The Trouble with Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  “Oh, gosh. How awful,” were the only comments that spilled from her lips as she listened most intently to Will telling the story.

  “As soon as Edmund was eighteen, he joined the army, mainly because he wanted to get out of here. I think he found everything about home life much too painful. Well, he was doing really well, that is, until one day during a military exercise he was terribly injured.” Will went uncomfortably silent.

  “Go on, Will. Tell me more,” Polly urged as she spread butter on the warm toast before piling it high with a mountain of shredded cheese.

  “Polly, wait a second. Have you put the moutard on the toast?”

  Polly pulled a long face.

  “Mustard, Polly. Here, catch.”

  Polly was very thankful, as well as relieved, to catch the mustard pot and made a mental note to tell Will as soon as it seemed right that she had an ongoing eye problem, so throwing things her way was, at the end of the day, pretty inadvisable!

  “Well caught, Polly, but you will probably find everything I tell you from this moment in time very hard to believe.”

  “Try me,” was Polly’s simple reply as she turned the toast upside down to allow the cheese to drop off. This way she could add some mustard before placing the cheese back on the toast.

  “Edmund was on a regular parachuting exercise. Everything was going to plan. He opened his parachute at the right time, but sadly, he bungled up, for he did not land in the manner he was trained. Despite being in agonizing pain, he got up and began the long hike back to base. It was not too long before he realized something was very wrong. For one thing, he could hardly breathe.”

  Polly let out a loud gasp as she stood by the cooker and slipped the metal grill pan that held the cheese on toast under the grill. “My goodness, this is becoming one of the worst stories I’ve ever heard,” she exclaimed as she placed some water in a special pan, her full intention being to wait until the water boiled and to then poach an egg. Polly found herself feeling thoroughly repentant concerning all the ill feeling she had been experiencing toward Edmund.

  “Well, my brother told his commanding officer that something was very wrong, but his pleas to rest went ignored, for he was ordered to carry on walking. Edmund struggled to walk for over eighteen miles, and all that time he was in the most hideous, excruciating pain. When he arrived back at base, he passed out and was immediately taken to hospital. It was only then that the full impact of his injuries was made known. Yes, Polly he had broken virtually every single bone in his body. In a procedure to try and repair some of the fractures, he became paralyzed from the waist down, and he can no longer walk.”

  “You couldn’t see it, Polly, but he’s still swathed in bandages from the chest down,” Will went on to inform her. “And I guess he feels very bitter and frustrated that such a thing should happen to him. He was such an athlete before this. He lived and breathed sports, and now he feels his life is well and truly over. This is why he is so very hurt and bitter.”

  “My goodness, how simply dreadful,” Polly gasped, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by compassion on Edmund’s behalf.

  “Yes, he has been confined to his bed for nine long months, and I guess it’s all taken a terrible toll on him.”

  “Oh, Will. I feel so sad for him. Is there anything I can do to make things easier for him?” she asked out of deep concern as she watched Will crack an egg into a special tray before placing it over the pan of boiling water.

  “I don’t think so, Polly. Goodness knows I have tried my best to be patient with him, so I guess he still needs time alone to work things out for himself. Oh my goodness! Quick, Polly! Remove the toast from under the grill, for the cheese has just caught fire!”

  “Oops!” said Polly as she quickly grabbed hold of a kitchen towel and hurriedly pulled the rack down from the grill, throwing the cloth over the toast to put out the small flame. Seconds later she quickly whipped the cloth away to take a peek at what remained beneath it. “It’s a bit burnt at the edges, but otherwise it looks fine,” she over-optimistically stated.

  Will made his way over to Polly to take a good look.

  “Hmm. Well, I don’t know if it will do, for Edmund has become very fussy these days, and he may get very upset if we place this burnt sacrificial offering in front of him.”

  “Really, Will? I dare to think otherwise, for I’m sure if he’s as hungry as he says he is, then he will be fine with it. Besides, if we quickly scrape off all the burnt bits, he will never know any different,” Polly confidently stated as she bent down and began scrutinizing the toast from every angle.

  “You know, Polly, in my opinion it may be best to start all over again, yes, make it from scratch,” Will stated, giving her a quick despairing look as he stood over the sorry-looking buck rabbit weighing up all his limited options. “Yes, we either risk all by just placing the egg on top, which will indeed hide some of the burnt bits, and then leave his room quickly without mentioning that it’s a bit singed at the edges, or we start from scratch and once more face his wrath for having taken such a long time. Polly, which is it to be?”

  “Let’s just take it up to him and see,” Polly very brightly suggested. “If it turns out that he doesn’t want it, well then, I’d be more than happy to polish it off,” she said.

  Will turned around to take the poached egg out of the pan and slip it onto the cheese on toast. “Oh my goodness, I too have failed in my duty, for this egg is meant to be runny, not solid as a rock and frazzled at the edges,” he lamented, as against his better judgment he then dropped it on top of the burnt cheese on toast to head up the stairs.

  “Will, did you not see that the egg almost bounced off the plate?” Polly announced with a grimace.

