The Trouble with Polly Brown (15 page)

After producing an old, yellowing envelope from her bag, she then rummaged in her blazer pocket until she found a certain item she was looking for. After producing a small chocolate, she removed the foil wrapper and then proceeded to roll the chocolate between her fingers until it became melted. Satisfied that it was now sufficiently gooey, she then squashed the chocolate down hard on the bottom corner of the letter.

“There, finished,” she whispered as she slipped the letter into the envelope, and then, using her tongue, she licked the envelope before firmly sealing it down.

As she remained seated on the bus, she once again noted that there was not one single girl from Snobbits Preparatory School on the bus, and come to think of it, she hadn't seen Mrs. O'Brien, their teacher, either for a long time—come to think of it, not since she returned from Piadora. All this was becoming very disconcerting for her, for Mrs. O'Brien had definitely told Polly that she too had to leave Piadora and make her way back to the school; otherwise, the girls would be without a cookery teacher. So what in the world was going on that could satisfactorily explain their continued absence from the bus stop?

In no time at all the bus came to a halt at the place where she normally got off. But today Polly still had one very urgent matter that needed to be taken care of, to once more visit dear, delightful Mrs. April Strudel and politely offer to take her yappy little dogs for a long walk to exercise them, so she stayed on the bus until it reached the village.

The sweet-smelling lavender-and-lace lady was, as always, overcome with delight at Polly's generous offer to walk her dogs, and so she paid Polly handsomely for her services. She then dropped an extra penny into Polly's hot little hand when she saw that both her usually overexcited pups had come back from their regular walk looking more exhausted and worn out than ever, so they were very ready for an afternoon nap.

“Same time next week,” Polly shouted at the slightly deaf, sweet-smelling lady as she waved her good-bye and hurriedly headed for the post office to get her stamp before the office shut for the day.

“Phew! Thank goodness. As usual I've only just made it just in time,” she said, beaming from ear to ear as she gladly passed the money over to a middle-aged woman who sat the other side of the glass counter.

“This is becoming quite a habit,” the mean woman sourly sniffed as she grabbed hold of the money.

“What do you mean?” Polly innocently asked, giving another huge smile.

“Turning up here when I am just about to close the counter,” the po-faced lady bitterly stated.

“Oh, I am so sorry, but I am so very happy to be here posting another letter to my friend.”

“Has he ever replied to even one of your endless letters?” the miserable and moody lady sourly questioned Polly.

“Well, if I'm honest, to date, as you rightly suggest, I have not received a reply. But that does not mean I won't, for you see he lives in the jungle in darkest Africa, so I imagine that it is probably much more difficult for him to get to a post office.”

“If you'll believe that, then you'll believe anything!” she snarled.

“Oh, I know he'll write eventually, for he's such a lovely person. Just you wait and see,” Polly stated in a very matter-of-fact tone of voice as she continued to beam from ear to ear.

The frosty looking lady in the horn-rimmed spectacles failed to respond with any form of kind gesture, other than to slip a small, single postage stamp under the glass counter along with a halfpenny in change before abruptly pulling the blind down to show the office was now officially shut. Polly failed to take any offense at the lady's surly behavior because she was so caught up in the moment of posting yet another very important letter to her friend. She was also equally delighted to realize that she still had enough change leftover to buy four Black Jacks at the sweetshop, two for her and two for her younger brother, James.

She was in the process of sticking the stamp to the envelope when the distinctive red mail van on its last mission of the day pulled up at the curb. As the postman, with keys in hand, leapt out of the van and made his way toward the red pillar box that required emptying, Polly completely took him by surprise as she rushed over and stuffed her precious letter into his open hand.

“Please, Mr. Postman, take the greatest care with this important letter and faithfully promise me that it won't get lost at sea,” she begged. “It is going many miles over land and ocean, and at all costs it must get into the hands of a most special friend of mine.”

The postman smiled and promised that, as with all her other letters, this would be as safe as houses all the while her letter remained in his possession. He also suggested that Polly should try and have a little more faith in the British postal service, as he went on to remind her that it was considered the most efficient service in the world and had Her Majesty's personal seal of approval.

“Yes, young lady, that is why it is called the Royal Mail,” he indignantly sniffed.

“Oh,” gasped a sincerely repentant Polly as secretly she thought back to all the letters she had previously posted to God, letters that she concluded He couldn't possibly have received; otherwise, He would surely have been gentleman enough to reply to them!

Polly smiled at the postman and told him that as a result of his genuine and most sincere promise, she could now trust him with her whole life—oh, as well as with her precious letter, of course! “Oh, Mr. Postman, let me tell you, you're such a darling angel,” she cried as she grabbed hold of the poor, unsuspecting postman's hand and then gave it an overwhelmingly long and seriously hearty shake.

With his full sack of letters and small parcels bundled into the back of the mail van, the now shaky and overemotional postman wiped away a tear and then waved good-bye to Polly before turning the key in the engine to set off down the lane. As the engine came to life, there was a loud, strange noise, followed by a series of very disconcerting rumbles. Polly stopped in her tracks and watched as hundreds of white feathers very mysteriously shot out from the undercarriage of the van as it then sped off like a rally car down the long and winding country lane.

As Polly stood transfixed by the feathers dancing around in front of her, a gust of wind unexpectedly forced the feathers higher up into the air until they came to circle above her head before floating down to land near her feet.
How perfectly strange
, Polly thought to herself, as in what might be considered a stupefied trance she turned on her heels to head back to the castle.

