The Trouble with Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  “Well, Lady B., I’m supposed to be infectious and therefore very dangerous, for don’t you know I’ve got the lurgy?”

  “Hmm, is that so? You really don’t look very dangerous to me.”

  “Well, Uncle Boritz told all the children that the American CIA have named their lying machine after me, and worse still, many dangerous diseases now bear my name,” she mumbled.

  “Absolute poppycock! Oh, Polly dear, are you always going to believe that you are responsible for all the world’s wrongs?”

  “I guess so, for Uncle tells me—”

  “Polly, please listen carefully, for if you are referring to the polygraph, let me assure you now that this machine has been in since existence long before you were even a twinkle in your mother’s eye. And as for these diseases that start with poly–, they too have been around for a very long time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Polly, you have been lied to, so unless you rather foolishly intend to live the remainder of your life believing that you alone are wholly responsible for every war, famine, and pestilence on this earth, I think it’s high time you discharged yourself of all this ridiculous guilt that weighs so heavily on your young shoulders.”

  “I’ll try,” Polly timidly promised.

  “Personally speaking, I’d find it quite an honor to have a disease, any disease, named after me,” Lady B. quipped. “And I have to say that there a number of very fascinating diseases flying around the globe at this precise moment that have yet to be named, so we could always put our names forward in the hope of getting some liver, or better still, brain disease named after us,” she said, beaming from ear to ear as she reached over to give Polly’s small hand the first friendly, gentle squeeze she’d had in years.

  “Well, all right then. I will try my utmost, Lady B.,” she muttered as she then dropped her head down to avoid further eye contact.

  Lady Butterkist could tell that being nice or kind to Polly no longer worked its usual magic, but she was up for the challenge.

  “Now then, dearest one. Perhaps you would like Blenkinsopp to pour you a nice, refreshing glass of water, or maybe some orange squash?” she gently suggested.

  Polly readily agreed to a glass of water.

  As Blenkinsopp passed the glass to her, Lady Butterkist found it very difficult to keep her thoughts quietly to herself.

  “What on God’s earth have they done to the poor girl?” she angrily muttered under her breath before quickly rebuking herself, for she was meant to be acting the part of a well-bred and gentile aristocratic lady.

  “Now then, dear, let’s do a swap, shall we? Allow me the privilege of having a good look at Langdon, while you take ownership of this large bag of belated Christmas presents and begin opening them,” the friendly lady with the very funny butterfly lips politely requested as she motioned for Polly to hand over her blue elephant.

  “Go on, Polly dear. Do start unwrapping all these gifts, but do be careful, because there is a baked appletude pie at the bottom of the bag, and we wouldn’t want that to crumble and get mashed up, would we now?”

  Polly once again flinched as she heard the weird but kind lady refer to the pie as ‘appletude,’ not apple, for the only place she had ever heard it called by such a name was at the Princesses’ School in Piadora. It instantly sent chilling tingles down her spine.

  “Goodness gracious me, he really is a very dashing and handsome little thing,” the funny lady declared. “You know, I once knew a bright young girl whose elephant secretly carried all her brokenness and tears,” the lady with the peculiar pink butterfly lips sniffed as she pointed directly at Langdon’s exceedingly large tummy. “There must have been a whole lot of heartbreak and tears to make his stomach expand this much,” she loudly mused as she playfully tickled Langdon’s exposed tummy.

  Polly finally broke into a small smile.

  “And that brave young lady embarked on an amazing journey to a secret kingdom called Piadora. Have you ever heard of such a land, dear?”

  Polly bit down hard on her lip and shook her head, for although she hated lying, she believed she could no longer trust anyone when it came to talking about such traumatic things.

  “Hmm. I didn’t think so. This special land has lots of wonderful trees, such as the Hoolie Koolie tree, as well as the Hubber Blubber tree—beautiful, visually stunning trees whose sap can heal any fractured mind or soul for that matter.”

