The Trouble with Polly Brown (18 page)
“Well, sorry, folks, but I guess that brings a very dramatic end to this interview. I therefore apologize, as sadly there will no longer be an opportunity to speak with the man himself, but we can only hope and pray that if nothing else, Freddie will consider the terrible heartache and misery that drug-taking and domestic violence causes. This is the
Tony Tictac Show
, so let's move on and play another great single that this week has taken the charts by storm.”
“Nope. As the saying goes, âa leper never changes his spots,'” Polly wearily stated as she finally placed down the now highly polished shoe she had so fervently been brushing all the while the interview had been taking place. In getting so caught up in the moment, Polly had spent the whole interview polishing one lone shoe. She knew she would have to race ahead if she was to have any chance of finishing this chore before Miss Scrimp appeared on the scene to examine each individual shoe and give her approval, and with Cecilia off sick yet again, it made the task very long and grueling.
Finally, Miss Scrimp poked her misshapen nose into the room. “Are we finished?” she snootily asked.
“Almost,” Polly replied as she quickly hid the radio under the table out of sight.
She then stood to attention as Miss Scrimp, like a military general on parade, marched up and down beside the long table, stopping every now and then to snort and pick up a shoe or two to scrutinize. A tired and wilting Polly could only stand and inwardly sigh as Miss Scrimp appeared to deliberately take an excruciatingly long time, her inspections as thorough as a forensic scientist desperate for a breakthrough as she intensely scrutinized every single shoe, thoroughly determined and focused on finding some fault. “Give them all more spit and polish, girl, for none of these shoes are up to par,” Miss Scrimp harshly ordered before turning on her heels to head back to the television room to once more put her feet up and watch the late-night news in peace over a mug of comforting, frothy hot chocolate.
Polly was extremely glad when she was finally dismissed and sent off to bed, for the hour was indeed very late. She was also relieved that she had managed to place the radio back on the top shelf without anyone having missed it. However, she felt very downcast and concerned that she had not managed to fulfill her promise to speak with her brother James, and so once again she had let him down. She worried that there might come a time when he no longer wished to confide or share anything with her, as quite rightly he would no longer trust or have any confidence in her. She could therefore only hope that with blood being thicker than water, he would always find it in his heart to forgive her for all failures, perceived or otherwise.
As Polly lay staring into the darkness wondering how to make it up to James, she suddenly had another thought that caused her to immediately begin panicking. The cause of this sudden distress was that she realized she no longer had her special ring on her finger. “Oh, no. I've lost my precious ring!” she cried. Polly sat bolt upright in bed as she struggled to think where she might have left it. She definitely still had the ring on at lunchtime. She remembered nervously twisting it 'round her finger as she spoke to Will, the new boy. She still had it on her finger as she traveled home from school on the train, because as usual she had twisted it 'round as she lay back on the head rest with her eyes closed. So where had she lost it?
Tears began to prick her eyes as she considered the possibility that she might never find the ring that meant so much to her. It had, after all, been given to her by dear Ralph along with the diary when she accepted the challenge to go to Piadora. He had gone to great lengths in warning her never to let it out of her sight, for without it she could not enter through the gates of Piadora. Now it was gone. Polly struggled to hold back the tears that were now burning her cheeks as she considered how every single time she had touched it, she had automatically found herself thinking back to Piadora and the Princesses' School of Training, as well as Mrs. O'Brien and Hodgekiss, andâoh dear, this loss was all too much for her to cope with.
The ring was, after all, her only link with all that had ever made her feel safe as well as happy. It helped her visualize dear, sweet Thomas, happy for the first time ever, and it never failed to produce a smile whenever she caught a sudden glimpse of Aazi. As she had yet to receive any news of him, she needed to be able to picture his little, most captivating features. No, this ring was such a major source of comfort to her that she felt incapable of facing up to the possibility that it might be lost forever. As the pain of her loss began to well up inside, it once again guaranteed her another restless night as she struggled to think where she had so absentmindedly left it.
In her latest bout of despair, she suddenly found herself thinking back to one of her last conversations with Hodgekiss before she chose to leave Piadora and return to the castle. He had told her that the Copper Kettle Tea Room was no longer in the hands of Mr. and Mrs. Greedol but had been taken over by dear friends of his who went by the name of Mr. and Mrs. Kindlyside. He had also told her that these nice people would be standing in the gap until she was old enough and capable enough to take on the tearoom. These friends of Hodgekiss could also be trusted to help and advise her if need be.
So that night in between lengthy bouts of beating herself up for being so stupid and careless in losing the ring, she intermittently closed her eyes to earnestly pray for its safe return whilst vowing to pay a visit to the tearoom to finally make their acquaintance.
“Nighty night, Polly Fester,” came the unexpected but loud whisper from the next bed. “Polly Festerâ¦Polly Brownâ¦Polly Brown, the sickest psycho in our town. No, waitâthe saddest loser in our town.”
Polly took in a deep breath as a stray, ice-cold tear ran unchecked down her face. “Gailey, please stop,” she begged. “It's the middle of the night, and we both need our sleep.”
“Hey, girls. I forgot to give you some very interesting news,” Gailey shouted down the dormitory. “Remember the Copper Kettle Tearoom in the High Street? Well, for some stupid, fat reason the new owners have decided to change its name, and you'll never guess in a month of Sundays what crazy name they've decided on!”
“Go on, Gailey. Do us all a favor and spill the beans,” a lone voice rang out from the other end of the dormitory.
Gailey needed no further encouragement.
“They have chosen to call it Polly's Pantry. Can you believe it? What a disaster the place will now turn out to be. Yeah, who in a month of Sundays would be such a bloomin' idiot to choose to rename their tearoom by that sad, sick name?”