On Polly's arrival back at the castle, she was to be pleasantly surprised to hear firsthand that Uncle Boritz and Aunt Mildred were not at home, nor would they be coming back any time soon. “They had to go to London on a matter of the greatest urgency. That's all I or any of us know at the moment,” Natalie Nitpick whispered in hushed but very officious tones. “So sadly for all of us, the recently arrived ex-prison warden has been authorized to take complete charge until they return,” she continued to inform, as though she believed it to be her personal duty to relay all relevant and important information on to Polly, as well as any other passerby, whether they cared to ask or not.

“You mean Miss Scrimp?”

“Who else?”

“Does that mean I've finally got an evening free from horrid chores?” Polly wistfully asked.

“No such luck, Polly,” Natalie promptly replied. “Aunt Mildred has seen to it that you are kept busy, for she has left you her latest very lengthy list of duties. You can't miss it, for it's pinned to the wall above the kitchen sink.”

Polly wearily made her way up the creaky oak staircase heading for the dormitory to change out of her school uniform into clothes more appropriate for hard work. On her way back down the stairs, she bumped into James, her younger brother, who was sitting on the bottom stair holding one of his model air planes but looking very glum and miserable.

Polly felt overwhelmed with remorse. She had no way of explaining that it was not entirely her fault that she had failed to meet up with him at lunchtime, but sadly she knew no excuse would work. She had, as usual, let him down, and the realization that they were drawing further apart than ever was oh so painful. They had already lost their beloved brother, Thomas, so surely it was time for them to close ranks and become close, and yet sadly the opposite seemed to be happening. Words failed her, and it was true to say that since she had returned from Piadora, they had not spoken as much as one kind sentence to one another. In fact, it was farther back than then, for if she rightly remembered, she had not really spoken to him since before dear Thomas's funeral. She therefore felt terribly guilty, as being his older sister it was surely her responsibility to be there for him. She believed that his heart must surely be broken by the death of Thomas, so she knew his loneliness must match hers, but how could she communicate the love and compassion she felt inside when they rarely had the luxury of just being together to enjoy each other's company as brother and sister?

Polly slowly forced herself to sit down on the staircase and snuggle up beside him before tentatively placing an arm around his shoulder. “James, we need to talk, and I have no way of saying how sorry I am for letting you down at school today. I have no excuse whatsoever, but all I can say is I really love you, and I know of no way of making things right between us,” she whispered, her cracking voice completely betraying the anguished pain behind her words as she willed herself not to start crying. James made no response to her appeal, so Polly could only think to hug him tighter, her eyes brimming with tears as she considered the sad fact that she had no words left to express her pain at letting him down.

She knew that no words would suffice. No apology could act as balm on a gaping, open wound, and she was left feeling that her only hope lay in the fact that maybe one day he might come to a full realization of the truth. If then he understood, then surely forgiveness would finally flow.

Polly hugged him tighter than ever. James shrugged off her expression of love by removing her arm from his shoulder before placing his model plane by his side. He then buried his face in his hands as if to express that all communication was over. They were now way past any hope of sorting things out.

Though hurt by his blatant rejection, Polly pretended that all was well, and so she continued on.

“Hey, is this the plane you've been working on?” she brightly asked as she picked up the model to further admire it. “Why, James, you've done a really wonderful job,” she enthused. “So tell me, what's this one called?”

James lifted his head just enough to mumble. “It's a Spitfire, and I would tell you its complete history if you ever cared to take the time to listen.”

Polly broke into a smile. “Now, you know time is one thing I don't have, James, but I wish I did,” she said, giving a heavy sigh to express something of her deep regret. “I think it's remarkable just how much you know about planes, tanks, and ships. You're incredible, and I can say hand on heart that as usual you've done a really brilliant job.”

Polly carefully placed it back on the staircase before throwing caution to the wind by replacing her arm back around his slumped shoulder to give it a firm squeeze. “You always do such a beautiful job on your models. I wish we had more pocket money than a meager penny a week, because I would buy you every model kit that exists,” she said, giving him another hug. James remained cold and unmoved despite her generous display of affection, but Polly—being Polly—was not about to give up.

“Oh, dear brother of mine, can't we call a truce? I know there must be times when you think that I don't care, but let me assure you that nothing could ever be further from the truth,” she said, giving another deep and troubling sigh as she reached out to tilt his chin upward and observe for herself his pale, withdrawn-looking face. Looking him directly in the eyes she softly continued on. “You know as well as I do that the boys' wing of the castle is completely out of bounds to us girls, so apart from school there seems to be very little time left for anything other than horrid chores. But it doesn't mean I don't care,” she desperately cried.

“Truth is, I really love you, and sometimes I love you oh so much that it truly hurts. Yes, James, it's like a physical pain that will not go away, because everything inside of me yearns to free us both forever from this horrid, hate-filled castle,” she earnestly cried out, all the while patiently hoping for some positive form of response from James. Anything!

Still he sat with his head between his hands as though he wasn't listening to a word she was saying.

“I know, like me, you must be feeling terribly sad and alone, especially now that Thomas is no longer with us,” she sniffed, her eyes filling with fresh tears as she thought back to the funeral and also because she witnessed a sudden show of pain on her younger brother's wearied face. Polly seized the moment by grabbing hold of one of his small hands before gently squeezing it.