The Trouble with Polly Brown

by Tricia Bennett

  “Well, can’t you get her to write another check?” Mildred helpfully muttered.

  “Oh, you stupid woman, how do I do that?” he sneered.

  “Simple! You put pen to paper and write to her, of course,” Mildred quickly retaliated.

  “Woman, were you not listening to anything while she was here?”

  “What sort of stupid question is that? Of course I was listening.”

  “Well, it is quite obvious to me that you’ve failed to clean your ears out; otherwise you would realize that the old boot clearly stated that she was going to be off traveling the globe for many long months,” he bawled.

  “Well, instead of boohooing like a baby stuck in a soiled nappy, go to your desk and write a letter. Then send it to her estate in Scunthorpe,” Mildred snorted.

  “Well, if I could do that, then I would, but I don’t have her address.”

  “Why ever not?” a very shocked Mildred dared to ask.

  “Because I never thought to ask her for it, you stupid, ridiculous, dumb woman,” he indignantly roared. “And before you ask anything else, she never offered to give it to me. I did all my liaisons through Nick Ninkumpoop. I don’t even know the name of the place she took Polly to on this so-called eventful holiday.” He wept out of pure frustration.

  Before too long, the accusations were flying back and forth as the blame game headed into the second round.

  “Well, I don’t know who you’re calling a dumb idiot when it’s perfectly clear that you’re the one who’s been officially dealing with her,” a now very irate Mildred cried. “Perhaps you should have shown a little more interest in where she was taking Polly, for not only are you the one with the gift of the gab, but to top it all, you’re a jolly lawyer!” she ridiculed. “So perhaps if you’d shown more interest and care, the lady would have happily given an address.”

  “Oh, like you really cared?”

  “Well, no, but all the same, as her official guardians we should have paid a little more attention to all that was going on,” she sourly reprimanded.

  “Oh, do be quiet, woman, and give me the space to think. No, it’s no use,” he muttered. “I know she lives somewhere near Scunthorpe, but I would imagine that just like other rich and famous people, her telephone number will not be listed in the book, and her official residence will be just as much a secret.”

  “Boritz, do yourself a big favor. Pull yourself together and stop moaning and blubbering like a teething baby!” she harshly scolded.

  Still, he could not stop bawling as he picked up the soggy shreds of what earlier had been an extremely generous donation.

  “Look, at the end of the day there must be a way out. Could we not trace the woman through our dear friend Dr. Ninkumpoop? After all, she gave him considerable financial assistance.”

  “Woman, I believe you have a brain the size of a mutated door mouse, for where in heaven’s name do you get your ideas from? You know full well that Dr. Ninkumpoop has been sent to get help at some very private hospital in a remote part of Switzerland, so I have absolutely no way whatsoever of getting in touch with him,” he inconsolably sobbed, tears now streaming down his tersely taut face.

  “Oh, what if anything have I ever done to deserve this?” he pathetically cried, as over the next few weeks he found himself sporadically bursting into uncontrollable bouts of deep and powerful anguish, followed by many, many tears.

  Meanwhile, back in Piadora a tremendously large crowd had quickly gathered to await the arrival of Giles and Ralph, oh, as well as Tiddles the pup.

  “Here they come,” someone in the crowd shouted as the trumpets sounded to mark this great and splendid occasion. Before too long, great applause broke out.

  “Lady Butterkist, can we have your autograph?” many in the large crowd begged as they reached out to shake both his hand as well as Giles’s.

  “Ralph, you, my dear, are the talk of Piadora, for you gave a truly splendid performance,” Mrs. O’Brien cried as she gave him a really big, affectionate embrace. “Yes, we are all so very proud of you. Oh, and Giles, well done for putting up with him. I, for one, would have clubbed him many times over,” she freely admitted. “We were all truly amazed, for you really do have the patience of Job.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, for I’m still after some payback,” he insisted, giving a gentle smile.

  Ralph gave his friend a hug and thanked him. “I couldn’t have carried this off without your courteous assistance, Giles,” he insisted.

  “Well, both you boys were a blast,” Mrs. O’Brien happily stated.

