked in the bathroom stall. Polly was grateful that it was not left up to her to give a satisfactory excuse for her rather lengthy absence, but rather another adult to whom both guardians would think twice before expressing anything other than gratitude.

  With the ladies gone and well out of earshot, Polly was ordered to sit down on the pebbles and remain in their presence for the rest of the a
fternoon. As she tried to make herself comfortable, Molly handed her one of the last remaining sandwiches, which she gratefully accepted. But as she took her first bite into the bread her eye caught a glimpse of Carol. Suddenly, from deep down inside, she started to feel those old familiar rumbles of distress, similar to that of a volcano, warning that an eruption is imminent, and once again she found herself struggling to contain her emotions. Fresh tears began to spill down her cheeks, splashing onto her half-eaten sandwich, which she was now struggling to eat as she experienced an overwhelming sense of loss, for down on the shoreline Carol was strutting like a peacock adorned in the turquoise swimsuit which Polly had briefly loved.

  Polly did not know how to cope with the rest of the day on the beach. She could only pray with all her heart that Maisie and Molly would relent and find it in their hearts to give her back her new swimsuit, even if it was not to be on this bright and hot sunny day. It was never to happen.

  So, as Polly sat on the plane with both hostesses quietly pondering and confused as to what the root of Polly’s problem really was, Polly felt miserably depressed. Both girls remained hidden in the galley area sipping tea and feeling quite puzzled. After all, Polly was being treated like royalty with her every seemingly indulgent whim being met, and yet not showing an ounce of gratitude. How could she be so spoiled and ungrateful? Both girls were beginning to feel pretty impatient with her, though they were loath to voice their disapproval of what they perceived as ingratitude while in her presence.

  Polly remained equally silent and melancholic, for she too felt incapable of expressing what she was really feeling. The truth was simply that there was nothing she wanted to buy; all she wanted was a mother and father, and she knew that there was no shop on this planet that sold them. She also felt that if such valuable items were on sale, they would surely cost millions of pounds and would therefore be well beyond her reach.