  On hearing the word Piadora followed by Hoolie Koolie, Polly found herself rather abruptly coming to, as though she were finally waking from some very bad dream. “Lady B., did you just say ‘Hoolie Koolie’?” Polly quizzed.

  “Yes, dear. I most certainly did.”

  “Well, how can you talk to me of such things? Have you been there and seen these things for yourself? Or is this just some new, horrible trick playing itself out as it messes with my feeble mind and imagination?” she tragically whimpered.

  “Polly, I refuse to answer such a ridiculous and impertinent question, for of course I have been there.”

  “Oh, right. Well, believing in such things has caused me even more misery. My uncle regularly reminds me that I am nothing but a deceitful liar. He also tells me that a leper never changes its spots.”

  “Oh, Polly dear, not only are you misinformed, but you are indeed turning out to be a real Mrs. Malaprop! It is not a leper but a leopard that cannot change its spots.”

  “Whatever! Anyway, unless you have been to Piadora—which I doubt very much you have—you have absolutely no right to talk of such things.”

  “Have I been there?” Lady Butterkist muttered as though she was struggling with the very daftness of the question. “Now, please don’t interrupt me again, as I wish to talk more of my recollections of this truly magnificent place. Now, dear, hurry along and unwrap those presents, for they took me and others an imaginably long length of time to gift wrap.”

  Polly gave a deep sigh as she picked up the next gift-wrapped present.

  “Well, don’t keep us all in suspenders. Who is it from, dear?” Lady Butterkist demanded to know.

  “The gift tag on this box of chocolates says it’s from the lovely Captain Humdinger,” she cried, placing it to one side, for she was now feeling terribly mixed up and emotional.

  Polly then picked up the next gift and read the label out loud. “Oh my goodness. This is getting crazier by the minute, for this one is from dear darling Captain Codswallop and his crew,” she said, as upon opening the gift she was overwhelmed to see that it was a beautiful, hand-knitted nautical jumper that had her name sewn in gold on the front. “And the next gift is from dear Corporal Beanpod!”

  Lady Butterkist pretended to ignore Polly and her comments as she continued on with her story.

  “Funnily enough, that amazingly courageous young lady went by the same very special name. Yes, her name was also Polly, and speaking personally, I have never met a young girl with such a pure heart who put others before herself and risked everything to pursue what was right,” Lady Butterkist casually stated as she then chose to stare Polly directly in the eye.

  “Yes, that young girl had such a good nature, and she truly believed that love really was the answer to every prayer.”

  “How and when did you meet her?” Polly quietly asked.

  Still the lady with the butterfly lips chose not to answer the question as she continued on with her story. “Yes, that lovely young girl was just so special and precious.”

  Tears suddenly began to flow down Polly’s cheeks as she continued to listen to the strange but reassuringly kind lady with the weird butterfly lips.

  “Here, Polly. Take him back,” the expensively clothed lady ordered as she handed Langdon back over to its owner. She then sat down beside her on the bed, and after making herself comfortable, she went on with her story.

  “Take another sip of water, dear. It will surely find a way to refresh the dehydrated parts of you and help make you feel a whole heap better,” she ordere
d as she deliberately went on with her story telling. “Then continue on opening the presents, as you still have many more to unwrap.”

  “Yes, of course,” Polly sniffed.

  “This special young lady gave up everything to follow after what can only be termed the impossible dream, and I, for one, do so miss her,” Lady Butterkist announced as she turned to Blenkinsopp to request that he immediately produce the most important vial of medicine from his trouser pocket, as well as a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket.

  She then moved over to tenderly wipe away the tears that were now gently rolling down Polly’s face. “I understand that all this must be terribly overwhelming for you, Polly my dear, but please understand this is not the best moment in time to question me. Just do as I say and drink this down, dear,” she urged.

  Polly naturally felt very reluctant to obey this latest very strange request. “But I don’t know what it is, and all this hospital medicine is making me feel so horribly groggy and strangely sick,” she confessed.

