Uncle Boritz, who was now miraculously freed from this overwhelming burden, continued his involvement by monitoring the boys’ every movement. He stopped only to pull a large handkerchief from his pocket and began to mop his dripping brow with one hand while his other was used to direct the boys as to where to head with his new and very precious cargo. Finally the boys were able to off-load the huge mystery appliance onto a table that just seconds earlier had been quickly cleared of all clutter.
Polly observed that Uncle Boritz was so overcome with excitement at his new find that her absence had rather miraculously gone unnoticed. The next thirty minutes were then spent with all the foster children racing backward and forward to get whatever ingredient or implement he bellowed out as he tried hard to read from the tatty, yellowing instruction manual that appeared to accompany the huge mysterious contraption.
Polly chose to stand to one side watching on in amazement, at the same time feeling deeply liberated by her snatched time with Will and grateful that due to her uncle’s latest acquisition, this gothic monstrosity had undoubtedly saved her from further punishment.
Finally Uncle Boritz produced a large brown cardboard box, which, once opened, revealed hundreds of stacked-up ice cream cornets that were shaped like large sea shells.
“My precious little poppets, I have just had the good fortune of being given this wonderful, magical ice cream machine, and I might add that as it was so generously donated, it has come at absolutely no cost to my good self.”
“Ooh!” they all cried, their eyes out on stalks as they dreamed of what was about to happen.
“So for tonight, and tonight only, feel free to feast on as much ice cream as your young hearts desire and your bellies dictate.”
Great gulps of sheer disbelief as well as gasps of delight circled the room as the children repeated his offer over and over, for they could hardly believe their ears. They rarely got to taste ice cream, as it was considered so expensive. And on the last count there had been more foster children than ever, so with more mouths to feed, ice cream was indeed rarely on the menu.
There had been an occasion near Easter when, as a treat, they were surprised to be taken to the cinema to see the latest biblical epic that had just made it to the box office. The drive to the cinema had been long, with all the children packed into the back of the van like sardines, so by the time they arrived at the cinema, they were already feeling hot and frazzled, as well as hungry and thirsty.
They begged over and over to be allowed a small drink or ice cream, but Uncle Boritz was having none of it. The excuse behind his blatant refusal was simple. It was Lent, and that, according to the Catholic calendar, was not a time for indulging the flesh with any form of earthly creature comfort. Oh no, for according to Uncle, as well as the saints in heaven but on standby, this time in the calendar was a rather splendid opportunity for the now-listless children to consider and then commit themselves to a torturous afternoon of self-denial and suffering. And so they were given no choice but to sit through three and a half hours of cinematic excellence with throats as parched as sandpaper seemingly peppered with brick dust as they witnessed all other children in the crowded theater dip into tubs of tantalizing toffee-laced ice cream and thickly covered chocolate ice cream bars. Even more aggravating was to be forced to listen to the sound of endless children slurping and burping as they guzzled down even larger volumes of fizzy soda, stopping only to lazily stretch over to fill the empty vacuum of their mouths with fistfuls of butter popcorn from large boxes that were conveniently situated on the arm rests for their immediate disposal.
Any attempts to be Christlike were immediately vanquished, as murderous jealously consumed the heart of each and every desperate child that day in the cinema. Try as they might, they found it nigh impossible to concentrate on the movie, or anything else for that matter, as they endured three or more hours of distressingly annoying noise that came from children undoing one irritating sweet wrapper after another, while their tongues had long been forced to cleave to the roofs of their mouths, so dire was their need for liquid refreshment. Polly could not speak on behalf of the others, but by the time the credits rolled, she felt totally ready for martyrdom or otherwise inclined to commit a murder or two!
So what they had all believed would be a wonderful impromptu visit to the cinema had quickly turned in to a most harrowing affair that did little to help Polly or any of the other children fully appreciate the deeper meaning of Easter.