  “Oh, well. Let’s get it over with,” Will rather wistfully stated as he encouraged Polly to go ahead of him and open the door to let him through.

  As it happened, Will turned out to be horribly correct.

  “This poor cheese on toast was obviously hung, drawn, and quartered before being cremated,” his brother yelled as he rather contemptuously held up the rubbery egg between his fingers to peer down at the slightly blackened cheese on toast, his furrowed brow furiously twitching with rage.

  “I’m so sorry, Edmund. We honestly tried our best. We will go back down to the kitchen and start again,” a remorseful Will hurriedly suggested in his desperate bid to put things right.

  “Forget it! I will hang on until suppertime. But if that too gets positively incinerated, you’re very life is then in jeopardy, dear brother. Do you hear me? I swear I will make it my sole objective to make your life as miserable as can be. Now get out of here, you absolute cretin. Yes, both of you. Yes, get out,” he yelled. Then out of pure frustration, he threw a glass in their direction. Luckily the glass missed them, albeit by a few inches, as it smashed into the door. Polly instantly fell to her knees and began to pick up the large and dangerously sharp shards of glass that now littered the floor.

  “Leave it alone, Polly. I’ll clear it up later. Let’s just get out of here while we can,” Will ordered as he firmly grabbed hold of her elbow and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. It’s time to go,” he gently urged, pushing her out of the room before anything else untoward could happen.

  As soon as they were back out on the landing and alone, Will invited Polly to ascend a further set of stairs. Polly held back.

  “Will, I think I should go home, for my being here has caused enough upset to last a lifetime, don’t you think?” she said, a very weary and forlorn look written all over her face.

  “Nonsense. I just want you to come with me for a moment,” he said as he held out his hand for her to take. “Come on, Polly. Trust me.”

  After they had climbed the next set of stairs, Will ushered her down another small corridor before opening a door that led into another large room. Polly stood with her mouth open wide, for in the corner of the room was the biggest and most elegant grand piano she had ever set eyes on.

&n
bsp; “It’s a Bechstein,” Will hurriedly informed her in manner that might suggest that the name would mean something to her. Of course, it didn’t, but that still didn’t stop Polly from making further excitable sounds as she timidly stepped up to it.

  “Can you play this?” she asked as she casually brushed the tips of her fingers over the keys.

  “Why, of course,” he swiftly replied. “Would you like to hear me play?”

  “What, now?”

  “Well, I think now might be considered the perfect moment, as I’m standing right on front of it. That is, unless you have some special concert in mind that as of yet I know nothing of,” Will goodhumoredly replied.

  Polly smiled and then raced into the middle of the room to give a twirl. “Play on, dear maestro!” she shouted, as she overdramatically gestured for him to take his seat and begin.

  Will stretched and wiggled his long fingers, doing some rather outlandish form of hand exercises that Polly presumed only experienced concert musicians would even care to do. Finally he allowed his long fingers to caress the keys before shouting out, “Prontissimo.” He then began to play with much enthusiasm and energy as, lost in the music, he climbed into a higher stratosphere that most mere mortals know little of. How long he played is neither here nor there. What can be categorically stated is that this moment in time was the most magical event that Polly had ever been blessed with experiencing outside of her visit to Piadora. As Will continued to play whatever music his young heart dictated, an equally heady Polly danced around with the gay abandonment of a wind-up ballerina from a musical box that continues to twirl long after all music has stopped. Polly laughed and danced, then danced some more as her friend Will entranced and captivated her heart with his exceptional playing.

  It did not come to a halt until Polly finally collapsed breathlessly to the floor. “Will, you really are the best!” she jubilantly cried.

  Will broke into a smile as he got up from the piano to come over and join her. “Right, Polly, I think it’s about time we got down to doing a bit of homework, don’t you? So come on. Get out your books, and let me take a look,” he gently ordered.

  Polly responded by pulling a rather long and extremely childish face. “Oh, must we? I have been enjoying myself so much. It’s a shame to spoil it all now by doing stupid, horrid homework,” she sniffed rather churlishly.

  “Yes, now! And allow me to tell you bluntly, homework is not—I repeat, not—stupid. Stupid is for those who fail to realize how important homework, and therefore an education, is. It’s good to have fun, but we must also work; otherwise, your life will go nowhere, and that’s a mathematical certainty!”

  “You’re beginning to sound as boring as many of my teachers,” she moaned.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it! Sorry, Polly, but I’m not going to change my mind on this one. I’ve seen too many of my brother’s friends who messed around in school and treated homework as something other lesser mortals did. And now they are paying for their sheer stupidity, for they are all struggling to find work that has any meaning or fulfillment, as they left school without any decent qualifications. So if all this means you consider me to be nothing short of a wet rag, then so be it.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Polly mournfully sniffed.

  “No offense taken. But Polly, please take the time to ask yourself this: Let’s say you own a restaurant, and two students came for an interview. The first has completed school, and even though his or her grades are not straight As, all the reports talk of the student trying hard, being punctual, and always giving his best. The second student, however, has impressive grades, but if you read between the lines he or she put no effort into anything. Which of the two would you choose?”

