The Trouble with Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  “Also, dearest, you have just tripped over dear, oversized Bertha, who even with the combined efforts of both of us was much too heavy to even roll to one side for safety’s sake while we awaited your return,” she sniffed.

  Upon realizing that Mildred had no intention of charitably dropping the subject, Boritz began to presume that this must lie with the fact that he was failing to show significant levels of remorse. He knew in that moment that he must act quickly, so without warning he began to clutch at his chest and cry out, “Mildred dearest, how can you ever forgive me for all the distress I have caused, what with my ice cream machine and then abandoning you in your most dire moment of need? My heart is racing, and I think I may well faint, if not collapse to the floor to die here in front of you,” he gasped as he continued most dramatically to clutch his chest.

  Mildred remained stoically unmoved. “May I suggest that this very belated drama could be considered most inappropriate, dearest? I will choose to ignore your latest offense as I continue on with my story. Right, where was I? Then as if all this was not bad enough, to add insult to injury we were to be further demoralized by having the extremely nauseating task of mopping up immeasurable amounts of the children’s revolting stomach contents from the floor. And as all children had eaten a small portion of barbecue flavor baked beans for tea, followed by exorbitant amounts of slushy ice cream, you cannot begin to imagine how utterly repulsive this all was when mixed together,” she angrily snorted. “I also happen to believe this was something Polly should have been doing and would have done, had she been suitably disposed, instead of which, just like the others, she continued to be horribly sick,” she whimpered before finally adding, “And all this when I was led to believe that the miserable miscreant was still on ROPE!”

  “She still is, my dear little chocolate truffle. She still is!” he commiserated.

  “Well, if that is the case, Boritz dear, then please do me the small courtesy of explaining why she was ever allowed to be on the receiving end of such a generous treat, a treat which she believed entitled her to eat just as much ice cream as her miserable heart desired.” Mildred sniffed in a most offended manner.

  “Oh, no, no, no. Mildred, my tender little sweet pea, you, my dearest, have got it all wrong, for the wicked girl had no permission whatsoever!”

  Boritz then stopped mid flow to give his dutiful wife the most tender of smiles, for she had inadvertently handed him the most unexpected and very welcome opt-out clause, which right up until this moment in time had, for some inexplicable reason, completely alluded him.

  His chest cavity suddenly arose victorious, and with fresh, vibrant air in his lungs and new wind in his sails, he instantly went from a miserable, impotent wretch seeking forgiveness to his usual stature— that of a completely resurrected and fully restored demigod. Now all recrimination and blame could finally be removed from his shoulders, as they both joined ranks to give their undivided attention and judgment concerning Polly Brown and her latest show of impudent, if not downright abhorrently sneaky behavior.

  “Oh, the endless trouble this selfish girl has always caused us,” Boritz cried out as he threw his hands into the air as a gesture of his utter helplessness and displeasure.

  “Yes, Boritz dearest, the girl is, as you so rightly dare to suggest, nothing but trouble. End of story,” Mildred indignantly snorted. “Yes, always has been and always will be.”

  Boritz felt very encouraged to step things up a notch and, by doing so, take it to the next level. “Yes, Mildred, I am so glad we are finally on the same page, for the wicked girl has shown yet again just how corrupt she truly is by furtively joining the others in the ice cream line when she knew full well she was banned at this time from all such treats. And so, you, my dearest, precious one, can rest assured that I will see to it that Polly is further punished for flouting our rules and asserting herself in a most unacceptable manner, hereby challenging our supreme authority.”

  As Boritz went into one of his usual self-satisfying monologues, he truly believed he could hear the London Philharmonic Orchestra playing their superb rendition of “The Dambusters” as, like a military general, he went on to give his own rendition of Winston Churchill’s most heroically famous speech.

  “Yes, Mildred, never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. So we will never surrender. We will fight them on the beaches, and we will fight them all, Polly Brown included, on the shores and…”

  He remained in full flow until Mildred forced him to stop by tactfully reminding him that World War II was a thing of the past, so they were no longer fighting on the beaches in northern France but here inside the castle discussing the fate of the very young and difficult foster child Polly Brown.