As a result of that specific bygone occasion, as well as many other equally distressing events, she could easily be forgiven for seriously questioning whether she or any of the others had heard right. For was Uncle Boritz really handing out such an invitation, which actually encouraged them all to eat as much ice cream as they cared to? Polly stood amongst the small minority that chose to cautiously hold back. What was the hidden snag? There surely had to be a hidden price tag, for never, as a rule, did he willingly and freely give anything away for the pure joy of giving. So like many of the other children, she felt very unnerved and therefore cautious by this unexpected act of overwhelming generosity.
The younger children gave no serious thought to the matter, as they instantly responded by hurriedly placing themselves in a most orderly line; after all, they had little time for questioning anything when free ice cream was on the menu. Finally, the remaining children, against their better judgment, decided to throw all caution to the wind and so went forward to help themselves to a shell from the large box before returning to join the lineup of very exhilarated children as they too waited with bated breath for their turn to finally arrive.
Some of the more impatient children were unable to endure the lengthy wait, as the tap on the silver contraption filled up each cone with freezing ice far too slowly for their liking. So by the time they reached the machine of constantly flowing milky ice cream, their edible shells had long disappeared into their hungry bellies, forcing them to either lose their rightful place in the line or cup their hands in a desperate bid to still get their fair claim of a pile of thick, freezing liquid. Then with the ice cream swirled into mountainous peaks in the shell—or melting fast in the cupped but hot, sticky palms of grubby hands—they made their way to the back of the line to merrily demolish the ice cream. With the ice cream gone and white mustache lips, they once more impatiently waited for their turn to come around again.
Polly had never seen anything like it, but as she secretly admitted to feeling very hungry, she hoped it would be all right to help herself to a cone shell and join the end of the queue. She also prayed that, as Uncle Boritz appeared to be in a temporary state of euphoria, he would forget that she was on ROPE and that punishment meant she was exempt from all family treats. Luckily for Polly, he was so caught up with the moment that he failed to notice her standing alongside the other children as she waited for her turn to come ’round. The same applied where Gailey was concerned, for Polly knew that if Gailey even caught sight of Polly with a cornet in her hand, it was almost certain she would immediately alert Uncle Boritz and get her removed from the kitchen. Happily, Gailey was so overtaken with elation that she too failed to compute that Polly was surreptitiously joining in on the treat.
The large box of cones took an age to empty, as child after child, time after time, joyfully dipped their hand in the box, pulled out a cornet, and after a refill then made his or her way to the back to join the long line once more as they gobbled down this unexpected, luscious treat.
At approximately 9:00 p.m. Greenwich meantime, the overworked and thoroughly exhausted ice cream machine found itself struggling to continue on with any further demands as it forced out the last dollop of frozen milky ice before a flashing light signaled complete shutdown. Amazingly, there were no cries of despair to be heard, for if the truth be known, every child, who much earlier in the evening had been wildly elated, was now on the kitchen floor clutching his or her extended belly, facing the ordeal of coping with hideously agonizing stomach cramps. Many
of the children were belching loudly before becoming physically sick as they rolled around on the floor curled up in pitifully tight balls as they sought desperately to minimize the intensely excruciating pain that comes from eating too much.
Uncle Boritz stood to one side, his arms folded soberly, a look of great consternation belying his true feelings as he stood watch over the poor, pathetic-looking creatures who now rather haphazardly littered the floor.
Sad as it may seem, young Polly was amongst those wretches lying facedown on the floor curled up in a tight ball as she writhed around in pure gut-wrenching agony. At one point she unexpectedly found herself looking up at the smug face of Uncle Boritz, only to find herself having disturbing flashes of Soogara, the wicked Candy Cotton Queen. “Oh my goodness,” she cried, feeling completely overwhelmed by remorse. “How could I allow this to happen to me again? Wasn’t the first time enough?’ she cried as she curled into an even tighter ball, anguished tears squeezing through her tightly closed eyelids before escaping down her hot, burning cheeks. As the pain continued to intensify, she thought back to her horrendous ordeal in the dungeon and how, when she had given up all hope, darling and very brave Napoli Bonaparti had come to her rescue.
“Will I ever truly learn?” she whispered, all the while privately rebuking herself for being such a stupid fool while clutching herself tighter still as the griping pains grew steadily worse.