  “Why thank you, Mrs. O’Brien, and I apologize for giving away Piddles, but I promise, hand on heart, she has gone home with a really kind, loving man who has promised to truly care for her.”

  “Ralph, I have no objection to you giving her away, for I am well aware that it was for a good cause. But to take Precious and Peaches and rename them Piddles and Tiddles, well, that really takes the biscuit! Yes, it was too much to bear. Really, it was,” she gently rebuked.

  “Anyway, setting that aside, I freely choose to forgive you, for you have indeed achieved great things. Polly is finally out of that terrible hospital, as is Lucinda. So for today, at least, you are a star.”

  “Why, thank you, Mrs. O’Brien.”

  “Now, tomorrow—that’s an entirely different matter, for you surely realize that you will be required to return to being a gentleman of the road.”

  “Yes, but you had better hold on to these clothes for me, for my work as Lady Butterkist is most definitely unfinished. I intend to pay a few more visits to that castle, and just like dear Dr. Ninkumpoop, Mr. and Mrs. Scumberry will eventually either change for the better or otherwise rue the very day they met me.”

  “Oh, Ralph, I hate to tell you this, but they already do. Yes, they are already in a quandary. At this very moment they are both crying in their soup over the sad and unfortunate loss of your outstandingly generous check. It’s all terribly sad, really, for he blames Mildred’s negligence for the accident, and Mildred is having none of it, for she most surely blames him. I wonder, is there any hope of a truce?” she asked.

  “Not likely. The blame game will surely go on for many weeks more.”

  “Yes, this loss seems to be affecting them both deeply,” she sighed.

  “Oh, didums to the both of them!”

  “Didums! Oh Ralph, you’re sounding so terribly old-fashioned, and— dare I say it?—toffee-nosed English, really you are. So are we to expect you to stay in this modus operandi?” she rather flippantly remarked.

  “Dear Mrs. O’Brien, I resent that underhand comment. Really I do,” he said, giving an impish smile.

  “Anyway, Ralph. Back to my point. I hate to speak ill of anyone, but they are such an unbearably cruel couple. Truly they are,” she felt obliged to comment.

  “Well perhaps it’s because money and power have become their gods.”

  “Well, they’ve always loved the finer things of life. Their personal lifestyle indicates that they’ve been ridiculously lavish, and mainly at the expense of the poor children. So now I suppose they will have to cut their cloth accordingly,” Mrs. O’Brien deliberated.

  “Oh, more than likely.”

  “Hmm. And forgive me, Ralph, for sharing this, but Mildred has already called you a number of very impolite and derogatory names that had me as well as many others chuckling.”

  “Oh, so I expect you will be wanting to share them with me.”

  “Oh, absolutely! They range from Lady Much to ‘the old battle-axe,’ and the one I liked the most was when she deigned to call you ‘Lady Muck O’Dirt Castle.’” I tell you now, Ralph, that particular insult literally had everybody in stitches for days on end.”

  “How dare she insult me in such a manner, for there’s nothing dirty about me or my castle, for that matter! Oh, no. It’s always kept utterly spick and span,” he announced, pretending to be more than a trifle miffed.

  “Well, she also thinks you’re not
hing but an eccentric and cantankerous old biddy who needs to be brought down a peg or two.”

  “You mean cut down to size?” he said, pretending to be hurt.

  “Precisely.”

  “Well, she’s got a point, for I really am quite a large lady. I mean, I’ve got extraordinarily big feet and a large rear end, and—”

  “Ralph, dear, trust me when I say that I don’t think she is referring to your physique but rather more your attitude and temperament. Yes, she sees you as being, well—how shall I say it?—thoroughly impossible!”

  “Well, I never! For it takes one to know one. Anyway, that’s pretty rum coming from her,” he continued to playfully sulk.

  “Yes, well, they both need a mirror to be placed in front of themselves. Don’t they?”

  “Well then, I will make it my business to make sure they get that opportunity to evaluate themselves, as well as their lifestyle. Those two superior imposters really need a wake-up call, so I fully intend to see they get it. Yes, I will happily set the alarm.”