  “Well, dearest, thank you for reminding me, but to tell you the truth, dealing with this young vagabond could easily be interpreted as being just as traumatic a task as anything we hardy Brits faced in World War II. So I assure you that just like the perpetrators of that most diabolical war, likewise she will not get off this one scot-free. You have my sincere word on this one.”

  On hearing that Polly would now definitely face punishment for her unruly conduct, Aunt Mildred’s longsuffering and haunted face visibly relaxed, with Boritz even bearing witness to the faintest smile miraculously appearing from out of nowhere.

  “Yes, dear. What was I thinking? At the end of the day, if Polly had done as she was instructed and been obedient—”

  “Yes, yes, dearest. Keep going,” Boritz rather rudely interrupted, as he was now feeling ecstatic that his missus was finally getting the picture.

  “Yes, instead of being wickedly deceitful, well then, she would have been available to assist in putting the others to bed as well as cleaning up all the hazardous waste that the poorly children spewed up all over the floor as they continued to be sick throughout the night,” Mildred stated with great clarity and vision, as it finally dawned on her who the real culprit truly was.

  “Yes, I now see it very clearly, for at the end of the day it most surely is Polly who is wholly to blame for this rather unfortunate and positively ghastly episode,” she beamed.

  “Yes, yes,” cried an elated Boritz, as raising his hands and his eyes toward heaven he mouthed a silent thank-you to God.

  Boritz was overcome with delight that Mildred had finally come to her senses and was now placing the blame where for all intents and purposes it rightfully should be placed. And so he breathed a loud sigh of relief, deeply thankful that he was finally exonerated and so now completely off the hook.

  “Trust me, Mildred, when I say that Polly Brown will be dealt with first thing tomorrow,” he said as in a gentlemanly fashion he got down on bended knee to tenderly cup his wife’s tender cheeks and then take hold of her small and trembling hands in his. “In the meantime, dearest, I am in receipt of some excellent news that would most certainly gladden and uplift even the heaviest of hearts,” he said in barely a whisper. “Allow me to share with you that when I left your presence to go and answer the doorbell, I was most surprised to discover Professor Fossil on the other side of our door.”

  “Boritz, forgive me for asking, but quite who is Professor Fossil? I, for one, have never heard of him. And more to the point, what on earth was he doing at our door at such an unacceptably late calling hour of the night?”

  “Shh, my dear. I am uncertain as to whether I told you this piece of information, dearest, but some weeks ago I took it upon myself to hire the man in his professional capacity to find out as much as he was able concerning the origins of Polly’s rather exquisite-looking ring that we confiscated.”

  Mildred sniffed while continuing to nod her head in agreement.

  “Well, he was unable to come up with any exact date, etc., or where the ring originated from, but he has assured me that this ring is, well—how shall I put it?—it’s priceless! Therefore, my little peanut butter sandwich, I suggest you go and pack us a suitcase, for you and I are finally going to take a
well-earned holiday.”

  “Holiday, Boritz!” Mildred queried, suddenly perking up. “Tell me, why and where?”

  “Well, my precious little cupcake, we are going to travel the full length and breadth of the British Empire, living it up in the most opulent style and divine decadence until—”

  “British Empire, Boritz? Need I remind you that sadly we are no longer ‘this great empire’ and haven’t been for many long years, alas, not since Queen Victoria was on the throne and dear Gladstone was our prime minister? Yes, that was indeed a most glorious time in our history; however, since then it has been downhill all the way,” she sorrowfully concluded.

  “Yes, dear,” he morosely muttered.

  “You know something, Boritz dearest, if we were still an empire, well then, our trip could possibly take far longer than a couple of weeks as we crisscrossed the globe, heading for faraway lands that we once very considerately helped ourselves to.”

  “Yes, yes. Hush, my dearest. Stop interrupting me, and just listen,” he cried with more than a hint of exasperation, for he had been feeling thoroughly intoxicated with excitement before she so rudely interrupted him with pious, if not corrective, behavior that could easily turn once more into an unpleasant altercation between the two of them, if he chose to allow it.