Uncle Boritz carefully stepped over the bodies of the children as they continued to roll around the floor racked by agonizing pain that was steadily becoming more unbearable by the minute. He then chose to hover in the midst of them as he fumbled about in his trouser pocket, jangling around some loose change. He then began to shake his head.
“Tut tut tut. Disgraceful! Oh, how beastly for all you little sugar lumps, for you really must learn to take control of your insatiable lust for food once and for all,” he said as an amused look came to settle on his face. “For you would think that by now I would have successfully drummed it into your thick numbskulls that gluttony is considered one of the seven most deadly and wicked sins, one that inevitably has dire consequences, such as you all are now rather sadly experiencing,” he admonished as he coldheartedly moved forward to crush the cardboard cone box underfoot. “Let’s hope that the long night ahead will give you all adequate time to reflect on your gross and greedy behavior,” he spat.
Two fierce stomps of his shoe were all that was needed to completely flatten the large, empty cornet box. He then gave it a contemptuously hearty kick across the floor. Pitstop followed at his master’s heels, his tongue hanging down as he festooned both the floor as well as the severely pain-racked children with his usual trail of slithery, slimy drool.
“Good boy, Pitstop. Good boy,” Uncle Boritz muttered as he patted his faithful beast on the head. “Now you too can see what happens when greedy, overindulgent little paupers allow their eyes to become much bigger than their bellies. They look so sad and so very pitiful, don’t they?” he said as he patted the beast on the head, a wide grin forming on his face. “Bless their little cotton socks. This sad affair must surely work to purge them of all future desire to ever again eat ice cream. Yes, I don’t believe they will be begging me for anything sweet for many long months to come,” he chortled.
Pitstop gave a deep growl for his affirmation.
Aunt Mildred, who, due to a severe migraine and uncontrollable nosebleed, had been lying upstairs on her bed, entered the room only to be met by a scene of absolute carnage.
As she stood over the children, one hand on hip, the other pegging her nose due to the terrible stench of vomit, she too was completely out of mercy. She continued surveying the kitchen floor, a look of pure disgust written all over her face.
“Boritz, what the dickens has been going on behind my back?” she screamed.
“I hope you’re well and truly satisfied, for look at them all; they are in the most distressed state, and all thanks to you,” she forlornly cried. “I only have to be absent awhile due to a headache and utter exhaustion, and this is how you repay me! Pray, tell me now, who is going to clear up all this putrefying mess from the floor?” she angrily queried.
Boritz quick response was to childishly shrug his shoulders like a naughty boy caught with his fingers in the honey jar.
“You should never have allowed them to stuff their ugly little faces with so much ice cream, for not only is it a total waste of money, but there is also every possibility that none of them will be fit for school tomorrow,” she raged. “And I, for one, have not the slightest intention of forfeiting my already planned shopping expedition to stay at home and nurse a nauseous bunch of children back to full health,” she contemptuously spat in his direction. “Oh, no. Hear me now and hear me clearly: this affair is not going to scupper any of my plans,” she snorted.
Uncle Boritz stood in an amused silence as he allowed Aunt Mildred to express all that was troubling her seemingly fragile and volatile heart.
“Calm down, dearest one. Calm down, or you’ll get another of your terrible headaches that normally keep you bedridden for days on end,” was all he could manage to mutter.
“I daresay all this has, as usual, done much to entertain and amuse you, but I, for one, am deeply upset,” she sternly admitted as she struggled to contain the depth of anger she was truly experiencing.
“Come, come, my dear. Spare me the histrionics. Better still, do not distress your good self any further; otherwise, your migraine, as well as your unstoppable nosebleeds, will undoubtedly return with a vengeance,” he muttered. “Try to see things from my perspective, Mildred dear, for the ice cream machine will be off our hands in the next couple of days, and at least we can have the joy of knowing that not only will we sell it for a rather splendid price, but it is also in perfect working order, so there will be no comeback this time ’round.”
Aunt Mildred seemed to perk up as her husband explained the logic behind what had seemed, up until this moment in time, as nothing short of sheer lunacy.