  “I know, Polly dear. It is all truly tiresome, but despite all you have gone through, you have no choice but to now place your full trust in me.” She reached over to whisper in her ear, “Piadora most certainly does exist. Ralph and Hodgekiss are also real, and as for dear, sweet Mrs. O’Brien, well, she sends you oodles and poodles of love. She says that this afternoon the girls will be thinking of you as they make yet another fresh batch of delicious appletude pies. So, Polly dear, it is high time we got you out of this ghastly place. So be a good girl, and please do as I request and take a sip of this drink that I have specially prepared for you.”

  Polly still showed the greatest reluctance in following this latest order.

  “Polly, if you don’t take this drink, then I must warn that the chances are extremely high that you will remain in this hospital for a considerably long length of time, if not forever. But drink it down now, and I promise you that not only will you be out of here in less than a day, but you will also walk out clothed in your right mind.”

  Polly took hold of the vial and placed it up to her trembling lips. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to allow the sweet nectar to trickle slowly down her throat.

  “Polly dearest, allow me to tell you that this medicine has come straight from the bark of the Hoolie Koolie tree, and not only will it immediately heal your soul, giving you much-needed clarity of mind, but it will also give you the strength and courage you so earnestly seek. It is therefore necessary for you to be able to continue on in your personal journey. So polish off every single tiny drop. There’s a dear. And when you awake from this slumber, you will once more be fighting fit and ready to face anything and everything that might be thrown at you.”

  Polly dutifully continued to pour the sweet-tasting nectar into her mouth until it was completely gone. “Hmm. I could drink this all day, for it really does taste lusciously yummy,” she dreamily stated. Then after licking her lips she closed her eyes, and with Langdon tucked under her arm, she once more slipped back under the covers to instantaneously fall into a deeply healing, peaceful slumber.

  Seconds later saw the doctor purposefully striding back up the ward toward them.

  “Madam, he’s on the move,” Blenkinsopp dutifully alerted.

  “That’s fine, Giles, because we’re finished and sorted,” Lady Butter-kist called out as she immediately got up from where she had been sitting on the bed.

  “Hmm. Some challenges are so much harder than others,” she muttered under her breath while playing with the string of pearls that hung around her neck. She then gave a deep, knowing sigh.

  “Doctor, tell me, have you heard the wonderful news concerning your ex-Patient 333?”

  “I have, indeed, Lady Butterkist, and I can only say that my colleagues and I, as well as the rest of the staff on this ward, are absolutely mystified as to how all this could possibly have taken place.”

  “Well, it is something of a miracle, that’s for sure,” she mused.

  “Well, whatever. I, for one, am totally amazed, for I must confess that I gave up on the man many moons ago,” he said, scratching his chin.

  “Now, doctor, when we find ourselves in that hard place where everything seems lost and hopeless, that’s surely the place where miracles are most likely to happen. Don’t you think?” she rather poignantly suggested.

  “Hmm. I’m not in any position to really answer that one,” the doctor casually remarked as he glanced down at Polly fast asleep in her bed.

  “Doctor, how perfectly sad it is to see her lying there like Sleeping Beauty waiting for that seemingly elusive miracle to not only wake her but then rid her completely of this make-believe world she seems happy to believe in.”

  “Yes, yes, Lady Butterkist, but please remember I did all I could to warn you,” he mumbled. “Believe you me when I say that at this hospital we all hope and pray every day for that special miracle to take place where this young girl is concerned.”

  “Oh really, Dr. Ninkumpoop! So answer me truthfully, doctor, do you really believe in miracles?” Lady Butterkist innocently quizzed.

  “What? Me…personally?”

  “Yes, you! It’s a straight question, doctor, no frills or hidden meanings, so do feel at liberty to fill in the blanks.”

  “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever witnessed a miracle, or had one for that matter,” he halfheartedly muttered.

  “Well, then how can you pray for a miracle where Polly is concerned when clearly you don’t even believe in their existence?” she dared to suggest.

  “Madam, quite what do you mean by that?” he snorted.