  “As I was saying, pumpkin, we will spend the next few weeks traveling around our beloved country, and what with your voraciously unquenchable appetite for places of historical value, we shall be stopping at every castle and place of national interest in our pursuit to find out where this ring originated from. I, for one, fully intend to leave no stone, large or small, unturned until I get the answers I most certainly require.”

  “Ooh, Boritz dearest, speaking of large stones, does this mean we might be able to visit Stonehenge?”

  “Yes, my dear. It most certainly can include Stonehenge if this will make you happy.”

  “Boritz dear, while I’m still thinking, I know we no longer own India, Australia, or the Bahamas, for that matter; even certain parts of Africa sadly no longer fly our Union Jack, heralding that they are no longer under our charge. But pray, perchance is there any possibility that we might just still own an itsy witsy, teeny weenie piece of South America?”

  “Quite what exactly do you mean, Mildred?”

  “Well, do we own a small piece of Brazil or Paraguay? Or anywhere else nice and warm, for I’m so very tired of the British weather, what with all its wintry, blustery wind, smog, and rain.”

  “Hmm. My dearest peach, I do believe Montserrat and the Cayman Islands might well still be under British sovereignty, and then of course there are the Falkland Islands. I’m more than sure they still fly the Union Jack.”

  “Well, I for one have never heard of them, Boritz, so where on heaven’s earth are they situated?”

  “Just off Argentina, my dearest.”

  “Oh, forgive me for asking, Boritz dearest, but before you go on to give me every historical fact dating back to Columbus, I fear that I have only one immediate concern.”

  “Oh, and what is that, my dearest chubby cheeks?”

  “Do these so-called Fortlamb Islands have a nice stretch of sandy white beach for me to pitch my stripy deck chair and sun umbrella?”

  “Well, I’m fairly sure we could find you a sandy beach, my dearest, and as these small islands are just off Argentina, I should imagine the weather would be extremely favorable.”

  “Wonderful. Wonderful!” Mildred cried, clapping her hands loudly, for she was finding it almost impossible to contain her newfound excitement. “So can I pack our bathing suits, dearest?” she perkily asked.

  “Yes, my little pickled onion. Pack as many swimsuits as you care to,” he replied.

  “By the way, Boritz, where on God’s precious earth is Argentina?”

  “Well, I’m not too sure, my little cauliflower floret, but if you really want to know, then I will leave you for a moment to go in search of a book so that together we can take a quick peek,” he chuckled as he quickly vacated the room to race toward his private library.

  He returned minutes later with a large book that he had pulled down from a neatly arrayed line of books from off one of his very impressive library shelves. Back in the kitchen he hurried over to where Mildred was still crouched in the corner. As he opened the book, a small but thick piece of printed cardboard fluttered to the floor. Boritz hurriedly stooped down to pick it up. He then tore the ticket into tiny pieces before discreetly placing the bits in his breast pocket. If the truth be known, that small and seemingly insignificant piece of cardboard was indeed a library ticket, and so the book in question should rightfully have been returned to the school library some five years previous.

  “Oh, dear, dear. As you can see, Mildred, it is much too far away for us to consider paying even the smallest of visits, given the short amount of time I have allocated for this entire trip. But never mind, dearest; I am sure you will be thrilled by Buckingham Palace, enraptured by Windsor Castle, enthralled by Warwick Castle, utterly captivated by Belvoir Castle, and suitably enamored by just about every other castle and palatial residence your sparkly little eyes get to feast upon.”

  Mildred took this rare opportunity to grab hold and tenderly squeeze his fat, sweaty hand, her eyes instantly glazing over, as filled with fresh wonderment she looked him directly in the eye. “Boritz, this trip sounds like heaven on earth, my dear. But with us gone, pray, have you taken into serious consideration the problem of the children?”

  “Children? Problem? Quite what do you mean, Mildred?”

  “Well, Boritz, who on earth could possibly take charge of such a large bunch of wild, out-of-control paupers as those we are so blessed to be raising?” Mildred very tongue in cheek snapped as she immediately came to her full senses.