  Polly was convinced he was trying to catch her out. “I’m not answering you, Will, just in case you are trying to trick me,” she glibly retorted.

  “Polly, I promise that’s truly not the case. I am just trying to make you see how important it is to do and give your best at school and why you should try to have a voracious appetite when it comes to learning. I want you to succeed, and if that means appearing hard and boorish, then so be it. So for the moment the fun’s over, and now it’s time to take a good look at your homework, or else I’ll walk you straight home,” he said in a most impressive voice of authority that all of a sudden had Polly feeling very submissive, although she had absolutely no intention whatsoever of showing it. She therefore remained with a downcast expression across her face, looking very glum, if not a little—dare I say it?—moody.

  “Look, Polly. I want to help because I truly care. Neither of our home lives could be considered perfect. In truth, we have so many trials to overcome before we even hit the school gates each day. So if we do well at school, then it opens up so many possibilities for our future, for it finally gives us both something called choice.”

  “Choice? What precisely does that word mean?” Polly ruefully commented tongue in cheek as she thought of Uncle Boritz, the dictator controlling every minute of her life to the point where she felt as though she were nothing but a mere pawn on his private chessboard to be randomly shoved from square to square at his will.

  “Right, then. Where is this homework? Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Polly suddenly felt very awkward and embarrassed.

  Will noticed her silence and decided to push a little.

  “Polly, I’ve upset and offended you, haven’t I?” he suggested, showing great sensitivity.

  “No, Will. Well maybe just a bit. It’s just that, well, I’m seen as a bit of a dunce, a no-hoper, and therefore a waste of space by most of the teachers. It is the same with all of us that come from the castle. If I’m to be brutally honest, my brothers as well have always appeared to get the worst treatment, and I don’t know why. I have tried to show the teachers that I am different, that I want to learn. Really, I have. But it feels completely hopeless.” Polly felt so safe with Will that in no time at all she found herself sharing some of the most painful events of her life.

  “Will, believe me when I tell you, if I ever go home having achieved anything, such as a certificate for poetry, there is never a single word of encouragement. No one is the slightest bit interested. So if I’m honest, I’ve completely given up, for why should I care when no one else does?”

  Will remained silent, occasionally giving her hand a small squeeze to comfort her and let her know that he felt the depth of her pain.

  “There are thirty-five of us at the orphanage, not counting their own five children,” Polly informed him.

  “I have not come across any pupil who goes by the surname of Scumberry yet,” Will said as he furrowed his brow, an indication of his deep concern.

  “No, and you wont. The youngest one, Jeremy, is less than a year old, and the oldest is sixteen. He lives away from home, as he is a boarder at a private school. The other, older children go to different fee-paying schools, and the youngest two are not yet ready for anything other than nursery school. Oh, yes, and in the castle they live their private lives on the other side of the bars from us. Theirs is the posh side.”

  “Posh side?”

  “Yes, Will. You heard right. They have nice carpets and gas heaters and nice, comfortable furniture and every luxury imaginable, while our side is very sparsely furnished, and it is always freezing cold. No one who visits the castle is ever permitted to come and see our side, so they go on their way believing that we all live the same way. Even the Social Services remain ignorant of the differences, yet inside the castle there are big iron gates that divide their side from ours.”

  “What, gates inside the house?”

  “Unbelievable as it may seem, there really are iron bars to divide us. We do see their children occasionally, but as they have a live-in granny who helps look after them and cooks for them, we do not see them that often. They often walk past us eating sweets and drinking soda, and so, for the most times it is very hard to bear.” She sniffed as she volunt
eered information that she knew was strictly forbidden from ever being discussed outside the castle.

  “The only way to help you understand is to ask you to imagine being in a crowd of people. You are all unbearably hungry and thirsty. Along comes a truck, and half of the crowd is given a wonderful meal, lots to drink, new clothes, and comfortable shoes for their feet. The others can do little but watch. The first group is then taken off somewhere wonderful for the day, leaving the others behind with nothing to look forward to. Imagine the tension that would exist between both groups on their return. Now, then. That’s exactly how it is for us,” she sighed.

  “My brothers and I were the last ones to arrive at the castle, and so we have been hated ever since,” she said, lowering her voice as she expressed something of the deep pain she was feeling. “Thomas never even made it. He felt so alone, so isolated,” she softly said, her voice suddenly cracking with emotion.

  “Who was Thomas?” Will gently dared to ask.

  “He was my dear older brother, but sadly he has passed away,” she stated in little more than a whisper. “They killed his spirit and soul first, and then he became ill. Will, I miss him so much,” she confessed, tears hurtling unabashed down her cheeks as she felt the full impact of her deep and sad loss.

  Will squeezed her hand even tighter. “Polly, I’m so sorry, really I am, and I feel honored that you feel safe enough to share these private and very painful things with me. I want you to know that I am and always will be a true friend,” he mumbled as he let go of her hand to place a comforting arm around her shoulder. “And what’s more, I have the broadest shoulders you’ll ever get to see, so if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, then I’m your man,” he commiserated. “But as time is marching on, we need to put all distractions aside and address this latest piece of homework.”