  “Well, you just said you are hoping and praying that Polly receives her miracle, and yet in the next breath you clearly admit to not believing in the existence of such inexplicably wonderful happenings. So which is it to be?” she challenged.

  “Well, to be honest, madam, until your unexpected arrival on the scene, I haven’t ever given it much thought, for I prefer to see myself as more of an intellectual, thinking man with mathematical and science-based thought processes. So, if I am to be absolutely honest with you, I believe miracles are more for those whose lives are mainly dictated by superficial and emotionally charged, thoroughly illogical feelings.”

  “Oh, by that you mean mushy, ooey-gooey feelings, rather than by solid and sound reason?” she interjected.

  “Precisely.”

  “Well, I only have two words to reveal my thoughts regarding your thoughts on this matter.”

  “Oh, and pray, tell me what those two words might be.”

  “Absolute bunkum! Yes, total twaddle, Poopy, my boy! Miracles are not only timeless, but they are for everybody,” she exasperatedly lashed out. “Yes, miracles care nothing for class or creed, or intellect for that matter. They just happen for those who expectantly watch and wait for them, which must surely mean they are not for the fainthearted or those who refuse to believe or give up hope that their miracle will ever come.”

  “I have to confess to knowing nothing of such things,” he reluctantly admitted.

  “Well, doctor, maybe, just maybe, you’ve had a few miracles in the past, but like many others, you have failed to recognize them for what they truly were,” she gently dared to suggest.

  “Well, no, madam. But without wishing to cause any offense—”

  “None taken,” she mischievously interrupted.

  “Well, as I was about to say, I think I’d be the first to know if I had ever witnessed something one might rightly term supernatural or otherwise a miracle,” he said, looking more than a little concerned. “I mean, I’m not exactly a religious-thinking man.”

  “Who said anything about religion? I am talking about certain wonderful, unexplainable events that defy all reason and logic.”

  “Hmm. I’m still not entirely sure I like where all this conversation is headed,” he furiously muttered.

  “Well, can you give me any reasonable explanation as to why the patient who occupie
d that bed for the past twenty years and who by all accounts sat motionless, staring into space, has just minutes ago left this institution perfectly clothed in his right min? Now, explain that one if you dare.”

  “Well, to be perfectly honest, Lady Butterkist, I have absolutely no idea what is going on around here at present, for in truth since I got out of bed this morning, my otherwise well-ordered and preserved world has become quite topsy-turvy, and against all rhyme and reason it seems to be quickly spiraling hideously out of control. Also, as I am not at liberty to discuss any patient’s medical history, then sadly I am also unable to give a satisfactory answer to any of your seemingly impertinent questions.”

  “Look, Poopy, dear boy, stop being so evasive and thoroughly disagreeable,” she remonstrated. “I am well aware that you are bound by ethics to withhold information regarding your patients, and I understand that today has been very trying to say the least. But can you not just agree with me that for the patient who has responded to absolutely nothing for over twenty years—that is, until Piddles, my precious little pooch, turned up and shows him some love and affection—well, surely this in itself is something of a special miracle?”

  “Well, I guess….”

  “Don’t just guess, Ninkumpoop. Tell me straight whether you see this as a miracle.”

  “I can’t say for sure,” Dr. Ninkumpoop cautiously replied, as for the first time in his long life he found himself stammering like an awkward child.

  “Well, putting your thoroughly belligerent attitude to one side, let’s take the case of your dear brother Andrew. Now then, answer me this: did he not fall into a river when he was a small boy? And even though you did all within your power to rescue him, you sadly were not strong enough to drag him from the river.”

  The doctor was so thoroughly shocked by all she was saying that he remained tongue-tied with only the occasional and barely audible gasps escaping out through his visibly trembling lips.

  “Hmm. And, doctor, I believe he was eventually fished out of the river by a very kind gentleman who, I believe, went by the name of Captain Codswallop, or something similar sounding.” The poor doctor was now so paralyzed with shock that he felt incapable of responding to her question.