  Boritz shrugged his shoulders, for sadly she was right. He had not given even a moment’s thought to this seemingly trivial problem. However, minutes later saw his mind in overload as he seriously began computing every imaginable possibility.

  Mildred saw this sudden and most miraculous oratory abstinence as an opportunity to offer both her input and guidance. “Oh, Boritz dear, at this moment there appears to be no suitable answer, so it really looks pretty hopeless. I, for one, know of no suitably mature adult who could even begin to look after so many difficult children, for none have the years of experience that we have so faithfully racked up. And surely we can’t leave the pitiful little mites alone to fend for themselves, can we? I mean, that would surely be considered by most to be disgracefully unconscionable!”

  “Yes, if news of such a thing were to leak out, we might find ourselves being pilloried or, worse still, strapped into the ducking chair,” a now sorely depressed Boritz muttered.

  “Darling, don’t be stupid! Ducking chairs haven’t been used to punish people for many a year, in fact, if I’m correct, since the last century,” she felt the need to remind him.

  “Well, if we were to be caught out leaving them to fend for themselves, the courts of this land might well be forced into reinstating this intolerably inhumane punishment,” he miserably sniffed.

  “Yes, it really would be asking way too much to ask poor Miss Scrimp to single-handedly take care of the mischievous little blighters, for you know full well just how difficult they can at times be,” she continued to spout.

  “Hmm,” Boritz continued to mutter as he gave careful thought to all these annoying little concerns that his dear wife was spouting on about.

  “So tell me, my dear, have you really thought this one through? And if, my dearest, you have as usual taken all things into consideration, then it is time for you to share with me precisely what you have in mind if we are to successfully overcome this latest obstacle.”

  “Well, Mildred, as you’ve asked me so nicely, I will rise to the occasion and confer by sharing with you my exact intentions. Tomorrow before the sun rises I shall telephone both Mrs. Gumball and Mrs. Grimespot and request that both ladies do us a great ki
ndness by stepping into our shoes for the duration of our proposed absence. You see, Mildred dear, it is imperative that we grab this opportunity while we can, for as you are well aware, the Christmas holidays are almost upon us.”

  “Quite what are you getting at, Boritz dearest?”

  “Please do me the courtesy of paying attention, Mildred, and for once in your profoundly humdrum life, stop interrupting me. If we were to leave it until the holidays, we would find ourselves having to shell out more money, for as the children would be home from school, they would therefore require far more supervision. And without appearing brutally callous, dearest one, more supervision equals more pay for the ladies.”

  Mildred nodded her head. Boritz took this to mean that she fully understood and therefore now completely appreciated where he was coming from. “You’re quite right, dear, for if our trip coincided with the school holidays, well, then it could easily become ridiculously expensive.”

  “Yes, but this way, if we time it just right, not only do the children spend a healthy amount of each day attending school, but add to this the tediously lengthy amount of time taken up with the traveling to and fro, and this leaves only the bare minimum of hours when the ladies will be required to be on hand and thus supervise the children.”

  “Keep going, my precious one, for I do believe you are now on the right track,” cried a once more very excited Mildred, who was now clasping her hands tightly.

  Needless to say, Boritz needed no further encouragement to continue sharing his latest rather ingenious plan. “Yes, they will only have to organize breakfast and supper, and what’s more, the older children can get stuck in with helping when it comes to getting the younger ones ready for bed. Obviously the weekends will be a slightly different story, but I do believe that I have even those sorted out to my complete satisfaction.”

  “Well, go on, go on,” Mildred encouraged.

  “For starters, on both Saturdays the ladies can place all the younger children in front of the television after breakfast, and they will surely be very happy and content to remain glued to the box until bedtime, for they will certainly see it as something of a rare treat. If they need to use the loo, then the older ones will be on hand to take them up to the bathroom. And if the youngsters even begin to get grizzly, well then, the older ones can throw them packets of crisps and chocolate fingers in a manner similar to that of feeding chimps at the zoo.”