“Yes, I daresay this experiment may have caused us some slight inconvenience,” he said as he surveyed the children and the mess they had created all over the floor, “but it has also worked for the good, as we stand to make quite a killing when we sell it,” he said as he reassuringly patted her hand in his feeble attempt to commiserate with her. “So come on, dear. Don’t be so defeated. Just look on the bright side.”
Poor Aunt Mildred failed dismally to appreciate his supposedly comforting words. “Pray, tell me, dear, how are we going to get them all upstairs and undressed for bed? Oh, I do believe this is all too much, truly it is,” she cried as she broke down into desperate sobbing. Boritz quickly rummaged around in his pockets and finally produced a large, spotty red handkerchief, which upon sight, only encouraged her to bawl louder.
“Don’t panic, my dear, we’ll get Miss Scrimp to come down from her bedroom to lend a helping hand, and I’ll also phone Cecilia and ask her to come quickly to our aid,” he said calmly as he continued on with his patronizing words of comfort.
“Don’t be so stupid and disrespectful, dear,” Mildred rather aggressively snapped back. “May I use this moment to remind you that Cecilia is once more back under the professional care of Dr. Ninkumpoop, who says her prognosis is not looking good at all. And other than dear Miss Scrimp, who is having a few hours off from her tireless work in the laundry room, who else in your infinite wisdom might you readily suggest?”
“Well, sweet pea, since you care to mention it, at this precise moment in time I sadly find myself at a complete loss for words. I therefore find myself to be, as usual, entirely at your mercy,” he muttered in his usual obsequious tones.
“And so you should be, Boritz my dear, for ever since Mr. Peawee was forced to leave the castle due to certain unmentionable events, we have not been the least fortunate in finding ourselves another helper even the remotest bit willing to work such long hours for such a paltry sum of money, even though it is combined with ful
l board and lodging.”
“Sadly, that is true,” he morosely muttered.
“So, pray, tell me, my sovereign mastermind, what precisely do you intend to do now?”
Boritz shrugged his shoulders as he continued to play out the remorseful but desperately floundering man. Oh, he knew that, given time, she would eventually calm down; all he had to do was sit and wait it out and, in the meantime, try his utmost to look suitably repentant.
“Are you paying serious attention to all I am saying, Boritz? For I do believe you are also completely oblivious to the fact that there is a most severe gale brewing up, making the weather outside most inhospitable. Even if you made numerous calls asking for help, no one in their right mind is going to leave the warmth and comfort of their home to come over to the castle and then assist me in getting all these desperately sick children up from the floor and into their beds,” she bitterly sniffed.
Suddenly, and much to Boritz’s relief, the front doorbell rang, and so with Pitstop close at his side and with a thankful heart, he left the troubling scene to go and see who it was daring to call at this unearthly hour, when, as Mildred had just stated, all right-minded persons would never think to venture out on such a terrible evening as this.
Boritz stopped short of the door and then bent down to peer through the tiny spy glass that was intended to give some idea as to who was on the other side. He felt quite alarmed when he discovered that he could see very little, with the exception of a tall, dark shadow lurking under the porch light. So it was with great reserve and caution that he opened the heavy, creaking oak door to get a better look at the mysterious and up until now unidentified caller.
However, before he pulled back the large iron bolt, he turned to check that Pitstop was on standby, baring his razor-sharp teeth, ready and willing to pounce at a moment’s notice if necessary. Confident that he was in full control, he pulled back the bolt, then placed his hand on the doorknob and opened the door wide. He happily breathed a deep sigh of relief before patting Pitstop on his head, sending him the message that all was well and therefore on this occasion so he was not required to sink his razor-sharp incisors deep into the flesh of this particular visitor. Even though Boritz was safely sheltered from the storm, he still managed to shudder as he heard the deafeningly loud crack of thunder as it ripped through the magnificently clouded skies with a vengeance. This was followed on quickly by brilliant streaks of lightning that were blinding in their intensity as they sought to strike out at any object that dared cross swords with them. The wind continued to howl mercilessly, as though it were mourning some sad souls lost at sea, and the sheet rain was equally relentless in its fury as it lashed down hard from the sorely angry and darkened skies above.
The Trouble with Polly Brown Page 19