  “Hmm, and how do you propose to do that?”

  “Oh, Mrs. O’Brien, I’m not at liberty or fully disposed to giving away all my secret plans, at least not yet. Anyway, setting that aside, I have a more impending crisis that needs my immediate attention.”

  “Oh, and what is that?”

  “I am most desperate to get out of these stupid high heels, for they are truly crippling me,” he whined, a look of great pain written all over his face.

  “Oh, stop being such a moaning Minnie, for you look very becoming in those delicate shoes,” she quickly retorted.

  “Don’t mess with me, Mrs. O’ Brien. Tell me now, have you any idea where my hardy old boots might be hiding?”

  “Well, I’ll only reveal their whereabouts once you’ve handed me back my pink lipstick,” she teased.

  “Done! Then I think I could easily murder a nice hot cup of tea. So how about it, Mrs. O’Brien?” he implored, giving her a little wink.

  “Well, Mrs. Butterkist, I believe you’ve really discovered a taste for sumptuous teas, as well as the finer things of life. However, as soon as we’ve finished our tea, we must find Hodgekiss, as I know he wants to hear everything concerning your latest update. Also, during the time of your absence many delightfully wonderful souls have arrived in Piadora, and they are all dying for the opportunity to meet and speak with you. If you will agree to meet with them later on, then I will agree to make us a pot of tea, garnished with other delectable refreshments. Still, there are still a few small conditions attached to my very generous offer.”

  “Conditions, Mrs. O’Brien?”

  “Yes, Ralph, after all, you’ve spent the last few months as Lady Butter-kist laying down conditions to all and sundry, and I might add, in rather a superior manner. So now it’s my turn to be demanding.”

  “Oh, so what are we hoping for, Mrs. O‘Brien?” he playfully moaned.

  “Well, firstly I need a proper apology from you for changing my little pups’ names to Tiddles and Piddles, for I have to confess I was very shocked by this most mischievous decision of yours.”

  “Oh, Mrs. O’Brien, I apologize most profusely. I just wanted to have some fun.”

  “Hmm. All right. Apology accepted, but you still owe me one for that. Next, I’m only prepared to make the tea if you’re then willing to play mum by pouring the tea. I would also like to suggest that while we sit back and enjoy the ritual of sipping tea from dainty cups, you use the time wisely by spilling the beans to reveal all your future intentions regarding Polly and her future.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes, everything! Leave nothing out! I do not wish to be left in the dark a minute longer than I have to,” she forcefully declared, “for just like you, I feel very involved in Polly’s tough life, so it is only natural that I should want to be in the know long before anything else untoward happens,” she adamantly insisted.

  “Mrs. O’Brien, you have my word!”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Now, please be a dear and lead the way to the kitchen before I die or faint of thirst,” he said as he placed a friendly arm around her shoulder. Then bearing down heavily, he began to hobble away. “I know I’ve said it many times before, Mrs. O’Brien, but I really need to take a long break from being a lady, for I can just about cope with the wig, the stockings, and tweed skirts, but these ridiculously high heels really take the biscuit, for they are well and truly killing me.”

  “There you go again—moan, moan, moan.”

  “I’m not moaning. I’m just stating fact,” he sniffed as he pretended to be most offended. “Oh, trust me, Ralph, for it’s still moaning. So perhaps next time ’round you should consider going back as an entirely different prima donna.” “Oh, and quite who are you thinking of? “Why, Mona Lisa, of course!” “Mrs. O’Brien, I can’t believe you just said that,” he playfully sniffed while giving her a friendly pat on the back.

  THE END

  CONTACT THE AUTHOR

  IF ANYTHING IN the book has raised personal issues for you, whatever your age, and you would like to talk to someone, please feel free to contact us. Please also contact us to let us know how you enjoyed the book.

  Or should you wish to contribute to our children’s work, both here and abroad, please also contact us through our Web site, www.hopeinyourheart.com, or by mail to:

  Tricia Bennett

  P.O. Box 1167

  Wildwood, Florida 34785