“Yep, that sure is hideous. It's doomed to failure, 'cos if anyone knows stinky Polly Brown, then they will surely never ever want to eat there!” another voice shouted out in the dark. “After all, everyone 'round here knows that Polly's got the lurgy!”
“Yes, with a name like that, mark my words, it will be closed within a month,” another voice shouted out in the dark.
Polly, though deeply offended by their unfair and cruel words, wisely decided to keep her thoughts to herself. If truth be known, she had completely forgotten about the new owners, for in not having been allowed to leave the castle for quite a lengthy period of time, she had not pressed her nose up to the large window pane to get as much as a quick peek at what the new owners might look like.
Polly heard her cruel tormentor snigger under the covers, and then when Polly believed it was now safe to come out from under the blankets because the room was quiet, Gailey came up from under the sheets to begin another fresh round of humiliating and personal cruel insults. “Polly Brown, Polly Brown, the ugliest girl for miles around,” she sneered.
D
UE TO GREAT
tiredness Polly found herself struggling to crawl out of bed the next morning, but as she headed toward the bathroom she surprised herself by suddenly having a mental flashback, which saw her taking off the ring before placing it down on the sink drainer. “Ahh, now I remember! Yes, that's where I left it,” she gasped as renewed hope began to well up inside. “Yes, yes, I took it off when I was ordered to peel the potatoes. Oh, dear God, please let it still be where I left it,” she said, momentarily closing her eyes while clasping her hands as though this act alone would serve to further endorse her fervent request of finding her precious and very sentimental lost ring.
That morning Polly found herself feeling very impatient as she lined up with the other children while waiting for the first available washbasin. Before too long she was nearing the front of the line, and once there, she was forced to watch on as Gailey deliberately, slowly picked up the round tin that bore a small, hardened pink tablet of toothpaste in its center. The tin made its way to her mouth, whereupon she then spat into the tin to moisten the hard lump before taking her toothbrush to make the tablet bubble up into a frosty paste. Now with some of the pink stuff finally sticking the bristles, she stuffed the head of the toothbrush in her mouth and began an up-and-down motion as she set about cleaning her teeth.
No sooner had she placed the tin back down when Tommy Pulley-blank, who was standing in pants and vest at the next available sink, shouted out in her direction. “'Ere, Gailey girl. Hand me the toothpaste tin, 'cos we're clean out of it at this sink. All that's left at the bottom of this tin is a bit of Toby's disgusting, frothy spittle where he gobbed into the tin.”
Gailey instantly obliged and lent over to pass the tin.
“Help yourself, Tommy. And while yer at it, you could do me a big favor by doing a really nice, big gob into the tin, 'cos there is only Polly McCavity left to clean her rotten old teeth.”
“Sure thing, Gailey,” Tommy snorted as he then delivered a giant-sized amount of frothy spittle into the tin before taking his toothbrush to furiously mix it up into a frothy lather.
Polly felt quite sickened. The foul-tasting toothpaste was disgusting enough before automatically being spat into by each and every child who, wishing to give their teeth a good scrub, needed to produce a decent amount of lather that would hopefully stick to the bristles of their toothbrush. She believed this regular practice to be terribly unhygienic, but in the eyes of most of the children, it was the only solution to the problem, as the tablet in the tin was always like a hardened, dried-up piece of soap. Boritz always bought this cheap tinned toothpaste for the foster children, as it went much further than all other brands on the market, and more importantly, it was only one-fifth of the price. After having a quick wash down, Polly deliberated whether to skip cleaning her teeth or just gargle with water. Moments later she made the decision to bite the bullet.
So, picking up her toothbrush, she made her way to where the round metal tin, minus its top, still lay abandoned on the side of the old, cracked basin. She momentarily found herself feeling quite distressed as she stared down at the contents of the tin, which still bore evidence of a revoltingly large amount of Tommy's frothy spittle, plus an excessive amount of bristles that had broken off the toothbrushes as the children viciously lathered up the paste with the head of their toothbrush. She therefore took a deep breath to sum up the courage before plunging the head of her toothbrush directly into the center of the hideously offensive matter.
After minimally swirling the brush around in the frothy paste she closed her eyes tight and proceeded to bring the toothbrush up to her mouth. Making one final gulp, her face momentarily locked in a deep grimace, she opened wide and began to brush. In that small instant she longed for the luxury of some minty flavored toothpaste that not only could be squeezed out of a tube but also could not be tampered with. The length of time Polly cleaned her teeth that morning was so unacceptably short that it would most surely have had most dentists reeling with shock, but then they weren't the ones forced to use this diabolical and disgracefully unhygienic method to clean their teeth.
As soon as Polly finished up, she grabbed her schoolbag and raced downstairs, hurriedly heading toward the kitchen door. It was still locked! “Oh, come on. Whoever is on duty, please, it must be time for breakfast,” she mumbled as her sense of desperation began once more to heighten.
Finally she caught sight of Pitstop as he turned the corner and bared his teeth before approaching her in his usual menacing manner. Polly knew this could only mean one thing. Uncle Boritz would appear around the corner any second now, as master and dog were utterly inseparable.
She felt both awkward and nervous that she was standing alone by the door, as she would have felt happier and safer to be just one in a crowd of children whenever it came to any form of personal encounter with Uncle Boritz or Aunt Mildred, for her fear of both was equal. Polly took a deep breath as she waited for Uncle Boritz to find the right key from the large set that hung from his waist. It took three attempts before he found the correct one that opened the kitchen door. Luckily for Polly, she was not alone for long, for as soon as the key twisted in the lock, a barrage of children raced past her like a determined herd of wildebeest on the rampage as they fought to get through the kitchen door ahead of her. All the children began impatiently pushing and shoving as they bravely fought every obstacle and hindrance in order to get some food into their very hungry empty bellies.